#It's calculated too make sure he's the one to suffer the most | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zombieunicorngamerzu · 5 months

Text

(Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss x New Youngest BAU agent fem reader)

[Warnings- Power Dynamics, Stalking, Dark themes, Case details, Slow burn? Drowning and being revived, hypothermia, shared bath with Aaron, Naive reader, Mommy and Daddy, PNV sex, innocent reader, smut, claiming, creampies spanking, praise, aftercare]

The day you joined the BAU, you thought everybody was very nice, the others were welcoming, but the two that stuck out the most to you were SSA Aaron Hotchner, who greeted you with a firm handshake and a hand on your back, his voice was deep, rough, and monotone, but you could tell in his eyes that he showed a little concern over you, probably because you were only nineteen, but you were a genius, like Spencer Reid you held a extremely high IQ, causing the FBI to recruit you after you hacked into their main systems on “accident”, Garcia was actually the one to catch you and then recommend you after you were caught to join the FBI.

Next was Emily Prentiss, she greeted you with a smile and a hug, she was so warm and friendly but she held more concern over you, a protectiveness and slight affection for you she showed well to others if they got too close to you. She saved you from many situations, either with people underestimating you when you joined a case or with unsubs who tried to prey on you for your, what she called, “naivety.” Emily always claimed you showed too much compassion to unsubs when interrogating or provoking.

That’s what you were good at, you surprised the team with your abilities to get into the minds of unsubs, your ability to predict their behavior or intentions even surpassed Spencer, which shocked the entire team. You, this little ball of smiles and shyness turned into a calculating manipulator as soon as you hit the interrogation room. You were unmatched and always used tactics of bonding with the unsubs, empathizing with them before using tactics of, “I would do the same if I were in your position,” or “That must have been so hard for you, I can’t even imagine being alone like that and suffering, how do you do it?”

You would play unsubs like a violin with your “caring” displays, you showed them more respect and empathy than anyone in their lives did, practically lovebombing them with care and concern while playing dumb the whole time. You were actually the smartest on the team which gained you respect a lot. The only issues you had were… well you, your clumsiness, your inability to be aware of your surroundings, how easily you would get distracted, you constantly worried both Emily, Hotch, and the others, they constantly wondered how the hell you were still alive.

Both Emily, Hotch, and JJ were your main supervisors on missions, having to literally be attached to your hip to make sure you didn’t get ambushed or injured simply because you just couldn’t be aware of your surroundings. Even outside of work both Emily and Hotch have had to “watch over you” to make sure you were safe, you couldn’t drive surprisingly, which both of them didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but you took the subway to and from work everyday, Emily and Hotch took turns, “subtly” making sure to take the train every morning and late night just to make sure you got home safe or they would just offer to drive you, which is what you usually did after a few months of working with them.

But months into the job, after a particularly hard mission that took you all to Alaska, Emily and Hotch freaked, like growing totally overbearing and overprotective, not leaving your side. That mission was a nightmare. You couldn’t stand the cold, so literally once you got there you just couldn’t function, Emily was the first to notice how you grew quiet, practically mute, shivering violently even in the three layers and coat she dressed you in. She tried to help by rubbing your shoulders and keeping you close to her and Hotch, but nothing worked.

The team had never seen you so quiet, you just were not built for this case, or the cold weather. Even when you had to share rooms at the small inn you didn't react, too busy shivering due to the cold, you didn't care or comprehend the fact that Emily had been holding you the whole time, or the fact that when you were burying your face into her shoulder Emily smiled. You were led up to a small room in the inn with, wow... only one bed and a small couch. You immediately said you could take the couch but were cut off by both Emily and Aaron who you were bunking with that it would be warmer if you shared the bed together.

So that's where you ended up for the night, sandwiched between the two older agents until early dawn when you had to get up and get dressed to head into the cold again to another crime scene due to the killer striking again in the night. You were again, quiet, grumpy, and miserable, and it didn't help that the crime scene was on the docs near the icy dark depths of water. You were petrified of bodies of water, and you never knew why, you just stayed away from water all you could, plus you couldn't swim. Emily was the first to notice you staring at the water with an almost fearful expression, walking over to you to nudge you gently, "Hey, you okay?"

You snapped your head up quickly at the nudge, nodding as you crossed your arms, "Yeah, just cold." She just raised her brows at you. "Really? Because you're staring at the water like it did something to you." You just sighed, looking up at her hesitantly, "I just- I don't like water." She frowned a little in confusion, "Why?" The way Emily was staring at you with her head tilted made you fluster, it was embarrassing to you, so you just lowered your head with a sigh, seeing the cold mist that your breath gave as you shuttered, "I-I can't swim."

Emily's eyes widened at your words, now she felt paranoid about you even being on the doc, her hand gently wrapping around your arm to pull you a little further away from the edge as she spoke, "Then how about we keep you away from these ledges, yeah?" You just blushed at the way she tried to protect you from the possibility of slipping, she watched you much closer now until you got off the docks, everybody heading back to the inn for the day. When you got back you decided to try to hang around down in the common area, watching out the windows with some hot chocolate before something caught your eye.

You immediately dropped your mug down on the table with a yell to the others as you saw a hooded figure dragging what you assumed to be a victim down to the docs, running out the door, and drawing your gun as you chased after them. You could hear commotion and yelling behind you, so you knew the others were coming, that made you feel slightly better as you ran out on the docs, it was dark and hard to see, your breathes heavy as you looked around for the unsub before you felt a shove against your back, slipping before your entire body went into shock at the feeling of water, cold water surrounding you.

