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youngks-smile · 2 months

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What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

#long covid #covid 19 #covid isn't over #pandemic

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windy-wonko · 7 months

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i won't lie, i want to start new. mostly, because this account has been around through ALL my teenage years and those are the years where everyone be making the most dumb as shit takes and saying the most idiot shit ever and quite frankly I don't want that on my name. said a lot of insensitive stuff and probably quite a few insensitive reblogs. idk not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things but i have to cringe about it...

#ganon rambles #lololololololol the amount of shit i posted on here during an anger episode or other!!!!! i want to delete so bad but this blog has #so much friend history too #i was reminded of the mf heard depp case on twt and began thinking about the one time during the case when i was sick of hearing about it #and impulsively posted some insensitive ass shit about it... yeah 🫢#sigh. something something if you can acknowledge something was wrong its telling of a good person #still. the amount of idiot shit on here keeping me up at night! but the good outweighs the bad so she can stay up a little bit longer #also idk what would happen to my art blog where i posted way fewer stupid stuff if i deleted this one. soooooo.......#im not butthurt or anything but damn some of y'all really was looking at an emotionally unstable highschooler's opinions. Gags #delete later #if i even remember to... im a twittypet now so i forget this blog even exists half the time 💀

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sapsolais · 8 months

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#i think i might like to start posting my poetry again #it'd be nice to have a separate space where i can just talk freely #n share things #(even if the only one listening is myself a month later)#i am trying to be gentle with myself and remind myself no one needs to be listening for me to still have things worth sharing #that my thoughts and feelings hold value regardless of the amount (or lack thereof) of people i can share these things with #i was lamenting a while ago over not feeling very heard. or stifled rather.#n i realized well. hey. I'm listening. n maybe other people are too (quietly) but that's besides the point #it's a funny thing being so forgetful. you just keep going and going and chugging along experiencing life and moving forward that sometimes #(when you remember)#you look back n see a note you left for yourself and somehow it's something you really needed to see #or sometimes #you look at that note. or maybe musing from a time in your life where you thought something to be so True in that moment #and you gently correct yourself. like no #you're alright. and no you aren't as (blank) as you thought.#dunno. just had a moment like that tonight. n i think it's important #i wrote something down i could have used a while ago and i'd like to share it in case some one else could use it now i guess #(but i am a shy thing)#we'll see #sap says

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reiderwriter · 7 months

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Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

#kinktober 2023 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #hate sex #enemies to lovers

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entry41 · 2 months

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// major warning for murder, discrimination, and murder amongst transgender youth

im trying to find the part where the three girls, all older than them, are charged for murder? or are those girls not going to have to deal with any sort of represcussions???

is this going to be another case of "let's keep these people's identities private!!" or what. are we ignoring the fact that those girls bashed nex's head against the bathroom floor meanwhile nobody helped before, during, or after the situation??? because the media did the same thing with brianna ghey, they refused to release information on her killers until what, a year later? why are we working so hard to protect persecutors but not the ones being persecuted?

there are so many things wrong with this situation, let's start with the fact that an ambulance wasn't called upon nex being found? those three girls had quite literally banged their head against the bathroom floor NUMEROUS times, where was your sense of urgency upon finding a SOPHOMORE, A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT WHO IS NO OLDER THAN 16, beaten on the bathroom floor??

we are talking about a 16 year old, somebody with a whole life ahead of them. nex had so much to live for and now their blood is on your hands and i hope that you feel guilty. i don't even think enraged is the word i am looking for in this situation, it's a feeling far beyond rage.

as a society we truly need to do better because jfc. i have to live my life in fear everyday, so do my friends, the people i love, and thousands of others - we aren't scary, we are scared.

rest well, nex, they will never forget your name ❤️

adding onto this post because i still have so much to say: nex was no different from you and i, they took interest in the same things we do. nex liked the walking dead, minecraft, and their cat, zeus. but now nex won't be able to partake in the things they love because of how f'ed up society is. the fact that america is perfectly fine with murdering innocent people on a daily basis truly tells you all you need to know. we are fighting a war we will never win because people refuse to accept the fact that trans folk just want to live their lives, almost like everybody else!!

i read in a reblog that nex was twospirit and i just wanted to add that, sorry if it seemed as if i was trying to leave that out, i wasn't aware. that doesn't change anything though and my point still stands.

we are not scary, we are scared.

