#than the other one still and pretty concise. I tried to leave out a lot of detail and just give the bare minimum again lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

batsplat · 1 month

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hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

#ty for giving me an excuse to be annoying at length about one of my number one guys!!#casey stoner #valentino rossi #motogp #//#cs27 #vr46 #lotsss of other stuff you can go into here. he gets a bit sanitised sometimes I feel which is kinda a shame #u can be justifiably resentful and still be very resentful. spite is still spiteful when it's deserved. same with the misanthropic streak #being called weak-minded really got to him imo - and the thing is he's clearly not (& good lord did some big names say some nasty things)#the autobiography feels almost an overcorrection and then you've got him recently talking more openly about his mental health #(even if not specifically about how it affected him competitively - which is obviously a related but not identical conversation)#it's an uplifting development in a way and it's nice seeing how much more comfortable in his skin he seems these days #but he is also a little bitch :)

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chaifootsteps · 7 months

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Rewrite for Seeing Stars idea, based on both yours and some other's criticisms of this show:

- Its an episode set up the same way, only with more parallels being drawn for Octavia and Loona feeling ignored by their respective fathers for not wanting to do an event with them. They decide to then sneak out using the Grimoire together, ending up somewhere in Los Angeles instead of where Octavia meant to. No matter though, because Loona is stubborn and determined to let Octavia have a good time.

- Blitz only notices the Grimoire missing because he wanted to do a contract that day (to get the whole Ozzie's ordeal out of his mind), and now he has no access to the human world– Similarly, Stolas only notices Octavia is missing when he goes into her room to apologize for cussing out her mom in front of her and how it wasn't sensitive of him seeing as she still maintains a pretty good relationship with her, and notices the calendar with their big event circled. He then gets a phone call from Blitz [extremely awkward, given what had happened like a few nights prior] and puts 2 and 2 together when he says the Grimoire is gone too. Oh Fuck, My Angsty Teen Daughter Took YOUR Angsty Teen Daughter (Because to me Loona and Octavia will always be the same age) And Now They're LOST in the HUMAN WORLD

- Stolas takes Blitz to human realm, and tries to give him a proper human disguise this time around just for the extra safety, but Blitz specifically insists not to get one because he doesn't want to be around Stolas much and just get everything done with, and Stolas takes it surprisingly well by respecting his boundaries and staying a bit distant from him.

- Blitz / Stolas go looking for Octavia and Loona, and the previous two are just having a fun day while also trauma bonding about having less than ideal fathers.

- Instead of the dumbass Brandon Rogers plot, we get to see how much Blitz cares about Loona through a series of flashbacks and lore exposition, showing how the two slowly got closer together as Loona realized she and Blitz had a lot in common (for example, both getting ostracized from their communities for having autis- I mean, being weird and aggressive!), and Stolas reflects on his own relationship with Octavia as he realizes "Holy shit I mess up all my relationships by being distant from the people I love or trying to protect them only to come off as selfishly pushing them away, this is an issue and I should fix it"

- Octavia is really shy and awkward while Loona is super smug and outspoken, so I think they could have an absolutely adorable dynamic as they hit the town. In this version specifically, maybe they go to a karaoke together and Loona gets to see Octavia loosen up while she sings some emo shit with her, which i think would be an awesome parallel to Stolas' own songs :DD

- M&M are off on their own shenanigans because of the intrusion on Ozzie's, so the plot stays a bit more concise. I like to think there'd be a cutaway gag with Blitz screaming really loud and it cutting to Millie/Moxxie on vacation and one of them going "Did you hear somethin" "Nahhh dont worry Bout it. We're on 2 weeks leave"

Let me know what you think :)

This is adorable and would have been so much better! It keeps things light but still tackles the blow up from Ozzie's...the fans would have liked this, everyone would have liked this!

#Anonymous #helluva boss critical #actual blog post

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parentingtheoryandpractice · 5 months

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Violet's birth story

So, fair warning—this is going to be a drawn out, high context version of what ultimately could be a very short birth story. And if you want to really understand the progression of how I have related to labor and birth over the years, I’ll link my previous four birth stories below.

Lydia’s birth story

Zeke’s Birth Story

Maya’s birth story (and reflections on previous births)

Alexander’s birth story

This pregnancy was not an easy one for me. Will and I decided to have our (almost certainly) final baby closer to our next youngest than we have ever spaced before, since we were pretty eager as a family unit to move to a different life phase that was less pregnancy, baby, and toddler focused, in large part because we wanted to have a different type of focus and energy for our older kids while they were still kids. We knew it would be more work in the short term, and I would be leaning on Will a lot for a while, which has proven true.

We also moved while I was pregnant, which I overall very much stand by as a decision, but that was pretty brutal. We tried to time it so that we’d be moving when I was in the second trimester, since that seemed like it would at least be easier than the alternatives, and that almost/mostly worked out, but of course the timeline got pushed back some.

And then the second trimester was also a bit less of a smooth period than I had expected, since I had three episodes of nerve pain that meant I was pretty out of commission for a few days, which was itself inconvenient, but also led to a bunch of uncertainty on my part, since I didn’t know what was going on, or that it was only going to be three times. (All that could be a full-length post of its own, which I may try to write up at some point. As far as I can tell, not only did it all fully resolve, but maybe my body map and body mechanics are actually improved relative to my previous baseline, and I am better at something like Focusing in a body way, thanks to my friend James who explained to me how to do that.)

That said, compared to how things can go, I would still call my pregnancy pretty uncomplicated. I thought I had some blood sugar issues (which could again be its own whole post), but I got a cgm, tried some other blood sugar monitors, paused my Vitamin C since it turns out that can make glucose monitors read a little higher, and my eventual conclusion there was that my first blood sugar monitor was reading too high. I did somewhat limit my carb intake, but after an initial period of lots of tracking decided (in consultation with my midwife and the doctor she works with) to treat it as non-clinical, and I stopped taking measurements.

I also had some iron-deficiency anemia, as I have had every pregnancy, and taking a bunch of iron pills didn’t seem to be working at first, but just as I scheduled some appointments to pursue an iron infusion, my numbers came back up.

And for most of this pregnancy, especially as I was approaching the end, I had a lot of anxiety about birth. With that too, there’s a lot I could say, but I think the high bit is that, while I didn’t anticipate any bad concrete outcomes—I never seriously worried that the baby wouldn’t be born healthy, or that I would be physically at risk—I did have a visceral sense that it wasn’t going to “be okay”, and that the experience would be a bad one for me. And “bad” not just in a fleeting sense, but in a way that would leave my mental structures worse off than they were before.

I never found a concise way to verbalize exactly what I was worried about, but I’m very grateful for all the people (especially Will, Kenzi, Anna, Steph, and James) who listened to me talk at length in repetitive inarticulate ways about what my issue was. And for all the people who wrote up and published their birth stories, since (as has been my habit), I read a ton of them in the weeks leading up to my birth. And at the end of the day, I think the anxiety eventually worked as intended. I processed enough and set the right sort of intentions that it was pretty much gone. I remember a conversation with Anna right around my due date where I expressed that I figured birth would be unpleasant, but in an accepting way, and my desire to keep talking about it was largely gone.

Some of the more legible takeaways I had from all my birth processing were:

-I was pretty willing to let go of some things I had previously been (mostly implicitly) aiming for in service of having an easier birth.

-One such thing was accurately tracking what the experience was like for me. (So… I expect my written recollections to involve mostly the right amount of error bars anyway, but that’s part of the epistemic status of all of this.)

-Another one, somewhat to my surprise, was caring about the timeline. Talking it through, it became clear to me that I had few to no concerns about having a long labor per se, as long as the intense and overwhelming part wasn’t long. (My understanding of Kenzi’s later summary of this, which I liked quite a bit, was to think of early labor as for positioning, not dilating, and that moving to dilating before the position was good often wasn’t desirable.)

-Related to that, one of my conclusions was that during my labor with Xander in particular, after having gained a more explicit model of how my muscles worked during labor over the course of my previous labors, I was expending a lot of wasted effort trying to make things go faster, and my guess was that it didn’t speed things up and probably did lead to it feeling harder. So my plan was to not do that.

-I can’t remember if this was explicit, but I think another constraint I let go of was having other people be able to track much of what was going on for me in realtime during labor, which iirc I’ve written about mattering to me in the past.

-And, somewhat presciently (spoilers), partly since I found a great collection of unassisted birth stories to read, I made my peace with the idea of a delivery that was fast enough that the midwife wouldn’t make it, and talked Will about that some too.

-I also tried to consider which of the painful sensations it would be helpful for me to be especially aware of during labor, and which I could essentially safely tune out. My conclusion there was that anything that was telling me how to move my body seemed important, and that it was probably good to be pretty aware of any potential tissue damage from tearing during the pushing stage, but that microtears that were happening because of muscle exertion, and general muscle fatigue type sensations probably weren’t that actionable or important to pay attention to.

The one concrete and mundane-feeling anxiety that remained was that we would all get sick. We had all been sick multiple times recently, and then Xander had gotten sick shortly before my due date, and right around when I did give birth, Zeke was also just getting sick, which was not a surprise to us given all of our sick friends and his recent exposure.

But I am very grateful to report that (per my questionably effective request to my immune system) I didn’t get either of those sicknesses!

For a while, I had been saying that I didn’t want to make any plans at all for Thanksgiving, since it was two days after my due date, but as that week got closer, my sense was that I wasn’t having a baby anytime soon. And my midwife’s sense was similar. She said the thing she mostly goes off for her brith timing predictions is amniotic fluid levels, and that mine were high for someone who was going to give birth soon. So we decided to host Thanksgiving after all (with a backup plan in place for if I was in labor or if I had a baby by then).

And indeed, my due date came and went, Thanksgiving happened, and I continued to have the impression that I wasn’t very close to having the baby. It wasn’t that I was never experiencing contractions, but I’d been having intermittent regular contractions (which I suppose ought to be called Braxton Hicks, but I don’t tend to experience them as painless…) for months, and the ones I was having didn’t feel different. My energy was pretty good, and I started talking more walks. And I stopped taking my iron pills, since it takes a few weeks to make red blood cells from iron anyway, and I wanted to give my digestive system a break.

And then Saturday night, I felt something happen with my bag of waters. I’m still not totally sure what it was, and I didn’t find the ph strip my midwife had given me in the middle of the night to check whether it was for sure amniotic fluid (all the plausible alternatives are acidic instead of basic), but I think it must have been. That said, it wasn’t a huge amount—I’ve always had my bag of waters break near the end of labor before, and I know it was nowhere near that amount of fluid. Maybe more like a cup’s worth, most of it all at once, and then with a little more leaking out after that throughout the night. My midwife’s guess when I texted her about it was that it was only my forewaters, which wasn’t a term I had known until she mentioned it. In any case, her conclusion was that it didn’t sound like a “frank rupture”.

But I do think it kicked off something, and at that point at least I no longer had the subjective sense that the labor didn’t feel close!

At 9:46am I told my midwife there was “not much happening in terms of contractions since I got up”, and whenever Will got up I told him about the same thing, but he took over with the kids anyway, and I proceeded to spend most of the day resting, relaxing, working on a jigsaw puzzle, hanging out in the bath, and intermittently experiencing contractions that felt “real” enough, but weren’t in any sort of consistent pattern. For example, I’d have a few in a row that were about 7 min apart, and very noticeable but not at all overwhelming, but then I’d change positions and go 20min without feeling much of anything. This went on for most of the day, and I made sure to keep eating and drinking, and resting, though I am pretty sure I didn’t end up sleeping at all.

A little after midnight, I sent a message to our friends that were going to take Xander if we needed that during labor saying “I think Will has already given you an update, but I think I’m in early labor? […] I think there’s some chance things speed up and it’s tonight, but also easily could slow down and then speed up again at some point tomorrow. I think given what I’ve been feeling labor will not totally stop until I’ve given birth though”.

At that point I’d been timing my contractions for about an hour, and they were pretty variable. Most of them around a minute, but some shorter or longer, and a few that were under five minutes together but a bunch that were longer too.

By then, I had been back in the bathtub for a while, after being in and out all day, and I think it was around then that Will set up shop in there with a backjack and joined me. I mostly had my eyes closed, and I remember not noticing that he had come in, in part because I had put Fauré’s Après un Rêve on repeat—which I think was the only time during labor I had music on. I think I picked that song because my midwife had mentioned a few times that the way she thinks of labor is (my words not hers), was kind of like that I had to go to a journey to a different dimension to go get my baby. At some point a few keep earlier I’d made a playlist of some music I’d felt somewhat inspired by (this song was on it), and I’d been enjoying music a lot in the past few weeks, but once I realized Will was there, that seemed both better than music and like I was no longer inclined to have the music on.

And some more about my headspace around then… Until around that point in labor, I hadn’t been very focused on labor between contractions, and had been watching little bits of reality TV on my phone, but after about midnight that changed. I got the idea a couple of labors ago, I think from The Pink Kit, that it was good to use coping strategies even during early labor so that reaching for them became more automatic when I needed them more later on, which I was doing, but this time (for the first time, I think) I basically found it helpful to use my coping techniques between contractions too, starting around midnight (which, having discussed it afterwards with my midwife, is what we decided to call the start of my active labor).

My main coping techniques were deep breathing (in part because I figured oxygenating my muscles was going to make everything work better and hurt less), trying to tune in to exactly how my body wanted to be positioned (leaning on the sort of body type focusing I had practiced during my episodes of nerve pain), and reciting words to myself m. The main words I was relying on almost the whole time, as I have in the past, were The Litany Against Fear, but I’d decided when I was making the music playlist to also include this Irish blessing, which I first heard of because the head of school I attended used to say it to graduating seniors. It had more of a gentle, relaxed vibe—more about things being easier for me instead of me coping with something hard—and I wanted that to be in the mix.

Overall, it became increasingly clear to me as I was laboring that I was aiming for as little sympathetic nervous system activation as possible, and with that goal in mind, a bunch of my cognition seemed pretty counterproductive, in much the way that meditators I have known often talk about it. Basically all of my thought about the future seemed notably tinged with anxiety, in a way where I wanted to let go of them. And the same was true of a bunch of my self-referential thoughts, even about what was happening right then. Same with analysis. I had some pleasant hypnogogic type thoughts about the different patterns from the jigsaw puzzle I had been working on earlier that day, and some other ones about the reality show I had been watching between contractions earlier. I also remembered something Steph had told me about seeing each contraction as a spiritual journey, and I tried to learn into that way of relating to it some, which seemed good too.

I also started doing a pulling down type thing on the side of the bathtub that felt right, and I think I was mostly squatting at that point. The house we moved into recently has a wonderfully massive bathtub, and while I had also borrowed our midwife’s birth tub, in large part because I found the birth tub I used for Xander’s birth really helpful (it was bigger, softer, had lovely handles), I hadn’t asked Will to blow it up. The place to blow it up would have been the bedroom, but Xander was asleep in there. And while we did have friends who would watch him, not only did him sleeping as much as possible seem even better, those friends (and also a bunch of our backup options) were all sick, so I was somewhat invested in him sleeping through the whole birth if possible.

And partly to that end, partly because it felt right overall, unlike with my other births, I was pretty much not vocalizing at all. If that had seemed like it was making labor harder to cope with, I think I would have made whatever noises seemed good to make, but the way I was relating to it was more that noises would have been wasted effort, so it worked out.

The main thing my more logistical brain was still doing at that point was trying to track where labor was enough to figure out when to call the midwife. I had texted her a log of my contractions around midnight, but since she hadn’t responded to that I (correctly) assumed she was asleep and I’d have to call to reach her. So I got out of the bath, had a contraction or two on the birth ball (that I had ordered at the last minute), and called her at 1:25. I told her the contractions seemed to be about five minutes apart at that point. She asked how long they had been like that and I said I wasn’t sure. Then she asked if they had a clear peak, and I said they did. She said didn’t I think she should come since she was an hour away, and I remember saying something about how I wanted to defer to her about that. She told me she was coming, and to tell Will to make up the bed with the waterproof liner and extra sheet and fill the birth tub. I knew I wasn’t going to ask Will to do either of those things just then, but I was in a pretty internal place, it didn’t seem worth saying that out loud.

I got right back in the bath after that, and at that point my conclusions was that there was nothing more to plan, and I could more fully relax into wherever labor wanted me to do. I think Will had mostly been with me pretty continuously for a while, but at some point I think he left to go pack a bag for Xander in case he needed to go to our friends’ house. At a different point, I remember telling him not to go anywhere. I don’t remember whether he was even thinking of going anywhere at that point, but I think I must have had an intuition that things were getting close.

Almost everything from here is increasingly hazy in my memory, but I do remember things getting more intense, though still not exactly overwhelming—more like reaching the edge of it during the peak of the contractions. I also felt some nausea, though not enough that I was close to throwing up, and did have a “hmm could this be transition” type of thought in response to the nausea that I didn’t focus on much.

I was intermittently checking my cervix, as I had been all day, and I felt pretty dilated by then—definitely active labor—but I couldn’t have quantified it. I could feel the head very distinctly though! I’m still not sure when the rest of my waters broke. I think there was one moment where I thought it might have happened, and since that was the only one I registered I assume it did happen then, but since I was in the bath it wasn’t an obvious dramatic thing.

But at some point I do remember feeling a different sort of pain, more like a potential tissue damage type, and one where I was inclined to vocalize. I picked up the washcloth in front of me and bit down on it, which felt right, and around then it became obvious that the baby was moving downwards. I can’t quite remember what if anything I managed to communicate to Will, and I’ll have to find out from him exactly when he realized what about what was going on, but from there things happened very quickly.

I couldn’t have said how long between that first pushing sensation and when I could clearly tell that the head was coming out, but it wasn’t long. I did try to pause a little with the head somewhat out, and not rush that part, so as to prevent tearing, but I think the pause was maybe on the order of seconds.

