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violetrainbow412-blog · 11 months

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Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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olderthannetfic · 6 months

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Can I poke the bear for a moment and get angry? Because I'm seeing "posting as activism" more and more in fandom spaces, and tonight I saw a post that made me lose it.

There is a post about (current events) going around that says, "full offense, but in this time, your own comfort doesn't fucking matter, you should be uncomfortable about things that are happening, and I hope you can fucking live with yourselves if you are quiet. It takes five seconds to retweet or reblog, fuck your aesthetic, fuck your anything aesthetic."

And my god. How dare they.

Yes, there is severely fucked up shit happening. Yes, people should be aware that people are being killed. Yes, there are people who are just shrugging about it and pissing off. But how does reblogging a post certify someone as Good or Bad? How does this person know that someone hasn't already helped out meaningfully in some way, or is still helping out, but on other websites? How does this person know that someone isn't barely holding on by the skin of their teeth, and they would have a mental breakdown if they got closer to any more stressful things?

I know a multitude of people, including myself, who have recently either needed to call lines, check into facilities, move back in with their parents, or go on medication because of how insane things have become in their own lives. How does this person not understand that blogging; being on tumblr; engaging in fandom, having a small space that someone can control in its entirety, is a reprieve for people who are already at their wit's end outside of that space? And that's okay.

(We are not doing the relative privation shit in this house. I refuse to entertain that.)

Ironically, by insisting that people participate in sharing posts when they're already stressed and exhausted, that's a surefire way to make their problems worse, and potentially prevent them from acting helpfully in the future because suddenly, their exhaustion turns into full-blown burnout. That's how it works. Professionals tell you to dial things back if you are too overwhelmed. There is a reason for that. There is a limit to how much people can mentally process and handle. Compassion fatigue exists. For a lot of us, we are already at our limit. We need space to relax, and not have arbitrary obligations thrown on us. That is not our fault, it is not a character flaw, it does not mean we are bad people. And just because horrific things are happening elsewhere, it does not mean we can, or should, stop taking care of ourselves first. Yes, it feels shitty to think, "you know what, I can't reblog this". You bet your ass that I and my friends feel guilty about not being able to engage as much as we think we should, but that is how it goes. I can put my head underwater for a bit. But I cannot keep my head underwater forever. I will drown.

Not to mention the obvious part: guilt-tripping people to the extent of implying they are somehow contributing to genocide, just because they won't reblog a post, and implying they should not be able to live with themselves if they do that, is beyond revolting.

I am angry, and I am not sorry.

So many of those kinds of posts—and they turn up during every set of horrific real world events—sound like people who are in a country far away from the events, diaspora at most but probably just randos, venting their impotent rage because it's the only way they can feel productive in a situation where nothing they can do is productive.

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chouxsardine · 6 months

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Permission to Fall -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Don't be afraid of falling, because he will catch you everytime" --Where things became too much at your company's Christmas party and Jake comes to the rescue as the most thoughtful boyfriend that he is.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3211

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, feet (nothing gross or super detailed), a drop of superstition (let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is originally an idea inspired by @jakesguitarsolo and written for her. I hope you feel better now, dear. One idea spins into me pulling an all nighter...And here it is. This also goes to whoever feels stressed around this time of the year. Yes, things are tough, but you are stronger. I am so proud of you. If you want to talk, feel free to send me an ask or message. This is my first gvf fic and my first time writing anything for threes years. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

🎧: I am listening to I Need You Most of All by Stephen Sanchez while writing this (you can tell the title is taken from the lyrics)

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Suddenly everything is too much.

But you know damn well that it doesn’t just happen “suddenly”. In fact, shit has been building up for days, or even weeks. You don’t know if it’s the end-of-year frenzy getting into everyone’s head, Mercury is in retrograde, or the depleted Vitamin D levels due to shortened daylight, you’ve had it particularly rough recently, from small inconveniences like your favourite snack being out of stock at the local grocery store for three consecutive weeks to mishaps like you taking the blame for your impotent coworker. You are exhausted, to say the least; you couldn’t wait for the holidays. Not entirely for its cheer, but for the few precious days off. You just need a break from everything.

Now you are stuck in your company’s holiday party. The annual event that you dreaded the most. It involves too many fake smiles, false-hearted small talk, and tooth-rotting-sweet cupcakes that clearly have too much food colouring. All the mental preparing goes south as you stand in the room, the stabbing pain from your high-heels growing more and more unbearable by the second. Too many people.

“Just another thirty minutes, you can do it. Just another thirty minutes”. You hopelessly glance at the clock on the wall, flashbacking to your childhood self squirming in the seats waiting for math class to end.

But of course, something has to make matters worse. The real straw that breaks the camel’s back is your clumsy coworker accidentally bumping into you and spilling her drink on your shoes.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, y/n!” She hastily apologizes in a high-pitched squeal. A few people turn their heads toward your direction.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Embarrassment. Embarrassment. Panic. Trouble. You try to wave her off. The shoes aren’t even your top concerns right now; you just want her to stop talking and stop attracting more unwanted attention.

“Really? Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”

“Please.” You take the handful of tissues from her, look her in the eyes, almost pleading, “It’s fine. Please excuse me, I’ll just go to the washroom real quick.”

Once the washroom door is closed behind you, you feel like collapsing right there on the floor. You wobble your way to the sink, arms propped up on the cold marble surface. You don’t dare to look at yourself in the mirror. Your ears are buzzing and the twisted feeling in your lungs tightens. As if a cold hand is wringing a wet towel inside your stomach, as if someone is shoving your head into cold water, you can't breath properly. You try to draw a breath, but end up sounding like a stranded whale. Before it develops into a full-blown panic attack that you can’t handle, you managed to muster the last bit of your sanity and dial that number with trembling fingers.

Jake picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, love. What’s up? ”

Upon hearing his voice, your tears break free. You are sobbing so hard that you have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the volume down. God forbid any busybody out there overhearing sobbing coming out of the washroom. “Ja—Jake—-”You struggled to form a coherent syllable.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you hurt?” His voice immediately grows sterner, stripped of of the previous languidness.

To talk under this state feels like squeezing words out of your veins. “Ca—can—you..come p—pick me up? Company—p-party.” You stutter through gritted teeth.

There is some shuffled noise over the phone, a loud bang sounding like he had bumped into something, a silent “fuck” under his breath, then his voice reaches your ears again: “Coming right now, baby, take a deep breath for me.”

You hear the faint beeping of car keys. More shuffled noise. More beeping. That means he has started the car, right? That means he will be here soon, right? You mind is racing and spinning and your lungs are still acting up, only allow silvers of oxygen into your body. You feel like you are watching the world through a distorted filter. A scarier thought jumps into your brain: you whiny puny thing, continue crying and your panic will affect Jake. The roads are slippery now, and it will be all your fault if he ends up in a car accident.

As if being slapped in the face, you manage to suck in a deep breath like a scuba diver resurfacing to the water: “Drive safe please, please Jake, please—I will wait for you.”

Jake makes a sound that is somewhat between a relieved laugh and a resigned sigh. He knows instantly what’s going on in your overthinking brain; you are worried about him. The thoughtfulness must be engraved in y/n’s brain, he thought, always, always putting others in front of herself, even when she’s having a panic attack. And Jake knows you are correct. It is only upon hearing your words that he realizes how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He recomposes himself, relaxing his shoulder, “Don’t you worry about me, love. I will stay on the phone if that makes you feel better, yeah? Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me.”

“Knock on wood!” You hiss between sobbing, frantically searching for any wooden material around you. Damn it, why is everything so shiny and glassy?

Jake is amazed that he even lets out a short laugh under the circumstances. Yes, his heart aches hearing his girl being a mess over the phone, and he wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side. But meanwhile, he can't help but find you cute like this. He knocks three times on the mini wooden tissue box that he keeps in the middle console.

“Yes, knock on wood. You hear that, doll?”

“Hmm.” You would honestly believe anything now. Hearing Jake’s voice and imagining him coming to you is like brown noise for babies. Your lungs finally decide to have mercy on you, and you can now somehow draw in shallow breaths albeit the pain in your chest.

Jake is relieved as he sees the green lights shining at the last intersection before turning left onto the side road where your company is located. “I’m here. Can you come down by yourself, love? Or do you want me to get you?”

“I can come down.” You say. The thought of him finding you in a messy pile on the bathroom floor makes you wince, even though he’d probably seen worse.

“Okay baby, see you in a second.”