2/25/24: please read what @youareprobablywrong said in the reblogs, it also includes ways to actually take charge and help prevent future events like this

#nex benedict #stop trans hate

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nerujikam · 4 months

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Old Sweater

ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

tags 18+, fluff and smut, timeskip!ushijima, pwp, sleepy sex, clothed sex, cunnilingus, creampie, aftercare, pet nickname, i was ovulating

words 2,174

a/n and so, behold... my first smut... *thunder cracks* this was a pretty old draft dating back to may '22 lmao. figured i'm a lot more comfortable in my writing now, why not post it? this was crossposted on ao3 ! anws, happy reading or something!

art is @hk_smith_man’s on twt

Ushijima comes home late again. This time he finds it a little odd when the only source of light that came from the living room was the table lamp beside the couch, with a book you’re reading under it. You never forget to turn off every light when you go to sleep. Though, it does feel kind of lonely since you were practically a night owl on your working days. Now that you finally got your days off, you started to sleep earlier than usual. He misses the sight of you in the late of night, you can say.

He turns the lights off after putting his shoes on the rack. A faint beat can be heard from your shared bedroom, questioning him whether you’re awake or not.

Your body slump under the blanket. Though the heater’s on, the winter wind seems to have its own way seeping through the walls, shuddering you under the covers. Just like how you left it before, the small reading light next to you was still on.

He walks up to you, eyes closed as your breath steady. Seems you got defeated by your own drowsiness while trying to continue reading another book in your hands. He takes it away from your hand, placing the bookmark in the current page before putting it down next to the table lamp. He decides to turn it off later after his shower.

Ushijima closes the bathroom door from the inside, not wanting to wake you up with the loud noise from the hairdryer. He brushes his teeth, puts on his night cream, and turns off the bathroom light before joining you under the cover. He realized that the sweater from his high school volleyball team framed your body. He’s an even bigger and stronger guy now compared to then, yet his sweater still fits loosely on your frame. He wonders if it would make any difference if he met you in high school.

The thought of that tightened his arms around your waist, causing you squirming under him. He realized he woke you up when he heard a faint, “Toshi,” and a cold palm on his cheek. He grabs your cold hand to warm them, placing longing kisses on its knuckles, “sorry, did I wake you up?” You shake your head, turning back to your former position.

“I don’t mind,” you reassure. Ushijima pressed his forehead on your nape and kissed in between it and your spine, carrying out a soft “I missed you,” from your lips.

Ushijima never was a person who relies on verbal affection, so he alternates them more with acts of service, especially in giving. Warm baths after working overtime, a new shelf for your little trinkets, your favorite scented candles, sometimes even phoning his own dad, asking how to season the porridge properly when you had a cold. In rare cases, he'd mutter an “I missed you, too” back, instead of pressing his body closer into you like right now. He squeezes tight, not letting the cold get in between the two of you. He slides his hand down to your thigh to knead them gently before putting it in between them.

His eyelids flutter back awake as he feels a damp spot on your underwear. He gazes down at your eyelashes as you let out a sigh when he puts his hand down there. “You missed me this much?” he teases with a slight naught on his tone. You let out another sigh as he stroked your inner thighs, letting his wrist rub against your wet spot.

The blanket ruffles as his hand makes its ways to your—his—sweater, lifting it up to feel the warmth of your belly. His lips now behind your ear, fluttering kisses and sucking on the skin around it. Your hand found his when he started to slide down, playing with the waistband, eventually slithered inside, stroking between your folds.

So wet, he groans, wondering how you kept this long enough without doing anything about it.

“Want me to do something with this?” he whispered, asking one more time, fingers circling between you. Whining at his motion, you sigh, "please... Toshi,” you let out a breathy voice to call his name.

With your plea, he flips you up, rolls himself on top of you to lower himself, marking down your jaws, trailing up kisses to your lips. You nip gradually on his bottom lip before receiving his tongue. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Your hands stroking alongside his neat undercut. You opened your eyes slowly when he pulled back to see his own eyelids hung low, looking either very tired or very much turned on. The edge of his lips were soft from the toothpaste and the lip balm you share with him, smooth and glistening prior to your make out session.

“Keep this on,” he demands as he slides his whole body down. His hands trails up to your breasts, exposing them to the cold air whilst still keeping his sweater intact on you. He positions his shoulders under your thighs. You were surprised that, The Ushijima Wakatoshi, is willing to deal with something that was your own consequences, with his own mouth and tongue. You held it hours ago, wanting his way first rather than relying on your toys. You’re sure that he’ll come home eventually for this before eventually giving in to your heavy eyelids.

He places one, two, three kisses on the inner thigh slowly leading them up to the center of your wet panties. He pushes down your thighs towards him, licking the damp spot as if making out on it. You let out a high pitched whine from your lips. He ever so slowly pulls down your underwear you’ve been so desperate to be out of. His hot breath blows cold air between them with an eventful languid stroke. Your brain clouded, eyes rolled shut at the sight in the dark. You see nothing but flashes of sparks from the noises he made lapping his tongue over you.