And by then I’m pretty sure the midwife was on speakerphone. I think what happened was that she had called on her own for an update, but maybe Will had called her? Maybe even I had asked him to call, though I don’t remember doing that, and I don’t think I did. In any case, having her there on speaker was exactly what I wanted, so I was very happy about that part, and also in a quite nonverbal place. I remember her asking some question about what was going on with the head, and me thinking “well, right now it’s not out, but I can distinctly feel her ear”, but it was totally beyond me to actually say that part out loud. I did have in mind what she had reminded me, which was to make sure the baby’s head stayed under water until she was all the way out, since once the baby is exposed to the air and likely starts breathing, at that point it’s not safe for her head to go under the water again.

Once her head was fully out, I may or may not have said anything, but I was very much remembering Xander’s birth, where it seemed to take forever to then push the rest of his body out. (It didn’t actually take long at all with him—but I do think I didn’t do it until I waited at minute or two until the next contraction.) This was faster though—basically once her head was out there was a brief pause, and then I kept pushing and her body was too, which was a massive relief. A massive relief, but then I also wanted to make sure she was breathing as she was supposed to. She seemed to me like she was breathing right away, but also like she was pretty much asleep, so I didn’t feel totally sure. I did some amount of rubbing her, blowing on her face, and talking to the midwife. Before too long I remember her producing at least one cry, and me asking if that meant she was for sure breathing now. I remember our midwife saying that if her muscle tone was good, that was what I should pay attention to. And it did seem like her muscles were working fine, and I remember noticing her hands opening and closing, but also in general newborns are so floppy at first!

In any case, I would say that I pretty quickly felt settled about her breathing, in part because the midwife didn’t seem concerned at all based on what we were saying. And the part after that is also somewhat of a blur, though I think I was already in a quite different and clearer headspace than I had been during labor, and was communicating with Will in a more straightforward way. He was getting me towels, and I was mostly keeping Violet out of the water so she didn’t get cold, but I wasn’t quite ready to move out of the bath yet. I also didn’t want to drain the water yet, since I figured it might be good to let the midwife’s look and see how much blood I had lost. I think I had Will take a picture of that. (I could tell by looking myself that it wasn’t much though, so I didn’t feel worried about postpartum hemorrhage.) Violet also pooped some meconium around then, but it wasn’t too messy—it was mostly on the towel I think. Though later there was a bunch of it on the floor of the bath, and I’m not sure if that was the same poop, or whether it came in stages.

I had been trying to get Violet to latch ever since she came out, but it took a while for her to do that. She was pretty sleepy! But at some point before the midwives arrived, she did end up latching, which seemed to me like a good sign that I could probably get the placenta out soon.

I also asked Will to bring me the large metal bowl we had set aside for the placenta, since I felt some urgency about getting it out. And I think it was around then that Will left to go let the dogs out and the midwives in. I think since he had already taken the picture, I did drain the tub a bunch, and once there wasn’t much water left I decided to try pushing the placenta out. I used some gentle traction on the cord, since in the past I had had midwives tell me it was okay to do that, and tried seeing if i could push on purpose, and I felt it move! That part was definitely easier and more straightforward than I had remembered it being with my past two labors, which was neat. But then it got a little stuck once it seemed like it was out, and I was pretty sure that was just the bag of waters, but not sure enough to want to pull on it. Once the midwives came, a few minutes later, they confirmed that the placenta looked complete, that was just the bag of waters, and it was totally safe to pull the rest of it out, which I did.

And that was the birth! We put the time down as 2:20, and the midwives arrived around 20 minutes after that, shortly after I had pushed my placenta out too. We took around another two hours to do a bunch of post birth stuff, like getting the baby’s blood type from the placenta (negative, so I didn’t do a rhogam shot), checking me for tears (just a very small one that didn’t require stitches), weighing and measuring the baby (I thought she looked like she was about eight and a half pounds, and she came it at 8 lbs 6oz after she had pooped, and 20inches, which the midwife said was maybe a bit of an underestimate), and assorted other logistics, like me getting out of the bath, putting on a postpartum pad and some clothes, me taking some ibuprofen per my plan so the afterpains wouldn’t hurt so much, me peeing, oiling up the baby before putting a diaper on her so the next meconium poop wouldn’t get stuck on her as much, etc. The midwives also went though a chart with me that shows typical development and gestational age, and while my placenta was a little calcified, as is typical for an almost 41 week baby, some of Violet’s markers were closer to 39 weeks. So maybe that’s why she took her time coming out.

(As an aside, given Violet’s actual stats, which seemed fine and similar to all my other babies, I feel good in hindsight about the way I related to my blood sugars during late pregnancy. Her head was also a little bigger than her chest circumference, so that wasn't an issue either.)

Once the midwives left, we got Lydia and Zeke to meet the baby, Will managed to take Xander into his office to sleep with him there, and I had the bed for me and Violet. I didn’t sleep much that night, but I was very happy :-).

Will and I are overall almost certain Violet will be our last baby, and I feel extremely grateful to have gone out on such a positive note with birth—this one was my clear favorite, though I also remember Maya’s birth quite fondly, and I believe I learned things and took away important insights from each of my births. Overall, before I had this last birth I would have said, as a summary, that overall I didn’t really like birth, and now I don’t think I can say that anymore. It’s probably worth anyone reading this taking that with a grain of salt, since I did explicitly let go of my desire to remember things in a precise way, but I think it captures something very real and quite important to me anyway.

And aside from being a very cool experience, I like to think that this time I learned something that I can take with me about anxiety. Both from how helpful I think my pre-birth anxiety ultimately was in guiding my processing in productive ways, and from how helpful it was to relax and fully let go of even subtly anxious thoughts during labor itself.

I used to be sort of baffled by some of the birth stories I would read or hear from people I knew by how easy they seemed, even though Maya’s birth had some aspects in common with them, but now that I had this last experience, I no longer do, and the range of labor experiences that seem intuitively plausible to me has expanded. I also remember after my first birth talking to the instructor of the birth class Will and I had taken somewhat incredulously about this video she had shown us of a Russian woman giving birth in a bathtub very peacefully, since it seemed so different not just from my experience, but from the experiences of pretty much everyone in the class. And the instructor had said, somewhat apologetically, “well, it was probably her fifth baby”. So now maybe I’ve come full circle by having a very peaceful labor with my fifth baby too.

A cool thing about this birth that feels like a bonus to me is that because I think I succeeded at my plan to not expend a lot of wasted effort, partly due to my intentions, but maybe even more because it was my fifth time, and my body had a more targeted sense of which muscles were involved and not involved, my body felt way less sore than it ever had before postpartum. I’m writing this a little less than a week later, and while it is still my model that rest and recovery is important, I feel remarkably good physically.

I was lamenting to a friend how it seemed sort of wasteful that I finally figured out how to do this birth thing just as I was never going to do it again, and she said that wasn’t this sort of the tragedy of life—we accumulate all this knowledge that’s ultimately pretty hard to transfer, and it’s very cool but also feels a bit like a waste.

If I have one regret from this birth, it’s that I don’t have any video footage of it. I would love to have more of a concrete record, and I really wish I could show Violet a video of her birth one day, but at least I’ve written this up while it was pretty fresh in my mind.

And if you got all the way here, thanks for reading a very long and drawn out story of a short birth! I’m very grateful for how it all played out.

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sluttyminghao · 3 years

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studio stress | h.vc

w.c: 3.5k request: hi!! can i request a dom!vernon x fem reader where he fucks her in the studio because he’s jealous? maybe because his gf talked to another member or something lmao genre: smut! pairing: vernon x female!reader contains: dom!vernon, jealous vern, sub!female!reader, mentions of spit play, oral and fingering (fem. receiving), mentions of restraints, marking, slight degradation, vern is a bit of a shithead lmao a/n: amazing idea! thank you for this anon! im also tagging @junsol because she wanted to see this :)

Vernon wasn’t the type to get jealous much, if at all really.

He was normally always level headed and calm, and he had no problem with you hanging out with his band mates when he wasn't around, because he trusted both you and them enough to know that neither of you would do anything. Vernon’s bandmates respected and liked you enough to know that you wouldn't do anything with them, and vice versa.

Your boyfriend and his bandmates were currently under a significant amount of stress, however, due to their new album preparing to be released in the following weeks. They were snippy and snide to one another, and their actions didn't always come off in the nicest ways, even towards you, but you knew they really didn't mean it at the end of the day, and they would always apologize to you after.

Today was one of those days, and it was particularly awful. You didn’t know just how bad it was going to be, but if the texts from the other band members was anything to go off, you were in for a doozy.

You were headed towards their recording studio after Vernon had sent you a text to come visit, and you were more than ecstatic to see him after he had holed himself away for a few days, only sparing a few minutes to text you. You hadn’t really minded of course, but you had missed him dearly, and you knew that seeing him would make your day better.

The texts had been short and concise, and only really things like “hello” and “i love you”, but it was nice to know that he was still thinking about you even when he was under so much pressure with his company and his bandmates. You knew that after the album came out though, they would all go back to their happy and relaxed selves, and you would have your boyfriend back in your hold soon enough.

The walk to the studio wasn’t overly long, but the cool winter air had seeped under your various layers of clothes and had ultimately chilled you to the bone by the time you were standing outside the studio, your body shivering and teeth chattering, texting your boyfriend to let him know you had arrived. The door to the studio quickly swung open not long after the text had been sent, and Seokmin was standing in the doorway with his signature sunshine smile.

“Hey you! Come on in, Vernon’s been expecting you for hours!” He exclaimed loudly, his broad frame moving out of the way so that you could walk in to the warm building and attempt to shake off the cold. “Thanks for letting me in Seokmin, how is everyone doing today?” You asked as you shrugged off your jacket, quirking a brow in confusion when you heard faint shouting coming from down the hallway.

“Uh...it’s not going great at the minute,” he muttered, his lips forming a pout at yet another shout, followed by a crash sounded from the room down the hall. He sighed and lead you down the hallway, where the voices became louder and the screaming more prominent, your eyes widening in surprise that the team seemed to be crumbling behind the very door you were about to walk through.

Just as Seokmin pushed the door open to the recording studio, the voices that were screaming just seconds before had become hushed and the bodies had stilled, as if being a group of deer caught in the headlights. Every person in the recording room turned to see who was opening the door, and visibly relaxed when they noted that it was only Seokmin and yourself, making Vernon beam widely as the rest of the band members fell into conversation once more after exchanging their hello’s with you.

He stood up from his spot between Minghao and Soonyoung, and walked quickly towards you and enveloped your body tightly with his strong arms, his favourite cologne drifting up your nostrils and invading all of your senses in all of the best ways. “Hey ‘Sol,” you mumbled, your face smushed into his firm pecs, making him giggle at the slight vibration against his chest.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered into your hair, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and sending tingles throughout your body. You smiled as you pulled away from his warm body reluctantly, letting him return to whatever he had been doing previously, and finding yourself a chair to sit on while he worked.

Finding purchase on a seat across the room, you found yourself squished between Seungcheol and Seungkwan and quickly fell into idle banter with the two, who were bickering over something you could not quite comprehend, but you also weren't paying a whole lot of attention because you were watching your boyfriend busy himself with recordings.

He was busy concentrating on and discussing an odd bass loop with Jihoon, the pair trying to find the perfect place to put it in the song where it wouldn't sound weird or repetitive. Your eyes unashamedly grazed all over his body, admiring how toned he had gotten over the last few weeks from his constant workouts and personal training sessions.

You were snapped out of your trance however, when Seungkwan snapped his fingers in front of your face to garner your attention. “Were you even listening to me?” He quipped, sass dripping from his voice as he rolled his eyes at you. You rolled your eyes back in response, albeit with a huge grin on your face as he continued his story about picking up his Americano earlier that day.

While you were chatting with Seungkwan, you felt the hairs on the back of your head begin to stand, and it felt almost as if someone was watching you. Your eyes darted around the room trying to find the reason for the suspicious activity, until they finally locked onto your boyfriend’s dark ones. You hadn't seen him look at you like that before, and it only sent shivers down your spine and you forced yourself to look away before you flung yourself at him.

You tried to occupy yourself by having a conversation with Seungcheol, who was showing you some of the lyrics he was writing and leaning in quite close to you. It hadn’t seemed like a problem for you since you were always talking to them about their lyrics and what they were working on, but there was something that felt...off, about sitting and talking to Seungcheol, even though all of your previous encounters with him had been nothing but pleasant and fun.

Vernon’s eyes refused to move off of your form as you sat next to Seungcheol, and all he could focus on was how his blood was beginning to boil, watching how his band mate would wrap an arm around your waist or whisper into your ear and make you laugh at some dumb joke he had explained to you. It was all getting too much for him, and before he could even control himself, his palms were slamming down onto the table with a loud thud, causing the room to fall into silence and everyone’s heads to whip around to face Vernon.

“What’s wrong Vern? You seem a little stressed, almost like you need to get laid or something,” Jeonghan joked, playfully hitting his younger friend’s arm lightly. The room fell into silence again as everyone awaited his response, not sure what the outcome would be from his seemingly harmless joke.

“Everyone needs to leave, I can’t concentrate with all this noise going on,” he finally spoke through gritted teeth, and everyone stayed still for a split second, before they scrambled to gather their things and leave as quickly as possible, not wanting to know what was going to happen once they left.

Because if they knew Vernon, they knew that he was hardly ever like this, and if he was going to snap, it wouldn't be pretty and they didn't particularly want to see it. They gave you quick, worried glances as they left, and you could only remain planted in your seat as you watched your boyfriend’s form tense and untense the more he looked at the music in front of him.

“Are you okay, baby?” You finally squeaked out once the door to the studio had shut and you were left alone with your stressed out partner. He remained silent for a few beats, and you thought about just grabbing your stuff and leaving him to his own devices, but his raspy voice stopped you before you even had the opportunity to grab your bag.

“I didn’t like the way you were talking with Seungcheol, it really got on my nerves,” he spoke through his teeth, hands gripping the table until his knuckles turned white. Your head tilted in confusion, before a small laugh bubbled past your lips from his statement, which you could hardly believe. “Are you serious? You’ve never had a problem with me talking to him before! Why is it any different now?”

His body immediately whirled around in the chair he sat on and he stood up, making fast paces towards you. You suddenly felt overly small in his presence, and even more so with his dominating nature that he was currently exuding. His eyes had darkened a few shades, and it was a look that you were all too familiar with, one that made arousal pool within your stomach and a distinct wetness clinging to your panties.

“I never had a problem before, because he wasn’t flirting with you last time, sweetheart,” His voice was rough as he stood in front of you, a small smirk reaching his mouth before he was crashing his lips into yours harshly, teeth and tongues clashing and you couldn’t help but let a mewl spill from your lips.

“He-he wasn’t flirting with me Vernon!” You managed to stutter out when he pulled away and sat on the couch next to you, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. His head snapped up and his eyes bore into yours again, before he let a sinister chuckle fall from his lips, and he was ripping your shirt off, leaving your upper body exposed to the slight chill in the air, with exception of your bra.

“You must be blind if you couldn't see the way he was undressing you with his eyes and holding your waist tightly, but it’s a shame he won’t ever get to see you like that,” he seethed, letting his lips run across the expanse of your neck and collarbone before letting his teeth sink in to the juncture of your shoulder and neck.

A small hiss left your lips as he continued to suck on your neck, leaving pretty purple and blue blooms across the expanse. Your hands found purchase in his locks, tugging roughly on the roots and pulling him off your skin. “W-we can’t do this here...” you trailed off, voice growing small when you noticed your boyfriend stripping his own clothes off, another laugh slipping past his kiss-swollen lips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t get a say in that, I need to show you who you belong to,” he spoke nonchalantly, leaning over your body and unclasping your bra, before pulling your pants and panties down in one swoop, leaving you stark naked in front of him. You face burned red with embarrassment, and you poorly attempted to cover your body up with a pillow strewn carelessly on the couch.

“Why are you trying to hide your smoking hot body from me?” His dominant act dropped momentarily and he let his body fall so that he was crouching between your legs, his eyes softening as he looked at you adoringly. “I-I don’t know...” a stuttered breath fell from your lips as he removed the pillow from your grip and threw it across the other side of the room.

His large hands roughly gripped your thighs and pushed them apart, exposing your glistening pussy to the air and his eyes. You saw his eyes grow hungrier and darker the longer he stared at your folds, and he couldn’t help but lean in towards you and lick a flat stripe against you, a smirk playing on his lips when you gasp and attach your hands to his scalp.

“Fuck, Vern! Your mouth i-is like ma-magic” You moaned out, unable to stop your legs from violently shaking with pleasure. His hands kept your legs pried apart, and it only heightened your levels of pleasure when his mouth found your clit and he sucked on it gently, sending waves of electricity coursing throughout your body. “You always did like when I eat you out, I bet that Seungcheol couldn’t even come close in terms of eating you out, I will always be on top” he moaned out loud, reattaching his lips to your folds and sucking vigorously.

Vernon spent a significant amount of time alternating between licking and sucking at your folds, and it came as no surprise to either of you that you were nearing your first orgasm already, your moans increasing in volume substantially when he began teasing a finger at your entrance. “You’re soaked, baby, I bet I’d just slide right in huh?” He teased, hissing when his finger was met with no resistance when he did slide it in.

He could feel your walls pulsing around his finger, and he knew that you would be cumming any moment now. Your whines were like music to his ears, and only spurred him on to add another finger into your swollen cunt, the wet noises making his cock twitch and a groan to spill from his lips.

You were too late in giving him a warning that you were cumming, it happened so fast and before you knew it, your legs were attempting to close around your boyfriend’s head and there was shapes and white patterns dancing behind your eyelids. You could faintly hear yourself crying out his name as you came down from your glorious high, and came to just as Vernon’s hand caressed your cheek.