You don’t remember how you collected your coat and pushed your way through the crowded room without many people noticing. The next moment, your sensations are restored, and you find yourself already in Jake’s arms. He's waiting for you in the area between the automatic glass door and the revolving door outside, a place that is warm with air conditioning but won’t attract nosy people. He wraps you in a hug with his wool jacket. His comforting scent fills your nostrils, a powerful pacifier for your naughty lungs. For the first time this evening, you can finally breathe properly like a normal human being. The rush of fresh air makes you release a loud sob like a newborn baby. The relief of seeing him safely standing in front of you and the release of finally being free from the stressful and stuffy environment ushers more tears to stream down your face.

“Shhhh…..you’re okay now, y/n, safe now. I’m here.” His hand wraps protectively around the back of your head as he plants kisses into your hair. “Poor girl, let’s get to the car and go home.”

Home. Home sounds heavenly to your right now. You couldn’t think of a better combination of these four letters in the whole of human history.

On the way back, you curl into a ball on the passenger seat like a battered puppy. Jake holds your hand whenever he gets the chance, his strong calloused fingers gently massaging yours, tracing the patterns on your palm, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, providing warmth. No longer crying, your shoulders occasionally shudder with involuntary sobs that escape you. But other than that, you are falling into a trance. Your gaze concentrated on Jake’s perfect side profile through hooded eyes, watching in awe as the passing streetlights formed patterns of shadow on his graceful nose and cheeks; your mind numb without a single thought.

It is only when Jake wakes you up that you realize you have fallen asleep. The car is already parked in the garage, the familiar and comforting damp smell seeping in.

“We are home now, sleepyhead.” Jake smiles at you, tapping on your wrist to signal you to wait as he gets out of the car and opens your side of the door. Just as you were about to step off, Jake reaches to cradle you by the shoulders and knees, carrying you bridle-style into the house. You hide your face shyly in the crook of his neck, secretly grateful because your feet are indeed sore in those heels.

Jake puts you down by the shoe rack, motioning you to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he squats down in front you, holding your ankles and taking off your shoes. If he did see the stains, he didn’t ask any questions, only cooed when he saw the blisters on your heels.

“Let’s go upstairs and get your makeup off, then we’ll cuddle and go to bed, yeah?” Jake stands up, hanging up your coat before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You never hated makeup more than now, regretting to put it on in the first place, now that it has become the annoying barrier lying in your way to bedtime. But Jake says “let’s,” that means he’s going to do it together with you, right?

“Jake?” You whine bashfully.

“Yes, love?”

You tilt up your chin and close your eyes, “One more kissy, please?”

Jake swears he feels a part of his heart melt right there. Who is he to deny you?

“Of course, as many as my princess would like.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Jake sits you on the closed toilet seat. He opens the drawer, grabs your makeup remover and some cotton pads. He applies some liquid onto the wipes and lifts up your chin.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” The cool liquid on your eyelids makes your eyebrows twitch, causing Jake to chuckle, “I know, I know. Just a little longer.”

You sit quietly, mesmerized and hypnotized under his touch. His movements are almost rhythmic. Is this how cats feel when their owners scratches behind their ears? You fear that if you make a sound, you will actually let out a purr.

Jake continues until most of your makeup is gone. “Hold out your hands,” you hear him say and complied. Two dollops of foamy liquid landed in the centre of your palm, and you opened your eyes to recognize they are your face wash. Jake tugs on your wrist, leading you to stand in front of the sink.

“Can you wash your pretty face now, darling? Wash up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded, feeling lighter and more relaxed now without your makeup and even more content when you turn on the tap and find out that Jake has already tuned it to a lukewarm temperature for you.

When Jake returned, he was calling you from the bedroom. You have already brushed your teeth and let down your hair.

You walked into the bedroom and are welcomed by the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from your favourite candle glowing on the night stand. Jake was pulling an old T-shirt out from the closet. It was the vintage Joan Jett and The Blackhearts shirt, the patterns half faded, and materials worn-out soft. You saw him laying out one of his boxers for you too. He knows you always prefer them to your own underwear as pyjamas.

“Come sit, angel.” He patted the bench at the foot of the bed, him sitting across from it on a small stool.

It is only when you walked close that you saw the wooden foot spa basin, with clouds of steam rising from it. As you sat down, he gently took your ankle and balanced your feet on the edge of the basin, so that the hot water is steaming your sole.

“It’s still a bit hot.” He looks up to you. “I put Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil in it.”

“Where did you get this?” You feel like the heat from the bottom of the feet is slowly being absorbed into your veins and rising up to your cheeks. You wiggle your toes nervously.

Jake lets out a giggle, “Well, mum suggested once to Josh about the foot spa thing, said it helps with stress and tense muscles. You know, with him running barefoot on stage and all.” He reaches down to sprinkle some water onto your feet, letting you adjust to the temperature. “But Josh got the fancy electric ones. I thought this is better. More authentic, don’t you think?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Your nails are all chipped,” Jake looks down, “maybe tomorrow we can repaint them? I saw you bought a new colour the other day.”

Tender. So tender. From his tone to his caramel brown eyes. The light from the lamp illuminates the left side of his face, giving it a solemn, smooth glow like a wax statue. Your heart swells; love makes it rise like Soufflé in the oven. The soft surface rises up until it touches your ribcage, threatening to spill those tears again.

“Thank you, Jake.” You dare not raise your voice, fearing that it will break, “I just got a bit overwhelmed at the party, is all.”

Jake eases your feet slowly into the water now that it’s the perfect temperature. The slight sling of your blisters is soon overwhelmed by the all-encompassing warmth that rises all the way to your ankle.

After a few heart beats, he speaks again. “You’ll always have me, y/n. You are allowed to fall, to break. I will be here to catch you, to piece you together. Whatever you need.”

Finally you were snuggled together in bed. You, a human koala, cling to Jake with your face pressed against his chest. His arm snakes around your shoulder, fingers mindlessly tracing your collarbone, strumming some unknown patterns. His heartbeat thumping in your ear, the perfect lullaby. The steady rise and fall of his chest is like waves, rocking you into a sweet slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy like velvet drapes. There’s still a stubborn voice in your brain keeping you from falling asleep. There’s still one more thing you need to do, even though you understood each other perfectly.

“Jake?” Your voice low like a murmur. Jake almost didn’t hear you at first.

“What is it, babe?”

“I love you.” Those words come out as a slur, and like a magic spell, you fall into the deep embrace of sleep as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips. Now clear of any stress and worries in the arms of your lover, the strained string in you brain that has been holding on for dear life the whole evening finally snaps. You’re out like a light.

“I love you back, y/n, through and through.” He whispers into your dream.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheet on his side still has the human-shaped imprint. Jake is a night owl; it is pretty common that he just gets up in the middle of the night and ends up doing some random things around the house. Most often it’s him strumming the guitar and experimenting with his ideas for new tunes in the home studio downstairs. But you have also caught him fixing chipped paint on the walls, repotting the succulents in the garage, and pouring broth into the crockpot with chicken thighs and smoked ham hock (“so we could have warm chicken chili in the morning!”; to be honest, it’s indeed delicious; you had two bowls and had to skip lunch that day). Just to name a few, so the possibilities are endless.

You get out of bed, creep cross the corridor and tiptoe your way down the stairs. The lights at the doorway are on; you thought Jake forgot to turn them off. However, as you approach, you see Jake squatting down next to the shoe rack, his back towards you, and a brush and some spray bottles laying nearby.

You move closer and see him holding the clothes steamer near your wine-stained shoes. The heels you wore have a suede tip in the front, and unfortunately, that’s where the wine was mostly spilt on. After a few moments, Jake uses the wire brush to clean the surface. He stops from time to time, holding it further to inspect the result.

You waited until he stops again to make some sounds, announcing your presence. Jake immediately turns around. His eyes softens upon seeing you.

“What are you doing up?”

You go to squat down next to him, kissing his temple before resting your head on his shoulder.

“You just bought these not so long ago, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave them stained.” Jake lets more steam soak into the fabric before brushing them again. “I’m almost done. I saw this trick online, and it looks pretty legit.” It’s only then that you noticed his phone on the side, the screen showing the replies from some Reddit post.

“Thank you, baby.” You rub your cheeks slightly on his T-shirt; the feeling of warm pastry once again fills your heart.

“No worries, doll. I think it’s good for now. Let’s leave them here and check in the morning.” Jake starts putting away his tools before pulling you up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back upstairs.

On your way, something familiar catches your eye. You must’ve missed it earlier.

“Wait, where did you get that?” You stop, pointing at what happens to be a whole case of your favourite snack lying on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I saw the stores are out of them, so I ordered them online. They just arrived today.” Jake scratches his head, his tone tainted with slight disappointment.“I thought they’d be a nice surprise as stocking stuffers, but…”

You stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss.

“I love you.” This time you said it clear against his lips.