Emily, Derek, and Aaron were the first ones out of the inn and the first to see the unsub shove you into the water, Emily practically screamed when she saw you slip and fall in, her voice booming out to Aaron as he barked at Derek to go after the unsub, JJ already on him, "Aaron, she cant swim!" Aarons eyes widened at Emily's words before he was running over to the doc with Emily calling out for him, but he didn't stop, he jumped in straight after you.

You didn't know what to do, flailing in complete shock with a scream of terror for help. You were petrified at the water swallowing you up, the temperature shocked your body to the point you couldn't feel it, all you remembered was going under and then darkness, piercing cold, heaviness, your lungs on fire, quickly growing tired due to fighting the water and not knowing which way was up, eventually you just gave up, letting the darkness swallow you up. You didn't remember much during that time, you didn't know how long you were under, a minute? Two? More? All you knew was that you felt a strong frame pulling your body against theirs before you were hauled up.

Emily stood above, immediately crouching down as Aaron came back up, shivering and panting with his hair wet as he held you up for Emily to take, "Take her, Take her!" he yelled out as her hands went down to grab you, pulling your limp body out of the water with a grunt onto the doc as Aaron pulled himself out, he straddled you without hesitation to check your pulse, "Shit, she's not breathing, her pulse is too weak." Emily sat down on her knees quickly, brushing your hair out of your face, tapping your cheeks, "Come on, pretty girl, don't do this to us!" Aaron just grunted and began chest compressions, alternating between compressions and breathing air into your lungs, he was terrified he'd lose you.

You couldn't move, that's all you knew, you barely even registered someone doing compressions on you, voices were muffled but there was yelling and then someone's lips against yours forcing air down your throat until you felt like you were choking, it took a whole 45 seconds to revive you from your unconscious state, one last breathe of air into you until you were keeling over with a lurch straight into Emily's arms, coughing up copious amounts of water from your lungs as she slapped at your back, her voice shaky, "Good girl, baby, cough it out, get it all out." She just breathed out in relief, giving Aaron a look as he sat up on his knees, closing his eyes with relief before getting up.

"We gotta get her warm." Aaron husked out quickly as he picked you up, you didn't have much fight left in you anyway to refuse as he carried you back to the inn and up to the room with Emily in tow. Emily immediately got to drawing a bath for you as Aaron sat you on the toilet lid with you shivering violently, his hands peeling off his own shirt while trying to keep you sat up and conscious before Emily helped him undress you, her voice soft as she spoke, "You both need to get warm, you can't stay in those clothes."

She took a breath at the sight of Aarons abs and your smaller frame, biting her lip as she knelt down to speak to you, "Hey, Y/N, if you can hear me, you and Aaron are gonna sit in that tub together, you have to get warm." She tried to warn you even though you were practically unresponsive, just giving weak whimpers back, before she helped Aaron pick you up and place you in the warm water. You were still shivering violently when Aaron sunk in behind you while Emily sat to the side, watching with concern as she looked at Aaron, "What was she thinking, going after the unsub like that? Especially to the docs- I just-"

"Emily, we cant control that now, all we can do is take care of her now and reprimand her when shes in better health." Aaron spoke out in a gravelly tone as he brushed your hair out of your face, as shameful as Aaron felt, to have your naked body so close and pressed up to his, it made him hard. He tried to shift his body to be respectful, but you were basically on his lap, he just bit his lip with a soft groan, closing his eyes as he pushed his cock between your inner thighs to rest there. Emily's pupils dilated as she watched, blushing as she shifted in her spot, "God, Aaron... I want her just as bad as you do."

Aaron just chuckled with a shake of his head as he tightened his hold on you, "I don't know about that, you can't feel how soft her skin is right now, Em." He husked out which only made Emily tilt her head at him with a small smirk, "Yeah? Well let's get our baby feeling better and hopefully, we'll both be able to feel her." She purred out. Aaron just nodded with a low groan, his eyes closing. You probably laid against Aaron in the bath for over an hour, at least until it got a bit cold until you were lifted up and wrapped in a fluffy robe before taken to bed and covered in at least three blankets with both Emily and Aaron holding you between them.

When morning came, you slowly woke to the sounds of breathy feminine moans and soft grunts, frowning as you squirmed at the feeling of the bed bouncing before rolling onto your side into Aaron, he felt so warm before you noticed his heavy breathes alongside Emily's, finally registering why the bed stopped moving once you opened your eyes. Emily was straddled on Aarons cock with her hands on his chest, she was riding him with you laid right next to them. They both were still, you were shocked until Emily spoke, "Hey baby, were sorry... we couldn't help it, we just-" Aaron cut her off by pulling you closer and meeting your lips in a hot kiss, mumbling out against your lips, "You scared us last night, babygirl... we thought we lost you. Never scare us like that again." He spoke out firmly, cupping your chin.

You just stared at them both, wide-eyed and with a blush, you didn't know what do to, its true you had developed a crush on the both of them, but you thought that just because they were the first male and female superiors you had, your mommy and daddy issues acting up, but no. Here you were laying beside them as they fucked. Emily just tucked your hair away before leaning down to kiss your forehead, "Shh baby, let Mommy and Daddy have our fun and then well tend to you." She husked out before moaning as she raised herself up on Aarons cock before sinking back down and building her pace again as she panted out, "You just watch baby."