“That was a powerful orgasm, sweetheart, but don’t forget that I’m not quite done with you yet, I still wanna fill you up with my cum.” He all but growled at you, pulling his boxers down to reveal his hard and leaking length, a continuous bead of precum growing at the tip of his erection. His cock wasn’t overly long, but it still worked wonders inside of you, and the thickness made you feel so full it was almost as if you would split open.

You leaned over to reach for his cock, but his hand gripped your wrist and held on tightly, making confusion cover your features. “No, we don’t have time for that right now, the members will be back any moment soon,” he replied, laying you down and hovering over your sweaty and shaking body. You could feel his heavy cock resting against your clit, and it only made you shiver in excitement at what was going to happen.

“F-fuck me ‘Sol...make me see stars,” You whined out, before he effectively silenced you by shoving two of his fingers in your mouth and glaring down at you with hooded eyes. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, slut, you’re lucky i don't have anything to tie your hands back with because that’s where they’d be.” He groaned, letting his tip slide down to your entrance.

He teased his cock at your entrance, prodding at it and pushing in slightly, only to pull back out again and leave you a whining and sobbing mess. “P-please...I need your c-cock!” You cried out, your body wriggling around on the couch in anticipation. He quirked a brow at your neediness, stopping his actions altogether and making you whine even louder.

“Someone is a needy brat tonight huh? That’s bold considering you were flirting with one of my bandmates not even an hour ago,” he scolded, finally letting his cock sink into you slowly. “I- ngh, I wasn't f-flirting with him!” you screamed out, his hips finally meeting yours as he bottomed out with a low groan.

“You definitely were, I could see it in your eyes,” he stuttered out, his hips beginning a rapid and unforgiving pace. His cock was stretching you out so nicely and filling you right up to the brim, and you couldn’t even find the energy to respond to his snarky comment. His cock was making you feel amazing in so many ways, you could feel your eyes rolling back into your head and your legs beginning to shake the more Vernon pounded into you.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, baby, I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from c-cumming inside of you,” he groaned, lifting one of your legs up so that it was propped on his shoulder and he could angle his cock better inside of you, attempting to hit that one spot inside of you that would have you clenching around his cock in a matter of seconds.

“R-right there! Fuck!” You cried out, your fingers digging into the flesh of your boyfriend’s bicep and leaving bright red crescent marks indented on the skin. He smirked at your cries and continued to hit in the same spot over and over, hissing when he felt how your pussy began clenching rapidly around his cock, making it even harder for him to thrust inside of you.

You were so close to falling over the edge, you just needed one more action to send you toppling, and Vernon knew exactly what to do to send you into that fucked out state. He removed his fingers from your mouth, groaning at the sight of the line of saliva dropping from them and landing on your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy, I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you won’t be able to walk out of here,” he spoke softly, his hand moving down to your clit and rubbing harsh figure eight’s on the swollen bud. His grunts and the way his hips and fingers were moving sent you spiraling over the edge with a loud scream, your body arching up so beautifully.

Luckily for you, the studio was soundproof.

Vernon was so extremely close to cumming as well, and seeing your face and body contort underneath him sent his cock twitching and unloading his cum inside of you, painting your walls white. “F-fuck...fuck!” He moaned out, pulling his cock out of you and watching globs of cum fall from your pussy. He smiled and let two of his digits scoop up the cum and press it back into your folds, a defeated whine leaving your lips as you shook from oversensitivity.

“No more, please ‘Sol...” you rasped out, feeling as if you were on another planet from how lightheaded your orgasm had made you feel. He chuckled and pulled his fingers out of you, loving how your body shook in response to his actions. “You did so well...so well my baby,” he spoke softly, wiping his fingers on a nearby pillow. His clean hand came up to caress your face, gently brushing some stray hairs out of your eyes and leaning in to kiss you softly.

The kiss was so soft and warm and made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him and hold him as close as you could. He finally pulled away from you with a wide grin on his face, before he got up and began to dress himself again and make himself look presentable.

He turned to you and helped you to dress carefully, kissing over each and every mark he left on your body, as well as whispering apologies into your skin and making you giggle at his adorableness. “Do you feel better now that you’ve gotten some of your stress out ‘Sol?” You asked, smoothing out your hair so it didn’t look as messed up as it had moments before.

He turned to face you and nodded with a huge grin on his face, pulling you in to a hug and swaying with you slightly, humming an unfamiliar tune that nonetheless made you smile and relax into his body. Just as you were about to ask him what he was humming, the door to the studio opened and a few faces popped in, worry on their features.

“It’s okay to come in, we’re all done in here,” Vernon commented, your face burning red with his outright comment. The boys slowly trickled back into the room and made themselves comfortable once more, falling into small talk with each other and you before you decided to make your exit.

“Oh, by the way,” Jeonghan started, a shit eating grin plastered on his face, and you knew that whatever he was about to say to you, would probably embarrass you until the ends of time. You made eye contact with Vernon, who looked just as nervous as you felt.

“Some of these walls aren't soundproof, for future reference.”

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sweetbitterimpossiblecreature · 3 years

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A Brief And Concise Summary Of Is Wrong With The ACOTAR Series

I think we can agree that a lot of ACOTAR is pretty iffy. Consider this a very brief refresher.

What's Wrong With Feyre/Rhysand (juxtaposed against Feyre/Tamlin)

Rhysand drugs and sexually assaults her in Book 1

This is "for her own good". Because he "has no choice". Despite the fact that, from what we know of the plot, Amarantha thinks that Clare Beddor was the one Rhysand was diddling, and is only interested in Feyre because Rhysand, "her" man male, has taken an interest in her.

If we extrapolate from this we can figure that Rhysand is the one directly putting her into danger.

Now, let's be clear: drugging someone is bad. Sexually assaulting someone is bad. One could argue there were extenuating circumstances. But if, in such a situation, what your mind goes to is "I know, I should assault this person... for their safety" I have questions about your moral qualities. There were a million things he could have done. He could have done whatever he did to Clare - that is, remove her ability to feel any pain - easily. He could have helped her escape. Under The Mountain, he - while still there unwillingly - has a lot of power, as Amarantha's side piece. Maybe this would have resulted in him being punished- however, he is hundreds of years old and a badass motherfucker, and she is a nineteen year old human girl.

Now, onto Tamlin. Obviously not a lot of people really ship F/T anymore after ACOMAF, because compared to F/R, it's boring. I read another person's post about it, which was very enlightening: they said that Feyre's personality is essentially a mirror. When she is with Rhysand, she's snarky and malicious- because she is "bouncing off" his energy. When she's with Mor she's super feminist and "in awe of her strength". On the other hand, Tamlin is kind of an empty character. He's a pretty boy with anger issues, which should be more interesting than it is. SJM manages to make him bland. Because Feyre has nothing to bounce off of, (a lot of this is from the person's post), she and Tamlin together is mainly just him introducing her to his world.

What Tamlin Does: prevents a skinny twenty year old from going on dangerous missions with him and combat-trained soldiers, accidentally blows up a room with her in it, and, at the end, prevents her from leaving the house.

This is not a Tamlin apologist post. Obviously it was really fucking gross of him to do that, and their relationship was toxic. However, a lot of his abuse stems from their inability to communicate, as well as own negligence. He does not knowingly and purposefully sexually assault her or rape her mind. And tbh, leaving a girl without combat training at home while he goes on missions with a bunch of muscled sentries is... kind of reasonable?

Again: not a Tamlin apologist post. It was abuse. However, if Rhysand is "allowed" to sexually assault, mind-rape, and drug Feyre "for her own safety", why is Tamlin demonized for preventing her from leaving his mansion "for her own safety"?

Another pertinent point: Rhys is never punished for sexually assaulting her. It is brushed off as part of his "mask" or that his hand was forced. Jesus Christ my dudes, his hand was not forced under her skirt. If he has to maintain his gross rapist abuser tyrant oppressor mask... why? Who did that benefit beside him? None of his actions remotely helped Prythian. They were done solely for his buddies - five people safe in a rich hidden city - and no one else, which is explicitly stated.

Finally, the power dynamic is fucked up. Feyre is less than twenty five years old. Rhysand is 500. There is a tendency in fantasy romance to romanticize a centuries year old man with a young girl, because the man does not show symptoms of age, and so it is easily ignorable. However, can we just briefly acknowledge how fucked up it is? Rhys is over five times older than Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, and other known predators/abusers. She is twenty. That is really fucking gross. She is in a vulnerable position and he takes rampant advantage of that.

If he had wrinkles, liver problems, and erectile dysfunction, more people would acknowledge it.

Let's be clear: I'm not saying writing a book with an uneven power dynamic is automatically bad. For example, in The Locked Tomb series, which is in my opinion THE BEST FANTASY SERIES THAT HAS GRACED THIS EARTH (lol i'm starting fires), one main character Harrowhark Nonagesimus is in a position of power over Gideon Nav, the other main character. However, this is not glossed over or romanticized. Gideon resents Harrow for this- there is a relationship of mutual antagonism, fraught with unwilling familiarity and intimacy from growing up together. They are roughly the same age. While there is a certain power dynamic (in that world, there is a dynamic of necromancer and cavalier, i.e. sorcerer and sword) the "empowered" character (Harrow) emphatically respects her and does not abuse this power, although both would of course deny this, and she does make a show of threatening and being aloof. In short, while Gideon obeys her, Gideon also has power over Harrow, and the idea of what is essentially slavery is not romanticized.

Feyre Doesn't Face Any Consequences For Her Own Actions

Let me present a radical notion: a guy preventing you from leaving his house does not justify completely fucking ruining his country and harming the people inside it.

In other words: Tamlin does not deserve what she did to him.

I know that sounds iffy. We're conditioned to think that if someone is an abuser, then they are the scum of the earth, they deserve to die, torturing/murdering/doing anything to them is completely A-OK. However, here's another radical notion: someone harming you does not justify you doing worse.

Obviously, the effects of psychological abuse can cause you to hurt other people (see: Nesta), but Feyre deliberately and maliciously (oh, God, that insufferable POV of her in Spring Court; she reads like a cartoonish Disney villain) dismantles his country. She uses sexual manipulation (Lucien), torture (causing the sentry to be whipped), and mind-rape (who didn't she do this to? lol).

A summary of the entire first half of ACOWAR: "It smelled like roses. I hated roses. For this capital offense against my olfactory system, Tamlin and the entire Spring Court deserved to burn in hell. I knew exactly what I was doing. I smiled at him sweetly: no longer a doe, but a wolf. He didn't see my fangs.............." *aesthetic noises*

Man. I'm starting to think SJM had a horrible experience at a Bath & Body Works and took it out on the rest of us. Don't do it, Sarah!! I know Pink Chiffon and Triple Berry Martini are way too strong, but don't take it out on an innocent population!!

She steals from Summer Court (there are, yk, other solutions to theft. Like maybe asking politely) and ruins Spring Court. Her boyfriend - yeesh sorry, MATE - does nothing while a dozen Winter Court children are murdered.

Now: moral ambiguity is not automatically bad. Again using The Locked Tomb as an example, in the second book (spoiler alert), Harrowhark has a sort of moral ambiguity. She was raised from the beginning to worship the King Undying as God, and so she obeys him without question. Because of this, she commits a lot of crimes in His name: she "flips" - i.e. kills - the life force of planets, and she plots murder (albeit the murder of someone who tried to kill her first). There is no attempt to justify this. There is also no attempt to paint her as a virtuous and yet also badass Madonna figure. She is desperate, plagued with the "wreck of herself", and the book clearly displays her moral pitfalls. While her POV is of course colored by her mindset, it also is limited by her lack of information, and we as readers can acknowledge that.

BACK TO ACOTAR: Feyre is seen by everyone as gorgeous, formidable, and essentially perfect. Rhys sees her as flawless, "made for him", wonderful, beautiful, blah blah blah. (THEY ARE SO BAD FOR EACH OTHER; THEY EXCUSE AND GLORIFY EACH OTHER'S CRIMES, IT'S SO BAD, GUYYYS). Tamlin is insanely batshit in love with her, or whatever. To the Night Court she's the High Lady. In this way she personifies the Mary Sue character. (Excerpt from the TV Tropes page on Mary Sues: "She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye color, and has a similarly cool and exotic name. She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting. She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing. She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story. The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting; if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal." Sound familiar?)

There is the Ourobous scene. And yet, paradoxically, while presented as an acknowledgment of her flaws, it is in fact a rejection of them. She sees her own brutality... and instead of recognizing that she has these deep, deep moral flaws and realizing that she needs to grow and be better, she in fact "accepts" them.

Guys: Self love means: "I'm important to me, so I'm going to get a massage today after work", or "heck, why not splurge on some expensive lotion, you only live once" or "you know what? I had a tough day today. I'm going to get that strawberry cupcake". SELF LOVE DOES NOT MEAN "oh, I accept all the war crimes I have done, I love myself". LOVING YOURSELF DOES NOT MEAN ABSOLVING YOURSELF OF ALL WRONGDOING.

It's this refusal to acknowledge wrongdoing that is so grating about ACOTAR. It's so goddamn one-sided. And you can tell that after Book 1, SJM decided to completely change the trajectory simply because of how jarring Book 2 reads compared to the first one.

Also: Feyre is a very, very young girl (compared to the other ruling fey) who did not know how to read for the majority of her life. She has no experience whatsoever in politics. Her being High Lady is not a win for feminism.

Rhysand: He Sucks

First, he is 500 years old. He should be written as such, not as some 20 year old virile frat boy feminist. Fantasy is all the more compelling for its elements of realism, which is a concept that SJM does not appear to grasp.

Second of all, his morals are absurd. He is written as the Second Coming of Christ, as someone who can do no wrong, ever, and his flaws only serve to make Feyre love him more. Anything shitty he does is written as part of his "mask" and she can See Beneath It and knows that it "hurts" him to maintain this "mask".

Fellas, WHY DOES HE HAVE TO MAINTAIN THIS MASK???? There is no reason for it. If A) he does not give a shit about Court of Nightmares (we'll get back to that), only about Velaris, and B) Velaris is hidden/protected from the world, what is he pretending for?

It would not hurt him politically to be seen as someone who cares about his country.

"Pretending" to be "Amarantha's whore" does not in any way shape or form benefit the macro-world that is Prythian. In Amarantha's name, he commits atrocities. He commits war crimes; he systemically oppresses entire societies. It doesn't even really benefit Velaris, because Velaris is already hidden.

Let me put this in a real-world perspective. This would be like if Donald Trump was suddenly like: "I know I was a shitty president but IT WAS ALL PART OF MY MASK, WHICH WAS TO PROTECT THIS MICROCOSM OF PRIVILEGED PEOPLE THAT I CARE ABOUT". Like: okay? Sorry, or whatever, but I don't actually give a shit. What about the parents of the children who died? What about Clare Beddor? What about the people who were held in slavery, murdered, tortured?

Rhysand: omg it sucks that my cousin Mor was oppressed by this toxic misogynistic culture from the Court of Nightmares.

Also Rhysand: lol whatever, who gives a shit about Court of Nightmares. They all suck. They meanie. Lol what did you say? That there might be other girls just like Mor who are oppressed by this system? Lol whatever. I can't do anything, I gotta maintain my Mask. I gotta sit on this throne and show the entire Court that not respecting women is completely okay.

In summary: by parading Feyre around as his "whore" (!!) he demonstrates by example that it is completely okay for the Court of Nightmares to abuse their women.

A good ruler cares about all his people. Rhysand cares about a tiny tiny fraction of his people: those who were fortunate enough to be born into Velaris.

God, I'm exhausted. Onto Nesta:

The only character who successfully breaks the Mary Sue effect Feyre exerts on her people is Nesta. Her POV for the first half is a joy to read.

Obviously it sucks that Nesta was a huge bitch to Feyre for the beginning of her childhood. However, it was wrong for Rhysand to threaten her- he is a man male with a huge insane amount of power, and it is not okay for him to threaten to bring the brunt of it down on a young girl because she was a bitch to his girlfriend.

I've seen a lot of discourse on the morality of F/R sending her out of Velaris. Here is my two cents:

It was okay for them to cut her off of their money. If they don't want to enable her self-harm, that is their choice. Again, it's their money, even if it wasn't fairly earned (Rhysand born into an enormous fortune).

It was not okay for them to banish her from Velaris with the implication that she was an embarrassment. Let me explain.

If Rhysand and Feyre are talking to her as sister/brother-in-law, then that is that. They have the complete right to express disapproval and try to help. However, they should not be using their royal privilege against her.

If they are talking to her as ruler to subject, then they have the power to banish her from the city. However, a ruler would not give a shit about a random subject getting drunk and having sex. So, they should not be talking her about her problems as a ruler to subject.

I've heard it compared to her being sent to rehab. However, rehab is a system designed to help people with certain problems. It has specialized medical centers and involves therapy. Nesta gets her life threatened multiple times. It is not rehab.

In summary: why did SJM inflict this upon us. Throne of Glass was actually good! GAHHH! After the first few books she completely whipped around and introduced the idea of males and mates and fey and that C is actually A and the quality took a huge nosedive. Sigh.