“Oh doll, I love you back,” he smiles, showing the cutest wrinkle on his nose. His hands brush your shoulder as you resume your steps upstairs. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep now. And when you wake up, you will wake up to some yummy pancakes and a pair of stain-free shoes, huh? How does that sound?”

Oh Lord, that sounds heavenly. That sounds just like home.

“I’d like that, Jake. I’d like that very, very much.”

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Thank you for reading :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

(The stain-removing tips comes from malccy72 on reddit :D

If you also feel like reading a smutty (but also fluffy?) piece🤭: Mariner's Complex || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

or some Christmas fluff: Ticked (all my boxes)

#jake kiskza x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fluff #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic

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homunculus-argument · 9 months

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You know how some movies just have to have that scene where the Super Cool Dark Troubled Brooding Hero Man is in utter despair about some devastating news or other turn of events, comes home to his big fancy silent house and stands there for a moment in silence before roaring in despair and rage, grabbing the nearest piece of furniture and smashing it to the floor, throwing shit at walls and smashing things and pretty much tearing through everything in sight out of sheer aimless frustration?

With either really tragic and dramatic music on the background or no background music at all, to show us viewers just how Raw And Real this tragic breakdown is, how this Cool Brooding Protagonist who has been so reserved and composed this whole time has finally reached a breaking point, lost his cool, and how destroying his own property in futile, impotent rage still ultimately brings him no comfort or ease? And it's all super tragic and shit.

I think it would be great if one of those movies followed this up with a later scene of the protagonist going "ok, I'm done being dramatic now", and doing a cute little upbeat Ghibli film style clean-up montage of putting everything back together (some of the repairs and replacements being obviously improvised on the spot) before heading out to go on whatever destructive action hero revenge rampage he's going to do next.

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shijiujun · 8 months

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TGCF SEASON 2 EPISODE 1 PREMIERE RECAP

Omg okay so it was the premiere today and yes TGCF DONGHUA season 2 is not out yet it’ll air on October 18 as scheduled but episode 1 is premiering early today, tomorrow and next week (?) at physical premiere ticketed events, one in Singapore, Hong Kong and Bangkok each.

What happened: (1) VA intros and yes! Xie Lian’s new VA (2) An edited 1 hour plus long S1 highlights so you JOG UR MEMORY OF WHAT HAPPENED (3) S2 Episode 1 premiere (4) Guest appearance by vtuber Fulgur lol and (5) There’s a lucky draw quiz segment (?)

What you guys can expect in Episode 1 of Season 2:

It starts with court drama as we all know and Jun Wu’s voice is more twinky than I expected LOL

SHI QINGXUAN?! That first meeting between SQX and XL we saw in the mid-autumn teaser release ISNT ALL LIKE THAT SCENE IS WAY FUNNIER IN FULL OMFG

Yes the part where SQX male turns back into SQX female and trying to get XL to try it out

GHOST CITY ANIMATION IS SO DAMN FUCKING GOOD??!!! And all the random store sellers and Lan Chang the older ghost who harassed XL?! And the way he delivers the line where he says he’s impotent LOL

OMFG AND THE DAMN HIGHLIGHT WAS CERTAINLY THAT GAMBLING SCENE FOR LANG QIANQIU omg all the ghosts were watching HUA CHENGZHU flirt with Xie Lian and LIVING FOR IT IT IS WAY FUNNIER ANIMATED EVERYONE IN THE HALL WAS LAUGHING EVERY TWO MINUTES

The TRIPLE QUARDRUPLE HANDHOLDING SCENES OMGGGGGG LIKE EVERYONE ISTG EEPED AND AWWED LIKE THAT IS HOW SWEET AND MUSHY AND EMBARRASSING IT WAS HUA CHENG CONTROL URSELF

We are in for a treat ISTG episode 1!!!

Ends with ‘Gege, I lost to you’ ERMMM AND FLASHBACK TO WHEN SAN LANG SAID HE WOULD MEET XIE LIAN THE NEXT TIME IN HIS TRUE FORM

A random ghost in the background: “omg I’m going to die I’m going to die” after seeing Hua Cheng’s newest ‘skin’ and another ghost going: “wtf aren’t you alr dead lol” 😂😂😂😂😂

Sound on for half a Xie Lian intro and a full Hua Cheng intro 😘

Going to head back and open up the goodie pack!!! I swear I had forgotten how good TGCF was and how excited I am for it like GET TOGETHER TGCF FRIENDS CUZ EPISODE 1 AND SEASON 2 DONGHUA IS GOING TO BE A HELL OF A RIDE

Edit: LOVE THE KEYCHAIN FROM THE SET

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #天官赐福 #hualian #Xie Lian #Hua Cheng #tgcf donghua #tgcf donghua s2

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theyoungeragrippina · 5 months

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15 more gentlebeard fic recs!

that i have lovingly hunter/gathered for you all. may they act as sustenance for u in this drought.

they are all complete, do not feature any ongoing steddyhands, and are above 20k words.

peruse part 1 and part 2 at your leisure if you want to compare our tastes/devour more fine literature, or check out my masterlist as an ao3 collection.

happy reading!

it's what isn't in the name by @tciddaemina

41k, mature

"The first thing they see - apart from Captain Bonnet himself, all silked up and frilly and I sight in his own right - is the cat sitting primly by his ankles."

writing is top quality, the depth of understanding the author has for every character is unmatched. i have never felt so gutted to know a writer hasn't written anything else for ofmd.

clarity by @kat0nline

44k, explicit

"After an accident upends Stede and Ed's fragile new relationship, Ed fights to bring Stede back."

amnesia/memory loss fic done justice. mary continues to be the best and i love her. only note i wrote after i finished was 'screaming crying throwing up i love you author'.

you are at the top of my lungs by @ratchet

55k, explicit

"Ed has a simple life. He has a self-built, off grid, mostly self-sustaining house tucked away in the middle of a forest... the appearance of an incredibly nosy, incredibly handsome stranger three weekends in a row has him questioning every self-imposed rule he's ever set himself."

this is really a story about healing and hope and grief and love. one of my most favourite eds. this author makes me want to change my whole life, and in this case become an off grid chicken owner that grows food and has gay christmas dinners.

seven point three miles, also by @ratchet

20k (technically just under but it gets a pass because everyone should read it rn), teen and up

"Stede takes a job as a remote forest fire lookout in the summer following his divorce, with a plan to find out who he is, and what he wants his life to be. With the help of the enigmatic lookout on the other side of the forest, he ends up getting more out of the experience than he could ever have hoped."

when will this author receive their nobel prize in literature. i want to be a fire lookout now. i also want to scream and cry and maybe stare at the ceiling for five hours to process this fic. there is a reason everyone loves this fic.

fine dining by wishingonalightningbolt and sugarybowl

37k, explicit

"Edward Teach is one of the most famous chefs in the world, working under the handle Chef Blackbeard. Not one to be tied down, he does random pop-ups in all types of kitchens, and for the absurdly wealthy, he caters special events. Stede Bonnet wants to throw the best engagement party ever for his ex-wife and best friend, Mary. His assistant recommends the extravagant work of Chef Blackbeard."

my notes just say: 'ed is a chef and stede is a cute guy and they are cute together' and i think that is a pretty good summary tbh.

Old Bae Season by nomadsland

57k, explicit

"Ed picks Stede up at a bar for what ought to be a one-night stand, but it turns out they're attending the same academic conference the next day."

they are scientists and stede experiences self discovery. crab door knockers as a symbol of love. i love this fic because it made me smile so much (and want to get my life together, weirdly).

Vitalis by jfc_anna

29k, explicit

"Crown Prince Stede Bonnet. Reserved, anxious, and newly arranged to be married. A child is expected. Though, with the Prince’s lack of experience, is also highly unlikely. There are murmurs of an educator of sorts amongst the nobility, with raven hair and eyes like fire, who has been the cure of impotence and disagreeable attitudes. He has been called many names, whispered behind hands or between cracks in doors. Siren. Kraken. Devourer of Love."

short and sweet and so different from most other things i've read in this fandom. lots of flirting and pining and copious amounts of seduction.

all that might happen is here somehow by @sungmee

27k, teen

"Stede gets caught in a time loop at the moment where Badminton tries to shoot him."

i put off reading this because i thought i wasn't super keen on time loop fics. i was wrong. this is charming, and a little bit heartbreaking, and VERY well written, and i loved every word. don't make my mistakes. read this rn.

turn on the light by smallestchurch

55k, explicit

"Lighthouse Bookshop had been there seemingly since time immemorial. Over forty years at that spot, sitting proud, a beacon at the heart of the community, and when the old owner decides to sell, it's the perfect vessel for Stede's odd restlessness. And the building is connected to a famous cocktail bar run by a mad genius behind the stick."

smiling through my tears rn. i was so absorbed that the end of the fic came up on me like a jumpscare. stede and ed continue to be posterboys for maladaptive coping mechanisms. books & cocktails & outrageous flirting.

our tesco means death by @stedesparasol

21k, general

"Determined to prove he can earn a living without his family's wealth, Stede applies for a job at the UK's biggest retailer (probably). Hmm, I wonder who his supervisor will be... surely not a handsome bearded man sick of the retail grind until Stede joins his workplace and makes things interesting..."

so unserious and so funny. fuckin' brilliant. made me genuinely laugh out loud so much that my dad asked if i was okay.

