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unequivocallyreid · 3 months

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Do You Get It Yet?

hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.

warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation

this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!

You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.

Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.

You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.

You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.

So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.

You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.

Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.

“Dr. Reid?”

He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”

“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”

“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”

This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.

“Thank you so much.”

You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.

He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”

You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”

You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.

“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”

You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”

“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”

He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”

Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”

He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“

Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“

He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”

He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.

“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”

Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.

“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”

You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”

You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”

“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”

This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.

Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.

You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.

You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.

Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.

You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.

You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.

“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.

“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”

He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”

This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.

“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.

The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.

Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”

You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”

He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”

You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.

Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.

So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.

It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.

You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.

Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.

“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”

“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, Lena.”

“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”

You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”

You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.

After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.

You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.

You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.

You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.

As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.

Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.

Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.

When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.

With shaking fingers, you text him back.

You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.

You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.

Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?

You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.

Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.

When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.

It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”

“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”

“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”

You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.

The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him

Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.

The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.

He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”

It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”

He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“

“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”

You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.

He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”

You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.

“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”

“Spencer.”

You look up, “What?”

“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”

You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.

The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”

Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”

The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.

“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

“It’s wrong, Y/n.”

“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”

Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.

His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”

“I want all of it, doctor.”

The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.

You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.

You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.

“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”

He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit

together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.

You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.

“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked, huh?”

You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.

“Is this all for me, Y/n? Who’s making you this wet?”

“You, sir, only you.”

“Jesus, baby.”

If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.

His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.

“You’re so big.”

He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”

You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.

“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”

Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.

“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”

You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.

He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch out this pussy for me.”

With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, puppy. Letting your professor fuck you with his fingers.”

You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.

“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”

Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.

Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.

“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear? You really are desperate for me, huh?

You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”

You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.

He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.

In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”

You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.

“I could play with that pussy all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”

You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip

slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.

You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”

The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.

Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.

“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Love how deep it is in you. Can’t even talk you’re so fucked out.”

His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.

“Please, need it. Need you.”

He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.

“So perfect for me. Gonna fuck you dumb, puppy.”

You whine at the nickname, you didn’t even know you were into that.

“You’re just sucking me in, Y/n. Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.

“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”

“That’s right. Come all over this cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.

“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”

You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”

He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.

“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this pussy mine.”

You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.

“Gonna come, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come in your perfect fucking pussy.”

You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.

When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.

“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.

“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”

Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.

When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.

In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”

He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t know why you wouldn’t.

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.

“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”

You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”

He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.

“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.

You feel him hold you a little tighter then.

“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”

END!! i hope you all love it!

tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Nine

Here’s the thing. Like, on one hand, Paul loves teaching. But on the other hand, I honestly think he’d be a terrible teacher. He’s genuinely trying to explain songwriting to this kid, and all I’m getting is that I should be able to just look at a piano and it’ll give me whatever I want. “So it’s really just . . .” *plays Martha My Dear* “. . . and from there, you know, like, um, there’s no – unless you stop yourself – there’s no stopping yourself.” Yes, thank you, Professor McCartney. Very informative. Good thing you’re a gorgeous genius because not a word of that lecture made any sense.

Seriously I am BEGging someone to write Paul and Ringo in the 20s as a cabaret duo! With Paul’s talents being songwriting, slutting it up, piano, and vocals and Ringo’s talents being tap-dancing, ventriloquist dummy impersonation, with the occasional piano, vocals, and sly winks. Maybe they meet George and John through organized crime, idk.

“They don’t just sort of come in your head, kind of thing?” “Yeah, sure. Fact, I had one this morning.” You know. As one does.

See, even Ringo’s on board with my plan. “Let’s make a silent movie.” And Paul. “In a club. That’s it. We’re in a band. We’re in a band, but we sell drugs.” And now they're stringing Paul up just for kicks. Maybe they could join the circus!

Literally the minute John starts being silly, Paul gets this fond look on his face and you can see the wheels turning like “quick, think of a way to get close to him.” And John’s into it. But they keep doing this seesaw thing and I can’t help but think how reminiscent it is of their dynamic as a whole.

“I see you’ve given up smoking, Richie.” “Yes, I have.” Reminds me of that classic, “I don’t even smoke,” thing. Seems like five-hundred years ago.

PLEASE tell me Peter Sellers and Ringo had a torrid love affair during the filming of The Magic Christian. The way Peter touches Ringo’s hair and his face! Ringo being a gentleman and getting Peter a chair! And I mean there’s plenty of queer coding between them in the film.

But also laughing my ass off at Peter’s reaction to their song-titles/lyrics/gibberish/other references code.

Yoko, you’re stone-cold and hilarious. “Or what we haven’t.” I honestly have mad respect for her complete disregard/disdain for the Beatles and their art only because that’s how they treat hers for the most part. But girl. You’re married to one of them. He genuinely does love them and what he does with them and you’ve got to respect that or go find someone else, you know?

Also, Paul does Not appreciate the attitude. “Or we’ll just sort of sit here and allow ourselves to be embarrassed. ‘Number nine . . .”

Aaand, just like that, Peter Sellers “must be off.” He lasted all of 1 minute 26 seconds. Weak. George and Ringo lasted fifteen years.

MLH is literally that annoying person that asks you a serious question about yourself just so he can use you as a segue to talk about his problems.

John: just recovering from the day, you know. Yoko: from the night. John: embarrassed (you have no right, dude, you literally played your sex tape for everyone like two weeks ago) Paul: Did not want that image, thanks very much.

It actually KILLS me though that we’ll never understand their code. Paul and Ringo will take it to their graves and no one else knows it and any footage like this we’ve got, and any code songs, will just be mostly uninterpretable for all time.

Okay these few minutes here are soooo special to me. It’s John at his peak lovely, sweet, gentle, kind self. He makes a joke at which Paul can only nod darkly which makes John realize just how bad of a place Paul’s in.

Paul wants them to get to work “achieve something every day.” But John knows he’s not in a good headspace to work and it’ll be shit and then Paul will spiral even more. So, he turns up the humor until Paul is sufficiently cheered.

And then, he says. “Guitars? I thought that’s what they do.” And Paul’s stammering. “Oh, that is what they do, but–” John stands up, does a little head-tilt toward the instruments. “Come on, I’ll even show you about half a song I was writing. Come on.” That last in the tenderest, most coaxing voice. It’s just soooo. Like. We talk a lot about Paul ‘handling’ John, and he did. But John sure knows how to handle Paul.

I SO wish they’d have done something with “Madman”. It’s so fun!! Every single song in this era I will go to bat for, no question.

Ringo’s little hug for Paul!!!! I can’t.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #get back

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iheartjameshetfield · 6 months

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Having kids with early/mid 80’s James 🤭

like yeah he’s young but there’s nothing that makes happier than his little family 💗

AHHH THIS IS SO SWEETTTTT

we all know damn well that the kid would be an accident 💀. he was fucking petrified when you told him the news since he was almost 1000% sure that he would fuck this kid up the same way his dad fucked him up.

you tried to reassure him multiple times throughout your pregnancy that he would be the best father there is, and you’d be there to help him, but he had no trust in himself whatsoever. the only thing that he knew for sure was. that no matter how hard it gets, he would never leave and put you and your kid through the same thing he went through.

even with all this, he was still the best person to have by your side during your pregnancy. he always tried to make sure that you’re comfortable, placing a pillow behind your back, head, and legs or he’d cover you with a blanket. he would get you whatever you’re craving, and if it wasn’t in the house, he would go and get it from the supermarket no matter the time.

he would constantly read books about parenting and pregnancy, making sure you get the best treatment. whenever you’d pat your belly, he’d get worried that you pat a little harder than you should, telling you to be more careful.

i feel like he would be the type of person to talk to your unborn child, like whenever he disagrees with you or just saying smth sweet to the baby like “we can’t wait to see you” or “see that? your mom wants to name you paul” he laughs as he makes fun of you with the baby.

when the child is born, hes definitely the type of dad to force everyone to wash the hands, wipes, and sanitize at least three times each before letting anyone touch the baby, including you.

for the first month or so after you give birth, he would always be the one to get up in the middle of the night for the baby, telling you to get your rest. after a while, he is literally prepared to play rock paper scissors with you at 3 in the morning to see who’ll get up.

you know that trick that almost every dad does when they toss their kid like 5 feet up in the air and catch them, giving all the moms a heart attack? yeah, he invented that trick. you’ve probably seen your baby in the air more than you’ve seen it in someone’s arms or the stroller or smth.

i truly believe that when the baby babbles, he babbles back. like the baby would say smth in gibberish and james would mimic the baby, conversing in their own language. or james would also respond with stuff like an exaggerated “no way!!” or “what else happened, tell me more”

he probably would’ve been rooting for a boy. he would be sooooooo excited if you had a boy, already planning on causing a lot of mischief with him.

he would teach his son how to play sports and guitar and all the stuff he’s interested in. james would race him and play wrestling games with him and pretend to lose.

even though he wanted a boy, when his little girl came, he would instantly change his mind, hoping that every future kid that comes would be a girl.