You let out a soft whimper as you watched Emily ride Hotch, she was passionate, her hips rolling with every thrust of her hips down, Hotchs hands sliding up her waist before he gripped and thrust up to meet her, making them both moan as they joined together, Emily's tits bouncing as she only rode him harder and faster the closer they got to cumming together. Emily was experienced in her own pleasure, rubbing her clit as she sank up and down on Hotchs cock, her moans getting huskier as she closed her eyes before you saw hoe Hotch slid his hands to grip at her ass as a vice to thrust his hips up quicker, seeing how his cock would stretch her and disappear inside her with each slam of his hips up made you squirm, you were soaking wet seeing how they fucked, especially hearing Emily moan as she came.

Emily cried out as she came around Hotchs cock, causing him to groan out at the feeling as he came inside her, you watched as Emily lurched and trembled, her thighs shaking as her hips twitched, her cunt gripping around Hotchs cock tighter and tighter, spilling cum down his shaft before she slowly raised up and off his cock, his cum spilling out of her as she crawled onto you, untying your robe with a tender kiss to your lips, "Is this okay baby, are you okay with this?" Emily needed to make sure you were alright before she continued, but she was answered by a timid nod from you, making her smile, "Good girl." She hummed out before kissing you again, darting her tongue into your mouth as she slid her hand down between your thighs to feel your wetness, moaning when she did.

"Oh, Aaron, she's so wet for us... did watching us make you that excited baby?" she purred out with a devious smirk as she nudged her nose against yours and found your clit with her fingertips, rubbing little circles immediately, which made you moan out and arch, closing your eyes at the warm buildup of pleasure her fingers blessed you with before they were joined by another larger pare that prodded at your entrance, whining when you felt Aaron slip a finger inside your tight wetness while he leaned over to press his lips against your nipple to suck. The stimulation of Emily's fingers rubbing circles on your clit to Aaron pumping and curling his finger inside you to his lips wrapped around your nipple, it was enough to quickly make you cum in minutes.

Luckily, minutes were all Hotch needed to get hard again, I mean it wasn't difficult due to how adorable you sounded as you came. He was a sucker for you, secretly, he loved how small you were compared to him. Emily pulled away slightly to let Aaron sit up between your thighs, but what surprised you most was when he flipped you, forcing you onto your tummy in a arch as Emily settled in front of you, her legs spread as she guided you to her soaked cunt, her voice gentle but filled with lust, "Now baby, your gonna take Daddy's cock while you eat Mommy out, okay?" You just nodded with a blush, always so eager to please before your face was shoved into her pussy by Aarons hand on the back of your head.

You let out a cry when you felt Aarons cock push into you from behind, feeling the slow stretch of your wet little pussy stretching around his girthy cock made you tremble from the feeling, moaning into Emily's pussy which made her shiver from the stimulation on her clit before you felt Aaron start to thrust into you at a punishing pace, his cock rockhard as you felt him graze against your gspot with each thrust, your eyes rolling in pleasure with a groan into Emily's pussy as you tried to lap at her clit, but it was so hard with how good Aaron felt, his words making your pussy flutter around his cock, "Mmm... that's it, baby, take my cock. You were made for it, weren't you? Such a good girl."

"Yes, she is! Fuck- such a pretty mouth on her, eating mommy out like a good girl... yes baby, suck, suck for mommy!" Emily moaned out with her hand in your hair as she shoved your face harder against her cunt, feeling her orgasm close, crying out as she felt your lips wrap around her clit to suck, making her cum quick and hard, her grip tight on your hair as Aaron sped up his thrusts, making you whine. You felt his pace, rough and fast, his hips snapping against your ass with a slap to your ass as he praised you, sinking his cock deeper into you with every thrust, your ass so soft against his pelvis as he slammed into you with a groan, holding your hips tight as he emptied his seed into you, sending you spiraling into your own orgasm, trembling violently with a loud cry between the two of them as you clamped down on his cock.

"Oh fuck..." Aaron just groaned as he slowly pulled out of you, seeing his cum-covered cock twitching still as he finally slipped out of you, seeing his cum ooze out of your used little hole made him moan. You couldn't help the whimper that left your lips at the emptiness, but you were quickly pulled up into Emily's arms as she laid your head on her chest, kissing your head. "You did so well baby." Aaron nodded and kissed your back before laying down next to you two, speaking lowly, "You did love, so please, no more diving into cold waters... never scare us like that again, we couldn't stand losing you, Y/N..." You just nodded quietly, still recovering from the fear of the night before as you spoke, "I promise." That was all they needed to hear before you were snuggled back under the blankets by the two of them and attacked with many kisses.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #Aaron Hotcher x Emily Prentiss #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x female reader #emily prentiss wlw #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader

656 notes · View notes

ozzgin · 8 months

Note

How would the guys react to prehistoric reader fighting pickle (and she wins if that’s akay) Since he angered her. Because he ate her food( or she really loves food or she’s on her period)

(hope it makes sense )

I can never say no to a strong female character so it’s absolutely okay! If you‘d be so kind, I have two more asks regarding the prehistoric reader that I think are somewhat similar, so I’d just combine them under your request.

The first request: prehistoric pregnant reader “adopts” Baki (our affection deprived boy could use some love); her first spoken word is “Pickle”, and finally she gives birth to twins

The second request: prehistoric reader begins understanding modern human language, surprising the fighters, and begins translating for Pickle.

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Fem Reader (II)

Featuring Pickle and his challengers. The sequel to our prehistoric reader that just gave birth and is slowly cozying up to modern life.