Queen Anne’s Renovations and Remodelling by bythedamned

32k, mature

"Ed didn't know why Stede’s house had a room sealed off. Two decades gone, filled with the creation and destruction of things they'd never shared with each other, and Ed no longer had reading privileges to the Book of Stede. So he's left to wonder - what's in the room? Why is the door plastered over? And why does Ed remember kissing Stede on a make-believe ship they’d invented as kids?"

thank u sm to @okayestokapi for the rec!! i love the sort of magical-mystery vibe this carries the whole way through & the conclusion was so charming and clever. heaps of fun.

help me to find peace (tell me you're okay) by @percyjacksonfan3

38k, general

"Stede and the crew come to find Ed and make things right. Turns out Ed is doing the same".

i am simply a sucker for a good post s1 reunion fic, and this is up there with the best. it flows really well, the characterisation is so good, and it felt like such a natural continuation of the s1 story and character arcs!!

Invisible String by @dimplyowl

48k, mature

"Scourge of the Caribbean" has been Stede's favorite book series since he was 12 years old. Now, age 47, divorced, and an aspiring author, he turns back to the series to draw inspiration from the familiar story. But as he starts reading, he realizes that something is different. Blackbeard, the main character, is apathetic and depressed, and the story has changed. Even stranger still, Stede seems to be the only one aware that this change has occurred."

more magic realism!!!!! this is so much fun and such a clever idea (plus such clever execution)! lots of flirting and stede being flustered and cute dates.

The Lion, the Witch and the Auxiliary Wardrobe by @xoxoemynn

21k, explicit

"Edward "Blackbeard" Teach's foolproof strategy to get over devastating heartbreak: 1) bring a witch aboard the ship 2) get trapped in an auxiliary wardrobe with the man who broke your heart 3) well, you'll have to read to find out."

in this house we read everything em writes because it is all brilliant and hilarious, and this is no different. its silly and fun and still tender and sweet, and ed & stede get to be just as embarrassing as they deserve (also there is a currently updating work by the same author u should look at too - take it as an unofficial rec).

Due North by surprise pink (+ gorgeously illustrated by @sungmee who appeared earlier on this list!!!!!!)

28k, mature

"Burnt out from his corporate job and his miserable marriage, Stede takes a seaside vacation where he meets Ed, an artist who takes inspiration from strange dreams that feel like memories. A museum exhibit about Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate brings them together, but it doesn't feel like the first time they've met."

had me googling 'pirate museums near me???' urgently at 1am. romeo & juliet meeting through a fishtank/starcrossed lovers vibes. absolute oodles of pining. a joy of a time to read.

#please send me more recs or requests or whatever!!!#i want to know ur fav fics!!!#these posts take ages to make but i love doing them sm #every recommendation is simply the cream of the crop and they should all be applauded as much as possible #if you are on this list you are talented & incredible and ily #our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means death fic recs #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fic recs #gentlebeard fanfic #blackbonnet #blackbonnet fanfic #blackbonnet fic recs

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ataleofcrowns · 1 year

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Bonus Lore: Crowns of Old, Part II

[ Part I ]

Back again with another lore drop, though this will be the last one until CH11 is released.

We're picking up where we left off and continuing with the fifth, sixth, and seventh Crowns. I believe I've posted the lore regarding the sixth Crown Bardiya before, but it's good to have it all in one post and in chronological order ✨

The Fifth Crown: Koban the Impotent Sword

Crown Koban was an ardent admirer of Crown Humati, who was seen as an exemplary ruler where her military victories were concerned. Koban, on their part, was rather brash in comparison. While an effective military leader, they lacked in other areas of governance: their first solution typically tended to be to use the Imperial Army, where other avenues would have sufficed.

While their aggressive temperament proved useful in warding off the invasion attempts from the Saca in the north, it made them terrible at diplomacy. Much of the conflicts with Thallos can, at least partly, be traced back to Crown Koban's reign. They would demean and insult other monarchs, boasting about Arsur's military power as often as they could.

While the public and some of the nobility were fond of their theatrics, perhaps even encouraging of it, the merchant faction were their greatest critics. Especially in the province of Avdin, which is the main point of trade from and to Thalloi city-states, their rhetoric was less than appreciated.

While Thallos was not much of a threat during this period, things began to change when Koban started poking at Qathesh.

Even those who supported Koban's arrogance before quickly began to turn on them. It was clear to everyone that Arsur could not compare to Qathesh when the empire was still in its infancy, and furthermore, Qathesh was a much more vital trading partner as well as a direct neighbor compared to Thallos. Inciting a war with them was nothing less than foolishness--Koban likely knew this as well, but had grown so conceited they thought they could taunt them without repercussion.

Thankfully, the Pharaoh of Qathesh at the time, Masaharta, knew Crown Koban was all bark and no bite. Still, he could not let any insult stand. When Crown Koban celebrated their bonding to their promised one, the gift sent by the Pharaoh was a single sapling of a fig tree. It was widely understood as a reminder of Arsur's youth as well as its small size compared to Qathesh. Crown Koban was stated to have been humiliated and seething with anger at the condescension, not that they could do anything about it.

The double entendre of their epithet was given intentionally.

The Sixth Crown: Eccentric Bardiya

Crown Bardiya is a very odd case, in that there is next to nothing known about his/their reign. At least, not officially.

Royal historians have been employed at the Royal Palaces from even before Arsur existed. It is a holdover tradition from the Monarchy of Ardia that Ashadūna continued after founding Arsur. These historians record all the Crown's daily activities, as well as when they are handling matters of political importance or at notable events. These records remain for future generations, as well as future Crowns.

Unfortunately, most of Crown Bardiya's records were destroyed or disappeared. For the longest time, no one knew why or how, until a grave-robber managed to break into Bardiya's tomb, but instead of riches, they discovered a single book. It was a personal journal that Crown Bardiya left behind in secret.

The grave-robber was apprehended upon an attempted escape and later executed, but not before they were made to reveal their discovery. Scholars unearthed the journal and, to their enormous surprise, discovered that Crown Bardiya kept record of their own activities and, furthermore, was the culprit behind the destroyed records of his reign in the first place.

The first journal was, in fact, the start of an elaborate treasure hunt that would lead the scholars on a 3 year long journey to collect all the journals that Crown Bardiya had written. Apparently, Bardiya detested the plain and objective way of writing from the royal historians, and was determined to have his records told in their own voice.

This eccentric behavior was not unusual for Bardiya. He was known to have a flair for the dramatic, and enjoyed outwitting, confusing or teasing others with riddles, personally-made puzzles, and philosophical conundrums. While this could make them quite frustrating to deal with in person, Bardiya also was a prodigious scholar of magic. In fact, they refused to take on a Sorcerer as he was of the opinion that he could do much better than any other magus out there, and they were probably correct in that assessment.

Bardiya is known as a founder of contemporary warding magic; before them, there was a very simple magic system and only a dozen sigils to choose from. Bardiya managed to find a way to invent new sigils through combining bits and pieces of the old ones, eventually creating the 4037 sigils currently in use. This warding magic increased the Empire's security immeasurably, aiding the armor and weapons used by its armies, and still keeps many of its important landmarks safe from harm.

The Seventh Crown: Lorîcan the Bullheaded

Crown Lorîcan, as you can likely tell from her epithet, was known to be a very stubborn Crown. Many times unreasonably stubborn, with disastrous consequences as a result.

Once Lorîcan had made her mind up about something, it was impossible to tell her otherwise. She would argue experts who studied the subject matter for their entire lives, based solely on the fact that her authority was absolute, and being chosen as the Crown meant she would know what was best.

Lorîcan's relationship with her Imperial Court, however, was not necessarily antagonistic. While the nobles were greatly annoyed by her at the start of her reign, they quickly learned that as long as they were the first to talk ideas into her head, it would be impossible for others to change her mind, and she would always end up in agreement with them.