Final horrible but unmistakable truth: The entire ACOTAR series reads like a bad A/B/O fic. I hate to say it but it's true. We're lucky there were no heat cycles. OH WAIT

#anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti acotar #anti acofas #anti acomaf #anti everything #anti feyre #to some extent #mentioned: the locked tomb #mentioned: gideon the ninth #mentioned: harrowhark nonagesimus #anti #strongly anti #pan-int #that's my ao3 tag!#meta #my post

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yinses · 3 years

Text

nanami kento ft. f! reader + lots of praise + soft dom nana + fingering + semi clothed sex + domestic au

rating: 18+ wc: 2.2k a/n: inspired by this fanart that sister yulia blessed me with. nanami supremacy for all.

you take notice in the shift the moment he crosses the threshold. hair tousled and tie askew is nothing new to expect from your husband after a long day at work. he takes his job seriously and his goal to provide even more so, often sacrificing extra hours just to provide for more than what you ask.

he strived for a life of comfort, he’d told you before marriage. it was something he worked hard for prior to you and only doubled his efforts to ensure that future after putting a ring on your finger.

it wore down on him, adding maturity lines earlier than they should present themselves and taking away years he needed to give back to himself. but nanami kento was a man of consistency, even when those boundaries started to fracture.

you could feel the splinters echoing beyond the slam of the door closing shut from the kick of his heel. it rattles straight to your core as you stand there, held hostage by the stormy pools of blue staring down at you. his day had likely been another one of agitation piled on top of another. surely a cup of tea before dinner would help soothe the cracks of frustration.

though neither your lips could form the words nor could your feet cross the distance it took to move in any direction.

this plight was not a fault of your husband who stepped confidently in your direction, a single finger coming up to remove his tie all together.

“is dinner on the stove?”

your mind blanked at the question, frazzled at the sight of him handling his cuffs with practiced care as he set one gifted metal piece aside one after the other. you had a plan set in motion from the moment he kissed your forehead in departure that morning, but everything beyond that suddenly felt trapped.

lips stumbled over answers and your cheeks warmed at the foolish display. what had swept into your household to shift the mood so?

nanami appeared otherwise unaffected as he finished rolling up the last sleeve. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, capturing your fraying attention as he looks around you towards the kitchen. you think you see his nose twitch once before his gaze falls back down.

“i don’t smell anything burning.” his intentions are becoming increasingly clear as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, a single thumb swiping at the fullness of your lips before pressing against the corner. without a second thought, you part them.

it provides a catalyst that gets you pressed against the nearest wall with one wrist pinned near the frame displaying your wedding day.

when his lips lower, you crane your neck in response only to have them stop just short of a whisper. his breath ghosts a trail down the exposed column of your throat, nose edge the line of your jaw. you swear you feel him smile against the shiver of anticipation rattling your form.

“i would like to fuck you in this hallway, if that’s alright, darling?” the thumb still trapped between your teeth, presses down against your tongue as if to prompt an answer yet he doesn’t pause for one.

“i’ve already put in a request for the cleaners to come and groom the rug tomorrow so you’ll need not to worry about that.”

your toes curl against the fine woven carpet at your feet, nerves tingling at the premeditated situation that you’ve found yourself in. your husband, who was now suckling soft blooms under your chin, had taken time out of his day to schedule a clean up for the mess he planned to make out of you. the idea made your knees go weak.

nanami chuckled knowingly as he caught your descent with the sharp line of his hips. “i imagine that’s agreeable with you, wife?”

the hasty nod of your head dislodges his finger, but he’s quick to replace it with his lips. the kiss is all consuming as his tongue slips between the seam, allowing you to taste the moan from his lips.

you may as well have had the script, dressed perfectly for the role as his knee nudges between your thigh and ride up the edge of your summer dress. he tells you all the time that you don’t need to try, that you look pretty in anything. but you like to go the extra mile. painting your lips a nice shade at home just to smear it in the passion of his kisses.

you know he appreciates it too. an inviting contrast to the mundane office view at work.

the same hand falls from the cut of your jaw to drag the hem of your dress up the ascent of your thigh. you’re more proud than embarrassed when his fingers tap against the tacky wet spot at the front of your panties.

his tongue clicks against the top of his mouth, “played with yourself while i was away again?” a firm swipe up followed by a press inward has you keening. “or did you just miss me this much?”

“yes.”

it’s both an answer and a cry for attention. a meaningless wail that meets no need of a man who would fracture the world to build you one better.

“my pretty little angel, it must be so hard when i’m away.”

he follows the panty line, teasing the sensitive skin there. the rumbling laugh you receive when your hips jerk in response makes your heart flutter. you’re still riding the tremors of your excitement when he nudges aside the lace of your panties to push a finger inside.

the intrusion meets minimal resistance as he slides from the first knuckle to the next. he still takes it as slow as your initial night, pumping in and out with care before adding a second. all the while, he peppers your face with kisses and words of adoration. nanami moves his thumb to flick over your nub before pressing down hard until you cry out.

pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, mine, are all formations of adoration that he mutters against your skin while he unravels you thread by thread.

“take it, darling, i’ll give you another.”

he utters a low curse at the sharp keening sound, enthralled by how your body trembled as he worked his fingers deeper. nanami lowered his head back to the junction of your shoulder, where he flicked his tongue against the feverish skin. your high whines and small gasps encouraged him to pick up the pace, hips rocking against yours with the precipice of something more, yet he ignored the growing discomfort in his pants to focus all the different ways your mouth formed his name.

his teeth mark your skin, where they tenderly nipped and sucked, leaving fresh marks while you twisted in his hold. you emit a shuddering cry, nails raking over his skin as your body pulls tight as a bow string. the shaky breath lining your lips forms a mantra of his name, over and over until the tremors ebb away. what remains are shaky legs that nearly slump over, caught by your husband as he follows you to the ground.

still floating down from your high, you could vaguely make out the sounds of nanami sucking off his fingers, removing them with lasciviously loud pops. when your gaze eventually focuses, you find him waiting with an eager, seductive smirk.

“ready for me then?”

swallowing a sharp inhale, you nod.

hands heading down to the zipper of his pants, nanami pulled it down and shrugged the material away to free his cock. one hand grabbing himself and the other reached for your left leg which he threw over his shoulder. you immediately try to grind down, slippery lips colliding with warm flesh.

“thought about you all day while i was at work.” nanami purrs breathily with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight before he would take you to heaven. “thinking about how you would feel around me and mad with pleasure.”

his hand reaches for yours, capturing the digits and bringing them to his lips. he takes his time, allowing his tongue to glide up and down your fingers before kissing your palm, murmuring heated words against them; “thought about our wedding night… those twisted sheets wrung dry”

you feel his hips roll once, probing slightly, before he jerks forward and grunts at the overflowing heat engulfing him. still reeling from your first, your body was pliant and gracious while he chased his. your chest heaved up and down as you tried to calm your breathing while lips continued to release indecent moans.

his grip slides down to your wrists, pressing them above your head into the rug as he adjusted over you. there was an unmistakable provocative outline in his lust-darkened blue eyes. the blonde’s lips meshed intricate patterns against your cheeks, moving downward to capture your lips in a tight needy kiss that made nanami twitch even further.

it made his last strand of self-restraint snap before he met you stroke for stroke, grounding down on you deeply. your lips broke apart with a loud cry that milked with a following angled push as he snatched at your other leg to wrap around his waist. his movements were perfectly concise, designed to make you lose control with the potent effect of his affections.

picking up the pace when your high whines turned into full-blown moans, he inhaled sharply and choked out as coherently as he could,”together, darling, meet me there. i know you can.”

then he shifted on his knees slightly, that brought on a new change in the angle as he continued thrusting deeper, watching how your head thrashed from side to side and you repeatedly arched against him, trying to meet his every move. the delectable bead of sweat that ran down your throat was promptly licked up by the blonde as he sucked on your pulse.

his hands were ever so helpful in guiding your hips as he slowed down his speed to a torturous beat, rolling his hips in deeply to tease the edge. he knew where the peak was, hovering just at the horizon as he marched gradually up the hill. nanami was practiced in the art of getting you there, watching as your spine arched to accommodate is languid yet deep drives.

“ ‘m there, kenny-please”

it was silenced with on of his brain-numbing kisses again as he captured your lips. you could feel the slight curve of his mouth as he pulled out almost fully, making you slutter in the middle of your kiss.

“that’s it, “ he hissed, loving how you pant his name with each of his thrust, trying to manage coherency past how tightly you clenched around him. “we’re there baby. take me with you.”

nanami could feel himself losing control with your begging, fitfully aware you were going to tumble over the edge with him right behind. he abruptly accelerated his thrusts once more, bringing you to meet him sharply. each time he struck, he made sure that he prodded that spot that would drive you frenzied and wild, gazing in satisfaction as you squirmed harder under his skilled touches.

“c-come now, love.” he grunted, phishing past all bounds as he rammed into you repeatedly, losing himself to the sensation crawling up his skin. “do it. be good for me, princess.”

your head twisted and turned as your mouth hung open. vision getting lost in the blinding white. body growing weaker. as if determined to break you entirely, his hand traveled down your navel to come between your joined bodies. expert fingers quickly found you clit as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, coaxing you to let go of everything as he whispered lewd thoughts into your ear.

“k-kenny!”

that was all the warning he had when your toes curled and he could feel your walls spasm around him. the flow of sensations ignited his nerves, left to surrender as you became impossible tighter around him, jerking him into his own release as well. a hiss was all he could manage as he slammed into you, shuddering through his climax.

the world exploded into a disarray of hues as he slumped forward, bracing a single arm above your figure while he panted heavily through euphoria.

“bad day at work?” you manage to get out.

he grunts at first, a small sound of misunderstanding before the mutual foggy haze lifts to prompt clarity. a breathy chuckle leaves him.

“never a bad day with you in my life. just missed you is all.” his words are slightly slurred, much unlike your husband but very a keen to a man on the verge of undeniable sleep.

dinner could wait.

“why don’t we take an early evening nap and have dinner in bed later?”

who could deny that?

you get a slow kiss of affirmation in return.

#nanami kento x reader #Nanami x Reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami sins

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cherry-lipbalm · 3 years

Text

double trouble. spencer reid.

4.8k words.

masterlist

where y/n pulls the short straw and has to double up with spencer.

There is a chart within the BAU: a solid, concise graph that portrays, arguably the most, vital information within the FBI. Intricately designed, Garcia and Y/N had managed to construct a comprehensible guide to who in the team was the most pleasant to share a room with. At first it was a joke, originated from a slow day of nothing but paperwork Y/N had spent in Garcia's lair. Conversations arose, and soon after so did the chart.

It's built up on categories such as conversation, tidiness, sleeping conditions and even hygiene. There are ten available points per category, and Emily loses said ten points for sleeping conditions because her snores can be heard from China. The points are the basis of the game, essential in order to rank the team individually and compile them into a list of favourability. Spencer is at the bottom of that list.

"I don't get it, I'm a delight," Spencer argued, strolling alongside Morgan up the small flight of stairs to the BAU room. Another case had forced them to prepare for the jet in 30 minutes, but Hotch and the rest of the team had very different perspectives on preparation. Especially after what he said when they entered the room.

"Okay, before we start you should know I called ahead to book a hotel and they had limited rooms. We all have one but you're going to have to double up."

Y/N had never seen an American Western movie before, but she imagined that the cliché standoff looked a lot like what happened in the BAU room subsequent to that announcement. Those that had been sitting launched to their feet, uncaring to the chairs rolling free behind them. If someone was holding something it dropped onto the table, or even the floor. Communication faltered, and all anyone dared to do was stare at each other.

When Hotch looked up from his file, he had to do a double take because of the drastic change in atmosphere. His team were all standing metres apart; Y/N had a hand over her gun.

"I think we all know what this calls for," she said.

"Get it," Morgan gestured to the back of the room. Y/N's movement caused a surge of motion as everyone sat at the table attentively. Hotch tried to turn the attention back to the screen with the crime scene photos, but even JJ was more focused on the whiteboard rolling into the room.

Y/N stood by it's side, and on her way forced Hotch into a seat. She grabbed the top corner and flipped it over to reveal the coloured array of pie charts, bullet-points and bar charts.

"I still don't see why this is necessary," Spencer whined from the back of the room.

"I don't see why you've obviously spent more time and effort on this than any of your cases," Hotch added.

"Okay, you two are just jealous because you're at the bottom of the list," Y/N snarked, then addressed the team. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today, in holy matrimony, to judge your fellow coworkers and deem who is the least likeable. Spoiler alert: it's Spencer."

At this, the aforementioned agent threw his pen directly at Y/N's head. She shrieked, then turned to him with a glare as she tried to untangle it from her hair. He laughed wholeheartedly, and the team snickered not only at Spencer's attack but the way they were so obviously and obliviously in love with each other.

"This chart makes no sense! I mean, how do I only have five points for hygiene? We all know I'm the cleanest out of everyone here."

"I agree with you Spencer," Y/N said, "your hygiene is at a ten point standard but unfortunately people don’t want to compete with said ten point standard, so that loses you five points, gorgeous.”

Spencer didn't reply (only sulked into his seat), half because he's shocked by the injustice of the chart and the other half because he's shocked Y/N just called him gorgeous.

"Alright! The hat, please," She exclaimed, enticing Spencer from his trance. Garcia presented the fedora over the table, and Y/N began talking immediately when she saw Hotch's mouth open in objection because were they really using the fedora from the unsub they caught last week?

Only four people took turns in picking names out of the hat; ever since in incident in '04 where lack of coordination made for everyone picking a name of someone who had already picked someone else. It resulted in a few brawls when Morgan wouldn't budge from his choice of Garcia even though his name had been pulled by Reid.

It never took them long to pick names out of desperation, considering the name-picking determined how the next 24 + hours were going to go. So when Y/N picked out Spencer's name, no one blamed her when she practically collapsed to the floor.

"That's karma," Spencer said upon her unraveling.

"I thought you didn't believe in karma," she sneered, stomping back onto her feet.

"In situations like these it seems to be the only viable explanation."

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him on her way out of the room, muttering under her breath that she'll be briefed when she's aboard, because she needed a moment alone for a pep-talk on how murdering your colleague apparently isn't socially acceptable.

On her way out, faintly in the background, Morgan caught sight of Emily and JJ fist-bumping victoriously, and realised that Y/N's demise more than certainly involved some foul play. Oh well, he thought, it'll make for good entertainment.

———

"Science shows us that we feel more personally connected with people who have similar postures, vocal rhythms, facial expressions and even eye blinking. If you consciously sync these factors your brain activity could follow, resulting in what many people call 'clicking' wi-"

"I cannot believe you asked me why you lost seven points for conversation and then followed with that."

"What? What's wrong with science?"

"Oh, Spence, you're so gorgeous but so oblivious," Y/N sighed, exhausted from a mixture of jet lag and Spencer's enthusiastic take on the science of conversation. They had only just stepped foot in the room, and she was already drained from the mere thought of having to bunk with him for the next however many hours.

Y/N is quick to throw her things down as soon as they enter the room. She dumps her suitcase by the door and launches a few more things on the cabinets around her, then tries to ignore Spencer's sounds of distaste as she does this. She's frankly too tired to care, and jumps onto the bed without thinking; she's so enervated she doesn't even realise there's only the one bed.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Spencer suddenly asks despite the silence that passed and the obvious fact that Y/N is trying to get some shut eye.

All he receives is an incomprehensible mumble from under the pillows, but he takes it as a response anyway.

"Why do you keep, uh, keep calling me 'gorgeous' I mean, I'm not, uh..." he stammers, fidgeting with the room key in his hands while he stands in front of the wardrobe to make it seem like he's doing something and doesn't care as much as he does.

"I'd say it's pretty self explanatory."

He senses the fatigue in her voice, so just leaves it with a shrug of his shoulders and a content smile, then goes to organising his array of sweater vests onto the hangers. When he's done with this, he turns around to make himself a coffee; taking a different approach to the jet lag than Y/N.

At the thought of her, he looks up to see her sprawled out across the bed. She's clutching onto a pillow and seems so relaxed that Spencer has to look away for a moment because he's more than certain he shouldn't be seeing a coworker like this. Nevertheless, he smiles upon her peaceful ambience, and hopes the boiling kettle doesn't disturb her too much.

When it's done brewing, Spencer sips the coffee cautiously and strides over to a small chair in the corner of the room. Here, Y/N's slumped figure is directly in his view, so he can't help but see her so casually on the bed. Wait, the bed... oh shit.

He knows that the chances of him getting the bed are slim. For one, Y/N's pretty much already claimed that territory, and, even if she hadn't, Spencer knew she'd put up one hell of a fight for it. He only hoped there were some extra blankets and pillows that could aid in making the floor at least somewhat comfortable.

"So, uh, Rock Paper Scissors for the bed?" He asks, then slurps his coffee. His voice rouses Y/N for a moment, and he's sure she's dozed back off again until his words sink in and she turns around to him with bleary eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"One bed. Two people," he says nervously and gestures to the space between them.

And it takes Y/N a moment. She looks from Spencer to the bed, then stares at the pillows for a long while, then she looks at Spencer again, then the bed. Then, she lets out a blood-curdling cry so loud that Reid has to cover his ears.

"Why!" She screams, slamming her hands down on the mattress. Spencer can't help but laugh, snickering behind his hand which only infuriates Y/N more.

"Okay, okay!" He moves to calm her down when he can practically see the steam coming out of her ears, "rock paper scissors, come on."

"Oh, I don't want to do that, Spence," she whines.

"Why? 'Cause you know you'll lose?" With his patronisation he raises an eyebrow at her when he approaches the end of the bed, his fist already raised. His condescension makes Y/N irrefutably stubborn, and she knows he's doing it on purpose -because he always does- but she doesn't care when it means she has a chance to beat Spencer at something.

"Fine," she grumbles. She sweeps the hair from her face and sits up straight, shuffling to the end of the bed and letting her legs dangle down; they brush against Spencer's own and he clears his throat amid the contact.

The slap of her fist against her palm indicates the beginning of the game. Y/N knows that she's unlikely to win, because Spencer is bound to have calculated some sure-fire plan to succeed in every round of Rock Paper Scissors.

This is why, when Spencer pulls paper and she pulls scissors, she screams in delight.

"No," Spencer says bluntly, then demands, "best out of three."

"Oh no," she chuckles, "it's never been that way before, it isn't now, gorgeous."