from day one and he would shower her with kisses and gifts, making sure she gets treated like the princess she is.

james definitely has tea parties with his little girl. he’d let her put hair clips in his hair, paint his nails a messy pink and accessories him in plastic beaded necklaces and bracelets. or whenever they’d play with dolls, he would speak in a high pitched voice like a girl’s voice after his daughter would force him to.

james would show up at every ballet practice and recital ever, refusing to not show up at a single thing. he would pick her up and drop her off at her practices, loving how his little girl comes running to him with open arms during every break she has. he’ll never miss the look his daughter had in her face when she spotted her parents in the crowd during her show, her eyes glinting as her smile brightened.

when she’s done with her dance, she’d leap into her father’s arms, you and james cradling her in a hug. “you were amazing princess. that was awesome!!” james would compliment her.

i feel like no matter what gender the baby is, they would want to be just like their dad in every way. the long hair, the band shirts, his guitar skills. whenever you see james around the house, you’d spot his little carbon copy waddling behind him in a custom ‘Metallica’ shirt and sunglasses that practically swallow your baby’s face.

when his kid is a little older, he’d want you to bring them to one of his shows, wanting his kid to see him on stage. he’d even show off his toddler to the crowd, showing off the newest member of the hetfield clan to the world.

this is me speaking off of real experiences btw

#he’d be such a cute dad i cant #metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield metallica #james hetfield fanfic #james hetfield x reader #asks and replies #james hetfield headcannons

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princeblue33 · 8 months

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can we just talk about how freaking amazing decked out is

First of all, this is a game within a game. We've always known that Minecraft redstone has insane capabilities, but Tango has taken this to such an extreme. Decked Out could exist as a game on its own, but no, it's built entirely within Minecraft vanilla survival, using only a few resource packs here and there to help it function- and most of those make nothing more than quality of life changes. I'm not a redstone person myself, so everything he does is just gibberish to me, but I know enough to understand how impressive it is.

The game itself is expertly designed. Tango clearly understands how to build a game that encourages strategy and exploration and creates a functional system of risk and reward. At week one, we've barely seen half of the depth that can go into building the ultimate deck. The creative building that went into designing each level is insane, and it's truly its own world to explore.

And then there's the social aspect of it. Decked Out is bringing the hermits together in a way that in all my years of watching Hermitcraft since season 6, I have never seen. They're streaming just to play it and uploading hour long videos of it, and half of that is just them jumping around in the lobby and chatting with each other. I've literally never watched Hypno or Vintagebeef, much less seen Tango and Scar interact with them, but because I've been watching Tango and Scar's streams I know so much more about them and how cool they are.

I love decked out. I love the grand hall with everyone's crypts, Cub's dojo and Joe's guppy geyser, I love the little scoreboard hallway where everyone hangs out and chats between runs, with the board of everyone's heads and their names listed with little inside jokes. I love Gem basically just living in Decked Out even though she's out of shards, just to chat with people who pop by. I love everyone's twitch chat freaking out whenever Etho logs on. I love the waiting room they created on day one, how it clashes with everything Deep Frost Citadel stands for. I love how they want to help each other, giving tips and hints, how they embraced the pay it forward mechanic (until Tango killed it). I love Mrs. T popping by to cause problems. I love watching runs in first person, the adrenaline of it- I love that I got to be there watching live when Scar successfully made his first run to level two and escaped with his artifact. And I love Tango sitting behind the scenes, giggling and offering unhelpful hints and just basking in the glory of what he has created.

There has never been anything like decked out on Hermitcraft before, and I can only hope that it lasts for as long as possible.

#hermitcraft #decked out #decked out 2 #tangotek #goodtimeswithscar #hermitblr

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

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With your language AU, I remember watching a video about a guy speaking angrily nonesense in an Indian accent and people thinking he was very angry. Imagine this as the Creator speaks angry gibberish to people and they just assume that the Creator is cursing them or something. (Or like when they speak gibberish to babies and everyone's like, "Aw the Creator is teaching that baby their divine language")

*AUDIENCE DRAMATICALLY GASPS.

✨️I look pretty good for a dead bitch✨️

She's alivveee!!!

Whats up i almost passed away from sheer academic workload, but im not in the ground yet 🥰 And with drafts outta my ass! :D

Hope yall ready for ur regularly scheduled Bullshit Genshin Sagau <3

SANDBEES THATS SUCH A GOOD USERNAME & ALSO SORRY I ANSWERED THIS SO FUCKING LATE JESUSSSSS 💀💀💀

SORRY ABT THE POLL I CANT BELIEVE I COULDNT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DELETE IT IM FUCKING CRYING I WOULD DO THIS-

Well at least i can do polls thru this in the future?? Idk tumblr is ass so we'll see how this accidental test works out...

☆

So these were the first thngs i thought of and its not super long bc ASKERS R GENIUSES OKAY

SOMTIMES I JUST WANNA PROFUSELY THANK U GUYS AS A REPLY FOR SHARING WITH THE CLASS THRU MY BLOG 💖💘💫

Saw the gif and couldnt help but think this is how ppl like Alhaitham or Diluc would react to u "speaking ur langauge"

"Our langauage" aka being a SIM 💀

◇

Stop Albedo would ask you to teach him ur lang/grammar rules 😭

What u gonna do when Zhongli asks you to teach him some words-

OH NO

NO DONT PASS ON YOUR BULLSHIT LMAO

U GIVING ZHONGLI SOME STUPID SIM WORD LIKE

Your ass: "GIGGLABAH means beautiful :) "✨️

Zhongli: "Oh thank you, how different from our own version, so excited sounding..."

You walk by him strolling the harbor and he just smiles at you and says

"You look gigglabah today my liege."

HIS REGAL FACE AND FANCY WALK WITH HIS HAND BEHIND HIS BACK AND EVERYTHING

(honestly ppl paint him as oblivious but he kinda seemed like the type of bastard who seems like he's not aware but sometimes he secretly knows the truth, he's just getting too much amusement out of it to stop doing it, LOL he does shit like the above to see YOUR reaction- LMAO)

◇

You're a maniac pls tell me u dont pass on simlish to all the serious characters-

XIAO WOULD SECRETLY THINK IT SOUNDS GOOFY BUT WANT TO BE INVOLVED BC ITS YOU ANYWAY LMAO

SO HE'S JUST SLIGHTLY SQUIRMING AND GETTIN PINK EVERYTIME HE SAYS A STUPID SIM WORD BC HE FEELS LIKE A GOOF HAHA

(& he's not the only one, others too like Kaveh, YELAN, Ningguang, Nahida, DILUC, AYAKA LMAO-)

◇

Some ppl i could see taking ur gibberish bullshittery and whether they believe its real or not is irrelevant bc theyre using it anyway-

And i dont mean in a good way 😭

LIKE IM THINKING OF VENTI.

CRAZY BARD INCLUDING SIMLISH ASS GIBBERISH WORDS IN HIS SONGS BC OF YOU

"Be cheerful like the hugkukie,

and may your cup never leaky!"

And Diluc loves you.

Really he does, deeper than he thinks-

But his eye is twitching LMAOO

◇

(Ok but if you did like multiple of these language shenanigans thruout the asks ive gotten, Kaeya would literally grow so fond of you and associate you with goofy funny shit that makes him laugh so hard that everytime he sees you he automatically is beaming with a smile, or trying to supress a warm grin- this got away from me but its 1:44am for me rn so i would love a smiley Kaeya rn -)

♡

Speaking language bs I have my 2nd oral exam for spanish tomorrow, pls send whatever good vibes u got and i am also really open to prayers from any religion as well. sobs

Hope anyone got any enjoyment out of my response bc tbh the ask is what rlly matters to me atp lmao

Until the next shenanigan-

Safe travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds mwah ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

#hope u guys like those follower event posts when they here 😖🙏#so u would think the opposite but no-#those headcanons r gonna be so much more lore than u probably wanted #and the oneshot the opposite 💀#more absolute baffoonery than u ever wanted from me #genshin impact #genshin sagau #my asks #sagau #genshin imagines #genshin isekai #genshin sagau language barrier au #genshin sagau language au #should i attempt to make these tags #does it even matter or is it a fruitless endeavor #the language brainrot is endless #yall have lost brain cells reading my writing i stg #genshin sagau ideas #gender neutral reader

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lexygabe · 7 months

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nandi mokena headcanons/rewriting/etc.

(june/11/1999)

gemini sun | taurus moon | scorpio rising

ENFP (Ne-Fi-Te-Si) - 6w5 - so/sp - 793 - Sanguine [Dominant]

general headcanons:

• either ace-het or ace-bi, cis, she/her,

• i think this is canon, but she is a gifted child in the family. she was in top 5 of the class and popular as hell,

• she is that mf of friend group that will always bring up snacks and drinks with yourself,

• her love language is making edits of funny/embarrassing photos of others with music that totally don't match vibe with anything included in edit,

• her tiktok and instagram likes are full of some people talking gibberish and cringe compilations, so if u want to get her joke you at least need to know lore of all of this people and incidents that happened x years ago,

• when we talking about memes, she loves absurdism humor, so when shakes send something to her that he thinks is funny, her face is like: 😐 how are we even related?,

• i also think she is reading the most surreal literature (franz kafka is her beloved),

• skarra pierced her ears for the first time,

• she is very loyal,

• her notes are full of stickers, adhesive gems and drawings. some of things are even written in glitter gel pen,

• her channel is pretty much all things mixed up. there is commentary, there is gaming, there is some art projects and video blogs, everybody can find something for themselfves,

• she goes to film school.

through the series (og tv show, rewriting)

SEASON 1:

• for me, season 1 starts at the time when shakes is 20 years old, so by this logic nandi is 17,

• there is no physical apperance of her, she is just mentioned by (mainly) shakes.