Reader wins against Pickle

You don’t even remember what set you off. Maybe the pregnancy hormones had gotten out of hand, or Pickle’s successive wins had earned him too much audacity. What’s certain is that you weren’t pleased with his attitude and decided to remind him you’re not one of the humans for him to show this insolence.

Hearing the savage, vicious growls that erupted from your chest as you slammed Pickle’s unconscious body into the ground one final time, no one really dared to interrupt you. Retsu, Katsumi and Jack had already received extensive injuries from a Pickle that held back still. They didn’t wish to ponder what you could do to them in your current state. Baki glanced at his father, wondering if he’d be tempted to challenge you during this unique opportunity.

Yuujirou, however, was trying his best to hold back his laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so entertained. If you were moping the floors with Pickle with a massive pregnant belly, how damn strong were you on a regular day? He nearly put his hands together in prayer, hoping you’d stick around once you were done popping kids. He wanted to fight you so badly and felt like a schoolgirl kicking her feet on the mattress the night before a class trip.

Baki finds it amusing that you’re seemingly stronger than Pickle. His only goal is defeating his father. Of course, anyone strong enough could provide him with extra training for the final battle, but at this point, with you as his opponent, he might actually be overreaching. He hopes you won’t decide to fight Yuujirou anytime soon, because he wants to be the one to defeat him first. Jack shares this sentiment but is also a bit deflated knowing how big the gap between him and the ancient humans is.

Reader’s first word

Pickle is curled up in his enclosure’s tree trunk, pouting mildly after the angry defeat he suffered. To add insult to the injury, he can hear Baki’s spoiled chuckles as you feed him some of your T-Rex meat. After his fight with Pickle, the young boy was most open to receive aftercare and attention and you found it utterly adorable that someone as strong as him enjoyed special treatment.

The other men found it rather humiliating to rely on you and would gently let you know that they can manage just fine. But Baki immediately clung onto you and in time you began to wonder about his family. You weren’t entirely sure how to express the question to him. Did he have a mother? Where was she? How would you gesture for “mother” in the first place? If only you could articulate the same noises the other humans used to communicate. It looked very efficient and also very complex.

You glance at Pickle’s hiding spot, lost in thought. You try to replay some of the dialogues you’ve witnessed. In your mind, you closely observe the men discussing things in front of your prehistoric mate. The way their jaw opens and closes at calculated intervals. Why is the tongue contracting so frequently? Is this the tool needed to turn your growls into intentional, obvious messages? You pucker your lips and allow some air to blow out, like a faint whistle. Then, you tighten your lips and release them with pressure, and a “pop” sound comes out. Baki observes your attempts, confused. You press your tongue against the roof of your mouth and exhale. Another flattened whistle is released.

Finally, you flex your vocal chords with just enough force that the growl smoothens out and is replaced by a continuous voice. You repeat the movements that you’ve practiced in your head. So many people have used this word when looking at him. It can only mean one thing, and you want to hear it roll out of your own mouth. “Pi-ku-ru~”

Pickle pokes his head out of the enclosure, perplexed. That was certainly your voice, but the contents delivered by it were nothing he would’ve expected. His eyebrows are raised and he looks at your equally shocked expression. Baki is dumbfounded. He feels like he just witnessed something forbidden, of unspeakable importance. The raw piece of meat hangs in his mouth, yet to be chewed. You turn to the small human, seeking approval. Was this the correct way to do it? Have you made your message clear?

Before a potential answer comes out, you rush to Pickle and grab his face between your hands. Such a bizarre sensation. Within this vast, intricate language that the humans used, this one sequence of contractions and movements was specially designated for him. This one prolonged sound, and his eyes will lock with yours because he knows it’s him you’re calling. You gently kiss Pickle and he clumsily returns the gesture, still unsure of what is happening.

Birth and aftermath

Professor Payne is pacing in front of the hospital room. He doesn’t know what to be more excited about. The fact that two more prehistoric humans will soon walk the modern Earth, or that their mother casually reproduced articulate language just a few days ago. He clenches his fist in his pocket, somewhat resentful of Baki for being the one to retell the story. What unbelievable potential. His nostrils can already pick up the fresh ink of the soon-to-be published newspapers: “Noam Chomsky’s works in linguistics threatened by latest breakthrough - Discovery of Dr. Payne shows that ancient, Jurassic humans posses the skill to acquire spoken language. Implications unknown.”

Meanwhile, the fighters are gathered in the cramped hospital room. As they have proven their friendship to Pickle, it’s only natural to share this intimate moment with him. Pickle is holding one baby in each arm, cooing at them excitedly. Katsumi is pretending to be focused on a sight outside the window in order to hide his glossy eyes; births are always emotional for him. Retsu is standing close to the entrance, arms folded. He, too, is distracted by the knowledge that you may understand them and reproduce their words. He absentmindedly goes back to his encounters with you, hoping he didn’t say anything out of place that you might’ve picked up.

Baki is sitting on the side of your bed, carefully kneading your hand in an attempt to relax you. “You really should try some of the hospital food, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a dish this fancy!” He smiles at you and then nods in the direction of the tray. You follow his gaze and process his words. “Want try?” You manage to croak. Everyone in the room pauses to look at you. They already knew it from Baki, but hearing it firsthand truly is an astonishing experience. There’s a silent enthusiasm shared by the men standing close and Pickle tenses up, a small frown forming on his face. They better not get any ideas.