Just as you feel his wet muscle fiddling around the sensitive bud, he (with the audacity) decided to suck on it, alternating between licking wet stripes along the core. You finally let out a moan, grabbing the sheets and his hair messy, pushing him further into you, grinding your own crotch towards him. One finger found his way, rubbing your entrance as the tip of his tongue fiddling your clit.

You throw your head back with your face behind your hand as his middle finger finally reaches in, unsteadily sliding in and out up till the spot where you buck your hips to its contact. Feeling your reaction, he slides in another finger, pressing and focusing them more on the gummy spot within, curling them ever so often. His jaw hardened, constantly fiddling his tongue around your clit, putting pressure on it while the tips of his dominant fingers hitting the same spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your walls start to squeeze as your breath gets shaky. His fingers never stop thrusting in and out with a pace you never felt even when you do it yourself. Your back arches before being held down by his non-dominant hand, pressing down on your pelvis as your leg becomes a moving mess before you feel the snap under your belly. You shake as your thighs close around his head, feet pushing on his shoulders unaware. Your vision slurs.

Lips soaked in your own slick, Ushijima licked you down clean as if collecting it after your intense height, giving them one more wet smooch before hovering his body above you. He sucks down his middle and ring finger, cleaning up your mess on him. You raise your hands and grab his cheeks to give yourself a taste, tongue constantly encountering his in between kisses. You push him up, rolling up on your knees, positioning yourself on his lap, not separating your lips.

You eventually pull away with a kiss on his cheek, your hands on his jaw as you find yourself out of breath. You give yourself a view of him with your thumb on his chin. He licked the bottom of his lip before biting them, eyes hazed staring up to yours. His whole face became more and more of a mess, hair disheveled from your constant pulling, lips swollen and soaked down until his chin. You always love seeing him all wet from his own work on you.

It was impossible for you to not get turned on by him all messy and drunk from your cunt. You tug on his waistband, pulling down his PJs alongside his boxers. It’s obvious how hard he is with the ill bulge he had the whole time. His cock springs up as you pull his boxers down, tip flushed and slick, desperate to be inside you. You stroke along the shaft, spreading his own precum as you readied yourself on him. But he insisted. He rolls you back down on your back, holding the back of your thighs, teasing his tip around on your core.

You didn’t have a chance to look where the both of you met before gasping at the sudden intrusion. You were still sensitive and the slick of your pussy prior to his work makes the both of you moan as he slides in. His hips rolled and bucked on you, thrusting deliciously, tip reaching up to the familiar gummy spot.

“You look so good fucked in my sweater like that, dove,” he moans in your ear in the pleasure of your hips meeting his, pelvis to pelvis. The way he whispered that little pet nickname and moaned right into your ears clutches your core. You put your arms around his shoulders, legs wrapping around him, holding on for life as he pounds harder (you swore the bed could crack any minute).

“I’m…” you gasp in between thrusts before you continue, “I’m on birth— ah!”

You couldn’t continue as he pushed one deep thrust, already knowing what you meant. He groans feeling your tightened walls sucking him in as he starts to roll his hips in a way it touches the parts you never knew you’d reach. He pushes your knees to your chest, thrusting in deeper. You feel his skin constantly slapping on your clit, building you up to another climax.

With a groan and his head buried into your shoulder, he came in a rut. Pace went sloppy and eventually filled his warmth inside you. His moans cracked a higher pitch before he finally emptied out on his last thrust. Both of you laid there catching your breath.

He pulls himself out of you, leaving a whine from your lips from the sudden emptiness. You sigh, feeling his cum slowly spilling out of you. Ushijima muttered a low, "fuck," as he looks down and squeezed your thighs, eyeing the sight of you leaking from his cum.

Making sure you’re fine, he hovers above you, a hand on your jaw as he kisses the edge of your lips. Raising his head to look at you as you open your eyes. Greeted by the sight of his softened features, you smile with a sigh and caress his cheek.

He’s worried, you thought. Ushijima brushes out the strands of hair from your face and places a soft, longing kiss on your temple before walking up towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap running for a while before he comes out with a warm damp towel. He gently grabs your thigh to wipe down the remaining of his cum that has spilled out of you. You sigh from the warmth of the towel.

“You need to go to the toilet,” he states suddenly. You furrow your eyebrows trying to process his instruction before realizing what he meant. You nod, “right,” you prop yourself up to sit.

“Can you walk?” he asks. You thought a bit before nodding as he grabbed onto you in case you wobble and fall. You chuckle in contrast to his worry because you did walk fine. Just a little sore. You walked to the bathroom to pee and clean yourself while Ushijima in the kitchen for some water.

You come back with him already finished putting back his boxer. You realize you don’t wanna sleep in soiled panties so you grab a fresh pair and throw the used one out into the hamper. You jump back on the bed with him. You take the glass of water he gave you before laying back down. He spoons you like how he did before. You shuffle as you turn your body towards him, brushing away his messy hair out of his face.