SEASON 2:

• at the beginning of the season her and shakes are talking about the fact that nandi moved to college (they have their little family bonding time),

• in s2e5 (el sound of silencio) spenz calls her to help him and fran, but she just listened to all of this shit and was like: ok bro 🧍🏾‍♀️*disconnects*,

• in s2e13 she tracked down skarra before this big "all stars vs supa strikas match" and interviewed him about this fucked up rivarly that him and shakes have (she saw both of them in tv last night), and why they even decided to have a bet of the pitch where they had great time together in past (like hell, nandi knew that this friendship was homoerotic, holy shit). ofc nandi "as annoying as the little shit she was" (skarra's words, not mine), she didn't take any type of crap from him about this whole situation. after this, she called shakes out on his stupid ass actions, in his apartament, and just left him with: you both are total blockheads. and shakes was like: both? who is both? wtf.

SEASON 3

• in season 3 nandi and shakes have this conversation about what nandi meant, when she literally lit into him in his own apartament before super league final. to which nandi,, replied with: ahh yeah. but this doesn't matter. at least this debt of yours and skarra's was dissolved :D. after, they had honest conversation and disscus about childhood and how this can't be put before good of the team (nandi wanted to argue with this, but then she quickly give up. all the stress that the shakes' finale cost her was enough for her),

• at this season we see more of nandi as a future filmmaker, because she trolls everyone on twitter with uploading this type of videos like fake interviews with celebrities (and with some footballers ;)),

• in college, she met woman from completely other school (remember this. i probably make headcanons for this semi canon character so wink wink) and became friends with her,

SEASONS 4-7:

• all of her story arcs focus on her career and school and on a few other events that will be described by me as i write about other women from strikas universe.

relationships with (disclaimer: i do not include her relarionship with shakes and their mom, bc it was pretty well managed in rookie season. i will probably make another post but about whole mokena's family dynamic):

• skarra: writers rotally fucked up. WASTED POTENTIAL.

their relationship definitely started as: you are my brother's (boy)friend/you are shakes' sister. and then, they became partners in crimes. when shakes, skarra and nandi went to school nandi always pulled out a card titled: don't talk to me like that, or i'm gonna call my brother and my brother's best friend. in othet occasions, skarra went to nandi and asked some stupid questions like: ey, nandi you have ruler to lend 🧍‍♂️?? (,,yo, nandi you want some hotdogs?", ,,nandi, we are going to shopping mall", ,,hey, nandi you have some time to hide a body----?"). why writers of rookie season acted like nandi wouldn't care that much about skarra, like he literally used to call nandi's mom 'auntie' wtf wtf wtf.

• klaus: YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE HER FAV OUT OF SHAKES' TEAMMATES. nandi and klaus definitely have long conversations about shows that they watched, about ships, about premieres. they are just two little nerds with heads full of ideas <33333

• mara: me and @strudelbbg once talked about mara and nandi's possible relation and we decided that mara, when nandi was younger, probably carried her on her back and stuff. tldr mara sees nandi as "little sis 💞💞💞💞",

• others: ?

fashion headcanons

• i think she would wear these "crazy" make-ups like:

(i also think that people, who would be her fans and shakes' fans would create threads on twitter titled: nandi's makeups as team colors of supa strikas rivals')

(and nandi would reblog these posts🥰)

• has 3 pairs of dungarees,

• a lot of fandom t-shirts but not ones designed in "tomboy" way but in "girly" way, shirts with strawberry shortcake, winx club, princess peach from mario, destiny's child members etc.,

• HANDMADE RINGS, BRACELETS, NECKLACES, EARRINGS EVERYTHING,

• she is fan of crocheted clothes (especially sweaters, tank tops, knee socks),

• even tho she is popular, she wears second hand clothing and buys from smaller companies (rich people clothing ugly and she don't want to be one of them),

• wears bralettes as form of a lingerie,

• when she wears dress she NEEDS to have tights under,

• when it comes to shoes she likes: new balance, converses, CROCKS and mary janes but on a small heel.

music headcanons

• definitely had nightcore phase when she was younger,

• hates slow music,

• like i said destiny's child fan, probably likes also avril lavigne and mariah carey, and maybe blackpink.

#supa strikas #supa strikas women #supa strikas nandi #headcanon: supa strikas #supa strikas shakes #supa strikas skarra #implied sharra #supa strikas rewriting

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thatanimewriter · 1 year

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BǍO BÈI, MON AMOUR AND... BABE, I GUESS??

➳ request: Can I request Finny, Baldroy, Joker, Snake, and maybe Dagger with a multilingual fem s/o? I speak English, Spanish, and French irl. Bonus points if you incorporate pet names in either of those. I’m thinking along the lines of some nice headcanons.

➳ character/s: finny, bardroy, joker, snake, dagger

➳ warnings: swearing, perhaps butched pet names from other languages, generally butched arabic (baldroy), french (joker), spanish (finny), norwegian (snake) and german (dagger) because i don’t speak anything but english

➳ notes: woww that’s really cool that you know how to speak other languages, i’ve always wanted to be fluent in something other than english and i used to learn mandarin, but i hated the teacher at school and dropped the subject asap lmao

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐘.

infatuated

he thinks it’s super cool

and hot

now he gets creative for pet names for you

he goes beyond the classic babe, baby, sweetheart, doll etc

now you gotta suffer with sweet cheeks, toots, sugarplum and all that cheesy gross shit

but he gets which language mixed up all the time

he probably messes up the pronunciation as well

it’s ok, he’s attempting

he often notices that you’ll speak arabic when you’re tired or frustrated

“habibi... come to bed.”

but also when you’re thinking of a word and it only makes sense in the languages you know

it’s fine, he thinks it’s cool

and funny because accents between languages also change

all in all, very impressed

── 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘.

literally gets the anime sparkles in his eyes

as if you could get any better??

constantly asks you to speak your other languages

asks you for the names of basic household items in that language

“what’s bed in spanish??”

“la cama.”

“oh my god that’s so cool-”

but then you bamboozled him with another language

and he then discovered you’re multilingual

because he caught you speaking cantonese to lau

and he thinks you spoke, like, gaelic one time

he’s not sure what the languages are but it’s COOL

he definitely butches some of the words

most of the words

but it’s the thought and effort that counts

── 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑.

what a little charmer

he would tease you for keeping this from him

and would also want to learn

he probably has caught you just mumbling to yourself in french

wants to learn french because stereotypical romance

but also to eavesdrop-

sometimes he’ll just stick his head through your tent ‘door’ and go

“tu veux venir te promener avec moi?”

and you’re left wondering how he knows to ask you for a walk of all things

you both use ma chérie and mon chéri

it’s the most basic one

but it does the job

as a joke he suggested you speak your other languages as an act for the circus

you said no because it’s not really that circus-worthy

but maybe in future it’d be a funny gag

── 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄.

silent admiration

emily and keats are more vocal about it

if he has snakes from the countries which language you speak they now cling to you, they’re yours now

they don’t leave you

he will probably learn easy words when he wants something but doesn’t wanna say in front of EVERYONE

“klemmer?”