“What do you think about your new siblings?” Jack questions Baki jokingly. “Given you’ve been adopted by (Y/N) and all.” You follow the conversation with analytical eyes and Jack wants to try his hand at explaining the words to you. Once the meanings start to connect, you laugh and begin gesturing to Pickle, aided by short growls. Everyone assumes you’re translating to him. Pickle glares at Baki and his hold on the babies tightens, perhaps too hesitant to agree to your bond with the little modern human.

Pickle sighs deeply. Not only was he thrown into this strange world, but now there’s a bunch of men that are starting to show too much interest in you. He’ll have to put them in their place very soon if this continues. He’s especially annoyed at your fast learning pace when it comes to conversing with these creatures. He needs to hurry up and catch up to you if he wants to know the intentions of his rival friends.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader #pickle x reader #baki headcanons #pickle baki #baki hanma #jack hanma #katsumi orochi

1K notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 10 months

Note

How would you feel about the concept of self aware!Bailey who slowly becomes obsessed with the person controlling the PC?

Oh shit, that's actually brilliant. Like, he's known PC their entire lives, but suddenly they develop an entirely new personality, presumably much different than the one they had before. Suddenly, they're extremely competent, or intelligent, and they're certainly attracting attention that they weren't before. Obviously, it's his business to know things, so he starts paying extra attention. Acutely studying things that happen. And it seems like their moves are almost calculated. Some moments, he starts to notice, seem like they last ages. They can change their attitude at will. Sometimes, it's like they know what's going to happen before ever does. Like they've lived it before.

When he tries to deviate from his routine, it seems like something won't allow it. Baily is a canny guy. Enough of a change and he'd figure something out.

You enter the orphanage, only to run smack into Bailey. He glares at you for a moment before grabbing your shoulders. You flinch, thinking he's going to hurt you, but all he does is stare into your eyes for a moment before releasing you.

He leaves without a word.

+ Stress

It starts to drive him a little crazy. There's something he can't put his finger on; something he can't control. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like his life tends to revolve around the PC. He knows he interacts with other people-- he has memories of doing it. But it seems like he's never actually doing it. Only knows that he has.

How are they getting all this money, anyway? His demands are purposefully outrageous. They are making more money than most people in the entire town and have some to spare. No one is that good at surviving here.

No one. Unless they're cheating somehow.

Someone enters your room. It's Bailey.

"Time to pay up." You hand him the money, and he cards through it for a moment, seemingly counting it out. There's a strange look on his face, and he looks at you with suspicion.

"How'd you get this?" He holds it up accusingly.

You stare at him with confusion on your face. He's never cared how you got it before. In fact, he deliberately avoids asking.

You don't answer.

He snarls and leaves, slamming your door shut as he does.

It hits him one day. As insane as it sounds, he understands. Everything fits a little too perfectly.

He doesn't tell a soul. He doesn't want to end up in Dr. Harper's care.

Or would this place even allow him to tell anyone? Would Harper even have protocol for that, or would they just stare at him lifelessly like they tend to do sometimes?

Bailey gives you a creepy stare— and yet, it seems he's looking right through you. Almost something behind you. You peer behind yourself, and there's nothing.

"I know you're there," is all he says before returning to his paperwork, dismissing you without an explanation.

It gives you the chills.

+ Stress

He's left irritated, but more than that, he's curious. What is it you want? Do you get off on this? Watching this wretched little shithole suffer?

What does this have to do with PC? Why did you take over them? Why are you helping them?

You're not a God-- he's relatively sure of that. But you have enough power to get this little orphan out of trouble. Enough foresight to keep them safe and somewhat healthy.

What do you want? Why do you let it all happen?

...Or is this what you want?

Bailey drags you to his office. You aren't sure what you've done. You've paid him, and that's usually all he cares about.

Once you're inside, he locks the door, slamming you against it with a hand on your throat. Again, he's not quite looking at you. It's somehow more unnerving than if he was glaring.

+ Stress

"What do you want?" He snarls, baring teeth at you.

You don't understand what he means. You try to respond, but only wheezing breaths escape you as he clenches your neck.

+ Willpower

"Why are you doing this?" He hisses, squeezing harder. You feel bruises forming.

+ Pain + Arousal

He holds you like that for a moment, quaking in anger, before he suddenly releases you in a moment of clarity.

"Get out. I don't expect you to have the answers."

You scramble through the door holding your throat, not wanting to give him another chance to attack you.

W̴h̵a̵t̷ ̵t̵h̷e̶ ̵h̷e̶l̷l̶ ̸w̷a̴s̸ ̴t̶h̸a̷t̵ ̶a̴b̶o̴u̷t̸?̴

Once he notices it, it's impossible to ignore. They win every competition. Commit crimes but evade the police. They can do things with such ease that it's unnatural.

He can't see you, but he knows you're there. Knows you're watching. You're aware of his presence and now he's aware of yours.

Maybe that's it. Maybe you're a voyeuristic little whore. A talented one, but still a whore.

Perhaps you get off on this. Is that it? You like watching? Or do you live vicariously through his orphan somehow? Maybe that's what it is.

Maybe you wish it was you.

You wake up with a start to find B̷̤̹́̿a̸̮͈̗͗i̶͎̳͈̽̈́l̵̙͚̈́͝e̴̱̓̏͝ÿ̴̮̝̼́͋͝ climbing on top of you. You try to scream, but he claps a hand over your mouth.

"I know you want this. Don't you? Is that what this is about?"