If anything, this lead to great friction between her and her Sorcerer. Noble Zinar was immensely frustrated as the nobility got a hold of Lorîcan and began talking in her ear before her Sorcerer could advise her on anything. Soon, this began to lead to arguments between Lorîcan and Zinar.

The boiling point came when a plague was spreading through the cities of Zerat. The advice from experts to burn dead bodies en mass was protested by the magi who did not want to risk themselves in the plague, and through the Imperial Court, they argued that burning the bodies would be in violation of many people's spiritual beliefs. In Arsur, dead bodies are most typically fed to carrion birds. While some groups do use funeral pyres, many believe burning or burying corpses would defile the sacred elements of earth and fire.

When Lorîcan accepted this judgment, neither Zinar or any of the others in court could tell her otherwise. Zinar finally lost their patience, and their argument with Lorîcan became so out of hand that at the end of it, the Crown ordered for her Sorcerer to be stripped of their position and imprisoned.

It is the great irony of Lorîcan's story that she, of course, eventually succumbed to the plague herself.

[ Part III ]

#worldbuilding #patreon #a tale of crowns

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antifainternational · 1 year

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“deadtifa

6 feet deep for terrorists….

FAFO soi boi” You can always tell when things went badly for bigots and fascists over the weekend when we get anonymous death threats like this one from impotent losers. And boy, did things go badly for bigots & fascists targeting drag events this weekend! From Sacramento, CA to Royal Oak, MI, to Moncton, Canada - good people turned up in large numbers to expose, oppose, and confront transphobic bigots, outnumbering the scumbags by as much as 100-to-1! Fascists can’t win people for their genocidal positions by logic or facts - sooner or later they always to resort to threats and violence. Fuck them!

#antifa #death threats #drag #drag queen story time #we protect us

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nuwanders · 10 months

Note

so tell us about velothi philosophy :3c how does it differ, to say, its imperial counterparts? how has it changed across time?

Where to start!! Going to try my hardest to produce a semi-coherent answer here lol

quick note before i get into it— due to the nature of religion in the Elder Scrolls, i’m going to treat theology and philosophy as more or less the same discipline. there will obviously still be some discussions which fall more squarely into one field or the other, but in a world where ‘gods’ are demonstrably real and regularly involving themselves with the affairs of mortals, there’s going to be a great deal more overlap than there is irl.

with that out of the way, i’ll limit my discussion to three main areas of philosophy in which Velothi attitudes differ the most from their Imperial counterparts; (1) the determinism/free will debate, (2) notions of faith vs veneration, and (3) the relationship between religion and morality. This isn’t too long dw but I’ve put it under a read more just in case

1. determinism vs free will

the imperial pantheon being headed by a god of time would, i think, have significantly shaped imperial philosophy. teslore is riddled with prophecies, as well as the Elder Scrolls themselves and ‘heroes’ as a category of beings who are uniquely capable of ruling their own destiny. ignoring the doylist explanation for a moment (that heroes are player characters in an otherwise scripted video game), it is clear that Imperial philosophy is dominated by a deterministic streak.

Velothi philosophy however would fall (imo) more in the compatibilism camp. rather than our futures being predetermined by what is written in the Scrolls, I think the Velothi might say instead that what is written in the Scrolls is determined by what we, in the future, choose to do. ‘Outside of time’ =/= ‘before time’— by which I mean that if the Scrolls truly are from outside of time, it would be nonsensical to conclude that the contents of the scrolls is what causes certain events to then occur— because that would imply some kind of linear progression.

why do i think this? i won’t lie it is 80% headcanon, however the ability of Mephala to ‘pull but a single thread’ and unravel the weave of fate reflects, i think, the central position which the ability to determine one's own destiny holds in Velothi identity. An Imperial philosopher might say that Daedric Princes, like mortals, do not exist ‘outside time’ in the way that Akatosh does, so Mephala’s own actions would themselves be considered pre-determined. But I think the Velothi philosopher here would just cycle back to the compatibilist argument outlined above. Dunmer are a proud and independent people and I think they would strongly resist any attempt to imply that they do not have control over their own actions lol

2. faith vs veneration

Also central to Velothi philosophy and culture is the notion that respect and power must be earned, and i think this would apply to their gods as much as to themselves. Veloth turned away from the Aedra after Boethiah came to him in his dreams and visions. Why dedicate your life to the worship of invisible—and seemingly impotent—gods when the daedra are right there, showing themselves through positive action to be worthy of your fear and your love?

I think the notion of ‘faith’—being a belief in something which cannot be proven, both in spite of and because of that fact—would be dismissed by the Velothi as fanciful and ridiculous— a way for the elite to control the masses. This isn’t to say that they don’t believe in the aedra (there is a text somewhere in Morrowind which suggests that House Redoran, at least, adopted some kind of aedra worship during Imperial occupation), however they wouldn’t consider the aedra worthy of veneration. And Akatosh in the Velothi sense might be understood a little differently— perhaps even as a simple literary device designed to personify what is otherwise just the abstract notion of time.

3. ethics, and the relationship between religion and morality

It’s worth taking care here not to map Christian notions of morality and sin onto the Imperial cult, however there are some broad similarities. The Divines don’t necessarily represent moral virtues, however they all encapsulate some kind of virtue in the more holistic, Aristotelian sense; and the fact they are each virtuous in some way is taken both as reason to worship them and as reason to emulate those characteristics. (Not gonna get into the Euthyphro dilemma, but regardless of which view you think they'd take, it is clear there is some kind of relationship here).

The same cannot be said of the Good Daedra, nor of the Tribunal. Any ‘virtue’ these figures happen to possess is incidental to their status as figures deserving of worship. This is not to suggest that Dunmer have no moral code or care not for virtues such as generosity or benevolence; it’s just that ethics is seen as divorced from divine law (ignoring the above mentioned lore text which says the exact opposite wrt House Redoran ;_;)

At the extreme end of this spectrum you find Telvanni ethics– “According to Telvanni principles, the powerful define the standards of virtue.” Which is very Nietzschean lmao. But I don’t think this would reflect Velothi ethics at large. If I were to summarise, I would say that the Velothi reject any notion of morality as intrinsically good, but that they generally recognise moral virtues as instrumentally valuable. Humility and selflessness in the Alessian, slave-morality sense are rejected, but social cooperation, justice and generosity are rightfully recognised as qualities which lead to the betterment of society overall.

given how long this is already i will save the question of how velothi philosophy changes over time for another post :') the Fourth Era transition from tribunal worship to the New Temple is something i'm exploring in my soon-to-be-published little novella hehe. thank you for the ask! <3

and tagging @ervona who expressed some interest in this topic >:)

#ask #teslore #spectrumcore #thanks sasha! <3 #sorry if this comes across as a load of pseudo intellectual hogwash i've not studied any non-moral philosophy since A Level :(

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notsoterriblymisanthropic · 29 days

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We used a similar tone and topic in the song ‘Prayer to God’, which examines the different facets of impotent male rage. The greater point is that his presumption of a natural order, having been upended by what are after all totally normal turns of events, warrants not just death as revenge but a righteous death, administered by a loving god who agrees with his perspective. This precise thinking trickles down into many male quasi-religious contexts, like the athlete praising god for his successes, praying for mitigation of natural disasters or political outcomes. The commingling of expectation, religion and patriarchy is one of the least examined yet most pernicious influences in our culture. If things like this remain unspoken, the thinking doesn’t die, it spreads sub-cutaneous like a fungus, making everything sick.

Steve Albini

#Steve Albini

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ivaspinoza · 1 month

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I've never read anything quite like Fever Dream. I couldn't understand a lot of it as I read, although I do understand the characters and plot overall. In each moment, did you understand what was happening? What did you find profound? What did you like best artistically about it, and were there any big philosophical statements?

What a cool, exciting ask! I love this book, I wrote a 6-page essay about it for college at the time and I was never able to read it again because of how strong the experience was for me (I want to preserve the memory).

Latin America's magical realism is not about introducing some fantasy features into the ordinary, is more about the mystical experience of reality itself, the haunting mysteries or inexplicable events of life. They exaggerate the surreal, "magical" aspect to highlight the main issue. I will share more about that in the end.

What I like about Fever Dream the most is its originality. Once you start the book, you have to feel lost. That's the whole point. Schweblin is so bold, she actually doesn't want you to "understand what is going on", she invites you into the MC's feverish dream, and for that to happen you literally have to let go of any expectations and let the story unfold at its own pace. I honestly will recommend this book to any writer who is willing to take the (eco)horror path.

But it's not just about that. Personally, this book got to me because of the "rescue distance" concept — a better translation of the original title. As someone who lost a baby, the whole paranoia that comes from sensing danger, but being blind to it at the same time, drove me almost mad. I ate that book in one afternoon — and I'm a slow reader. Couldn't stop turning pages. It was too similar to my personal experience of foreseeing death, knowing that something was just about to happen, and not being able to avoid it at all. Very cathartic, per se.