Spencer throws his head back in a groan, kneeling on the floor in defeat. He stays there because he figures he ought to become acquainted with it.

———

When nighttime rolls around, Y/N is pretty excited. She's already texted the BAU group chat a record seventeen times about the matter, yet somehow the team hasn't gotten sick of it thus far, and may even be more exhilarated than she is. It's the one good thing to come out of sharing a room with Spencer: that she gets to watch him wiggle in discomfort on his makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor.

Except, when it comes down to it, it isn't that fun at all.

He's wriggling, yes, but it's doesn't exactly fulfil her with any satisfaction; if anything, it's just sad. He struggles to reach any form, never mind pinnacle, of relaxation, and Y/N actually feels pretty guilty at the subordination. So when the clock hits midnight and she's still hearing Spencer grunting when he hits a certain incessant bump in the carpet, she gives in and sits up.

Upon the sudden sound of bedsheets rustling, Spencer freezes because he thinks he's going to get shouted at, but it's the opposite that scares him even more.

"Do you want to get in bed?" Her voice sounds, the hush penetrating through the air.

Immediately Spencer rises; he wants nothing more than to take her up on her offer, but he is, unfortunately, chivalrous.

"No, no, it's okay," he whispers back, already delving back under his covers.

"Spencer. Just take the bed, I can't sleep with you tossing and turning," she says, hoping the complaint will cover up her caring behaviour.

"Be careful, Y/L/N, it almost sounds like you care."

"Shut up, do you want the bed or not?"

"I do but, unlike you, I'm actually a good person and wouldn't want to see you lying on the floor-"

"Uh, I'm offering you the bed, aren't I? That's gotta earn me some brownie points," she remarked, now having turned on a lamp. "Besides, if you're that bothered about it, we'll just share."

This makes Spencer stop: his torso is turned abnormally in his angle to see Y/N behind him, the blankets feebly draping across him show the Doctor Who shirt he's wearing, and his hair is a tousled mess that Y/N just knows will take him hours to fix in the morning. Well, that was tomorrow's problem, she contemplated, right now the issue lied in who, if either of them, was going to sleep on the floor.

"Uh, share? You.. uh, you really wanna do that?"

"As long as you don't snore, or kick; whats the harm?"

Spencer avoids dumping information about the harm of them sleeping together: how this kind of physical contact releases oxytocin, a chemical compound in the brain that exhibits feelings of empathy, trust, relaxation and even reduces anxiety. He saves her this because it's just past midnight and he doubts she wants to hear about the scientific risk of them growing to like each other.

"Oh, okay," he agrees instead. He clambers up from his pile of blankets and clutches a pillow to his chest while he stumbles over. Y/N shuffles to one side and pulls the duvet back, and he's more than happy to get under warm, comfy sheets.

"Let me just make something clear," Y/N says while Spencer adjusts into the pillows. He doesn't do this for long because one is snatched from under his head. When he moves to object, he sees it being planted next to his arm, creating a definite border between them.

"Your side, my side," Y/N says sternly, "that clear?"

"Crystal."

———

It's around three am when Y/N stirs awake. At first she can't grasp what's roused her, but then she hears a noise, and assumes there's got to be some construction going on outside because what she hears is alike to the humming of machinery. When she gains a reasonable amount of consciousness, she realises the sound is a bit too close to home.

Her hand reaches out across the bed, and when she accidentally whacks Spencer on the chest, she worries she's awoken him, until the noise starts again and it's here she discovers it's coming from him.

Oh shit, she thinks, please don't tell me my co-worker is having a sex dream while I'm lying right next to him.

He isn't, but Y/N isn't sure the reality is any better.

The moaning sound he first emitted has progressed into some sort of panicked grunt, accompanied by occasional whines. Soon, his body is flinching away from an invisible force.

Y/N knows it's probably best to leave it, that if she wakes him up he might be too confused and scared, he'll be disoriented, but when he starts screaming, she doesn't have anything else to resort to.

"Spence, Spencer! Wake up, hey," she shakes him, and he's awake in seconds. Sitting up straight, Y/N sees him hitting things that aren't there; it's only when she turns the light on that he eventually calms down.

"I'm sorry," he croaks immediately. Then his head is in his hands as he leans on his knees, and Y/N is overcome with a feeling completely foreign to her in regard to Spencer: empathy.

"Don't be, it-... it's okay," her voice takes a calm turn, and she even puts a hand on his back because anything that happens after three am is as good as forgotten anyway.

"You were right, I'm sorry," Spencer mutters. "This'll lose me ten points for sleeping conditions, huh?"

His attempt at cracking a joke does make Y/N smile, but even he can tell it's one of pity.

"Don't be silly. Do you want to, uh, talk about it?"

"I just wanna sleep," he sighs, and falls back into the pillows. Y/N creases her brows in sympathy, then lies down next to him; she stares at the ceiling for a while, and the steadying of Spencer's breathing makes her think he fell asleep a while ago, so she leans to turn off the lamp before his voice breaks the silence.

"Can you keep the light on?"

His sudden ask makes Y/N jump, but she steadies under the softness of Spencer's voice. When she turns to him his eyes are barely open, but he can see the benevolent smile she's giving him; something he rarely sees from Y/N.

"Of course," she says, then lies back down into the indent she's made in the bed.

"Thanks," he replies, and Y/N notices this is the least she's ever heard Spencer talk.

"You know," she starts, "it's not silly to be afraid of the dark; it's basic human instinct. I mean, it's evolution: humans have a... a tendency to be afraid of the dark, our visual sense vanishes and we can't detect anything around us. It's primal instinct, or... something, I guess."

At the end of her ramble, she's afraid she's sent Spencer to sleep, because he's gone uncharacteristically placid, but -yet again- he surprises her.

"Now who's losing points for conversation?"

Y/N's laugh after this is so hearty and genuine that Spencer can't help but smile, grin even. His chest rumbles with a chuckle, and Y/N feels the mattress shake under their collaboration of laughter, when it dies down they're both still beaming.

"Maybe I've been hanging around you too much," she declares. It's a jab, but her cheek rests against the pillow when she turns her head to him because her smile is so wide, and Spencer reciprocates; the act is unfamiliar to the pair, but warming nonetheless.

When it goes silent, Y/N doesn't expect to sleep at all. The Pavlov affect of the light being on tricks her brain into thinking she should be wide awake (something she learnt from Spencer), so she lies there patiently; hands intertwined resting on her chest. She twiddles her thumbs, almost as if she's waiting for something to happen.

"I'm sorry you have nightmares," she mutters.

Spencer's eyes flutter open, and she goes to make another apology, this time for waking him, but he clears his throat so she lets him take the lead.

"S'Not your fault, I just, I don't know. I get these dreams, these weird dreams - ever since I was a kid. I guess they just... developed into nightmares since I joined the BAU," he mumbles. "We see some pretty bad stuff."

Y/N hums, "we do, don't we?"

Her speech doesn't warrant a response, so Spencer just smiles again and they both silently call it a night. Reid is asleep in seconds, which Y/N finds admirable, while she stays still for a while. The way the orange light is bouncing off Spencer's physique makes him look like he's centre stage of an oil painting. The detail she's gaining of his pores and his eyelashes from being so close to him is both daunting and beautiful at the same time. His resting body reminds her of the pieces on display in an art exhibit Spencer dragged her along to one day last autumn. She wonders if he took anyone else to that exhibit, and hopes he didn't.

She soundlessly admires the rise of his chest: the melody of his breathing amid the chagrin of an occasional nose whistle. His hair, once a foreseeable inconvenience, is now an abundance of, what Y/N can only describe as, natural radiance; it's all curls and frizz and length that she's begged him to never lay a hand on. She can't help but run a hand through it. When she does, it's a lot softer than she expected and makes her think, wow I've really got to find out what conditioner he is using while she's untangling any knots she comes across. It only results in more frizz but he'll gel it back with product in the morning (much to Y/N's disappointment).

The noise he exudes when Y/N scratches his scalp makes her heart melt immediately. It is the sound of innocence wrapped up in a ball of revere, the way it comes from his chest and catches in the back of his throat in a small, naive whine. Then he subconsciously curls into her hold and is practically purring when she continues to scrape her fingernails gently across his head.

The ambivalence of it all is what makes Y/N stop. Spencer Reid isn't the kind of guy she ever anticipated to have a crush on. He didn't fit into the pattern of her list of exes, not even one feature of him came close to anything of her usual type. Where she'd normally be taken to movies and dinners, Spencer ventured with her to museums, public symposiums, art exhibits. Y/N can't resist fondly reminiscing on a library trip they took last week that resulted in them checking out each of their favourite books for one another. And while, on paper, this was romantic and harmonious, they were strictly platonic. Barely that; they took the piss out of each other at every opportunity, not even always as a joke. Y/N had collapsed in sorrow when she pulled his name out of the hat.

But the smile on Spencer's face... his serene expression and soft hair makes Y/N's knees weak for a totally different reason. And she figures this feeling trumps whatever feigned resentment she has been portraying over the years.

Fine, she thought, stubborn as always when it came to Spencer, I'll tell him when he wakes up. She began to bask in the peace that came before whatever storm could potentially riot tomorrow when she told Spencer how she felt. She guessed she had at least a few hours to relish in their friendship and the love they had built.

She guessed wrong.

Spencer's eyes were fluttering open before Y/N had even began conjuring up what she was going to say. Unfortunately, when she made a plan she stuck to it; she was beginning to see why her stubbornness could be such an unattractive quality.

Spencer squinted harshly with the light, and the first thing he managed to see clearly was the discreet panic in Y/N's eyes. He took a quick survey of the room to eliminate what visible factors that could reason her alarm; when he ruled out any unsub with a gun to her head, he relaxed.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the window, and it didn't seem to be daylight yet.

"Haven't you been to sleep?" He asked, more than prepared to educate her in the necessities of getting a good night's rest.

"Not yet. You've only been out a few minutes," she said softly, retracting her hand from his locks. Here, Spencer realised he didn't like the feeling of Y/N's absence.

"Oh," he hummed, "I was dreaming. I think Darth Vader was there..."

Y/N chuckled lightheartedly, "of course he was."

Spencer seemed willing to remain awake, but time was limited and Y/N wasn't sure when he'd be dozing off again. So, she made her move.

"Listen, I wasn't going to say anything until morning but, you're awake so I may as well tell you now..."

He's visibly intrigued; with a quirked eyebrow and digging the knuckle-joint of his finger in a rubbing motion in the corner of his eye to try and gain some sense of vivacity. Still, all he can respond with is a drone.

"And I don't want this to, I don't know, freak you out? Or to make anything awkward, so if it does, we can just... pretend this never happened, okay? I mean it."

This manages to obtain Y/N the attention she needs, because, without delay, Spencer has both eyes open and his eyebrows are knitted together in mostly concern. Now, with his eager expression, Y/N wishes he had stayed nonchalant.

"What's wrong?"

"I just... I guess. I mean, I like you? I think? I know, really. I just - you're not like any other guy, and I like that, that's a good thing! I mean, what other guy knows how to build a rocket and make a coin appear behind your ear?"

Spencer chuckles, and his eyes are wide and bright like he's been suddenly granted passage to a whole new world. Mouth agape with wonder, he's like a child being told he can finally play on the big-kid swings: buzzing with excitement and anticipation, just like said rockets he launches and gets in trouble with Hotch for.

"You mean like this?" He asks and leans forward to brandish a dime from behind Y/N's earlobe.

"Okay, like, who does that!" She screeches way too loudly for three am. When she clasps a hand over her mouth Spencer chortles and slowly removes her grasp. He's timid, so initially only presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles, then feels the ambience in the room shift; suddenly everything has devolved from blushing antics and stumbles of words to serenity in a matter of seconds.

Spencer's pecks adhere to Y/N's hands, lingering on the skin of her knuckles and occasionally peppering to her palms. It isn't until a few kisses later that he brings himself to move closer, and even here his courage only brings him to her cheek.

When the corner of his lips press lustfully upon her face, Y/N doesn't hesitate in turning her head ever so slightly. His lips part, and he breaks away to glance at her and make sure this isn't all one big misunderstanding. But her gaze is matched to his mouth, and soon her lips. In a fumble to close the (already compact) space between them, the kiss they share is warm and breathy, it's passionate and lewd, especially with the arrangement in which Spencer places his hands: cupping one side of her face and the placing the other at her neck so he can rest his fingertips in the hold atop Y/N's spine.

Wherever his fingers touch leaves a trail of goosebumps which Y/N hopes never diminish; she wants every piece of evidence she can muster of Spencer's caresses, however this changes when Spencer's lips begin on the formidable task of her neck.

"Stop," she pants, and the hands that had inevitably reached his hair again are now pushing slightly on his shoulders. Her request makes Spencer drop his hands immediately.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't. It was nice. I just, I don't want everyone to see," she gestured to the red patch that had already formed above her clavicle where Spencer had only been nibbling a moment prior.

"Right, yeah," he breathed. A giddy smile forced its way onto his face when he looked at the way Y/N's lips had reddened and become swollen, especially her bottom (now essentially permanent) pout originated from the persistence of Spencer's tendency to drag his teeth along her lip and enclose it in a bite.

"You know, I predicted this would happen. Scientifically, people are a lot more likely to be attracted to one another after sleeping together. Subconsciously, we feel more capable in our ability to trust that person because we've been so vulnerable and open in a compromising position. The oxytocin we get from sharing physical contact like that is the same we produce in an orgasm."

"Oh," Y/N squeaked, while Spencer lay there with a proud smile on his face, not really registering the effect he'd had on her by using the word 'orgasm'.

"Oxytocin is heavily released during kissing too, so... I guess we're pretty bonded."

Y/N chuckled, smiling at his blushed cheeks. "I guess we are."

"It's, uh, it's actually also called the 'cuddle hormone' because it's primarily recognised as being released during hugging.”

"And that's your way of asking me if I want to cuddle?"

Spencer's smile was unmissable: shifting nervously between tight-lipped and beaming wide, his eyes were the only part of his countenance that stilled; locked on Y/N.

"Yes, I, uh, I believe it is."

She tried to suppress her grin, but it was no use.

"Big spoon or little spoon?" She asked.

"Oh, little spoon... obviously."

fin.

#spencer reid gifset #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid one shots #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Masquerade

Part 2 of Cozy’s Fluff-To-Angst Fun and Games

@loki-hargreeves said

Here's a fluffy-ish prompt for you,

Dancing together (anything between ballroom dancing or just dancing in the living room at 2am together) 💚

Summary: It didn’t have to be bad, Loki told himself. His parents were married through such an arrangement, and they were happy together.

He would be happy too.

Word Count: 1,659

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: I feel like if you’ve read any of my other stuff, you’ll know how my favorite trope is childhood friends to lovers. I thought I’d try a twist on that formula. Not sure if it worked, but here you go!

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: None? I think? It’s just Loki being lonely

Tags: @lucywrites02 @silver-lupines @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Loki had always loved dancing.

Alfheim balls were a little different from the ones he had grown up attending on Asgard, but the dancing was similar enough. It was a comfort, little scraps of familiarity floating in a frozen sea. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be swept up in the rhythm.

Rowan was radiant, as always. She laughed as she spun in his arms, the skirt of her dress flaring around her legs in a sparkling golden blur, and when he pulled her closer he found himself laughing too. It was impossible to resist—her smile was infectious.

His wife was a brilliant actress.

Loki hadn’t known what to expect from the arranged marriage laid before him. He had been granted only a month to attempt to straighten his thoughts before being sent away to Alfheim to meet his bride. It didn’t have to be bad, he told himself. His parents were married through such an arrangement, and they were happy together. Happy enough at least. He would be happy too.

And … he could almost feel happy here. Dancing. Drowning in the music. Letting the cacophony of the ballroom wash over him. The two of them swooped across the floor, so smooth they might have been flying, all eyes on them. It almost felt like the life he had always expected to lead.

It almost felt real.

Loki felt lightheaded. Before his wedding, he had never cared for Elven wine, but now he had been finding himself warming up to the drink a little more with each banquet. It made everything seem distant. He liked that.

Rowan twirled again. Her gown was silky green, swathed in gold—his colors, of course. She had been wearing something similar when he first arrived. Really, between the dress and her dark curls, she could have been mistaken for Loki’s sister. It was something Thor had been quick to point out, smacking his shoulder with a boisterous laugh as soon as they stepped off the Bifrost.

Loki missed that laugh. Everything here seemed too quiet. The highlight of his wedding feast had been watching his brother drunkenly frolic his way through the night, challenging men he didn’t know to duels over women he had just met, spilling wine all over himself when a pretty girl brushed up too close to him. His mother had been mortified, but Loki found it endlessly entertaining.

He had nearly cried the next morning, when he came down to bid his family farewell. He hid it, of course. It wouldn’t do to have a son of Odin bawling like a baby over a goodbye. He even managed a weak laugh, when Thor clapped him on the back and congratulated him for surviving his wedding night, although he was curious as to what his brother would say had he known Loki spent it on a couch.

But he really felt it rising, that frozen knot of panic in his throat, when his mother gave him one last embrace. He wondered if she could hear the frantic, childish plea he left unsaid.

Please don’t leave me here.

But as powerful as his mother was, she couldn’t read his mind, and so leave him they did.

He didn’t blame Rowan. He couldn’t—this was no more her fault than it was his. In fact, he had tremendous respect for her. The speech she had given him that night, when they returned to the apartment they were to share as husband and wife, had been straightforward and concise—perhaps a little rehearsed, but not so much that her conviction was unclear.

Still, it had startled him.

“I’ll be your wife. When I’m crowned Queen, you’ll be my Crown Prince. You and your realm will have the power and control you so desperately desire. But you won’t have me. You’ll never have me. Understand?”