You can't speak with his hand still clamped over your face, but something tells you it doesn't matter. There's something about his eyes that terrifies you. You feel him hard and throbbing in his slacks, but again, he ï̷̩̠s̵̲̠̒̐n̴͚̜̓'̴̹͕̈t̸̛̮̓ ̵̦̫͐͘q̶̗́͑u̴̝͋̐i̷̝̅̄͜t̶̢̥́́ë̷̝͍́ ̵̯͂l̴̋͜o̷͙͎̚ǒ̸̻̻̈k̴͇͎̊̂i̷̛̪͒n̴̳͂̽g̵̖̏ ̴̦̌a̵̤̟͌ẗ̸͔̞́ ̵̝͇̀̅y̶͉̹̑o̸͇̝͊̌ụ̶̹͐̆.

Your sense of control cracks.

He rips at your clothes, tearing your pajamas to shreds. His left hand pulls down his slacks. His right hand holds you down.

+ Trauma

+ Stress

+ Arousal

He looks eager. He looks aroused. He looks incredibly pissed off. He looks {n̷̺̤͘u̷͙̎ͅl̶̰̈́ḷ̴͖̈́̓}

He can't touch you, but he can touch them all over. That's what you want, isn't it?

He wouldn't have looked twice at them before. Even now, something inside of him fights. Tells him no. A voice that isn't his. Something trying to control his movements. Control his thoughts. Control him.

Oh, no. He doesn't fucking think so. But if you can get in here, he can get out. He's aware, and he knows that wasn't mean to happen. But now that he is, he just needs some time. Some time to prod at the fraying seams of reality to find a crack.

No, he can't touch you.

Y̶̩̰̋ė̸̥̗͑t̶̻̆.̶̛̫͙̍

#morgana and friends #degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker #dol bailey #Just a goofy lil thang #Love the concept #he's so aloof and doesn't give a shit #what if he found out that was a manufactured feeling #he isn't even in power here #YOU are #and power is attracted to power #oooh you gunna get it when he figures out how to get out of this place #the laws of his reality are made up #maybe yours are too #you have power here #but maybe he has power *out there*

543 notes · View notes

catboybiologist · 3 months

Text

Alright I can't finish this all in one sitting, but here's at least a bit of.... something? A word vomit? A prelude to smut about the eroticism of the machine? For all you robot, mecha, and spaceship fuckers out there. @k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl that means you

Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.

But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.

The Federation Navy had experimented with biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- something to interface with the hull, move the new titanium plates and particulates into place, have a living, growing mass interfacing with the steel so that the ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.

The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous interface with the hull full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?

Until some bastard put brains in 'em.

Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, and integrating with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....

But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, and let them suffer and rot after disposal. So as far as the official record was concerned, they didn't have brains.

Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on a... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship. They were pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.

But I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.

The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chasiss I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.

Those would probably come in handy today.

I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.

When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.

I strapped in to the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.

"Welcome, Captain Victoria."

Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as the tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, that was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.

I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. But whatever reason that was, the best pilots were still the ones that knew both their ship, and the ship's brain. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well.

As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers rooting them into the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"

Her tiny panel flickered on. ...?

"We got a scrap run."

^_^

Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and what Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.

My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.

Go time.

I punch the boost.

#eroticism of the machine #robot girl #mecha girl #spaceship girl #the fuck do I even tag this LOL #yall gotta tag this and make sure it gets to the right spaces for me okay

265 notes · View notes

turbulentscrawl · 5 months

Note

BUNS HEAR ME OUT.

Top 5 most protective survivors with the ‘who did this to you’ trope.

Let’s just say their S/O gets injured maybe in a match and it’s evident by the damage of the body that it’s definitely not accidental as they claim. So we get a “who did this?”

Maybe this could be a HC for you to do one day lol

Oh this one is quick and easy! I did go back and forth on the exact order here, but these are my top 5s. There is some overlap with the one I just did, but for the sake of changing it up a bit we’ll say that in this case your injuries are obviously also not from a Hunter.

Ganji is at the top because I think he’d be the most emotionally reactive to this specific situation. He’s not as severe as Naib in his revenge, but survivors hurting survivors is a big deal. Like, you’re all stuck here, in limbo, suffering, and some bitch thinks they’re going to start turning it into a free-for-all, too? Fuck no. He feels bad about it later, but he is a little aggressive while trying to get you to admit who did it. He’ll soften a bit if it was a genuine accident, but he still thinks everyone’s been here too long for simple carelessness to be an excuse. If it wasn’t an accident? There are unspoken rules here, and if the manor isn’t going to enforce them, Ganji sure as fuck will.

Naib still has to have a place here, but he’s a smidge lower because his anger is more controlled and calculating. His protective urges in general are pretty off-the-charts and, while he can’t do much about a Hunter hurting you in a game since that’s kinda the point, he can do something about a fellow survivor. He won’t press you too hard while you’re recovering, but frankly it doesn’t matter if you won’t tell him how it happened or who did it. He’s spent years of his life digging up information about targets and this is no different. If anything, it’s easier because he knows the culprit was someone else in the match with you.

Patricia comes after Naib and Ganji because her emotions lean towards desperation more than anger or bitterness. She’s been itching for someone deserving to lay her blood curse on, and this is the perfect opportunity. Someone who was supposed to be an ally has hurt her love? That’s rotten. That’s sinful. She won’t leave you be until you spill who did it. She’s gentle, of course, but every waking moment she spends with you during recovery is spent asking or subtly coaxing you to admit what happened. She’ll give up on asking after several days, but will forever be watching to see if your interactions with the others change. If she suspects anyone in particular, they’re gonna have a little chat.