“awww, yes hugs.”

the whole circus cannot interpret norwegian at all

nor can they understand korean or swedish

but they all think it’s a fun gimmick

because you’re extremely multilingual

his face was like :000

when you asked a foreign guest who didn’t speak english

‘what language would you like me to speak?’

because damn

what a badass that you can just whip out a language and speak it fluently

── 𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑.

in love even more

if that’s possible

you’re just so cool ;v;

he won’t lie

it sounds like gibberish at the start before you teach him

the only thing he can possibly interpret is your tone

even then

he’s fucked if you speak a language that naturally sounds aggressive

because he’s gonna think you’re PISSED when you’re asking if he wants potatoes or not

“liebling, give me cuddless”

“LEE BLING??”

he can’t for the life of him try to imitate you without sounding offensive

so he doesn’t

he just admires you from afar

and from close by

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xzaddyzanakinx · 10 days

Note

I can’t stop thinking about your stalker ani series but specifically this little scenario 😋

Ghost finally fucking Reader but because Reader doesn’t know who he is yet and because Anakin has such defining features (his tattoos and piercings and such) Reader either has to keep their eyes closed the entire time or wear a blindfold. Oh my god, I would be on the floor if like he told Reader to keep their eyes closed and maybe the reader were to open their eyes just for a split second and he immediately notices and says something degrading to them UGHHHH

Not to even MENTION the jealously that Anakin would probably feel of himself??? I feel like he would end up spiraling because if Reader is willing to cheat with Ghost then what if she were to cheat with someone else kind of thoughts although I feel like Ghost would have a small kink for that and bring it up while screwing the reader

Anyways I love how long the series is so far, it’s literally my favorite series and I always look forward to each update 😭❤️ love you babes

Dude I’m enjoying writing this like nothing else I’ve written before cause damn it’s so fun and I love that everyone loves it!! Makes me so happy ❤️

It’s like a little surprise (even for myself) with every update bc I don’t even know where it’s going til it’s written 😭 I just let my brain goblin type gibberish until it sounds good😭😭😭

But yes!!! There will be some sort of… something like that 🫢 he’s already jealous of Ghost and Ghost is jealous of Anakin🫣 so it’ll only get worse

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prismatic-bell · 1 year

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So I got part of Avenue Q stuck in my head, and you know how people say something was "a product of its time" when talking about racism, sexism, etc.? It is occurring to me I finally get that. Because while sometimes it's just...wrong and was always wrong, I have to wonder how many people who either weren't into pop culture in the late 90s/early 00s or simply weren't alive then don't realize Christmas Eve is supposed to be poking fun at weeaboos. The show was written at a point in time where America just kind of went crazy about Japanese pop culture for awhile. Like. Everyone. Everywhere. A major pop singer (Gwen Stefani) literally paid for a group of "kawaii girls" to follow her around as part of her image, and Smile.dk (which had zero Japanese members) debuted with a song called "Butterfly" in which the singer "searches for a man all across Japan, just to find my samurai" and featuring some non-lyric vocalizations that I genuinely hope weren't supposed to sound like Chinese tonals because they really sound like someone botching Chinese tonals (and, you know, assuming All Asian Nations Are Japan). Pikachu was on the front of Time magazine, most of the weekday afternoon programming block on Cartoon Network was anime, kimono-style tops (although usually facing the wrong way) were a huge trend, and for those who still wanted tees or regular shirts with long sleeves, well...

Do I have any idea what that says? None. Did I own one of these? I did not--I owned three of them. All three of mine looked like lacquer boxes with koi or traditional flower designs. I found out later the writing on at least one of mine was complete gibberish. The designer just picked some kanji they thought looked cool. And yes, basically every top I owned that wasn't one of these was a kimono-style. Wearing chopsticks in your hair became A Whole Thing if you weren't flatironing your hair (and yes, people used actual chopsticks, not hair sticks--I'm not even sure hair sticks were really a thing in American fashion until this point). On the internet side of things, 2channel was possibly getting shut down and 2chan sprang up, and quickly got so popular in the western hemisphere that we got--yep--4chan, the same year Avenue Q debuted. 4chan is weeb culture, or at least, that's how it started. (In fact I think it's also where "weeaboo" was coined.) A couple of years later, MCR would include Japanese verses in a song just...because. Because that's what we were like at that point in time. 1998-2005 (or so) was when America had its own taste of Japonisme. And into all of this you get Christmas Eve. Who's loud, and brash, and assertive--not at all a docile me-love-you-long-time weeb fantasy. Her English is a little broken, but she's not stupid--in fact as far as we can tell she's the most educated person on Avenue Q (Kate and Princeton both have BAs and Rod probably has a master's in business, but Christmas Eve has two separate master's degrees, which she earned in her secondary language). Her accent is thick, but there's literally a song ("Everyone's A Little Bit Racist") where some of the characters get called out on laughing at her for it. And--crucially--the white man she marries is so far removed from anything related to pan-Asian culture in America he doesn't know he shouldn't call her Oriental. Is this absolutely terrible given he's marrying a Japanese woman? Yes. Is it kind of baffling that another character immediately says "the term is Asian-American," since Christmas Eve refers to herself as Japanese? Also yes. Is it weird that a guy who (according to the timeline) was born in 1970 would be using Oriental? Extremely. Is it a dig at the exoticizing that was going on at the time? Absofuckinglutely. (And that's why that anachronism is there. It's very much pointing out that society was treating Japanese pop culture the same way our Victorian forebears treated Japan in general in the Meiji era.) And like. I'm not saying Christmas Eve is some kind of unproblematic depiction here by any means. Even in 2003 her accent was...icky, and now it's downright unacceptable. And there's the question of whether they fell into one stereotype ("Asians are so smart!") while trying to mock another ("if you can't speak English you must be stupid"), and whether that's an acceptable trade-off. I'm not even going to get into her name being a Christmas cake joke because....look, I could sit here and explain all the puns in the names but that's a whole other post and it's literally easier to say "Brian, Kate, and Nicky are the only characters whose names aren't jokes."

But there's a huge nuance to why she was written as this bizarre stereotype-but-not-but-yes-but-not-but-yes-but-maybe mashup, and I think there's a big possibility you literally just had to be there to understand. It really truly genuinely is a product of 2003. You could not write Christmas Eve in 1983 and have her make any damn sense. You could not write her in 2023 and have her come across as anything but wildly racist. Like. Maybe that phrase isn't just don't-be-mean-to-your-elders bullshit. (At least, not all of the time.)

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m1ssunderstanding · 4 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Four

"Lennon's late again" says Paul, as he walks in late. And sweet Ringo just gently, "between ten and eleven is the time" Which means: "Chill babe. He'll be here."

One thing that always gob smacks me is how bored George and Ringo are watching Paul pull Get Back out of the ether. They literally see him do this shit all the time which is insane to me.

His voice is so so so pretty!!! And he's just so completely in his own world. The hunched shoulders. The twitching. The gibberish. The tapping. The twisting.

Obviously this is a song with the original central feeling being let's go back to before everything went wrong but he wants to make it into a meaningless song with both story bits and almost walrus-esque bits. But why is the first lyric he comes up with about gender? Thinking of @scurators posts on Paul and gender.

Ringo's customary quiet really does add significance to his voice, so him singing along with this so quickly says something I think about his support for the song and for Paul in general.

When John walks in he's greeted with a little cocky nod and smile like "look what I've just done while you were late." And then Paul sings "get back to where you once belonged" directly at him before breaking the eye contact. It's one of those heartbreaking Lennon/McCartney miscommunications because Paul is doing this to get John back, but actually it's scaring him away, you know? Paul thinks he has to prove to John how good he is, but John's exhausted with how good Paul is.

STFU Michael Lindsay Hogg

Paul really does love the idea of being forced out of parliament by cops and honestly so do I. Would've been iconic and might've kept them together.

John's so quiet today and also Yoko is not here. Correlation or causation I wonder.

"They say don't they say charity begins at home?" I love you forever, George. His humor is always so well-placed and so dry (even though he's clearly cracking himself up here). And it steers the conversation away from a direction he was not happy with without poking any bears. In fact, everyone's laughing. Clever boy.

"I've decided that the whole point of it is communication. And to be on TV is communication and we've got a chance to smile at people like all you need is love or something so that's me incentive for doing it." Wise, egalitarian John making a lovely appearance.

And then there's Paul. "I'm here cause I wanna do a show." Lol I love them.

Why do they say "Mr Epstein?" Is it because they're on camera and they want people to know who they're talking about? Does it have something to do with the maharishi telling them certain ways to talk about Brian? Does anyone have any thoughts about that?

Okay so you know how I just said last time how emotionally mature George was? I still think it's generally more true of him than the others, but this right here? This is not it. "I don't want to do any of my songs in the show because they'll all just turn out shitty." Man has issues.

I think it's important to recognize that George and Paul have both said the literal word "divorce" and it's NBD. But when John does it, Paul takes it as "the groups really over and I have to go into hiding and not get out of bed and maybe od who knows." Why? There's another puzzle piece here that we're missing.

"Should we leave you for a while?" "YES!"

On the one hand I'm like "working on Maxwell is the last thing you guys should be doing with this time alone." But on the other thing maybe it's the only thing they can do at this point.

"Mal? You should get a hammer. And an anvil." As he's walking away. Main character in a contrived mad genius biopic. Except it's real.

"Joan" sounding suspiciously like "John" ... And then he goes "fool, Maxwell fool." Aka one of their ~special words~ New theory. John hates Maxwell because he dies in it. And Paul's the killer.

"Take it away Johnny." Even though it was George and John whistling before wasn't it? Did George get cut from the whistle chorus? Another straw on the camel's back.

I LOVE that John just does not know any of his own songs. Across the Universe my beloved!

On the glyn/Paul moment featured below, I have three thoughts. 1. Whore. 2. John Lennon villain origin story. 3. The fact that glyn didn't just tell John is striking.

"I wish it fucking would". "Cause I'm down." This lyric going from a self-soothing reassurance that his people aren't going to leave him that he'll always have this beautiful dream he's created with them. To this? I hate it here.

So there is a big emotional and energy difference between their Beatlemania selves singing "Rock and Roll Music" and their current selves. And part of it is due to the fact that they're just not as happy as they were then. But I think most of it is really just that they thrive when they're performing for an audience.