Loki nodded. What was he supposed to do? Of all the scenarios he had run through his mind, over and over again until he could barely focus on anything else, he had never prepared for such an abrupt dismissal. When she disappeared into the bedroom, slamming the door with a swish of her emerald gown, he could only stand there like the great gaping idiot he was.

She was swishing that gown now, as they circled the floor once more. She stretched her hand out to his, his hand grazing her waistline as they turned to the music. The crowd of nobles watching from the edges of the ballroom seemed to have drawn even tighter around them since he last looked. The muscles in Loki’s neck tensed, but he held his easy smile. He had learned to dance through these maskless masquerades, and he danced them quite well.

Rowan wasn’t bothered by all the eyes on her. She peered across the assembly, scanning the faces even as she fell back into his arms beaming. Loki didn’t even have to look up to know who she was searching for.

He had met him once. The Other Man. His name was Ari, and he worked in the royal stables. For banquets such as this, however, he was occasionally called in to aid the overworked staff. It was a station he had been born into, it seemed—his father had served as groom, his mother a kitchen maid. Ari had served alongside him as a stableboy in his youth. He and Princess Rowan had known each other since they were children.

Loki had met him when he discovered him lounging in the very rooms he shared with his wife. It was a rare occasion—usually Rowan was smart enough to keep her extramarital engagements outside of the palace—but it seemed that she had to step out for a moment and asked Ari to wait for her. They shared several minutes of stilted conversation. Loki tried to be polite, but the stablehand was clearly uninterested in friendship. They were both exceedingly relieved when Rowan returned to whisk her lover away. The foul-eyed smirk Ari shot at him as he left made Loki feel sick.

He thought about asking Rowan not to bring him back to their apartment. Surely that would be a fair request. If Thor had been in his position he would certainly have no qualms about making it. No, he’d demand that Rowan never do such a thing again.

But … Loki had never exactly been the demanding type. He didn’t want to be the demanding type. It was her life, her love, and he was the intruder from another planet butting in and turning it upside down. It didn’t bother him that she wanted to be with someone else. He wasn’t jealous. He didn’t want Rowan, not like that. He didn’t love her, and she certainly didn’t love him, and Loki was perfectly fine with that. He wanted her to be with Ari, if that was what brought her happiness. They both deserved to be happy.

But … he found himself thinking about them a lot. He had precious little else to do here, besides nod along in meetings where he had no real say and reread books that no longer offered him escape. Loki’s mind would drift off, and he’d wonder how they met, the princess and the stableboy. Maybe Rowan had been lonely as a child—after all, she had no siblings, and the Alfheim court held precious few her age. Maybe she had come to the stables to hide away from the weight of royalty. Loki had done that when he was little—hide in the stables, or the wine cellar, or anywhere safe and secluded where it felt like nobody was looking at him.

Maybe she had hidden in an empty stall, and Ari found her when he came into clean. He imagined Ari had been quite lonely too—there couldn’t be a lot of conversation to be had when one spends their days mucking after horses—and so when he came across the princess huddled in the corner, her silk skirt carefully tucked under her knees, he sat down next to her.

Loki imagined them talking, not about anything in particular, just bouncing from topic to topic the way children tend to do. Maybe Rowan brought up her favorite book. Maybe Ari showed her his favorite flower. It didn’t really matter. But Loki pictured them growing closer, meeting up in secret again and again, their endeavors growing wilder with their childish glee. He saw them sneaking away to the roof of the palace to watch the sunset and count the stars, laughing at the ant-like people scurrying by below as they snacked on stolen chocolates. He saw them creeping away to practice dancing in the moonlight, with nothing but the nightingale’s song to count their steps. He saw them slowly begin to look each other in a different light, nervous lips brushing against each other for the first time. He saw them hatch plans of escape—long, intricate schemes that called for stolen ships and falsified identities—before they came to their senses and realized such plans would never come to fruition. He saw himself enter their story and felt their loathing.

Loki wished he had that. That closeness, that bond. He wished he could talk to Rowan, really talk to her and trust her to listen. Not in a romantic sense, but as something else. Friends. Weren’t there stories like that, where the husband and wife in arranged marriages grew to have a friendship more powerful than anything romantic?

But somehow, Loki knew that to his wife, he’d only ever be the man trying to rip her from her beloved.

The music was reaching a close. Rowan pulled away in a graceful curtsey. Loki let her go with a bow. The crowd rippled with polite applause, devoted and empty as always. Loki kept his smile, blithe as can be.

His wife wasn’t the only brilliant actor in the room.

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki angst #loki x ofc #masquerade #cozys fluff-to-angst fun and games #cozy writes

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vannyvancan · 3 years

Text

“nice to meet you“ Roommate!Shinsou Hitoshi X F!Reader Part 1

MINORS DNI

my masterlist

Tw for : Assassin!Shinsou theme, female reader, gun usage, slight insecurity (?), NSFW for the most part on the later chapters, drug usage, corrupt government talk, harassment

This was the worst timing of your life. It was September and you knew time is going to pass quickly to chilly December. Even though late summer's breeze made it pleasurable to go out in town to run errands, the increase of supply demand made you squeeze out what little energy you had for the office job at logistics. Barely earning your required minimum wage in the small flat that you owned, your life was miserable for your financial conditions. Then your dear neighbor friend gave you an idea.

"Put up a roommate flyers? You can definitely share expenses with someone to ease your wallet"

Its not like it was a bad idea. You had roommates in the past in your time in college, you just were afraid of the mess you'd usually come back to once your classes would end. Now that you are an adult woman with a job, it seemed almost silly. Still wearing your summer loose shirt and shorts as house-wear you were basking in what little warmth summer had to offer, you looked out of the flat window to gaze at the orange sunset while preparing your fliers, the mixture of pink and purple ombre sent your mind in a state of serenity. For a moment you had forgotten your financial worries.

If only there was a way for you to excel more at your job and earn more, you've tried to, but the corrupt system only allowed privileged people on the spot.

The thought sent you back to reality and you grimaced, sighing and turning your head back to the paper you reread the information on it.

„Looking for a roommate at Address XXX, phone number and e-mail contact info...“

It was really neat even, you made a cutout for each number and email paper so that people can pluck it and consider it. You sent out fliers and continued on with your day.

The moment you sent out fliers around your workspace, around your building and in the most populated places in the town, the realization settled in that you'd be sharing expenses with some total stranger, you didn't have any friends that needed help, almost everyone that you knew off was either married and living with their partner or busy helping their parents and therefore still living with them. You had asked your closest friend, Uraraka if she needed it as a temporary stay before she moved out of country, but her plans caught her working on the other side of the city and was too far away from you. She probably had a similar situation like you so you felt bad.

You only hoped that the person that would knock on the door and be your roommate would not end up harassing you, make a mess more than you usually make yourself, or like your pessimistic parents would say, kill you.

Within two days, you get a call early morning, startling you awake.

Flying out of bed to pluck your phone out from charger you coughed out your morning voice and looked at the unknown number on the screen, swiping the green phone you answered. You were curious on the sort of person you'd have this conversation with. Maybe you were a bit naive, because on one hand you were anxious, but you sure were also exited to have a person in this soulless flat.

"Hey... Is this the right number for a roommate flier?"

You've never heard a voice such like his. Spending your almost entire life in that neighborhood you've grown accustomed to voices such like your local sweet lady at supermarket, the friend from work had much more boring voices. But this guy seemed to have come from the outside. Perhaps Uraraka knew of him? You could ask, but doubtful.

Maybe he came to work temporarily? Your mind raced with questions as the mysterious, low voice left you speechless and it took you some time until he asked again

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Oh- y-yes I'm sorry!"

„My name is Shinsou Hitoshi, I was wondering if we could discuss about it further and meet up somewhere? Preferably an hour from now, at... Midoriya's Lounge Cafe? Sounds good?“

God, his voice sent your legs wobbling and it was only 7:05 AM on Saturday. He obviously had energy to do it now and you were barely awake, about to pass out by the mere vibrations from the speaker.

„Sure! Thank you for considering my place. Let's meet up there.“

Waking up fully you dressed up, plastered some make up on and stormed out, you also made sure to hide whatever leftover clothing from your living room in your bedroom to hide any nasty appearance if he decides to come here.

The stroll was short, the cafe he proposed was a 20 minute walk from your place, you weren’t sure if it was a coincidence that he chose this place or if he was considerate for choosing a place close by, but you were grateful for it.

8 AM and the cafe was rather busy at Saturday morning, good thing was that there was a lot of free space between tables, you'd usually pick this place to have a peace of mind when it was afternoon lunch break and you weren’t much hungry.

Now entering, the door made a small 'ding' from the doorbell, marking your entrance, your eyes scanned the area to find anyone who would be remotely looking at your direction. You didn't know how Shinsou looked like, but he could of easily tracked on the contact info how you looked like.

You made an eye contact with an individual staring at you, were his purple eyes staring back at you the whole time? The gaze sent the hairs on your back of your neck stand out. He was intimidatingly dangerous, it was apparent. His arms seemed to have enough strength to crush both of your wrists with just his one hand, his tall figure managed to find comfort in the armchair, knee poked a bit on the side and you could only guess how tall he truly was judging by his sitting position. The only coloured thing he wore was the purple strap adorning his black pants and t-shirt. The strap also matched his eyes and wild hair. It sure was in unusual colour, but you didn't question it since the owner of the said lounge was green haired.

He slowly tapped a finger on the table two times while looking at you.

'So this is Mr. Shinsou?' You questioned yourself, it was only logical, to whoever else he might invite to come sit beside him? Gulping a lump in your throat, you approached him, setting a bag on the other chair you noticed a sports bag was beside him. Was this all of his luggage? He didn't seem to have much if he was ready to move in right now, maybe he was only a temporary stay? Maybe he just came out from a gym.

Of course, it was 8 AM. And the man now sitting across you seemed to be the type to buff himself a lot, you held in your breath again once your gaze set on his exposed forearms and how tight his black shirt hugged his figure. It took you good amount of time to introduce yourself to him, but he seemed to be patient enough to let you get comfortable.

„Hello! You must be the one for the flier, my name is Y/N. It's a pleasure to make acquaintance.“

„Nice to meet you. I ordered us coffee if you don't mind?“ He smiled lightly

„Oh I don't mind, I love coffee in here, I'm a regular.“

After a short greeting, you two had a small talk on his and your state of living, you were sure he was going to be a semi-distant person, judging by his work schedule that makes it almost impossible to meet him throughout the day and night, you were kind of worried, but didn't judge much since it was his job of choice, he never said what he did though.

„Well you could say I'm a night owl. I go where I'm asked, taking calls left and right. Don't worry, I earn enough for your rent.“ He crossed his legs and laid back on the armchair, letting his arms rest on each side of it. You didn't say it but you were especially enjoying the view.

You were quiet careful when it came to relationships, ever since you had your heart broken in hopes of finding one, it made you feel insecure if you'd ever find a soulmate. This man made it seem like he was a big fish to catch, and you were out of his league so you quickly established it before any further thoughts entered in your mind.

„Great! So you want to come to my place now to look around before deciding? There's a guest room where you can leave your stuff.“

The indigo haired man nodded, after you had drank your morning coffee, you both payed for it and left, he took his sport bag and you eyed him curiously. You barely know him and now you know now he is going to come and live with you. Its not like you had much of a choice... you had to save on something, you were starving, and he came by quickly to come and live with you. As exciting as it is to have an attractive individual come and live with you, it also terrified you.

The walk back to your place was quiet, occasional questions slipped out from your mouth. Asking about his food preference and anything he didn't like to make his stay more comfortable. He seemed pretty open about anything.

„Is that all of the luggage you are taking with you or are you going to come back with more?“

„No, this is all.“ He responded, short and concise. „I'm a man of simple needs.“

God he should stop talking, or more like you should stop asking questions like a curious kitten, his voice made you jump on the phone but it was a stuggle to be with him in lounge to hear him talk as well. Once arriving, you struggled to find a door key for a second and you opened it to reveal a simple flat.

„Here we are.“ You looked at him and let him enter first.

You weren’t going to let your guard down still, if he was going to do something behind your back you at least wanted to have a little bit of chance to escape. His foot stepped inside, softly stepping on the plush carpet with his dark shoes he inspected the area almost innocently. You sighed in relief and entered after him, closing the door behind you.

„On the right is a door to the guest room.“ You said as you took off your jacket and tossed the key to the stand. „There's a bathroom in here and my room in on the left. If you ever need me just knock on the door alright?“

„You doubt that I don't have manners? Careful you might lose a roommate now.“

He turned sideways and grinned at you. There was something about this individual that's going to be a handful for you, nevertheless of how little you are going to see him throughout the day. After the short tour, he signed a contract of living with you. As you suspected, he was going to be a temporary stay in the city, he promised to be out of your neck in six months, after that, he was going out. He gave you the first pay and shortly after that he was phone called by someone on his end.

'Busy bee, isn’t he?' You thought to yourself as you watched him leave, shrugging the thought away you glanced curiously at his bag in the room that he left.

'It's not polite to look at other people's things.' You hummed and closed the door to now Shinsou's room. Feeling the unease fading away now, you decided to not worry yourself about other people's things as you had too much of your own.

Dialing the phone now yourself you sent a message to your friend.

[Today] 'Hey, Uraraka? Want to go out someday? I have so much to talk about! <3 '

#bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x reader #bnha shinsou #shinso x reader #shinso #bnha reader insert #mha shinsou #mha shinso x reader #god wtf so many tags

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its-miichan · 3 years

Text

TGCF criticisms

Spoilers and unpopular/critical opinions ahead! Beware! I tried to like this, I really did, but this novel really makes me frustrated. It clearly has so much potential, but so much of that potential was wasted on pandering romance and shallow caricatures of main characters. Overall 1.5-2 stars because it gets worse the more you think about it. CHARACTERS: 1. The main character, Xie Lian was wildly bland and boring. He is presented as the kindest, purest, most selfless person in the world, but really he was just a bland white lotus. With Xie Lian, his personality can be described in just a sentence or so, while the author's other two MC's (Wei Wuxian and Shen Qingqiu) are both charming, funny, and deep with their own motivations. Xie Lian just walks around in the story with no purpose and he says that he wants to help the common people, but he really hasn't done that! He's barely helped anyone at all, and those times he did help people are quickly followed by flirting with the ML and forgetting all about the people he was supposed to help. Honestly, in the past, Xie Lian was also the biggest jerk ever. He gave up his own friends and family's well being for his own sense of justice and was stubborn to a fault and refused to listen. What's worse is that none of these flaws are actually addressed, and the story just lets him roll with it and never actually calls him out on it. If you want to see all the reasons why he's a poorly written character, check out this reddit post: https://www. reddit. com/r/MXTX/comments/j2l9ye/why_xl_is_a_poorly_written_character_in_my_opinion/

2. The ML, Hua Cheng, is equally as bad. He is extremely shallow and such a static character, with his development in the present times being nonexistent and his development from the past to the present being wholly nonsensical. His personality is very cliche and his motivations and thoughts are left entirely up to the reader's imagination, which significantly reduces character depth. He could've been such a great character, a ghost king who rules over hell and is morally grey, but instead he is dumbed down to a Xie Lian fanboy. Everything about him not related to Xie Lian is thrown at us in a few paragraphs if at all, and what little motivation and thoughts about him we do get always fall flat. [Like apparently this guy saved him once, and he fell in love with him and became devoted to him for 800 years? Like people get saved all the time and we don't see them going 800 years and 3 deaths for a guy they've barely talked to] Also, he is wildly unlikable. Of course, this is purely subjective, but he is irritatingly smug and lords over literally everyone he meets. It doesn't help that he's an insufferable Mary Sue with an endless array of powers, intelligent as hell and knows literally everything, really good at painting, sculpting, woodworking, and on top of that the richest, most powerful, most handsome, and most charismatic man in the book. His biggest flaw is supposed to be his insecurity and inferiority complex, but that barely ever comes up and 90% of the time he is arrogant and smug. More information on why he's badly written here: https://www. reddit. com/r/MXTX/comments/iskkp5/why_hc_is_a_bad_character_in_my_opinion/

3. The side characters in my opinion are written far better, but obviously quite underdeveloped. They are all three dimensional and have their own thoughts, emotions, and feelings as well as a believable backstory, but so many of them are quickly offed to make way for the main couple, some of them not only not becoming better, but actually getting quite a whole lot worse. Qi Rong, who was supposed to be super strong demon that is one of the 4 great evils becomes a comedic relief gremlin who just shows up for some comedy and then leaves. Feng Xin and Mu Qing, the MC's childhood caretakers disappear for like 100 chapters after we're given their backstories and then once they reappear, they don't do anything either. Shi Qingxuan, who in my opinion is by far the best character in the book, has his arc left open with no ending at all, only to be forgotten about for 80+ chapters only to reappear completely the same with no character growth at all. All of this is because the main couple take up so much of the book, and the rest of the side characters and their character growth is sabotaged for the author's ego so that the main couple can look better and get more screen time.

4. I lost interest in the story pretty quickly due to the bland characters and their out of place romance and how unlikable they were. A lot of this novel was very surface level, and it's pretty on paper, but when you think about the characters a bit longer, the more bland and shallow they become.

PLOT: 1. The plot was... There was no plot. It was just a collection of monster of the day arcs that aimlessly meander about and then everything returns to the status quo once they return to Xie Lian's temple/home. Obviously books 4 and 5 were a lot more to my taste because the writing was a lot more concise and the pacing was less slow and pointless, as well as actually incorporating fantasy elements and shaking up the status quo. However, the other 3 books, especially books 1 and 2 had way too much fan service, pointless romance, and plot lines that don't go anywhere and don't contribute to the story.