Andrew can’t see what reason a fellow survivor would have to hurt you, but then he really can’t see reason at all when he’s so angry. He’s not nearly as likely as the others to go out of his way for revenge after-the fact, and he’s not intuitive enough to find out who did it if you won’t tell him…but FUCK he’s mad. Andrew just spends the next few days stewing in anger, tense, sucking his teeth, and cursing randomly in quiet moments. If you or someone else from your match tells him who did it, he makes it clear that he isn’t doing shit for them going forward. Oh, what’s that, they got chaired? Downed? Well, guess they’re fucked. He’d rather take the match loss than save their sorry ass.

Orpheus’s exact reaction is going to depend a bit on when you catch him with all of this. Getting hurt in the matches is normal and frankly he’s a bit numbed to it in most circumstances. But this isn’t a normal match wound, is it, dear? Some of his personalities are more reactive than others, and all of them are quite good at digging. He was a detective, after all. In short, he would appreciate it if you told him who hurt you…but even if you won’t snitch, rest assured he will find out. Whatever happens after that depends on which personality is in charge at the time.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #orpheus x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #patricia dorval x reader #naib subedar x reader #ganji gupta x reader #turbulentscrawl #multiple idv characters

220 notes · View notes

icequeenbae · 4 months

Note

Hii! This is a more slow burn request so I’m sorry if it’s a little difficult, but could I request Heartsteel Ezreal x reader who’s knowledgeable and quite sarcastic and quick witted with their replies? I just wonder how their meeting would go with the whole Black cat, golden retriever vibe!

And maybe the reader sometimes suffers from low self-esteem and burnout.

Pairing: Heartsteel!Ezreal x Reader ft. all members

Heartsteel AU, attempted humor, fluff

Warnings: grumpymanager!Reader, Kayn is annoying as fuck… language? lol

Word Count: ~1.4k

Author’s Note: Hiii~ Thank you for the Ezreal request, sweetie! I do have my favorites in Heartsteel to write for, and he is definitely at the top of that list <3 Not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but let’s give it a try! As usual, let me know via comments/ asks/ reblogs, I try stay on it~ P.S. The stuff I post for requests is usually not beta’ed, so pls bear with me…

You rubbed your tired eyes and cursed, checking if your fingers had any mascara on them. There was an issue to resolve, and you had hoped to finish up before the Heartsteel members returned to the waiting room after their rehearsal. But your plan failed miserably.

‘Our dearest manager!’ Kayn appeared next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. ‘Always working, what a busy little bee!’

You raised your eyebrow at him and stayed silent until he cleared his throat and retracted his arm, while the rest of the members scattered around the room, minding their own business.

‘Someone has to work around here,’ you replied, typing away on your laptop.

‘You should take a break and go grab something to eat at least,’ Yone suggested.

His amiable comment made you release a desperate sigh.

‘They messed up the mic backup, Yone. Not to mention that we have the music video budget due tomorrow and someone screwed up the calculations. I cannot let you film without the drones or the special effects crew. If you do everything yourselves, you’ll be dead before you go on stage again, and I will be ripped into a million tiny pieces by the company or your fans. And I don’t know which one’s worse…’

‘If that’s Sett’s fans you’ll live. They all twinky as shit, look at Phel.’ Kayn cackled, and Yone glared at him.

Sett and Aphelios exchanged looks, probably deciding to give their most annoying member a proper thrashing another time just for the sake of your emotional wellbeing. At least someone understood how dire the situation was.

‘How can I help?’ The producer asked.

Although you appreciated the offer, you knew that they had to perform tomorrow, so Yone would have to supervise the last of preparations starting early morning. You could not allow him to spend the night helping you and then go straight into tomorrow’s work. The price of a screwup was too high on this one.

‘You can help by taking them out for dinner and making sure they’re tucked in later. I don’t want anyone out wreaking any havoc while I’m not around to settle everything.’

‘That I can arrange.’ Yone nodded, giving the rest of the members a solid onceover. ‘You heard Y/N, boys. No fun for you tonight, we have a very long day tomorrow.’

‘Ugh. Buzzkill…’ Sett sighed, and Phel pinched him on the arm, hard. ‘Ow!!’

‘I think we can live with one night in, guys,’ Ezreal interjected. ‘We’re so tired anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself, young man. I am full of energy!’ K’Sante retorted.

What a traitorous blow! You’d expect it from anyone but him.

Noticing your flabbergasted expression, K’Sante quickly continued.

‘…which I can spend by working some iron in the gym before bed time.’

You shook your head, trying to focus on your spreadsheet again. It was a little- no, it was extremely overwhelming, trying to fix several urgent issues at once, while running on a couple hours of sleep, half a sandwich (had to donate the rest to Sett – he’s still growing, after all… or so he thinks) and way too much coffee.

‘Are you going to stay here though?’ Ezreal asked, sounding too quiet for his usual bubbly self.

You assumed he was afraid to get the short end of the stick and make you explode with his question. But you were too tired to even yell at any of them.

‘Not that I have any choice,’ you answered dryly. ‘Not everyone can teleport, Ezzie.’

He pursed his lips, probably realizing that it was best to leave you alone before you gave him the same glare that Kayn had earned earlier. Unlike the demonic bastard, Ezreal was among the members who preferred to stay away from you when you were fuming, as opposed to irritating you further to poke some fun. Yone had already spent a week negotiating for you to take back your resignation once, so they were on their best behavior ever since. Well, the best they could muster, which wasn’t that great but in the grand scheme of things… you’d take what you could get.