“Should I wear this more so I can get fucked like that more often?” you ask, referring to how his high school sweater on you turns him on. He let out a tired laugh, “just don’t wear that in front of anyone but me.”

---

ushy gushy always be on my top #1 daddy big balls alongside erwin smith

#neruites #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima smut #ushijima fic #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fic

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mooncheese3 · 1 month

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DISCLAIMER: this version is different from the prev post on this au (vvv) in that this is the only incarnation of sj that ghost!yqy has encountered, and bingges dont keep popping up for a shizun. but yqy still goes down the simon petrikov route of self sacrifice for loved one(s)

ok so ghost!yqy in the modern world with reincarnated!sj

So. after pidw. yqy's physical body didnt survive, but his spirit Did. he failed sj so many times already, he's not going to fail him again, and through sheer determination and love and want he put himself back together (as hed always done)

him fixing himself wasnt really bc of his rational mind. if anything it was a glutteral, instinctual Need that really pushed him to mold himself into a being all over again. however bc his spirit is binded with xuansu's, on top of his spirit almost disappearing bc of how much scattered, bringing the pieces of himself together took a LOT of time

by the time he took form, sqq was long dead

not sure if he shouldve been the one to end lbg, but itd be kind of cool if that was the case

and so yqy, whose entire purpose is to protect sj, roams the world looking for his reincarnation

in the background apocalyptic shit happens that leads the world to abandon and/or forget about cultivation, which leads us to the modern world!!🥳

sj still has a hard-knock life on the streets and then with the qius--can u tell im a sucker for the history repeats itself trope. he doesnt remember anything, but he Does feel like someone is missing. like someone that Should be there Isnt. its a constant feeling in the back of his mind, but he always pushed it away to focus on the now.

like what happened in his first life, sj has enough of all the abuse and kills qjl. what Changes though is that yqy is finally--after thousands and hundreds of years--on time

yqy burns everything down.

sj isnt sure what to make of this malevolent being. no one else but him can see it, though people /can/ see when it moves things around. people have always mentioned to sj that they feel like someone's watching them, though when they look around no one is looking their way

it makes people leave him alone, which is honestly what sj prefers

its (he's?) his savior and he makes him feel safe, yes, but who knows when that wrath gets directed at himself. his head is screaming at the threat yqy poses while his instinct and soul tells him hes safest with yqy. for a long time sj walks on eggshells around yqy, sometimes trying to escape his presence

his attempts always fail, though. somehow.

he eventually starts to warm up to yqy. sj has a feeling that this...thing was always meant to be by his side (as illogical as that sounds). he no longer has that feeling of a missing presence, something he'd felt since he'd developed a consciousness as a very young child

sj even finds the ghost a bit endearing, in his infinite gentleness to contrast his terrifying, sharp form. he doesnt understand why the ghost is so protective over him (the ghost once almost flew into a destructive frenzy over everything except him when he and his team went to investigate a deep, unexplored ravine that appeared out of nowhere), but that was endearing too

— RAMBLES BC I FORGOT WHAT I WAS GONNA TYPE NEXT (ITS BEEN A FEW MONTHS SORRY) —

one day sj got tired of calling the ghost “the ghost”, so he decided to find him a name. the ghost seems to have an opinion on this, as his thick eyebrows turned downwards every time sj called/proposed to him a name to be referred to. the progress was non existent, so sj started spouting out random characters and then later on numbers. when sj gets to “qi”, the ghost very excitedly straightens up from its seemingly perpetual hunched posture.

“7?” sj snorts, finding it a little funny. who knows, perhaps spirits loose their marbles the longer they stay amongst the living. he watches “qi’s” eyes crease into happy crescents, the shadows seeping away from his form retreating back into himself. his form looks more solid: less blurry and more clearer at the edges.

“lao qi, you really are weird” sj says fondly, though is inwardly confused when lao qi seems to deflate a little. perhaps he didnt want to be reminded of his age?

"what, do you want to be called xiao qi?" qi's eyes twitch, as if weirded out. "thought so. qige?"

at this, qi's eyes widen into two happy suns, joyfully—on instinct—coming closer. but then stops himself a pace away, as if remembering himself

sj raises a brow, "youre far too old to be called qige; im many generations your junior, yknow? youre basically my grandfather's ancestor's ancestor"

qi's eyes droop into despondent half circles. sj carefully doesnt say any more, recognizing that it may be a more sensitive topic than he thought.