#Sorry for the scarcity of shitty pics to break up the block of text in this one.#Hopefully the next one will be better #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #Get back

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rxttingsblog · 2 years

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𓆩❤︎𓆪 Pacify him 𓆩❤︎𓆪

(FINAL PART)

Yandere!Peter ballard/Henry creel, dark 002, x hurt!Reader

READER IS 18!!

Summary: After Dr. Brenner discovers the ugly truth, despite the truth being a lie. He punishes you for it without believing a single word out of your mouth. Just when you have up all hope, something unexpected happens.. But it changes your life forever

WARNING: Forced relationship, age-gap, description of murder and torture, major violence, Everyone dies, grooming, Yandere, child abuse, love triangle, Henry wins, manipulation, peer pressure, reader is kinda dumb, kidnapping(?), dark themes inside hawkins lab.

(part 4) (part 3) (part 2) (part 1)

-Reader’s POV

“I didn’t do that!” I yell out defensively after Papa scolded me for my actions that were completely untrue.

“Then why did 002 come to me saying you did? He told me it all in explicit detail. He is my top student and wouldn’t lie about something like that. He has been attending the laboratory longer than you have. Do you really think i’m going to trust your words over his?” Dr. Brenner sneered lowly in response with a hateful look on his features. His intense glare made me shrink in defeat.

The only thing i could think about was what he was going to do to me. It was worthless bickering with him back and forth. In the end it would just lead me nowhere. Papa would always choose 002 and that was final.

I couldn’t help but start crying in frustration. Droplets of tears slowly cascaded down my reddened cheeks. If only all this pain would be over soon. I don’t how how long i could tolerate this for. It was just becoming so overwhelming to the point where i felt like dying.

“Because of your impulsive actions, you’ll be punished for it.” Dr. Brenner declared lastly, looking completely repulsed by me. My thoughts only swirled with deranged scenarios on how he would torture me this time.

Without any warning, Papa approached me and tightened restraints around my wrists, my back laid against this unfamiliar padding that was attached to the wall of the confinement room.

My heartbeat rapidly quickened and i soon found it hard to catch my breath as two male orderlies entered the room. I strained my eyes as i peered up at them. They both loomed over my smaller frame. I did truly feel defeated. There was nothing i could do to stop them.

Before i was able to comprehend anything else a intensifying shock was delivered through my body, a screen of agony escaped my chapped lips while my body jolted in response. More hot tears made there way down my hot face. One electric shot after the other followed by agonizing screams. My consciousness slowly vanishing all while the guards continued the assault all across my body.

“Pl..plea- plea.. s-stop..” My words only came out as gibberish, the guards looked only amused at my tortured state and continued to shock me. Papa on the otter hand stood across from them in the back. Looking as pleased as ever. His expression still haunts me to this day. The man literally spectated and smiled while the two older orderlies sent jolts of pain through my body.

Before i fell unconscious i could only think of one thing; where was Peter? Maybe he just abandoned me. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he did. I haven’t seen him all day. Maybe i’m just overthinking it but how could this just be a coincidence? As i thought everything over my mind drifted off to 002. The thought of him made me sob even more. Why did this have to happen to me?

I’m not entirely sure what 002 told Papa but i knew for a fact it wasn’t true in the slightest. How could i ever have underestimated him? I should’ve seen this coming. But i didn’t do anything about it..

How come whenever something good happens to me somethings bad follows? Well, i guess i wasn’t being over exaggerate when i claimed that evil always lurked around the corner in my favor.

I don’t remember how many shocks they gave me, i didn’t even notice when it came to an end and as if they didn’t do anything wrong, the two older orderlies exited the room, leaving me and Papa alone in the room once more. My heart beat was slow, my breath hitched while Papa took a few steps closer to me. My head hung low and i refused to meet his gaze. My vision was blurring in and out as i fought to stay awake.

“This is what happens when you act reckless and disobey my rules. I’m very disappointed in you, 003. I was a fool to think you were actually worth something, actually a good person. But it turns out you’re nothing but a filthy whore.” Dr. Brenner spoke, his voice sincere as ever. Every word he said caused me to wince in response. Am i really a whore?

“I hope this punishment leaves you time to think about what you’ve done.” The tall man ferociously seethed before exiting the dreary room. Papa didn’t even bother removing my restraints. He only abandoned me here to go over my actions i never committed.

When i heard the door slam and no longer felt his presence upon me is when i broke up in sobs. Actual crying, full on hyperventilating in fact. I don’t know how long i cowered there for nor how many hours i’ve been crying for but before i knew it i was passed out. My teary vision blurred and darkness consumed me.

—

“You hurt her and now you will pay with your life!” Peter hissed at 002, his entire body pressed against the wall as Peter used his telekinesis to keep him pinned there.

“F-fuck.. y-you..” 002 spat out, his words coming out as a stuttering grunt because of the pressure Peter was applying to his body.

“The girl is mine now, you dumb careless boy..” Peter cooed seductively and with that 002’s limbs snapped, his eyes pushed back into his skull and his now lifeless body came crashing down onto the hard white floor. Peter only smiled sadistically, thrilled at the fact he killed your abuser.

Peter felt the presence of someone watching him from behind, so he hastily whipped around to see Eleven standing there. Her eyes wide with horror at what she just witnessed.

“Tell me Eleven,” Peter sauntered towards a frightened Eleven, “Where is she?” He now asked while his cold fingers cupped her chin. His once pure blue gaze stared sinisterly into her brown innocent ones.

Blood, the blood of her siblings littered his once clean uniform, dead bodies sprawled across the rainbow room. The once clean and bland room was now drenched in blood from the wall to the tiled floor. The rest of the patients, orderlies, and guards were now dead. All of them have been brutally murdered.

“Where is she?” Peter repeated himself, his tone growing darker with anger when Eleven didn’t answer him fast enough to his liking.

Eleven couldn’t think of anything else except the dead bodies that were scattered all around them. The girl was utterly dumbfounded. She took a big gulp and glanced up at him with fear. Her vision clouded with tears as she tried to speak but nothing came out.

“Eleven, tell me where she is.. now.” Peter’s hand now gripped her face. She grunted as his grip tightened. Eleven knew Peter could easily break her. She never felt so betrayed. She couldn’t put anyone else in danger especially you. Who knew Peter’s intentions with you were for the greater good?

“I.. i don’t.. know..” Her soft voice replied, it was almost inaudible but Peter could hear her loud and clear. Instead of Peter believing her, this response only made his rage increase.

“Don’t you remember what i taught you?” Peter’s face contorted into a deeper scowl, “Friends don’t lie.”

Eleven’s chocolate orbs went wide, how could she be so foolish to think she could get away with tricking someone like him?

“I can’t believe you’d lie to me, Eleven. After everything i did for you. I was hoping you’d come along with us.. but i guess not.” Peter took a few steps away which left Eleven immediately frustrated.

“You.. tricked me.. i’m not telling you where she is! You.. you’re going to hurt her..” Eleven finally managed to croak out. The man in front of her had a look of confusion on his features. A genuine look of confusion combined with great anger.

“Hurt her?” Peter mocked as if he never suspected she’d say something like that. “Oh no, i’m not going to hurt her. I did this for her.. for us.” He claimed with a proud grin.

“But because you’re being so difficult.. i guess i have no more use for you.” Peter trailed off, Eleven was quite surprised to find a glimmer of sadness in his eyes but it was quickly replaced by a somewhat repulsed expression.

Before Eleven could make the first move, Peter lifted his arm in the air and a empowering magnetic force brought her up into the air. The young girl levitated in front of Peter as he kept a tight hold on her by using his special abilities.

Tears streamed down Eleven’s face, this was it. this was how she was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it. She only screamed in pain because that was all she could do while she felt each and every one of her limbs snapping. The pain was unbearable. She didn’t even notice when death embraced her.

Eleven’s lifeless body dropped onto the tiled floor with a harsh thud. This was it, everyone else was gone. All the guards, all the nurses and fellow orderlies that Peter was once friends with at a point in his life. But he didn’t care, he hated them all. Each and every one of them. A part of him didn’t want to kill Eleven but he knew he had to. It’s not like she was special anyway.

Peter did this all for you. It was so that he could protect you. He made a promise to you and he wasn’t going to let you down. Everyone who has hurt you, who wronged you, who abused you. Was now dead. Dead for all eternity, rotting in a special place in hell reserved just for them. Especially 002.

Leaving all the bodies behind, Peter briskly exited the rainbow room and stormed down the hall on a search to find you. The corridor was freshly painted in crimson blood with even more lifeless humans sprawled around it. Peter was proud of his masterpiece to say at the least.

As soon as he cut the corridor, Peter could just about make out the sound of faint sobs coming from an unexplored room. It was the room he used to get tortured in when he was an experiment at the lab. With a smile spreading across his face, he slowly made his way down the hall towards the door that led inside the room that you were trapped in.

—

Did those awful screams finally stop? You told yourself in your head when you no longer heard those agonizing screams in unison.

You lifted your head up, the fluorescent lights above you flickered. Something didn’t feel.. right. All though the screaming stopped, you were met with unpleasant silence. There is nothing wrong with silence but it’s only more creepy when it’s too silent.