2. The past plot line, or the flashbacks were pretty interesting, except for how b*tchy the MC was. Book 2 has a lot of important information and some action, but a lot of it was boring fluff that didn't really contribute to the story other than introducing the villain and showing how XL and HC met. The rest, we're literally told already and there's no new information. Book 4 was supposed to be suffering heavy, and I agree that the character development was alright, but it was too brooding and oppressive. In the end, I just stopped feeling bad for Xie Lian because of how bad the story was trying to make you feel for him. I was not invested in him, and although he was significantly more deep in this book than in the other 4, the bad logic is still there. [you wanna kill people but then someone gives you a bamboo hat and you're all sunshine and rainbows again?] The suffering is excessive in my opinion, and although it's supposed to provide contrast to the romance, it just feels done in poor taste. seriously, 20 chapters straight of suffering is not necessary, and the pacing and tone suffers because of this. The flashbacks really don't contribute too much to XL or HC's character development, but is just there to be angsty and cryp*rn.

3. The final battle was the most unbelievable thing I've ever read. All the gods got together and the first part seemed pretty epic as we got to see all the side characters finally showcase their powers.... Until the MC and ML show up. The MC and ML show up, and instantly the background extras—excuse me I mean side characters, go back into hibernation as the main couple show off how cool and powerful they are. And then we get to the final confrontation, which has our MC, ML, and MC's two friends face off against literally the most powerful being in the freaking universe. I thought it would be a tense fight scene with lots of close calls, but I was so disappointed. Instead the ML is so OP that he breaks the spells binding MC's powers, and MC becomes so overpowered and slams the big boss into the wall with the power of love while his two friends just stand there doing nothing.

4. A lot of what happens in the flashback is directly Xie Lian's fault, but the book never seems to register it? I won't go into detail on this point since it's already covered in the first Reddit thread, but basically because of XL's s*upidity and refusal to listen to anyone else, the people around him suffer.

WRITING: 1. The writing wasn't great. It was very choppy and as I said previously, very monotonous and monster-of-the-day. Yes there were great scenes which got to me, but most of it was really boring and descriptions and dialogue dragged on and on with no end, and with the bland MC, it wasn't even interesting such as the dialogue in MDZS was. Side arcs were introduced with no warning and ended with no warning, leaving the reader wondering "Why was that even there in the first place if it was just going to be forgotten about?"

2. The water demon/wind god arc. The opening and most of the middle of this arc was extremely good, the logic and mystery was written well, and Shi Qingxuan's (the wind god) antics were funny. But after the big reveal and the tense climax, the story just... stops. Like it's literally forgotten about. [The MC gets dragged out by his all powerful lover, they romance some more, and forget all about Shi Qingxuan who is literally left in the hands of the second or third most powerful demon ever who is also his mortal enemy]

3. The incessant flirting really got on my nerves. The tension and tone of the entire story got completely ruined because of the MC and ML flirting and the MC blushing and giggling while the ML teases him and everyone else is literally fighting for their lives. This felt very fan-service like, and it felt like the author stopped trying and just fed us dog food after an emotionally taxing arc so that she wouldn't have to close out the arc properly, completely destroying the tone. Speaking of the tone, the tone whiplash was just... wow. You're fed fluff and romance during or after a high tensity and highly emotional scene with no connection at all, and you're just supposed to accept it instead of wondering what's happening to the characters you actually care about.

4. Romance and side arcs quite disconnected from the story. Quite frankly, most of this book is just romance with the plot and characters put in second place because "lOOk hOw CuTe the COuPLe iS!" You could literally take out all the side arcs and the story would literally be no different. The romance overtakes the entire plot and becomes the main point of the story. With her other two books, the romance is like the icing on the cake. With this book, the icing overtakes the cake and becomes the cake.

5. Perhaps one of the biggest reasons I was uninterested through most of the book was due to the lack of tension and suspense. The flashbacks were better in the sense that Xie Lian was helpless and couldn't figure anything out, which was why he was just as likely to get hurt as anyone, making the stakes significantly higher. But in the present, with the existence of Hua Cheng, that tension is completely gone. This is because HC knows basically all there is to know, and what he doesn't know he can figure out in seconds. Additionally, he is super powerful to the point that anything that can harm XL can be one shot K.O'ed by him. At this point the conflict becomes trivial to the point where I'm just asking "why are we solving this mystery anyways when HC can just blast it into oblivion?"

6. The fact that HC does the bare minimum in arcs frustrates me. If you're going to include a character with powers that will basically deem any threat against them null, then actually use them at least! HC's apathy does not feel like a coherent part of his character, but an excuse for MXTX to drag out plot lines and make things unnecessarily long and winded. Additionally, his apathy is contradictory. On one hand, he is super overprotective of XL and wants to make sure he won't get hurt a single bit, but on the other hand, he has this advanced ideology of the 21st century that he believes XL is capable so won't constrain him as much. If anything, they should start out with HC as this overprotective follower and have a dysfunctional relationship, and end up with XL teaching HC that he is able to do things and doesn't mind doing them, and that HC can live a life outside of him as well. That would've introduced some narrative stakes and romantic tension, but no, MXTX just had to make these characters perfect in every way.

ROMANCE: 1. The logic is so flawed here. The reason that HC started loving XL is literally because Xie Lian saved him once as a child and therefore he will devote his entire life to XL, not caring about literally anything else. The reason that XL started loving HC is even more so. The thing is someone like say Shi Qingxuan has done every bit as much for XL as HC has, but we don't see XL fall in love with SQX, do we? HC literally listens to him talk and XL falls in love with him, and although it does make sense due to XL being lonely for 800 years, how low the bar is set really bothers me.

2. The constant blue-balling was annoying. At some point, the ignorant MC became annoying and self indulgent instead of cute, and having it be drawn out over nearly 200 chapters makes it even worse. The MC is supposed to be super intelligent, but he literally misses all of the super obvious hints the ML drops at him, which is so weird.

3. It felt like MXTX (the author) went overboard on the romance here. Like she tried way too hard to the point where it was obvious she wanted to make this "the most romantic CP ever". The aesthetics went so overboard with butterflies and flowers as romantic themes, thousands of lanterns, the red string of fate (which didn't even do anything in the actual story), poetry, etc.

4. The romance could almost be described as kind of creepy. Like the ML obsesses over the MC for 800 years, isolating himself from the world and not taking any side of the story besides MC's is supposed to be romantic, but it really isn't. The ML carves thousands of statues of the MC, which is sweet in a way, but also really, really creepy. To quote someone from NovelUpdates who put it 100x better than I could: " They don't feel like equal lovers, HC obviously worships XL to an unbelievably amazing degree while XL only knew he existed from only a while ago (Is this obsession? Stalker-ish? I know his stalker-ish tendencies are usually played for laughs, but realistically?) HC very very very rarely calls XL by his given name but with GeGe or CrownPrince, dude has a name you know. I know you feel lower than XL, but seriously man, the guy's your life partner. HC would destroy the world if XL said to. He'd probably try to talk to XL first, confirm things, but if at the end XL really does want it, HC would do it. He lives for XL, he has no other reason to do something aside for XL. No reason to say NO for himself. They're not equals in which one wanna do something bad, the other would stop him because they have their own convictions. You can't tell me one only lives for one person's sake, will do anything for that guy, and has no attachments in the world aside from that guy, is a healthy person. It may seem romantic, but when you actually think about it, it becomes uncomfortable."

5. The romance was really cheesy. There were some powerful moments, but it was mostly flirting and "he fell on top of me" or "he needs mouth to mouth". Most of it was just the ML flirting with the MC, which you may like if you like this kind of stuff, but I really didn't enjoy it. Overall, I was desperate to love this novel, but I couldn't because of the shallow characters, unlikable main pair, and the constant abandonment of great plot lines in favor of the shallow romance. It felt like MXTX was constantly trying to one-up MDZS in angst, drama, and romance, but at the same time it felt like she didn't know what to do with the characters and world, and therefore fed us fan service and took the easy way out. This review is purely subjective, and if you want to read this go ahead, but I'll be seeing myself out.

#tgcf criticism #tianguancifu #tgcf #mxtx critical #xie lan #hua cheng #ok but this kinda sucks

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grxywarxn · 4 years

Text

Revisiting Banana Fish, Almost Two Years Later.

*Spoiler warning for any new comers to the fandom.*

The Banana Fish fandom, to put it bluntly, is pretty much dead. I haven't been as active as I was when I first discovered the anime in October two years ago, but oddly enough, I think I still think about this series almost every day. I still think, even if only for a second, about Ash, about Eiji, about the impact their story, and all the other characters story, has had on me.

I'm really only posting this to ramble. To talk about the relationship between Eiji and Ash, and to of course, talk about the ending and Garden of Light. (Which was only in the manga for any anime onlys. I've also made a post on the ending when the last episode came out, but it was mainly manga focused and written horribly.)

I will begin first with the importance of the relationship:

Ash is a character who has been through a lot of shit. That much is clear from the first episode. (Papa Dino, trailing his hand down Ash's cheek with his possesive grip and condecending tone.)

Ash's story is difficult. Is it one of redemption? Yes, but no.

When Ash sees Eiji poll vault, when he sees Eiji fly through the air freely and gracefully, he too wants to do that. He wants to be able to let everything go and fly in the air, if only for a little bit. He is in awe of Eiji. In want of him.

*Gif credit: https://mobpsycho100.tumblr.com/post/175820001579?ref=weheartit*

Eiji is kind. And like Sing has stated, he finds a way to reach out to the lost people and leave some sort of imprint. Some sort of connection with them, albeit, unknowingly. But Ash is someone who needed someone like that to enter his life. Someone who could show him that there was an out, and if he wanted to take it, he could, somehow.

The beauty of seeing Eiji slowly help Ash out of the rut he's gotten himself in is something I was (and still am,) happy to have had the pleasure of seeing. It's Eiji Ash turns to whenever something happens. It's Eiji Ash immediatley thinks of when there’s trouble. And it's also Ash that Eiji is constantly thinking about. It's Ash Eiji wants everything to change for. He wishes constantly that things were different.

The relationship they have is this: equal. Sure, you could argue that it's not, considering the power Ash holds with the flick of his finger. But that power is never demonstrated on Eiji. The love and comfort they each have for each other is mirrored. I’ve never felt as if one loved each other less or more than the other.

One very important thing I want to talk about (this was a popular discussion among some fans when the anime was finishing it's course,) is that a loving relationship does not need to be sexual for it to be considered that; a relationship.

Sure, a common thing when people think of relationships is that. Kissing and sex. It's almost as though they need to be part of one for that relationship to be valid.

But you would have to be blind, or seriously stupid, to not be able to see the love Ash and Eiji have for each other. With their touches and the way they so clearly care for each other. It just confuses me so much how people could ever look at them and not think they were, in some aspect, romantically interested/with one another.

I just think it's really amazing to see something like that displayed so casually. There’s never any questioning among them. Never a moment when either expressed or wanted things to escalate and I think that’s so touching.

I will know discuss the ending, with a lot of aspects from my old post, but now with (hopefully) more concise thoughts.

The ending is this: heartbreaking.

Although I don't think I've seen a lot of this in the fandom, I know a common argument for why endings like Banana Fish shouldn't even be endings is that it shows there is no recovery from the life Ash has been through, and I disagree.

(This is not to say you can't have that conception.)

The ending is still confusing to me. No matter how many times I've tried to exam it. No matter how many times I've tried to argue with myself that, this is what it meant, I'm sure. I still can't come up with a clear answer that I enjoy.

There are so many questions: Why didn't Ash seek medical help? He would have known that those wounds weren't fatal. Why did he chose to let himself die? Was it because he couldn't bring himself to do this anymore? Was it because of an underlying guilt he felt for tying Eiji to himself?

One of the answers I often contemplate is this: Ash was tired. I think he really thought there wasn’t an easy, a foreseeable, out that would leave Eiji and him safe. That the offer Eiji gave him to come to Japan just wasn’t plausible. I think he really was just done.

I also think that when Ash read Eijis letter (that beautiful letter that still makes my chest tight,) he felt at peace. After reading, my soul is always with you (I’m literally having trouble typing this,) I think he knew that that was true. That wherever Ash went, Eiji would follow somehow. Eiji would somehow be tied to him.

I think in that moment, with it pretty much spelt out for him, Ash knew he was loved. And he thought that that love was enough. And that he could die, with the smile on his face, knowing this.

Lastly, although this will be very brief, I want to talk about Garden of Light. And how sad it really makes me that Eijin really did stick to those words: my soul is always with you.

Eiji has grown up, it has been nine years, his hair is longer, and still yet, he is back in New York and is still consumed by the thought of Ash.

It brings me immense amounts of pain to see Eiji still so stuck on Ash. Still not able to really accept what has happened. I even think him growing his hair out was a part of that.

Let’s compare it to Yut Lung, who grew his hair out in an attempt to stay close to his past. In an attempt to still be tied to his mother, the only person he was able (beside Blanca and Sing, who didn’t come until many years later,) to find solace in. But who left him.

Now with Eiji, the similarity here is this: Eiji was tied to Ash so strongly. They were incredibly important to each other (obviously,) Similar to how deeply Yut Lung and his mother were important to each other. (Although in different contexts.) But, I think he grew his hair out as an attempt to distance himself from Ash. To distance himself from that pain.

At the end of volume 19, Eiji finally played those photos from so long ago. He was finally able to find some way to accept what happened. Even if only a little bit. And this fills me with such intense emotion. To finally see Eiji cry because things can’t change. I’ll never come back from that.

I don’t think Banana Fish will ever be far from me. It’s been two years and I still think about it with such intense fondness and sadness. This was a series that greatly impacted me, and for that I am grateful.

#banana fish #bananafish #asheiji #ash lynx #eiji okumura #yut lung lee #lee yut lung #ash and eiji #eiji and ash #sing soo ling #studio mappa #garden of light #I think i'll go cry now #ash lynx x eiji okumura #I love them way too much #I really want that last photo as a tattoo #banana fish anime #banana fish manga

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years

Note

If you're still taking prompts from the intimacy prompts list. 43 with IronStrange or Frostiron please! Love your writing! 💙💙💙

Hey! I've finally finished my IronStrange Bigbang!! So I can come back to my prompts! Thank you for waiting!

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Slight torture, Blood (nothing Graphic)

FrostIron: Head in lap.

***

Tony had been in this position before, more times than he was willing to admit. Hands bound behind his back, his wrists bleeding from where he’d been tugging at his restraints, his palms sealed together from the stickiness of his blood. The strain on his thighs and knees was a dull burn, a constant ache that never wavered, the grip in his hair ensuring he never sat back on his legs in a desperate reprieve.

If he could survive the torture of the Ten Rings, he could survive this. The arc reactor was already lodged in his chest, the frigid metal caressing the bone of his sternum. There wasn’t much more anyone could do to him, he was already in constant pain from the thing keeping him alive, could feel the shrapnel in his chest rattling with every gasp. Apart from taking his life, which he wasn’t sure he was fond of anyway, there wasn’t anything these kidnappers could take from him.

At least, that’s what Tony thought until they brought in Loki.

Bruises were littered over his high cheekbones, his split lip catching Tony’s attention and making him wriggle against the hand in his hair. He grit his teeth at the kick in the back of his thigh for his effort, not showing any outward pain.

Tony had seen lots of different sides to Loki over the last few months. The would be conqueror ensnared in a mind-controlling spell, a contrite younger brother, wanting to make amends with Thor but not knowing how to. There was the Loki who enjoyed pranking the Avengers, mischief, and humor dancing in his eyes, a Loki who read quietly in Tony’s workshop, finding a quiet freedom in being outside of Odin’s influence.

Recently, there had been the Loki who watched Tony when he thought no one was looking, a flirtatious lilt to his words when they talked, completely at odds with the shy Alpha who brought Tony gifts from other realms.

But, Tony had never seen this.

He could feel the livid rage in those green eyes, like fire on his skin, an intense fury that would make lesser men cower. Even Tony, who trusted Loki, tried to shuffle away from the gaze, scared he could see his weakness, his patheticness at being apprehended like this. His eyes shone bright like the magic he wielded, sweeping over Tony’s body, seeking out any injury, his teeth baring in a furious snarl.

Despite the situation, the tongue lashing he was no doubt going to receive if they managed to get out of here alive, shivers still teased over Tony’s body at the sound. He’d always fought against the idea of having a dominant Alpha, despised the thought that he needed taking care of, that he was inferior in any way, but Loki’s overprotective snarl and the dangerous look in his eyes was making Tony’s inner Omega purr and preen at the attention.

Now is not the time.

‘How the mighty have fallen,’ a silky, sensual voice wrapped around them, shaking Tony out of his fantasies about sexy, deadly alien Alphas. Breaking away from Loki’s stare, the ominous promise in it, Tony turned his head, trying to find the source of the voice. He wasn’t sure where they were, he’d already done recon as soon as he’d woken up in here, and the only information he had was that they were in some sort of castle, stone floors, stone walls, candlesticks on the walls.

Alright, not candlesticks, some sort of magical floating orb that was casting light around them, but he still doesn’t believe Thor, or Loki when they’ve tried to explain magic, so he refused to see them floating around like ghostly fireflies.

Loki didn’t answer, but Tony could tell from his expression that he recognized her, a growl thundering in his chest as he looked between whoever was behind him and Tony’s battered body.

‘My, my, what a beautiful Omega.’

Tony tried to look up, but the hand in his hair gripped hard enough to rip strands from his skull, and he understood that no eye contact was allowed. Green knee high boots entered the line of his vision, and a cool hand grasped his chin, yanking his face up. She was beautiful, all long legs and gorgeous blonde hair, looking like a medieval warrior princess or something. Tony knew that beautiful creatures were often the most dangerous ones.

He’d fallen for one after all.

‘Spirited too, I can see what he sees in you,’ she cooed down to him, nails digging into his cheeks, his blood oozing over her fingers. Tony heard Loki’s frantic struggle against his captors, the shift of leather dragging across stone.

‘No matter your beauty, you are still a pathetic, disgusting creature.’