SORRY YUE QI </3333 BUT </333 ... ITS FOR THE GREATER GOOD

THAT I AM GOING TO EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW, BUT NOT VERY WELL DONE:

in canon, sqq and yqy are stuck in the past. it keeps them from growing as persons and as. brothers? friends? Potential Lovers. Yes.

in this au, it is especially so for yqy, who loses himself the more he clings to the past, his promise, and sj

when he first died, his soul was at risk of being destroyed, scattered pieces and all. but because he put himself back together, he Could reincarnate into his next life. its just that he refuses to.

had he allowed himself to move on and accept that things have passed, he would have been able to start over anew in the modern world; perhaps even changed the course fate seems to have set on them for the better Without his soul suffering for it

sj reminding him that hes from an era long gone serves as one of many instances that help him come to terms with. dying? moving on. Yes.

ON THE TOPIC OF YQY'S SOUL MOVING ON.

i was thinking just now How that would happen, esp when in this au yqy's soul is like. one wrong move away from self destruction, xuan su's still binded to him, yqy letting go of sj after roaming All Those Years? Very hard., its the modern world so supernatural cultuvation stuff is almost entirely out of the picture, sj is like 25 what would he know about these things, etcetc that sort of stuff

but then i was like. "WAIT A MINUTE. THIS IS AIRPLANES WORLD. TRUE LOVE IS TOTALLY A VIABLE SOLUTION"

so. True love is the solution. true love saves qige💗

and then in their next life its the ultra ultra modern futuristic au and theyre pilots of mega robots 💗 /hj

OH. AND. THIS IS THE SONG I GOT THE DIALOGUE (???) FROM

youtube

#qijiu #malevolent spirit!yqy #ghost!yqy #but he puts the love in malevolent #yue qingyuan #yue qi #original shen qingqiu #shen jiu #mxtx #svsss

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ineffable-suffering · 7 months

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Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #story of job #job minisode #good omens analysis #aziraphale is a storyteller #but not a very accurate one #my own meta

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racinggirl · 6 days

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furthest from truth

Lando Norris fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: I'm baaack! It's been a while, I have to admit. But after having 3 new requests today, I got motivated again and I decided to write the ones that were yet to be posted on my page. I hope you like it! I've added some spice to the end of the chapter 👀 Don't forget to follow me so you won't miss my other stories! 🫶🏼

Sun. Beach. Sand. Friends.

It might look cliché, but it’s what filled your hearts with joy.

‘’Norris! Give me a hand, will ya?’’ Your lips pulled away from those of your boyfriend the moment he got up to help one of your friends with preparing the jet skis.

‘’Finally,’’ your best friend, Ava, laughed as she took a seat next to you. ‘’Now that your lips are no longer glued to his, what do you think of grabbing a drink, I’m in a desperate need for a Frozen Daiquiri.’’

She pulled you up on your feet after you agreed on getting drinks. It was your holiday, after all, and even though it was just your first day of the 3-week holiday here in Dubai, you were planning on making it the best holiday yet.

You and Lando had been together for a little over 5 months now, the two of you bumping into each other at last year’s Christmas Market in London. You spilled your bottle of water over your shirt, and he was determined to win you a teddy bear so he could make it up to you.

After that Christmas Market, you went on a ton of dates. In London, but also in Monaco, as that was where he lived. You attended 3 races before he finally asked you to be his last summer, and obviously you said yes, otherwise this story is kind of weird, isn’t it?

Anyways, you knew who he was when you met him, having watched a few races here and there, along with your friends.

The moment you told your friends Lando had asked you out on a date, they couldn’t contain their excitement and practically forced you to go out with him. So, you did. And here we are, almost a year later.

‘’Two Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri, please.’’ Ava ordered the drinks for the two of you and once you felt the cold glass in your hand, you immediately took a sip.

‘’Urgh,’’ you groaned, your eyes closed. ‘’Best drink ever.’’ You giggled.

‘’Lando! Oh my god watch out!’’ Your grip on his life jacket was tight as he was riding the jet ski with you on the back. ‘’You idiot!’’ You laughed, hands gripping his shoulders firmly when you felt him go even faster – if that was even possible.

‘’You’re riding a jet ski with an F1 driver, love. Did you really think I was gonna go slow?’’ You groaned at his reply, and you simply held onto him like you could fall off any moment, which was probably the case.

Everything sport related was a game to him, and he was very, very competitive. He hated losing, which is why he tried his hardest to make you his, with success.

‘’Okay, okay, enough speed for me, let’s go back to the shore and have dinner, I’m starving.’’ You breathe, Lando’s hand moving over your leg slowly. He lifted his hand till it rested on your outer thigh, whilst still steering the jet ski with one hand. Slower, though, thankfully.

‘’We will, love, we will.’’ He said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice, his tone, teasingly with a smirk.

‘’Lan-…’’ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your boyfriend pulled the right handle towards him, the two of you flying over the water. He made sure to keep an eye on you, but he knew you enjoyed this, and he wasn’t wrong.