Strands of matted hair were covering your eyesight and since you didn’t have access to your hands you shook your head once or twice to make the little strands of hair over your face get out of the way. Everything hurt, especially your wrists and head.

Your headache you were having only worsened by the beaming lights above you that nearly blinded you. Your wrists that were still retrained burnt like hell from being tied up for so long.

Where was Papa? Where were the other orderlies? Surely they weren’t leaving you here for this long? And where was Peter?

So many thoughts took over you and consumed you to the point where you just broke out sobbing. You were so confused, so lost, so heartbroken in general. You knew you had to get out of here but how would you even do it? Using your powers wasn’t an option because you were currently out of strength entirely.

Your light sobs filled the quiet room, all until the door suddenly flew open which caused you to gasp. Who could that be? You mostly assumed it was Papa but you knew that was your mind making up excuses. Something about this didn’t feel right whatsoever, it wasn’t a good presence. This was something evil.

You knew you were a goner considering this odd intruder possibly heard you. But as you were about to give up the most least expected thing happened. As you lifted your gaze again, to your dismay you were met by those familiar ocean blue eyes. The intruder was Peter. He looked so.. different. You barely even recognized him.

Your beaten body trembled when he slowly approached you, why were you suddenly so scared? Peter was always so kind, so very gentle and clean. Now you barely recognized the man who was walking towards your smaller frame that was tied up.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here now.” Peter lowly spoke, even his own voice was unrecognizable. It wasn’t that friendly voice anymore. That once demeanor was replaced by an intimating and deeper tone of voice. It sent shivers down your spine.

Peter knelt down in front of you and reached out a hand to caress your cheek lovingly while humming to himself. You subconsciously flinched under his touch though. Your reaction caused him to frown. Your state made anger surge through his body. How could someone ever do this to you? But he’s glad he got rid of that piece of filth who forced you to endure this hell.

Without saying another word, Peter un-tightened the cruel restraints that basically dug into your wrists. The moment your hands were free and before you could react you were embraced by Peter. He scooped you up into his arms and held you for a good 3 minutes. Your body still shivered while he held you against his chest.

“We’re free now, arise my darling and come with me. I did this all for us.” Peter’s raspy whisper cooed into your ear all while you inhaled his new scent. His clean scent now replaced by the foul smell of blood. You tried to hold yourself back from gagging at the stench.

“Peter.. what did you do?” You warily interrogate, awaiting his response. Your hands gripped his white button up shirt that was spotted in blood.

“My name isn’t Peter,” He replied firmly, still not answering your question but you did wonder what his real name was.

“What- what’s your real name?” Your trembling voice asks in shock. You were upset by the fact that he lied about his identity to you but you had no strength to fight at the moment. Besides, he was all you had left in this world.

“You can call me Henry, my darling.” Henry chucked in response when you whined in distress.

Henry then hoisted you up into the air and then back into his arms. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist while your frail arms draped around his shoulders. You carefully played with the little hairs on the back of his neck while he carried you out into the hall. You were expecting to be met with the clean corridor but instead you caught the sight of all the lifeless bodies

Your automatic reflex allowed your body to glue to Henry’s even tighter than before. You hid your face in the crook of his neck so you’d block out the ugly scenery. Your realization hit, this whole time he was a psychopath, you’re literally being carried away in the arms of a murderer.

He killed everyone, ended everyone in the most fucked up way possible. He saved you from this prison and now he was taking you away. He ended up manipulating you and tricking you just like how 002 did to you. But this time was different and it was different because you liked it.

hello this short series has come to an end! i hope you enjoyed!<3 thank you for all the ongoing support. it means a lot. (comments+reblogs+likes are appreciated!)

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Cold Comforts

Prompts: Sorry if this is too much, but do you think you could maybe do another hurt Roman fic. I absolutely eat that stuff up. My idea what the after POF Roman just disappears. He’s not in his room, the mind palace, the house. The others think they’ve checked the imagination to its full extent, but they miss one part (but you can’t necessarily blame them). Roman has trapped himself in a hidden and/or invisible castle on his half of the imagination. Slowly, he begins to fade/disappear, believing the others would be better off without him. But, as he goes, so do the things that belong to him. Items in his room start to go missing. Small trinkets turn to computers and posters. Computers and posters turn into chairs and furniture. Furniture turns into literally every single thing in his room, and then that turns into the room itself. Roman won’t disappear until everything he’s tied to does. That means his room disappears, the gifts he’s given others vanish, the videos he’s featured in start to glitch and have to be taken down, his writing and art are nowhere to be found. Everything he’s made in the imagination goes poof, but that also means that castle he’s made to ‘protect’ himself. Since that’s last things that needed to go, Roman is on the brink of disappearing forever when everyone finds him. I would write it but I just don’t have a lot of motivation right now, and I’m so tired my writing comes off as gibberish. I don’t mind any ships, but I’m definitely leaning towards found family and I really love how you write the creativitwins. That’s all I really have. Throw however much angst in as you want. I just like projecting onto imaginary characters :) thanks - anon

hi again! i’m still obsessed with your Roman angst writing. Amazing, by the way ☺️ I hope you don’t mind me asking for more. So how about some Logince where Logan and Roman have a heated argument that results in Logan snapping at Roman. Roman is scared off by that and sinks out while Logan regrets his actions. Roman then avoids Logan all day and doesn’t talk to him. Until later in the middle of the night when Logan finds Roman crying on the kitchen floor and eating Crofters. Logan then takes that chance to make things right and learns a lot more about Roman. Some concerning stuff and some interesting stuff. I hope that isn’t too much! Keep up the good writing, friendo! - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, ducking out kind of

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5151

Some arguments between Logan and Roman stay as little bits of contention.

Logan will bring up a point and Roman will read it wrong; either he'll make a joke that won't be received well or he'll take it as an insult when it wasn't intended that way. Logan will explain what he meant and the two of them will settle a little, at least until they can get back into the flow of the conversation and move past it.

Or Roman will let slip a comment he should've kept to himself and Logan will draw himself up, at least until Roman can apologize and claw it back, or he'll smirk and let loose a quip of his own and forgiveness will go unstated. They'll bounce off of each other until the conversation gets back on the rails.

This isn't one of those arguments.

"If you were capable of seeing reason, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

"Oh, and you think that just because you're Logic that you hold the monopoly on rationality?"

"Yes. By definition."

Roman throws his hands up, almost knocking over some of the papers. "So why do the rest of us even bother? Matter of fact, why do you even bother with the rest of us? If we're so unteachable and ridiculous?"

"Believe me, I've had the same thought many times." Logan juts his chin upward and looks down his nose at Roman. "Although some of you are more teachable than others."

"Oh, here we go again! 'Roman's stupid, Roman's dumb, Roman's un-teachable—'"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! It's written all over your stupid prideful face every single time I say something that doesn't line up perfectly with what you want to hear!"

"Resorting to exceedingly childish insults isn't making you look any better."

"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps take a breath and listen to me so then I can explain why you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong. Maybe you should take a breath and listen to me."

Logan laughs, loud and cruel. "I should listen to you? When I need to fill my head with nonsense I have much better sources for it."

"Nonsense?"

"Yes, Roman, nonsense. This is nonsense, right now. We should have been finished about half an hour ago but you keep insisting that—"

"Because you don't know about this!" Roman gestures emphatically to the papers scattered about the table. "You don't know how to do this, you don't know how to come up with things like I do, so you have to come to me! And you have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything, Roman."

"Well, if you want a halfway decent idea, then yeah, actually, you do."

Logan's mouth twitches and his hand tenses on his pen. "Arrogance is not going to do a better job of convincing me than insults."

"I'm not being arrogant, I'm telling you the truth."

"Thinking yourself irrevocably better than someone else is arrogance. Or have you somehow forgotten the meaning of the word?"

"I know what it means, don't patronize me. How come you get to be Logic and say that no one else is capable of rational thought but I can't say I'm Creativity and thus I'm naturally better at coming up with things?"

"Because I didn't say that no one else was capable of rational thought. I said that you of all people are incapable of seeing reason."

"What the hell's the difference?"

Logan smiles smugly, sitting up a little straighter. "Perhaps if you were capable of understanding reason I wouldn't need to explain it to you."

Roman growls, his hands curling into fists and Logan raises a scolding eyebrow.

"Careful, Roman. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Again."

"I'm letting—you're antagonizing me!"

"I'm not sure you know what that word means either."

"I don't—don't you sit there and tell me I don't know what an antagonist is," Roman splutters, pointing a finger like a dagger at Logan, "and you don't have the high ground right now either."

"Why not?"

"You're insulting me as often as I'm insulting you!"

"So you can admit you've been insulting me."

Roman fumes. "So have you!"

"No. I have been pointing out facts."

"Insulting facts."

"Facts are most often insulting to people who lack the intellectual capacity to understand them."

"Lack the—are you capable of going a single sentence without calling me stupid?"

"Go a single sentence without being stupid and I won't have to."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be useful."