But to talk more directly about the book, I will use my own words from a few years back, and if you don't want spoilers, don't read it:

"In the end, the loose thread remains. The feeling of loss is inevitable. All the danger and sense of paranoia culminated in a whirlwind of unstoppable events, engulfing the reader in a tachycardic, spiralling route; and he lands with the certainty that something very important was left behind: the essential and irreplaceable — perhaps, life itself. It's like returning from a trip without your luggage, empty-handed. Maybe this loose thread is the sensation of the entire humanity when confronted with its impotence in the face of a scenario of constant catastrophe, of destruction that disintegrates everything around: the web being woven as one lives, without being able to deviate from the tracks or turn back. The inevitability of evil — are we like Amanda, doing our best to protect those we love, and always losing what matters most? What similarity would we have with David, tying everything in his room (p.136), trying to connect the loose thread of this unreachable distance that can no longer be calculated? He may be trying to connect with what little remains, that which seems solid, in search of connecting then with something familiar; something that sustains a world that seems to be in free fall, heading nowhere. And this world — this same world of mutations, poisoned mist, dead ducks buried in the backyard, of silence that devoured all things, this world of Schweblin's magical realism — this is our own world."

I might upload my reviews and essays one day if I ever have enough energy and time to open a substack or something (they are too long). Latin American literature is fire! I'm glad you have this book a chance :) and thanks again for the ask!

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akoo9 · 4 months

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Hello everyone....I've noticed this while rereading, and u can disagree.... At chapter47....when yashiro no more canget it up, he's having misleading emotions...he's comparing this situation with his situation at first when he met doumeki... He's wondering to inami after he's impotent now, will that turn on inami (bcz it was turning yashiro on when doumeki was like that...yashiro here doesn't realize he was attracted to doumeki himself, not bcz he was impo)..... Also querying (will inami start to develop feelings to yashiro after knowing he's impotent now)..(referring to possibility of yashiro developed feelings for doumeki probably out of pity as he used to think..........

Yashiro in this event seems confused and will other person will normally develop attachment under these circumstances as him and doumeki had this vague connection.... He's wondering, did these feelings occur to everyone in this situation, or was it only bcz it was doumeki and yashiro themselves

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #Saezuru #Yashiro #doumeki chikara #doumeki x yashiro

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stinkybreath · 1 year

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thoughts about Succession characters as parahumans

(finally, a post I am qualified to make and not just have the impotent idea for)

Ignoring the fact that they’d all be Cauldron capes wait actually NOT ignoring that bc there are such delicious ways this could shake out wrt Logan and the siblings and I’ll probably ponder about that

First. Logan would be a natural trigger striker. Something touch-based and difficult to control; think of the marks on his back for trigger event (pretend that it doesn’t matter that this would have been prior to the arrival of Scion lol). And the guilt over Rose complicating his feelings about a blaster power… his touch becoming undeniably deadly, which in turn reinforces how scared the siblings are of him and ALSO makes them crave his affection even more because he would have been even more sparing with it… and he’s so volatile that a power that requires rigorous self-control would be just chefs kiss perfect irony for him.

I don’t think Ewan triggers. I think Caroline spitefully gives millions to some anti-parahuman causes post divorce.

As soon as he gets rich and influential enough to know you can buy powers, his mind is on his empire, his descendants. He makes an offhand, absentminded promise to Connor to buy him a vial when he’s “old enough” that he immediately forgets and Con never forgets.

It would be funny to say Con gets a stranger power, but I don’t think he triggers despite everything he goes through. I do think Shiv gets a stranger power, though. From a vial, yes, but the misogynist dismissal from everyone around her no doubt influences her frame of mind when she takes it. I think she buys the vial “with her own money” to preempt whatever way Logan might make his offer hard to swallow. Undecided on the power specifics (chime in if you like. On any of this!)

Kendall is what got me to make this post in the first place. I was rotating him and his water motif in my mind and it struck me that ah, we could make this cruel in a parahumans way. Again, power from a vial. Gifted to him by Logan on his 18th birthday, the heir comes of age, so every time Ken gets any significant benefit using his power, he knows it wouldn’t have happened without his father. My first few ideas were too jokey or literal so what I’ve decided on is that he’s a shaker, the ability to project an aura that intensifies the feelings of anyone near him and also a very lightly toxic miasma. You’ll notice these are kind of weak and shitty and that’s because that’s exactly how it should go down for my number one boy. He feels guilty for being so ungrateful or useless with his shitty powers but he knows that there are thousands of parahumans out there with better ones. The aura can really help him in the boardroom but it can also screw him over and he is not good at predicting which way it leans. He can turn the aura on and off but the miasma is involuntary and so makes him a bad candidate when it comes to promotion time whenever Logan dangles that carrot in front of him.

Roman is the only sibling who triggers naturally. It happens when he’s a preteen and he gets in a bad fight at school, something bad enough it should’ve killed him. He gets a changer power, which resonates with how uncomfortable he is in his own skin. First idea that came to me is that in reaction to blows, his body creates new temporary orifices to absorb/avoid the damage. The way this interacts w his discomfort around sex and simultaneous neediness, not to mention his sexual identity, would be fascinating.

#I AM ROTATING ALL OF THEM SO FAST.#parahumans #wildbow #succession

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definesanity · 1 year

Note

Hello, I have had a few ideas that I feel you might like.

The idea being, Sauron Reader for SAGAU.

Depending on the au, the reader is either like Sauron was before his fall into darkness, still devoted to order and perfection, but not to the extremes he became infamous for after joining Morgoth, or a full on reborn form of the Dark Lord of Midle Earth that sees Teyvat as a second chance to establish a perfectly ordered world under their command.

Perhaps, in a normal or cult au, they have been given this chance at redemption, at earning their place among their fellows once more following their final defeat when the Ring was destroyed and they were rendered impotent until the final battle for Arda.

In an Imposter/impostor au, or an angst au where they are forgotten or perhaps in a Bloodletting Au, they begin to gradually return to the dark lord they once were, finally becoming the Dark Lord when they see no other option and decide that they have had enough of this mad world.

In one verse they could give their rings of power to their most loyal, not turning them into Nazgul but still binding them to the Reader, and in the Imposter AU they could decide to recreate the Nazgul with a few modifications out of those who remained loyal to them.

Perhaps there could be a moment where Celestia steps in, desperate to stop the downfall of the world they and the Fatui, have joined forces to either purify or defeat their own creator to save themselves and their world.

The Abyss order and Hilichurls could take the place of the Orcs and Goblins or perhaps the reader could find a way to recreate the orcs and other forces of darkness from Middle Earth in Teyvat.

I have also had an idea for an au where Lumine, or Aether depending on the Traveler you choose, is not seen as a hero but instead treated with disdain and suspicion given their other worldly nature.

People off them the bare minimum to outright nothing even after all they do for them, from the Knights sending them on a suicide mission against Dvalin, to the Qixing trying to execute them as a scapegoat after Morax fakes his death, and so on.

These things begin to wear on the Traveler, eventually making them drop their kind and heroic persona and become a cold and unfeeling being once more, the culmination being in Inazuma where they are betrayed and left to die against the Shogun by Miko in the hopes of bringing Ei back...only for them to almost kill both her and Ei, leaving behind a burning Tenshukaku and Inazuma city as the rebel forces they usurped control of tear through the city in a berserk rage due to the mixture of Delusions and magics the traveler has used on them.

Eventually, after the events of Sumeru, they decide to simply abandon the world and let their sibling find a way to meet up with them in another world.

However, something has happened that they did not anticipate, for just as they gather their power and set in motion a ritual that should allow for them to leave, or to send something akin to a distress signal to their fellows, the people of Teyvat begin to search for them.

Perhaps it is due to Kusanali unknowingly broadcasting their memories across Teyvat, perhaps it is due to a piece of information long hidden in Irminsul being released regarding a prophecy of the Twin Stars, or perhaps it is for something else entirely such as the traveler being soulmates with many of the beings in each of the nations, though the marks identifying them as such only appeared after they left the nation behind and cut ties with it, rejecting those who had been set to be their missing pieces.

Regardless, the people of Teyvat arrive just in time to see the Traveler pushing their twins limp body off of their blade as their ritual roars to life and they either vanish into the stars once more, deciding to regain their powers with their kins aid, or the beam pierces through the false skies of Teyvat and sends the equivalent of an S.O.S. to the Travelers people, thus triggering a new conflict for the world.

Well, what do you think?

Till next time, take care.