It’s cute she thought her words will hurt him. He’d been called far worse, tortured to his breaking point before. This was nothing, his body being bruised? That was what happened when he got called to assemble. He grinned up at her, feeling a twist of delight low in his gut as the skin above her nose wrinkled at his blatant disrespect.

‘You do not understand mortals, you never have, never looked past your disdain of them,’ Loki finally said. ‘Leave him. He is worthless to you. It is me you want, Amora.’

Pretty name, Tony thought to himself, inhaling deeply as he tried to work out her secondary gender. Omega, interesting.

‘And what has changed that your view of them is now positive? I remember a time when you sought to enslave these pitiful creatures, and now you live among them, spurning my calls for help, the glory of seeing our enemies at our feet…’

Hell hath no fury like an Omega spurned, Tony chuckled, suppressing his cry as her foot connected with his ribs, sending him sprawling.

Alright, that one hurt.

‘I’ve been watching you Loki, and I do not believe your view has changed. You still see Midgardians as pitiful. It is a single mortal who has changed your outlook,’ Amora whispered, her heels clicking across the stone as she picked up Tony by the back of the neck, yanking him back to his knees.

‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, sister. Loki doesn’t think of me like that, trust me, I’ve tried to flirt with him, and he’s not interested,’ Tony laughed, running his tongue over the blood that coated his teeth.

He wasn’t lying. Tony had tried for weeks to show Loki he was interested in changing their friendship to something more. Short of pinning him down and scenting him like a crazed animal, there was nothing Tony hadn’t done to try and coax Loki into a courtship of some sort.

Loki hadn’t responded to any of it.

‘How little you understand. Loki has always had everything he’s coveted taken from him. He hides what he treasures most, even to the one he cares for. Don’t you remember, Loki? How we used to wreak havoc across the nine realms to cause your father pain due to his special treatment of Thor, his golden child,’ Amora hissed, tightening her hold on his throat.

Tony refused to react, ignoring the panic building in him as his body struggled to draw in a lungful of air, blotchy spots distorting his vision.

‘Leave him, Amora.’

There was no panic, no Alpha command in his voice. His words were concise, coated with a brittle frost. His gaze slid over to where Loki was kneeling, red bleeding into his eyes, his muscles bunched and tense, losing his grip on his magic, his Jotunn heritage blurring the edges of the Alpha he knew.

‘Careful, you’ll send him skittering away with that monster lurking beneath your skin,’ Amora taunted, moving to the side so they could look at each other, her hold on his throat never wavering. ‘This one is strong, isn’t he? I can see he’s in pain, you can smell it in his scent can’t you, the way he’s begging you to save him, the big, strong Alpha,’ she sneered.

Tugging him higher and off his knees, Tony struggled to get a foot onto the stone floor to support his weight, knowing his neck was going to snap if he didn’t.

‘What will it take to break you, hmm?’ she whispered, leaning towards him. Her sunshine blonde hair slipped over his shoulder, tickling his skin as she brought her nose to his unmarked bonding gland, scenting it. ‘What if I gave you to one of the Alphas who stole you, ruined you for him?’

He’d been threatened that in Afghanistan, one of many taunts to make him give up the Jericho missile.

‘Make sure they’re attractive, my public image will suffer if my bond mate is butt ugly,’ Tony answered, his tone considering even as he fought his restraints, the scalding agony of his lungs becoming impossible for him to ignore.

‘I will tear apart any Alpha that dares touch him,’ Loki spat from the other side of the room, his voice thick as if something was obstructing his throat.

Amora froze even as her lips brushed against Tony’s neck, her gaze flicking up to peer through long eyelashes at him, searching for something.

‘Do your worst, sweetheart,’ Tony challenged.

Pretty pink lips curved in an erotic smile. A hand splayed over his stomach, fingers walking up towards his chest. He could feel the tips of her sharp nails through his tattered shirt, and then she was tearing it aside, the azure light of the arc reactor lighting up the gloom of the room.

‘Found you,’ she taunted, finger tapping across the glass.

No matter how much he tried to keep his poker face, the sheer terror he felt when her nails plunged into his skin surrounding the arc reactor was exposed to them all through his scent, the sour scent of it pungent in the room, trapped by the stone walls and turning thicker by the second. Hating himself, Tony let out a high pitched whine, a frantic call for help.

Not there!

His body crumpled to the floor as the pressure on his neck vanished, shuddering pain coursing through his shins as he fell forward, his face taking the brunt of the fall. The memories of terror and agony he felt at Afghanistan left him deaf to the fight around him, the blurring figure of Loki ferociously attacking their captors nothing more than an afterthought as he curled in a ball to protect himself.

‘Stark.’

Tell us how to build a Jericho missile!

‘Stark!’

The hell did you do to me?

‘Anthony!’

That is an electromagnet hooked up to a car battery, and it's keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart.

Hands fell on his back, and he yelled, rolling on his back to fight, succumbing to his basic instincts in his fear. His lips drew back in a snarl, ready to bite whoever touched him.

‘You are unharmed, Tony, beloved, trust me.’ A wrist was thrust in front of his nose, ignoring the way Tony latched onto it, attempting to bite chunks from his skin. ‘Breathe in, scent me, know who I am,’ the voice instructed, and he could smell crisp snow, permeating the fear gripping his brain.

I know this scent.

‘That’s it, beloved, breathe, regain control of your mind. You are safe, Amora has fled, and I will never let any harm you.’

Tony could feel a hand covering the arc reactor and instead of recoiling from it, his instincts made him lean up into it, knowing this person would protect him. He breathed the scent in deep, the primal part of him knowing he was safe. When the panic had subsided, he looked up into unfamiliar red eyes.

‘Loki?’ he rasped, his words aggravating his abused throat.

‘Do not let my appearance scare you, it is still me. I will regain control of my magic…in a moment,’ Loki conceded, dropping his gaze to look at Tony’s throat.

‘I’m not scared, not of you,’ Tony blurted.

‘Kind words. I know how I appear,’ Loki said in a clipped tone, reaching around Tony’s back and ripping apart the restraints. Tony whimpered in relief, his back sagging to the floor as he brought his hands up. Loki’s eyes blazed ruby as he gently grasped them, bringing them to his face so he could examine the damage.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ Tony argued, delirious from both the pain and the scent Loki was emitting. He wanted to drown in it, wrap it around himself like a blanket and never surface. Even with his body protesting, the tenuous link he had on his consciousness, darkness lapping at the edges of his mind, he managed to put his head in Loki’s lap, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘You, Anthony Stark are a foolish, remarkable creature. Stubborn, brave thing,’ Loki muttered, pulling off his cape to drape on Tony, his thumb smearing across the blood on Tony’s wrist.

‘I’ll take you away from this wretched place once I’ve got better control of my inst…magic,’ Loki amended. Tony liked that Loki’s instincts were going haywire around him, that this gorgeous Alpha was keeping hold of him in case any dared to attack.

‘I’m sorry, that this happened to you,’ Loki whispered at him, stroking a blue hand through his hair.

‘Don’t be, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to-’

Loki’s growl ripped through the air, making Tony flinch at the force of it, feeling like he could be torn asunder by the noise alone.

‘Sorry, my behavior is inexcusable. My instincts are hard to control when I’m around you, they always have been,’ Loki snapped, forcing his gaze away, the hand in Tony’s hair stopping.

‘I don’t want my Alpha to control himself when he’s with me. I know this is the wrong time to be asking…but was what any of she said true?’

‘What did you call me?’

‘My Alpha,’ Tony said easily, feeling his head droop as his body began to succumb to the pain.

‘Anthony,’ Loki growled, bending over to hold him close. ‘We will speak of this once we return.’

Tony nodded, going limp in Loki’s hold, his last thoughts about how he would tell Rhodey he was going to mate an alien Alpha.

***

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#story prompt #thanks for the prompt!#yet more kiki prompts!#frostiron #tony x loki #fanfic #thank for the ask!!#thanks anon!

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

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The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him.

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly.

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached.

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice.

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.”

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason.

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.”

“How long is it to travel?”

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?”

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.”

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?”

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable.

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.”

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads.

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.”

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system.

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?”

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe?

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.”

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?"

With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often."

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer.

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen."

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more.

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child.

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life."

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened.

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.”

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one.

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner.

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels.

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close.

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was.

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.”

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?”

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing.

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born.

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?”

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you.

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked.

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort.

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade.

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?!

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room.

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side.

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure.

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door.

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to.

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him?

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face.

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you.

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.”

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in.

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you.

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased.

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?”

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape.

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.”

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary.

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.”

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.”

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand.

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.”

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were.

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?”

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight.

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.”

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.”

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows.

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.”

“No, he’ll be leaving now.”

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent.

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him.

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?”

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.”

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away.

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.”

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out.

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it.

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship.

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?”

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.”

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five.

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him.

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.”

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.”

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy.

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.”

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you.

“I appreciate that.”

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously.

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded.

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly.

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply.

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond.

“Why would you want to do that?”

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.”

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools.

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?”

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head.

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment.

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings.

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself.

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.

#mando x you #mando x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djaren #din djarin fics #mando imagine #mando fic #pedro pascal #star wars

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spencerhotchner · 3 years

Text

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 2

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: ok, i am really excited about this series. and really thankful that y'all are liking it. also, i hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as y'all did the last one! it didn't end up as long as i wanted it it but ig its ok right.

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You could hear some familiar voices on the background as you began to regain conciseness, voices you could identify anywhere. You kept your eye shut for a while, feeling the tiredness and dizziness your body was screaming at you despite the fact that you have been unconscious, and on the floor apparently. Even though you're head was still too slow to think straight, you noticed that your face mask wasn't on you anymore.

“Who is she?” you heard the familiar voice of Shamar, or Morgan, given the circumstances.

“Apparently she knows me.” that was Spencer’s turn to speak.

“I met her this morning.” JJ states, you could only imagine the faces they would be making at her, wondering how and why. “I bumped into her walking on the street, she seemed pretty confused but yet she still knew who I was.”

“Well, that’s weird.” Emily said.

When you finally decided to open them, you felt like you were still dream. Once again you found yourself asking what was going on. Why was the whole cast of Criminal Minds standing there simple staring at you and why were they acting like their characters? Out of the two explanations that came to your mind at the moment, only one made any sense. I was a tv prank, it could only be. There would be no other logical reason to it, other wise.

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks, offering a hand.

You stared at him trying to figure out what to say, but without saying a word you took his hands and got up. The whole team was looking at you, with weird expressions. You felt almost like you were an unsub, you hated being stared.

“Yes, I mean, no!” you say. “Is this a prank of something? Because, damn, you guys went too far down with it. Fuck!” you say, finally snapping.

“I’m afraid I don't know what you are talking about.” Rossi said.

You tried not to but as soon as you realized you already had a big sarcastic expression on your face. How wouldn't they? They were tv stars and they were clearly acting, you've seen it.

“Oh, you're not?” you said, as sarcastic as you could be. “Ok, let me enlighten you all, since you ‘don’t know what i’m talking about?’. I woke up in this freaking random apartment by myself wearing the exact same thing I was wearing the night before.”

“...and where is the part we fit in there?” he replies.

You ignored him, sighing and trying to push your anxiety down.

“As I was saying, I was wearing the exact same thing and I was in Bellevue, in Washington state. I have no idea who decided to pull this off but as much as I love the show, I am not enjoying this.” you say, looking around trying to find cameras.

They all kept staring at you, Rossi was the only one who didn't seem worried about, it was like he thought you were on drugs or just delusional. You were even starting to believe in that. JJ and Spencer kept staring at each other, possibly trying to figure out what was going on, and how you knew them.

“You believe you were abducted, then?” Hotch finally says something.

You sigh again, trying to be patience. All you wanted was to go home, when you said you wanted to meet the cast - all the hundreds of times you said it, you didn’t mean this. You closed your eyes, because suddenly all you wanted to do was cry. You couldn't count how many times you imagined this happening and it was being just awful. You hated being confused, lost and being pictured as crazy.

“No, Agent Hotchner” you spilled his name, sarcastically. “I am sure.”

He looked at you without much expression - as usual, but you could tell he was superseded you knew him, just as much as the team. Morgan step forward, walking towards you. You stared at him, trying to remain calm.

“Listen, we can't help you if you don't let us.” he said. “Can you tell us your name?”

God, don't they realize this is funny? I do not wanna be acting, some pictures would do the job just as fine.

“Y/N Y/L/N” you say as you watch Rossi give Garcia a look making her nod and direct herself to her ‘cave’, certainly to search you up.

“Alright, you have someone we can contact with?” JJ asks.

You nodded, yes you did. But they wouldn't pick up the phone, as you tried multiple times this morning on the old cellphone. What if something happened to them? This was all so confusing.

“But she won’t pick up the phone, I tried.” you said.

Once again, you caught yourself wondering what was going on. And that was the moment you kind of got what was happening. Would it be possible that you shifted to this universe? Maybe this wasn't all a prank and your wish had just became true. You probably should've thought about it before asking for it. At once it hit you, what you said to your friend just last night.

“What is something you would want to do right now?” your best friend asked you, leaning a bit towards you, laughing drunkly.

“Um, I’d really like to be in Criminal Minds right now.” you say laughing as you best friend rolled her eyes. “No, listen! I’d love to meet Spencer Reid and I don't know, it just sounds better than quarantine.”

“Yeah, sure, because serial killers are just not bad at all, huh?” she laughed.

Maybe this was true, maybe you did shifted. And if you did, you sure sounded like a crazy person, and probably a stalker. You looked around trying to figure out if you could sit somewhere, it all became took much for you mind at that moment.

“Can I sit... Can I sit somewhere?” you asked, probably looking as ill as you sounded.

You watched as Reid rushed to bring the chair. You set down trying to figure out how you'd leave there, and how you'd shift back. Staring at them you felt your heart warm a little, you dreamed about this for so long - as it was all it was, a dream, until now, at least.

Before you could say a word you watched Penelope come back and whisper in Rossi’s ear, probably what she found out about you. Which, maybe was everything, since you had no reasons to hide a thing about your life, which was quite boring, in fact.

“Who are you?” Rossi says, like he’s ready to arrest you.

“I-I already told you.” you answer. “I’m Y/N.”

If you needed any proof about what was going on that was it. It was like you did not even exist, like you weren't real. She probably didn’t find anything because you’re not from this universe.

“Alright. What can we do for you, Y/N?” Morgan asks.

“I need to go home.” you let it out. “I don't know how I ended up here in Quantico.”

Garcia stares ate you, almost like she felt pity about your situation while the rest of them kept a suspicious look at you. It’s not like you blame them, anyways, you would think it’s weird for somebody to come out of nowhere knowing your name and claiming to be pranked.

While you were sitting there, with all those eyes at you, you thought that maybe giving up and trying to figure it all out by yourself maybe would be better. How would they help you, anyways? It is not like they could send you back. And it is also not like you didn't actually wish for this.

There are some wishes that are entirely rhetorical.

“You know what? I’m good.” you fake a smile, obviously. “I’m just gonna go.”

You stoop up fast, not giving them much time to contest you. Spencer looked confused, more than any of the others, for some reason. Maybe he was just curious on how you knew him, or JJ. Either way, you wouldn't know.

Hotch looked at you, wondering your action. Why were you so desperate at one time and tried to pull off as if it was ok? It was definitely not ok. Your smile looked fake, your body seemed tense and your eyes looked as lost as he could think someone could be, as he has seen a lot of lost eyes.

“Thank you, for your attention, though.” you say. “I’m sorry for taking your time agents.”

You stormed out of there, not even realizing that you left your jacket in there. How could you? Not when you ran out of there as if your live depended on it. You let a sigh out as you got out of the building, not even noticing when the tears started to come down at your cheeks.

At that moment you didn't care at all about where you were, you set on the floor, letting the tears roll down and the sobs come out. You never wished to be away from your reality, it only seemed nice in your dreams. Right now, all you wanted was to go home and hug your parents, or even just see them. You felt lost, as lost as a five year old who can't find his mommy at the park.

You got scared as you felt a big hand touch your shoulders. As your turn, to see who was it, Spencer looked as nice as you could ever picture him to, or see on the screens. His face resembles worry, like he was actually wondering what happened to you and why where you there.

“I believe this is yours.” he hands you your jacket.

You stare at him before.

“Yes, thank you.” you wipe the tears away.

“No- No problem.” he said, sitting by your side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” you answered looking away.

“You don't have to lie to me.” he said, as you looked back at him. “I wanna help you, but I can only do that if you cooperate with me.”

Why would he?

“I don't know where I am. I mean, I do know but I don't know how I ended up here. I understand what is going on, I did after a while but I don't know how to change this situation. I don't know how to go back home.” you said.

Not like he’ll understand, anyways.

"Maybe... Maybe me and my team could help you figure it out?” he tries.

“I doubt it.” you shake your shoulders. “I know that you guys are awesome at your job, don't get me wrong, to be honest I’m quite the big fan.” you laughed a bit. “But it’s just out of hand.”

He stops, looking at you. Gave up offering help, you were not accepting he felt it. No, he knew it. It was his job to know what body language was telling him, anyways. He didn't want to stare at you, but he felt like he needed to. He was stuck at your looks, so pretty, yet so lost.

“If we can't help you, is there anything I can do for you?” he asks.

You looked right into his eyes. Thinking, if you should say it. Maybe so, it wouldn't kill you, it was not like it was the real world of something, well maybe it was but you couldn't care less. All you wanted was somewhere to stay this night and figure out how to get back.

“I do need a place to stay tonight.” you say, smiling little at him.

He had a weird look on his face when you said that, like he wasn't expecting it. Because he wasn't. That moment he considered himself a crazy man, because he knew the risks and yet was up for it.

“Uh, ok.”

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