The room stills. Logan's face freezes for a moment and Roman winces internally. That's a button he shouldn't have pressed. Sure, maybe he wanted to needle Logan for making him so upset but he shouldn't have gone there. That's a sore spot that hasn't healed yet. He should apologize. He should apologize right now.

"I—"

"I am useful," Logan says, his voice dangerously low.

"Logan, I—"

"You, on the other hand," he continues, ignoring Roman's attempt to apologize, "are nothing but a waste of time."

Any words Roman may have had in his throat choke off. He gulps around empty air, staring at Logan.

"Are you capable of thinking of anyone but yourself? Do you understand that you are not so important that everything revolves around you?" Logan hasn't stood up, but the way he's just glaring at Roman makes it feel like he's looming over him. "You think yourself, what, some great presence or some great menace that I have to vanquish?"

Scrabbling for words in a filling grave, Roman grabs a chunk of dirt that buries him alive.

"I'm not Remus."

Logan's eyes flash dangerously. "No, Roman. You are not Remus. Remus has a function. Remus serves a purpose. And Remus, despite what you think of him—"

I love him. I love him, he's my brother, he's my Remus. I'm sorry, Re, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

"—is actually capable of listening to reason. You, Roman, you are not. At best you are a nuisance and a mild inconvenience, one easily dealt with and not worth the time it takes to do so."

He takes a moment to collect himself.

"I am busy. I cannot afford to waste time on you. If you are so determined to thrill me with impossible feats, go and find somewhere you are wanted."

Roman's chest burns.

He stares wordlessly at Logan, who just stares back at him. Against all hopes he wants Logan to take it back, the way he was going to, to apologize or realize what he just said or something, something, but he doesn't. He just stares at Roman and glares and then he turns away.

He packs up his things and leaves.

Roman is left alone.

He stares after him for a long time, still in shock. The words bounce around and around his head like bullets ricocheting off metal plates only to score grazes in every surface. They replay over and over and over until they threaten to swallow him whole.

He's not stupid. He's not stupid. He knows that there are ways to draw attention to himself that aren't good and that he—he can be a nuisance sometimes. And in being a nuisance, he's cultivated an atmosphere where the lack of him is to be looked forward to. But he—he's not stupid. He knows that where that comes from is the opposite; everything he's done, every part of the persona he's crafted, is in defiance of that invisibility.

This isn't a revelation, he realizes, but the difference between knowing and knowing. The kind that gets sobbed into your pillow in the dead of night.

And in that petty, spiteful, semantic kind of defiance that children are so often accused of, he sinks out to his room because that's where Patton said he wants him to stay.

He stumbles around the room in a state of shock, clumsy and inelegant and utterly irredeemable, knocking into his bookshelf and his desk and almost tripping over a notebook he left lying on the floor. He strips off the prince costume and throws it away like it burns to touch, staggering to the bed in nothing but undershirt and boxers and crawling under the covers.

He shouldn't be doing this. He's just proving Logan right. But he doesn't want to be something other than he is right now and if Logan thinks he's a stupid child that throws temper tantrums and sulks when he doesn't get his way, then he's allowed to curl up into a ball and clutch his hand to his chest. It's still hurting, the words still dragging themselves over his exposed nerves, and he curls up around it like he could offer it protection.

He should go to someone, he knows. They've all been trying to get better about asking for help and support. He should get up and go—but who would he go to?

Patton would want to hear everything that happened and he'd be scolded for being so mean to Logan. Patton would make him go apologize right then and there and he doesn't think he could bear going anywhere near Logan right now.

Virgil would take Logan's side immediately, he's sure of it. Virgil calls him stupid all the time, he'd probably be happy that someone finally told you like it is, Princey, deal with it.

Janus would take Logan's side too. Not because he'd necessarily agree with him—even though he would—but because it's not Roman's side.

Remus…Remus would hate him.

A pained noise leaves the safety of the covers and Roman only belatedly realizes it's him. He doesn't want to go and expose himself anymore to the possibility of being hurt. He wants to run away and lick his wounds and be upset all by himself. He doesn't want to be accused of being attention-seeking and overdramatic and all of that, doesn't want to be lectured and scolded and then—only then—offered the barest scraps of comfort like a starving animal being tossed a bone. He doesn't want to be hurt and then have them say it's for his own good. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want that, he doesn't want that.

He wants someone to just come and hold him. To say it's okay that he's upset—not even that he was right or that Logan shouldn't have said that or even that it's all going to be okay.

He just wants someone to comfort him. It doesn't have to be big or sweeping or anything, they don't have to stay for a long time, they don't—it doesn't have to be large or—or complicated, he doesn't—he just wants a hug, okay? Or not even a hug, it doesn't have to be a hug, it can just be a touch or something—or not even that, it can just be a—a look, or a nod or—okay, it doesn't even have to be that, okay? He just—he just wants—

He just wants, okay?

Roman's eyes start to grow heavy and he curls up tighter, limp and aching fingers brushing against his face as he almost nuzzles into his hand. He moves his head until he can get his nose tucked into the space under his thumb and feel the shuddering of his own breath against his palm. Oh, he wants and wants and wants and in the safety of the covers he can pretend.

"Shh," he mumbles in a half-voice that he's more thinking than saying, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He brushes his lips against the skin there and it almost feels like a kiss.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, shh…it's alright. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay." He does it again, trying to narrow his focus down to just that, the gentleness of the touch and the shaking voice from his own throat. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright."

His fingers twitch from a small gust that blows under the blanket and he moves, pressing it deeper into the chasm between his chest and the bed and lets his breath blow warm and stuffy over the skin again.

"Shh-shh-shh," he warbles in broken half-tones, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

Slowly, he works himself back from the brink, mumbling the half-comfort to his hand until the thought of moving no longer threatens to tear him apart. He keeps at it as he drags himself from beneath the covers, as he drags on a t-shirt and shorts, mumbling that it's okay, we just have to go get something to eat, then we can come back and sleep. He keeps the hand pressed to his chest, holding his breath as he creeps down the stairs.

It's late. Well past midnight. The others are likely gone to their separate corners of the Mindscape. Had he the wherewithal to notice he might feel ridiculous, stealing away like a thief in the night as he makes his way to his own kitchen, but all he has space for is the lifeline of comfort that he still murmurs in the darkness.

"Just a little further," he mumbles, "almost there."

The kitchen looms in sharp lines and cold surfaces. He lumbers in and goes to the cabinet, reaching up for the one food he knows he can eat. The fingers on his useful hand brush against the cool glass of the Crofter's bottle and he takes it down, slumping to the floor and curling up, only belatedly realizing he didn't grab a spoon and groping around until he can get one.

It's his jar, almost empty, but just enough left that if he eats it he can make it until morning.

The spoon clinks and rattles as he props the jar up in his lap, eating clumsily until he can scrape the spoon around the edges and get the last of it. He starts crying somewhere in the middle and he only notices because it starts to taste salty.

Almost done, he thinks to his hand, almost there. It's okay. Shh, shh, it's okay.

He's just about to throw the empty jar away and skulk back to his room when the stairs creak.

Don't come here. Oh, god, please don't come in here.

The footsteps get closer. He curls up tighter, thinking maybe he won't be seen in the dark. They get closer.

A shadow looms in the sliver of light from the window.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

A figure rounds the corner and stops, staring down at him. Its eyes narrow behind glasses as it sees the jar clutched in Roman's hands.

Logan doesn't get the chance to say anything before Roman is gone.

He drops into some random part of the Imagination and just runs. His bare feet cry out in protest as he runs over jagged rocks and sharp stones but he pushes onward. His hand lies useless in the wind, just aching from the memory of harsh words and the panic of being discovered by Logan. The frightened animal that lives in his brain digs its teeth into the soft part of his heart and makes him run faster, faster, faster.

Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted.

Unbeknownst to him, the Imagination is building him something. A tall tower, high enough that its head loses itself in the clouds, invisible save for the way clouds can't pass through it, where he can curl up in a small room and be far away from everyone else. It waits until he collapses from sheer exhaustion, carrying him up, up, up, closing itself around him until he's locked in.

Roman doesn't notice any of that. He's too busy curled around his hand again, trying to murmur to it, comfort it, drag himself out of this ache again. He chokes on the words it's okay and it's alright and so he gasps out shh, shh, shh.

Sobs force their way out of his throat and it just hurts. He keeps trying, struggling to shush them, to shush his hand, to shush himself, to give himself something, anything, just to make it stop.

But his hand is just a hand and the pain is just pain. There's no tragedy in it, no pity in it, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the mess he's made.

He really is stupid.

* * *

A jar, discarded and empty on the kitchen floor. It clinks as it rolls over the boards until it comes to a stop, resting in the shadow of the stove.

Its label, half rubbed away from being handled, still clings stubbornly to the glass. One of the letters is still visible, just slightly, the single 'R' barely more than an outline in the faint light from the windows.

The lid is still up on the counter, laid on its back, cold and alone on the flat surface. The jar is somewhere else, air blowing through the empty spaces where it should be.

It fades away as the morning sun dawns, still empty.

* * *

"Hey, Pat," Virgil calls as he walks downstairs, "have you seen Roman?"