Who hurt you? Like, seriously, do you wanna get something off your chest? Because you seem like there's something you want to get off of your chest.

Anyways; I have zero knowledge of Lord of The Rings, but I can write, and I say: woah, cool :3

There's not a lot I can say other than that, but thank you for your thoughts, friend-o :D

And thanks, take care of yourself as well.

#ryuusei's replies #genshin impact #sagau #genshin cult au #sagau brainrot

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a-cosmic-elf · 6 months

Text

Snippet Sunday

Thank you @eridanidreams for the tag. I just realised that I could share something I’ve already posted. lol. It doesn’t have to be a wip.

tagging: @kalliesa - my wonderful beta, without whom, this fic might never have made it this far. If any of my other mutuals would like to be tagged in these things, let me know.

This snippet is from the last chapter of my Mass Effect fic.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sebastian saw the fireball approaching along the corridor over Tegan’s shoulder. He could hear the creaking of the floor, the groaning of bulkheads, and then the straining of the outer hull as pressures and extreme temperatures increased until the structure gave way and collapsed.

As the floor plating buckled and fell from beneath them, Tegan tossed his weapon aside and threw himself into Sebastian’s arms. The station came apart all around them, yet Tegan held him close, pinned as Sebastian was to the structure, and he wouldn’t let go.

“Oh god, T, this is it,” said Sebastian. This is how we die.

Explosions are weird in space. You see the ball of flame, yet as soon as the area warps and gets blown apart, the instant lack of gravity and loss of excess oxygen snuffs out the fireball, dispensing the remaining molecules on fire like a million beads in all directions. The twisted ends of the metal are still bright, and sparks fly from damaged cables no longer connected to systems, waiving impotently in the zero-g. The force of the explosion, though, keeps coming.

Tegan continued to hold on as the energy surrounded them, and then along with everything else, they were forced out into space and clear of the station.

Released from the door, as the structure fell apart, spinning madly out into the expanse, it took Sebastian a little while to catch up with current events. He tried to focus on Tegan before him, not the whirlwind light of billions of stars surrounding them.

He cried loudly. Pain seared through his body from his wounds and the realisation that both of them were doomed. Tegan, no. His cry turned into a scream of frustration, still barely hearing himself over his suit’s own internal alarms.

[Alert: Suit breach.]

He was venting atmosphere. Quickly, his suit’s VI took over, and the tactical N7 special ops grade armour automatically closed and sealed the breach. Thank god for quarian engineering.

[Alert: Emergency O2 at 63%]

All they could hear now was each other’s breathing over the comms. Tegan held fast to Sebastian as they kept travelling, the station's wreckage slowly breaking up below them, and something else hit them.

Sebastian couldn’t see by what, but it forced them away even faster, thankfully knocking them out of that dizzying spin.

They rode the shockwave out as more debris came away, revealing the station’s dark inner core. Whatever that thing was, it was so dark that it was like looking into a black hole; no light escaped from it. It hurt Sebastian’s head to look at it, and he felt like a million people were screaming in his mind. He turned away, unable to feel his legs; he gratefully accepted Tegan’s armoured embrace, chest-to-chest.

Tegan wrapped himself around him as best he could, enough so he could secure his suit to Sebastian’s. He then attempted to call the rest of the team. “Golf-Romeo-Two, come in.” Tegan put out on the ops channel through laboured breaths.

There was static.

“Golf-Romeo-Four, anybody, do you copy?” Tegan tried again.

There was no answer. The line was dead. Some small craft had made it off the station before the blast. They had no way of knowing if one had carried Leng and Jideobi. It didn’t matter, it was short-wave burst communications, and they would be too far away. Sebastian and Tegan were on their own, with no hope of rescue.

“Seb, talk to me,” Tegan asked over the comms.

Sebastian let out his pain and frustration in one angry tirade, “What in the ever-loving fuck, T? Why don’t you ever do as you’re told! You were meant to be protecting them! Not me!”

“Seb, we trained them, remember! You… What was I supposed to do? Leave you to die?!”

“Like I fucking ordered you to! What part of that did you not understand? They’ll court-martial you for this. I’m not going to stand up for you this time.”

“Court-martial me, ay? If that’s the price to save your life, I’ll take it. I’ll do my time, gladly.”

“You’re not meant to be here. You shouldn’t be here! T, for fuck sake, no! You stupid bastard. You stupid, stupid, fucking idiot.”

“Bloody oath,” agreed Tegan, laughing, “so, is there anything else you want to say to me?”

Sebastian released an exasperated wail, “I ahhhh, I well I guess, I love you too,” he cried, his voice cracking in pain, “I'm sorry, I should have granted your transfer.”

“What? And let someone else watch your back? Yeah, that’s not gonna work. Love. You know I would follow you into hell. On second thought, though, maybe you should have. I let you down.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me to make sure we got out of here,” Tegan said, his voice suddenly unusually flat. He had accepted their deaths, “I failed.”

“No, no, no, T, don’t you do it. Don’t you dare blame this on yourself. This is me; this is all on me.”

“Ahhh, fucking fuck-sake. We could try other channels?” Tegan offered in a last-ditch attempt to find a rescue.

“Negative. If the batarians pick up the signal and identify it as Alliance, it would start a war, and millions could die. I’m sorry, T, I had to do this. You didn’t.” Sebastian was unable to hold back the tears.

“Hey, hey, stop apologising, Love. It’s okay,” Tegan’s voice was immediately changed, calming, comforting; even from behind a full suit of tactical armour, they could read each other so well, their role reversal was instantaneous. “Wherever you go, I go, remember?”

“Into the cold dark of space? Not exactly what I had in mind,” Sebastian choked up the words.

“Oh yeah?” Tegan chuckled, “what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, somewhere quiet, planetside, beer in one hand, your hand in my other, a big sky over our heads until the end of our days.”

“You, Sebastian Crosse, retire? Nah, you’re yanking my chain,” Tegan laughed again, “N7s don’t retire.”

“I’d give it up for you if you asked. The Alliance gave me many things. I met you. I should have counted my lucky stars and cashed out while I was ahead.”

“Hey, if that’s all it took to knock some sense into you, couldn’t we have dropped a door on you back in Melbourne?”

“If you didn’t want me to leave, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re Sebastian fucking Crosse! You were always a little scary, even before they put those stripes on you. I knew you were their superstar. I knew I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“That’s not true. I was scared too. And clueless, and… I needed to know it was real, not just an infatuation. But it’s too late. Now we have to watch each other die.” Sebastian could hold his nerve in the face of almost anything. But not losing Tegan, knowing that shortly after his own death, Tegan would undoubtedly suffer the same fate- asphyxiation.

“Love, I know, it fucking sucks.” Tegan agreed, “I love you, Commander Sebastian Crosse. I knew who I was falling in love with. You were always going to do this, and I would always follow you. You’re just gonna have to accept that.

“I’m glad to be here because, to be true, a universe without you is one I’d rather not be in. I want to go out with you now. To be here with you is the single best thing I’ve ever done in my life, Seb. It’s been an honour and a pleasure,” Tegan moved his head to look around them, “and well, at least that one big fucking sky. I gave you that, at least. I’m only sorry about one thing.”

“Which is?”

“I can’t kiss you right now without killing us both in seconds.”

Sebastian shook in Tegan’s arms as he laughed.

“It’d be totally worth it,” mused Tegan.

Unexpected darkness fell over the pair, and Sebastian saw it. Shadow and light moved towards them. “What’s that?” He asked.

Tegan turned his head to look, “Erm, that’s a Mass Relay, Seb.” He said sarcastically, “You know, the things we use for near-instantaneous interstellar travel?”

“Yes, but- we FTL’d here. There’s no relay in Dis….”

#snippet sunday #cosmic writes #mass effect absolution

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saezurufeels · 2 years

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Forgiveness

A Chapter 47 Analysis

I feel like I’m long overdue for a proper chapter 47 analysis, which is v shameful, considering how very important this chapter was. I can’t even overstate its significance tbh. I think some pretty rapid character development took place between chapter 46 and 47, much of it owing to Yashiro’s prior self-reflection, being around Inami, and having Doumeki back in his life.

In the first few chapters of volume 7, Yashiro was looking pretty tired around the eyes. He looked aged. He seemed listless and defeated, and we know that around that time he was having dreams/nightmares about Doumeki, which startled him awake. And I know I’ve talked about this dream many times before, but in light of chapter 47, its meaning has shifted somewhat. I think what is so nightmarish about the dream isn’t just that Doumeki was gone when Y turned around, but rather, the reason Doumeki was gone— and not for his lack of trying to hold on. The dream was largely focused on Yashiro himself, who broke away and ran from Doumeki, only to feel devastated when D disappeared and Y was left alone. Yashiro’s subconscious is clearly telling him something. “If you don’t want to feel this way (i.e., alone), then you need to change your actions.” We’ll come back to this later.