You might tell him to stop going fast, heck, even in the bedroom you’d tell him to stop, but it was always with that flirty and teasing tone. He knew that tone, and he knew it meant you did not want him to, in fact, stop. So, he kept going.

‘’I should have thought better before signing that contract about us.’’

You were fully drenched, Lando obviously pushing the strings too hard which caused you to fall off the jet ski. Nothing harsh, it was all playful, and the two of you were laughing when it happened.

‘’You’re an idiot.’’ You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully as you squeezed the salty water out of your hair.

‘’I know, but you like it.’’ He teased, slapping your ass lightly as his hand moved its way towards your hip, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. ‘’I love you.’’

Dinner, which was absolutely insane – mostly because you were starving, but definitely because it was one of the best restaurants here in Dubai.

‘’Ehm..’’ Ava shoved you her phone, and you immediately let your eyes wander over the tweets, the Instagram posts, and the articles.

Lando saw the worried look on your face, so he cut off the conversation with his friends and pointed his attention to you, causing his friends to do the same.

‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your knee as his gaze went from you to the phone, back to you.

You showed him the articles, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. You could see his jaw clench, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. ‘’They really need to make rumours about everything, don’t they?’’ He sighed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

‘’Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll fix it, we’ll post a statement on Insta, alright?’’ He said, his arms wrapping around you which caused you to relax.

You felt guilty, because you were aware of the eyes that were on him now that his contract with McLaren was coming to an end. You knew his contract was getting renewed, but the world didn’t, and you didn’t want to cause issues.

People blaming McLaren for not renewing his contract, and how this. People blaming McLaren for forcing Lando to be in a relationship with you, a PR relationship, which was the furthest from the truth. You loved each other so much, and McLaren had absolutely nothing to do with the two of you.

‘’Come here.’’ Lando’s arms made his way around your shoulders, his strong arms pulling you even closer to his chest. The bed was comfy, soft, but the tension in your face was apparent, especially to Lando.

‘’I just, I feel so stupid for saying that.’’ You sighed but Lando reassured you immediately.

‘’Babe, it’s not the first time we say this, it’s our joke, and people don’t get it, apparently. You know how the media is, they exaggerate everything to get those views and clicks, so they probably overheard you saying that, but did not see the look on your face, or your beautiful smile when you said that.’’ His voice was soft and calm, like he was not stressed at all about this.

‘’But the image McLa-..’’

‘’No, baby, no. That’s not your fault, okay? They should have probably announced the contract extension sooner, yeah, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever you said at the beach, okay?’’ He said, stern, but gentle. And you believed him. Of course you did, you believed everything he would tell you because you knew he was right.

‘’Now let’s make that post so people will stop complaining about things that are the furthest from the truth. That, and so I can take you tonight because I really, really want to.’’ He whispered the last thing with a voice so deep, you felt chills all over your body.

landonorris added to his story

landonorris & yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,273,710 others

I love you more than anyone imagine. Nothing can stop us, I promise you. Best decision I've ever made 🧡

view all 39,264 comments

user1 I feel ashamed

user5 as you should user3 we all should. how could we think it was just a PR. they are in love in love.

user2 You are so so so cute together!

‘’Lando, fuck, stop!’’ You breathe, hands pushing against his chest as he looked into your eyes, his bright ones a few shades darker than usually. He smirked, wetted his lips before thrusting even harder… Just how you asked.

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takecareluv · 9 months

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hello, maybe some headcanons/concepts on meeting vinnies friends🥺love your stuff so much

she’s the one || vinnie hacker x reader

word count : 873

author’s note : i thought i posted this already ?/? i’m so sorry, nonnie! i didn’t realize it was still in my drafts >.< i hope you like this! i started writing it as a short concept but then it became longer so i turned it into more of a headcanon / blurb ( idrk !) also thank you so much for your kindness <3 mwah !! <3

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

vinnie’s down bad from the moment he met you, there’s no doubt about it. he’d been practically begging the universe for a girlfriend for ages now and finally, after months of sulking and swiping left on the endless amount of l.a. girl that are basically carbon copies of each other, here you are ; everything he’s been searching for — a diamond in a sea of glass.

after just one date with you, he knew you were the one and he wasn’t shy about sharing his excitement. his friends weren’t used to this side of vin, and although most would find it annoying to hear him go on and on and on about this perfect girl he’d been seeing for only a short period of time, his friends were happy for him ; and dying to meet the mystery girl that’s got their best friend cheesin’ non stop.

it wasn’t too far along in the relationship that vinnie would bring up introducing you to his friends. they meant the world to him, and now so did you, of course he couldn’t keep you hidden for long.