Patton frowns, glancing around the living room. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something really weird is happening and I think it's his fault."

"What's going on?"

Virgil comes into the kitchen and holds up his phone. One of their videos is playing but as they watch, it starts to glitch, skipping back and forth as though someone's dragging the slider.

"Huh. That's weird."

"Right?"

"Why do you think Roman has something to do with this?"

"'Cause all the parts it's skipping are the parts with him in it. And look at this." Virgil taps through a menu. "See?"

The thumbnails with Roman in them are conspicuously missing a certain prince. Patton puts his hands on his hips. "Well, that is strange."

"That's what I said. So yeah, we need to find him."

"I haven't seen him in a few days, I don't think. I guess I thought he was busy."

"Well, great, who was the last person to see him?"

"See who?"

"Do not do that," Virgil grumbles, helping himself up from the stair rail as Janus strides from the shadows, "you'll make me break something."

"Oh, relax, you're fine."

Virgil mutters something decidedly unflattering and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen Roman?"

"Not for a while, no." He frowns. "Why, is something wrong?"

They show him what's happening to the videos and he hums.

"That's…that's not good."

"No, it isn't."

"We need to find Remus."

"Wait, what? Why Remus?"

"He's the one who'll most likely know what Roman's done to cause this." Janus is already striding away. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They do, because as they walk they realize that Roman's poster is gone. Then his paintings. They break into a run when they see that his door is no longer bright red.

"Remus," Janus barks as they tear into the other living room, "Remus, we need you now."

As soon as Remus appears they know he knows already. He's almost frothing at the mouth, his hands itching around his Morningstar as he glares at them.

"What did you do," he snarls, "where is he?"

"We were coming to ask you," Virgil says, his hands raised, "we haven't seen him. We don't know."

Remus glares at all of them before looking at Janus, who nods. "He's Fading. He's trying to disappear. We need to find him now."

"Wait, Fading? What's that mean?"

"Like ducking out but worse, 'cause he's Creativity and I'll be happy to explain this once he's back. Now who saw him last?"

"Not me," Patton says, "I only saw him at breakfast a few days ago with everyone."

"That's the last time I saw him too."

"Janus?"

"We met up briefly to discuss a show but he had to leave early. Said he was…"

Remus growls as Janus trails off. "Said he was what?"

"…meeting with Logan. He had to go meet with Logan."

No sooner has Janus finished speaking, Remus reaches out a hand and yanks. A body falls to the ground in front of him.

"Start talking, bitch boy," he snarls, stalking over to loom over Logan, "what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't—I don't know—"

An animalistic roar leaves Remus's throat and he hefts the Morningstar, ready to bring it down when Virgil catches his wrist.

"Hey, hey, easy! If you hurt him, we won't find out what happened!"

"He hurt Roman."

"We don't know that for sure, Remus, just—just take a second, okay?"

"I don't care—"

"Look at him," Janus interrupts quickly, "Remus, look at him."

Remus growls and tears himself free from Virgil's hold but does. Logan is still on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, glasses askew on his face. His shirt is dirty, tie mussed and torn, scratches on his arms and neck.

Wait.

"You were looking for him," Remus spits, "in the Imagination, weren't you?"

Logan swallows. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. He's Fading and he's not anywhere else and that's the only place he can be but I don't know where else to look."

"Why is he Fading," Patton asks as Virgil has to hold Remus back again, "what happened?"

Janus gives Logan a warning look as he opens his mouth.

"…we had an argument."

"I get into arguments with Princey all the time," Virgil says sharply, "they don't end with Roman Fading."

"I may have said some things."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I—we're running out of time, we need to find him—ah!"

Remus, quicker than Virgil, shoots forward and pins Logan to the wall, Morningstar thrust against his chest. Logan winces as the spikes dig into him and Remus just growls.

"If you do not tell me exactly what you said to him," he says in a calm voice, "you and I are gonna run a little experiment on how hard it is to break the human spine."

Logan swallows. "I…I called him stupid. I said he—that he was incapable of listening to reason and that he—he should go somewhere where he was wanted."

"Why," Virgil growls, "in the fuck did you do that?"

"I was angry," he defends weakly, "I—I didn't mean it, I just wanted to hurt him—"

"Congratulations," Janus says lowly, "you did. You hurt him so badly he wants to disappear."

"I didn't know that," Logan says impatiently, "and I was trying to fix it! I went and looked for him the moment I'd calmed down enough to realize it was wrong and he wasn't anywhere! I only managed to find him that night in the kitchen and he vanished before I could say a thing!"

"Remus," Janus says softly, pulling Remus back, "we need to look in the Imagination. You know it better than the rest of us, where is he?"

Remus glares at Logan one more time before stalking to the door and ripping it open. "He's going to be hidden. The Imagination is him when he gets like this, if he's scared and hurt it's going to protect him."

But the Imagination they step into isn't rolling fields or towering castles or fairytale woods. It's glitching messes of clumps of grass and loose bricks, a white and lifeless sky overhead. Remus growls and breaks into a run.

"Look for anything that is still intact," he barks over his shoulder, "that'll be the last to go."

They run for hours.

A broken scarecrow, its arms dangling by the thinnest splinter as a crow glitches in and out of existence.

A frog, frozen mid-leap as its legs reach for nothing.

A bridge, splintered and torn by something massive except all that's left of it are shards of wooden boards.

They're losing him.

"There," Virgil shouts, pointing, "the tower!"

A single tower, the only thing still intact, stretching as high as the clouds, its shadow as long and thin as a needle as it pierces the last of the ground. They race towards it and crash through the door.

"Whoa!"

"I've got you, I've got you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Don't fall!"

For there are no stairs inside this tower. Only a bottomless pit that stretches into yawning nothingness. Remus blocks the path with his body, Janus's arms around his waist as Logan and Virgil cling to the crumbling walls.

"How the hell do we get up there?"

"We climb."

"You can't be serious."

Remus hoslters the Morningstar star and digs his hands into the brick. He hoists himself up and glances down. "Sooner or later the rest of this is gonna go. You wanna be down here when it does or you wanna be closer to Roman?"

Brick by brick.

Hand over hand.

Inch by inch.

When Remus finally touches smooth wood, feeling around for the latch of the trapdoor, he shoves it open and they pile in, panting from the effort of it as he looks desperately around for Roman.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a wooden shell, is a pile of blankets and pillows. If he strains, he can hear quiet mutters coming from within. Leaving the others on the floor, he stands up and cautiously makes his way over, crouching down and peeling back the very top layer.

"Oh, Ro…"

Roman lies there, curled into a ball, cobwebs and dust caked on his skin. The only parts free from it are his face and one of his hands, his lips moving just enough to let air circulate and blow it away. Tear tracks are evident in the soot, his voice so overtaxed only the faintest sounds still audible.

Just enough to make them out.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. Shh. Shh. It's alright. Shh."

A lump rises in Remus's throat and he reaches out shakily, pulling the covers away. "Roro, Roro, it's me. It's me, Ro-Bro, I'm here."

Nothing.

"Roman, it's me," he tries desperately, "Ro-Bro, Ro, Roman!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, it's us."

"Open your eyes, little prince, we're here, it's okay."

Roman twitches slightly as Janus speaks but doesn't stir.

"Why isn't it working? What do we have to do?"

Remus shakes him harder. "Roman, wake up!"

"It won't work."

They all turn to stare at Logan.

"What do you mean," Remus hisses, "that it won't work?"

"He needs to be comforted," Logan says, slowly approaching the shell too, "he—he's trying to comfort himself. Let me try."

Virgil glances at Remus and tugs Patton and Janus back. Remus glares at him but doesn't stop him.

"If you fuck this up—"

"Then I'm your lab rat, I know."

"Good."

Logan takes a deep breath and looks in.

Oh, little one, he thinks as he takes in Roman's poor state, oh, I never meant for this, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He lifts a shaking hand and fits it clumsily around Roman's.

"Shh," he murmurs, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's alright. It's alright. Shh, shh."

Roman's hand twitches.

"It's okay," he says again, "shh-shh-shh, it's okay. You're alright. It's all okay."

Roman stills, then slumps. Logan fits his other hand to his face, not wincing at how cold it is.

"You're okay," he keeps saying softly, "shh, little one, you're okay. It's alright. It's okay."

The ground rumbles. Color begins to bleed back into the sky. Logan leans down and puts his mouth to Roman's ear.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispers, "I'm sorry, it's okay. Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

"It's working!"

"Keep going, Logan, it's working."

"Come on, Roman, you can do it."

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He runs his fingers through Roman's hair, shaking loose the dust and debris. "It's all okay now."

Slowly, painfully slowly, he coaxes Roman's Imagination back to life. He brushes away the dust and the cobwebs and murmurs that it's okay, you're alright now, it's going to be alright. Every word that leaves his lips leaves Roman looking a little more like he's just asleep.

He debates with himself for a moment, before leaning up and brushing a kiss across Roman's temple.

"I'm right here."

Something shudders.

"Roman?"

Roman's eyes flutter and slowly open. "L-Logan?"

"Hello, little one," he whispers, "it's okay. I'm here now."

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