Alright, let’s actually talk about chapter 47 now.

Well, first off, Inami feels pretty great about himself because Yashiro came to his place after being with Doumeki. Inami assumes that Y and D had sex, so he also thinks that Yashiro came skipping over because Doumeki was unable to satisfy him. Then Inami starts to insult Yashiro, calling him “slutty” for wanting sex even though he’s impotent. Yashiro responds by subtly reminding Inami that he should be happy Yashiro is that way, since it turns Inami on when his partners don’t appear to consent (i.e., can’t get aroused). In other words, Inami gets sexual pleasure from violence and domination. He’s a sexual sadist. With Yashiro not being able to get hard, he’s like an unwilling participant—and rape is the ultimate fantasy for a sexual sadist like Inami. Recall the first time they did it in the hotel room 4 years ago, when Inami tied Yashiro’s dick with a shoelace to prevent him from getting hard and “enjoying” the experience.

Then we get the flashback scene. I’m not too sure, but but I think the internal monologue in this chapter is a flashback rather than a stream of consciousness. We see Yashiro in different clothes, unbound, and with a beat up face, not to mention the monologue is positioned in the middle of an event and surrounded by a black border— this suggests that the changes in Yashiro’s perceptions came before the timeline of chapter 47.

In the flashback, Yashiro admits to feeling apathetic while having sex. He can no longer enjoy sex the way he used to, which clearly affects him a great deal. He thinks his lack of arousal is “poetic justice” for initially developing a body that “couldn’t live without sex.” In his mind, his impotence is his punishment.

Looking at the line, “I really, really didn’t care anymore. And I was so beyond redemption that I thought I was only fine when I felt pain.” Here, Yashiro explains why he continued to have violent sex after becoming impotent: 1) “I didn’t care anymore,” contrasted with an image of him on his bed in the daylight, which could refer to being awoken by his recurring nightmare and the accompanying loneliness and guilt (all related to Doumeki), and 2) “I was beyond redemption,” which just means that he doesn’t think that changing his habits at this stage in his life would make a difference. So, Yashiro continued to chase the pain of violent sex. I also think it was also a form of self-punishment.

Then the flashback ends and we come back to present tense. Yashiro is enduring the sex with Inami, when sudden images of Doumeki invade his mind. This isn’t really anything new— Yashiro always thinks of someone else, someone kind and gentle, when he’s having painful sex. But this time there’s a big difference from before:

But now in 47, Yashiro has a different thought process: “Suddenly I realized, there’s no need to get rid of anything if I didn’t know it in the first place.” I think this has two meanings.

First, if we go back a bit in chapter 47, we see Yashiro refer to Inami and other men as rapists. Terminology is important, because it determines how we interpret meaning and events. If Yashiro understands that he was raped, then he also understands that he didn’t “want it.” He didn’t invite it, he didn’t enjoy it, and it’s also not his fault it happened. This changes his whole self-perception as well. Before, Yashiro believed he was perverted and twisted because he was addicted to violent sex, well into his adulthood. But once he realized that the act of rape impacted his life in ways he didn’t wish for, he was able to connect the dots and see himself as a victim/survivor, rather than a pervert. This realization also means that Yashiro is looking back on his life with with a deep sense of sadness, for knowing that he never knew love and respect before Doumeki. One of the reasons Yashiro abandoned Doumeki 4 years ago is because he didn’t want to “corrupt and sully” his beauty and purity with his own twistedness. So, if we put this information together, Yashiro has concluded that there is no reason to get rid of Doumeki because he himself is not a twisted person, and he ought to experience beauty at least once in his life… I’ll talk more about this further down, but I think this is the overarching theme of this chapter.

And the second meaning is more straightforward. Chapter 46 opens with Yashiro thinking: “I thought I knew him” (or something to that effect). Yashiro thought he knew all of Doumeki, yet as he’s come to realize over the last few days, he doesn’t quite know him as well as he thought. I don’t think I have to give any examples of Doumeki’s changes because we are all aware that he is different, but if I had to give one example, I would say:

I think this has said this before, but it’s is a stark contrast from 4 years ago:

I don’t think I have to explain the importance of autonomy and living for yourself first. I think the previous panel perfectly summarizes Doumeki’s maturity and growth. Doumeki has truly outgrown his boyish fascination with Yashiro that bordered on self-destruction and delusion, and has become a man with goals and principles that will outlive whatever circumstance he is currently in. This is not to say that he is incapable of loving Yashiro, but rather, this simply means that there is a place and time for all of life’s pleasures— love is one of them, but so is autonomy.

Yashiro is more than aware of this. In fact, the absence of autonomy was one of the reasons he let Doumeki go:

Back to this quote: “Suddenly I realized, there’s no need to get rid of anything if I didn’t know it in the first place,” accompanied by this image:

The Doumeki in Yashiro’s imagination is the one that looks him in the eyes and says what he thinks. It’s not the Doumeki following him around blindly:

The person Yashiro thought he knew turned out to be a lot more self-assured, independent, and wise, unlike the little bird who would fall to his death to follow Yashiro without thought. This is not someone Yashiro has to worry over either corrupting or endangering, because he is already a fully-formed individual with his own values, beliefs, and agency.

Back to Inami’s bedroom. After the sex, Yashiro asks for information about the Okuyama Group, which Inami offers up. Then Inami asks Yashiro to share his info. Yashiro refuses, saying his body should suffice as payment. Inami turns to him, and asks whether Yashiro is placing too much value on “being a tranny.” Yashiro smiles and tells him “no, try to understand the premise,” which basically just means that their deal is: sex for info. Inami gets sex, Yashiro gets info. The deal is not: we both get sex and then we share info. Inami, however, doesn’t seem to understand the premise— he thinks Yashiro wants sex from him.

When Inami drops Yashiro off, a similar sort of exchange happens, with Inami falsely believing that Yashiro wants to have sex with him. In this conversation by the car, Inami begins to insult Yashiro again. He tells Yashiro that he must be happy that another “decent” guy like Doumeki has fallen from grace. Inami is suggesting that Doumeki is decent, while Yashiro is not. Of course, this is referring to the fact that Yashiro lets men have hardcore sex with him.

Yashiro turns around and says, “decent, huh.” He was going to walk away, but he decides to lay it out again for Inami, so he understands the premise. Yashiro looks him in the face with a grin and says, “[Doumeki] thinks I’m the one wanting to have sex with you.” Surely this would ring some bells, but it doesn’t. Inami says, “but you do want to, don’t you? … you’re the one who wants to be treated violently.” Not only does Inami not understand Yashiro, but he also doesn’t understand himself. In his mind, Yashiro is the pervert in their relationship; Yashiro is the one that gets off on violence, not Inami. Inami thinks he is merely giving Yashiro what he wants. He’s deluded himself into believing that he’s a decent guy and Yashiro the sinner.

The Yashiro from 4 years ago believed this too. Yashiro always thought of himself as the masochist and pervert in all of his sexual relationships. Yet, what the relationship with Inami has shown us is that Yashiro is just a passive participant, often at the mercy of violent partners. Most of his sex partners have been yakuza that look down on gay men and treat them violently in bed. The same people then turn around and insult Yashiro, instead of acknowledging their own immoral behaviour. Yashiro had internalized the insults and beatings up until now.

In chapter 47, Yashiro calls Inami a rapist (in his mind) and challenges him head-on to acknowledge the true dynamic of their relationship. Again, this changes the onus of responsibility from Yashiro to Inami. This is a huge step for Yashiro. Like, really, really big. The shift in responsibility clears Yashiro of negative labels, including “pervert” and “twisted,” and goes back to my earlier statement about the overarching theme of this chapter. Yashiro has realized that he is not a bad person, and that he can and should be loved. When Doumeki shows up, Yashiro looks at him with a serene expression, and says, “he’s not my guard dog anymore,” meaning that Yashiro no longer fears corrupting an innocent and naive Doumeki, both because Yashiro is NOT a corrupting force and because Doumeki is mature enough to take care of himself.

And since I said I’d come back to the dream that was haunting Yashiro and subconsciously telling him to change: Yashiro has stopped resisting Doumeki’s advancement and is allowing himself more and more closeness. In chapter 48 Yashiro follows Doumeki back to Tsunakawa’s place, and of course, chooses Doumeki as his guard. None of this development would have been possible without the long-awaited recognition in chapter 47. Although it’s a long and slow process, Yashiro has started the hard job of forgiving himself.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #analysis #chapter review #chapter 47 #yashiro #doumeki #inami

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