you, however, were extremely nervous to meet the infamous group. knowing vinnie’s current living situation, you knew his friends would be around a lot ; so in your mind, if they didn’t approve of you, you could kiss your relationship — also known as the best thing that’s ever happened to you — goodbye.

vinnie assured you a million and one times that wasn’t the case and you had absolutely nothing to worry about. his friends would love you just as much as he did — well maybe not as much as vinnie did, that would be impossible, but a close second.

so here you were, sitting passenger side in vinnie’s mazda, on your way to his house to meet only a few of his closest friends — baby steps, as vinnie called it.

the car ride was filled with vin whispering sweet nothings to calm any and all of your nerves ; his hand on your thigh, as it was during every car ride you shared, giving gentle squeezes as to say a silent ‘i love you’ ; and short kisses pressed to your lips, cheek, forehead — anywhere vinnie could reach while the light was still red. it didn’t take long for you to become a blushing mess and forget all the worries that filled your mind only minutes prior. that was the effect vinnie had on you, and one of the many reasons you loved him — you’ve never felt more safe and happy with anyone in your life.

after a longer ride than anticipated, thanks to the constant bustling streets of l.a., you pulled into the driveway of vinnie’s gigantic home.

the anxiety you were feeling quickly came back to you once you saw just how many cars filled both the driveway and garage of the house — way more than you expected. vinnie could see you eyeing them while simultaneously doing the math in your head. he realized by the looks of it, it would seem as if there was a party going on inside when in reality, as he hurried to explain to you, most of those cars were his own — immediately causing you to let out a big sigh of relief. but wonder, how many cars does one person need?

being the gentleman that he is, vinnie opened the car door for you, holding his hand out to guide you towards the house.

before you made it to the front door, he paused, pulling you into a hug as he placed a kiss to the top of your head. “i love you and they’re going to love you, i promise. you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”

and vinnie was right, like always, he was quick to remind you later. his friends adored you.

jett was especially impressed with your knowledge on cars — little did he know it came from all the babbling you heard whenever vinnie visited you after just spending hours at the warehouse.

you originally planned on staying for only a little bit before heading to a dinner reservation, but the boys begged vinnie to cancel it, not wanting you to leave just yet. and how could vinnie say no to that. he was just thrilled to see his favorite people getting along.

instead, he ordered food for everyone and you spent the rest of the evening watching anime and playing games with the group — getting yourself into an intense game of mario kart with jack.

hera even joined the party and cuddled up right next to you on the couch, squishing herself between you and vinnie.

vinnie couldn’t help the smile that was glued to his face. his best friends, his favorite girl and his precious cat all together in one room — it couldn’t get better than this.

when it was time for vinnie to drive you home, the boys were already inviting you back over for a barbecue the following weekend. a barbecue vinnie didn’t even know they were having until that moment.

the following morning they were all telling vinnie how lucky his was to have found you and that you were definitely the one. even commenting on how they’d never seen him so happy.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie hacker x y/n

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anthurak · 9 months

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One of the funny things I’ve recently realized after browsing old TOH posts is that the whole idea of the ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ dynamic feels like almost entirely a creation of the fandom. Not only that, but a dynamic that was created basically by accident.

Consider for a moment just when and WHY fans actually started the ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ idea: It wasn’t in the wake of King’s Tide or after Hollow Mind when Luz and Hunter start really becoming friends, it was following Hunting Palismans. AKA, the episode where the mysterious ‘Golden Guard’ is revealed to be the show’s resident ‘edgy bad-boy with a sad backstory’ named Hunter, and also established that despite what he may think at the time, him and Luz are definitely going to be friends sooner or later.

In other words, the fandom’s idea that ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ started mainly as pushback against shipping those two and more notably, any theories/claims that Luz and Hunter might end up together in the show. As in, right after Hunting Palismans released, you can find a ton of posts that amount to ‘THEY’RE LIKE SIBLINGS DAMMIT!’ as fans try to get ahead of any ideas people might start getting that Luz and Hunter might be some endgame couple.

Now of course, in should have been pretty clear even when Hunting Palismans released that ‘Lunter’ was NEVER going to be an actual thing in the show. Like I’ve always commended the foresight of Dana Terrace and her crew for making sure that Amity was FIRMLY locked-in as Luz’s love-interest before they let Luz anywhere near the show’s resident ‘edgy bad-boi with a sad backstory in need of a redemption-arc’.

But for me, the funny this looking back on all this in hindsight; this presenting that Luz and Hunter are going to be like siblings as pushback against any theories that they were going to end up together romantically nonetheless made the same underlying assumption about where Hunter’s character was going:

That he’d end up being this super-close friend and ally to Luz and that she’d be the one facilitating his redemption arc, ala Aang to Zuko or any other case of ‘hero(ine) redeems rival and they become best friends’.

And of course what makes that so funny is the fact that this DIDN’T actually happen, at least not in the way most of us were expecting. Yes, Hunter did end up being A close friend and ally to Luz, but the people who he’s actually closest to and the one who really drove and facilitated his redemption arc wound up being Willow and Gus!

In conclusion, the whole idea of ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ dynamic feels like one of those cases of a fandom coming up with an assumption about where characters might be going, and then forgetting that they were the ones who originally came up with it while the show itself does something else.

And also, Hunter is WAY more of an older brother to GUS than he is to Luz, and frankly I think we need more recognition of that fact XD

#toh #the owl house #toh rambling #toh analysis #toh fandom #toh hunter #hunter deamonne #Luz Noceda #willow park #gus porter #luz and hunter aren't really siblings #hunter is closer to willow and gus than he is to luz #hunter is more of an older brother to gus than he is to luz #random toh rambling post

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bloodmoonmuses · 3 months

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stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)

warnings: mentions of food!

summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.

You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance.

The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place.

“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”

So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it.

“That’s all I got,” you had confessed.

You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time.

When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.

“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.

“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for.

“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone.

“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.

“She’s a free spirit,” you contest.

“So you let her wander.”

“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?

June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.

“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?”

“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”

“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.

You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it.

You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel.

You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”

“Ouch.”

“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.”

“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice enough.”

“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.

“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.”

As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.”

“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.

“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.

“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”

You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea.

“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you. “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.”

It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.

Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”

As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl.

“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)

“Perfect.”

That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.

You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic.

Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.

In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.

“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here- fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza.

“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”

“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.

“Venice, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.

“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls.

“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.”

“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch. You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.

“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.

“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”

“I agree.”

You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue.

You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind.

“Mark?” you say.

“Hmm….” He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.

“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer.

You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.

Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”

“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…

“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!”

Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.”

Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him.

You simply love him.

“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.

“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.

“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”

He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.

“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.

“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”

“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”

“Very funny, asshole.”

Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.

“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods.

You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.

“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?”

“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”

#bloodmoonmuses #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader

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felikatze · 2 months

Text

THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER

HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU @the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!

DISCLAIMER

This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!

You have been warned.

ALSO!!!!

The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.

WHAT IS IT?

Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.

(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)

WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?

Quite a lot of reasons, actually.

It's really funny

Let us begin with: the basics.

SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL

HAIR COLOR

This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.

You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.

Well. What other characters have white hair?

You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.

(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.) (Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)

EYELASHES

Correct. Eyelashes.

Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.

So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.

(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck? (okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)

SPEAKING HABITS

Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?

And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?

And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.

So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.

Which two other people also do.

Bright one... ...... Do you remember? Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!

Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)

Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:

THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN

I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?

The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?

All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.

I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.

The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.

You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.

Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!" [...] Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!" [...]

Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..." Isabeau: ... Sif? Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?" Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home? Siffrin: "I... was?" Odile: You... Were. Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?

Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.

Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:

Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.

On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.

Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?" Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!

(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)

Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.

Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.

The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.

"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?" "I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."

And Odile also remarks the following

Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.

This will be relevant later. Moving on.

CONTRIVANCES

THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY

SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:

Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.

This reveals to us several things:

This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating

Someone from the House was using it for study

All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence

Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation

However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.

Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.

(A pile of papers.) (It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)

Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:

(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.) (You drag your finger there too.) (Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)

BOOKS

During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.

Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.

Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!! Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!

As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?

These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.

(You take the book out again.) (You can read its title, now...) (Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.) (It's...) (... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.) (You start laughing.)

CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION

Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead

they forgot where they're from.

One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.

And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.

Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.

Now. The real cinch of this.

Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?

Answer me this, then.

How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?

1. How could she read it?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.

The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.

There are no legible records of Wish Craft.

2. What about the Favor Tree?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.

Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.

(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!) (You look around her desk, trying to find out more.) (Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?) (... There!!!) (It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...) (In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:) (To save Vaugarde.) (And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...) (So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)

Except, when Isabeau talks about it...

Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?

He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.

To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.

And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.

If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.

3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting

At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.

It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved. We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King. And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work? [...] But... But something went wrong, didn't it? Something goes wrong, every time!!! [...] The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong. I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!! None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!! [...] I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!

There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.

To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.

If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me... It's all over. What "it" is, I have no idea... I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to. But I know it is the will of the Change God. Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger... ... Something will end, once you talk to me.

There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.

If she knew it all beforehand already.

#Feli speaks #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat #euphrasie isat #head housemaiden #ALL THE TAGS. I NEED PEOPLE TO LOOK AT THIS. PLEASE. IT'S 1:30 IN THE MORNING.#i spent two hours on this i think

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