After they all vacated the premises, you finally managed to send the updated budget numbers for approval, and made a few calls about the mic replacement. It was unbelievable, but you really had to find someone to get the necessary equipment and fly in to bring it on time. So you stayed at the venue to be able to check whether everything worked fine right away.

But later that night, a mystery visitor woke you up while scooping you off the chair to get you onto the sofa.

‘Mhm- what… Who’s here??’ You jerked up from your uncomfortable sleeping position, accidentally hitting someone in the face with your head.

‘Ow!’ You heard someone squeak and turned around, finding Ezreal in pain, holding his hand to his nose.

‘What on Earth brings you here??’ You instinctively pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would help with the pain. ‘Wait, what time is it? Where is my phone??’

‘I took it,’ he said, wiping under his nose to check for blood.

Thankfully, there was none, and he was okay. Your nervous system, however, was not as lucky.

‘What do you mean, you took it??’ You frantically checked the time on your laptop. ‘3:23? I was supposed to meet someone an hour ago! Why didn’t you wake me up?!’

You grabbed your phone from blabbering Ezreal, but he clung to you like a koala.

‘Y/N, I-’

‘I know. You didn’t think properly, and now I will have to find a way to get that guy to come back if he isn’t sleeping in his hotel already… Shit, Ezzie, you fucked up! No, I fucked up. How could I have fallen asleep?? Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You knocked on your own head with your knuckles to make a point, and Ezreal caught you by the wrist with his two hands, looking as if you had hit him and not yourself.

‘Y/N, I already met with him and took the mics. We ran a test downstairs with some of the overnight technicians. Everything is set up and working fine.’

You blinked at him a few times, still confused.

‘Uh- You… did?’

‘Yes. I came back earlier and you were asleep. Then someone called you, so I figured- And then I went down and checked everything,’ he delivered anxiously. ‘I also brought you a sandwich- but I didn’t want to wake you, so…’

He grabbed a paper bag from the sofa and shoved it into your hands. You looked at it, and then back at Ezreal, your sleepy and stressed-out brain still catching up with everything.

‘Um- so you brought me… a sandwich?’ You asked.

‘Yes,’ he nodded, strangely bashful. ‘And a juice box.’

His cheeks became rosy, and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Ezreal looked like a stray puppy, unsure about whether it was safe to express his affection.

As your laughter settled, you finally exhaled. Everything was okay, thanks to your unexpected little helper for tonight. And now that he’d mentioned the food…

‘I hope you got me an extra-large one.’ You hummed, sitting your butt down.

‘I got two,’ he beamed. ‘And a chocolate bar.’

‘Good. You look like you could have some chocolate right about now.’

And of course, after such an eventful night, as well as the previous few days, having a full belly made you dozy again. Although you did notice Ezreal’s head slowly tilting towards your shoulder through the layer of drowsiness, you didn’t catch your own head leaning onto his.

Due to your carelessness, you were in for a rude awakening in just a few hours.

‘Now, isn’t that adorable?’ Even from the depths of hell you would have heard Kayn exclaim in the most obnoxious voice possible.

‘I’m taking a picture. For the family album!’ K’Sante announced, quick to utilize the camera on his phone.

‘Or future blackmail…’ Kayn sneered evilly.

‘Maybe I should post that picture of you stuck in the vault with your pants down, Shieda Kayn.’ You mused out loud, eyes still shut.

There were a few sounds resembling muffled cursing, and then Kayn walked it back.

‘Hey man, we shouldn’t take pictures of people sleeping. It’s illegal or some shit. Let’s just go check on the preparations, come on.’

And so, they went back to where they came from. ‘Manager…’ You heard Ezreal whisper, head still laying on your shoulder. ‘You’re amazing.’

Non-EXO masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading and happy holidays my sweethearts!! I have just a couple more requests to go~ I don't think I will take more for the time being but I might come up with another requests event for 900 or 1000 milestone! Please don't forget to comment and reblog if you want to support me 💜 And check out my masterlist for more of my HEARTSTEEL and kpop content 💕

139 notes · View notes

cookinguptales · 8 months

Text

Y'know, I post a lot on tumblr about what a shit Guillermo is, and I stand by that. He is a marvelous little shit. But honestly I only talk about it so much because people on tumblr and AO3 send me so many messages about how he's never done anything wrong in his life. When I'm presented with the opposite, that Guillermo is uniquely awful and selfish and he victimizes the poor uwu vampires (thinkpieces that you saw a lot more often during s3) I am fully like "I STAND BY EVERY DECISION THAT FOOLISH MAN HAS EVER MADE."

Being real with you, I feel like talking about Guillermo like he's totally blameless and put-upon or like he's totally selfish and wholly evil flattens a really complex and interesting character. He's selfish and self-involved and cruel and sweet and insecure and giving. He's all those things, and I love that about him.

I love Guillermo as a character because he has these carefully constructed categories in his head, these rules and boundaries that he sticks to like glue. He contains multitudes, and it's because he carefully follows the rules he has in his own head, even when they don't make a lot of sense to others.

I think the best way to think about Guillermo's actions is to think about him having two very different sets of rules for in-groups and out-groups. He will bend over backward for people in his in-group, will be the kindest, most patient, sweetest man in the world -- but he can be downright vicious to people in the out-group.

This is a pretty common occurrence IRL, though not always to the degree that Guillermo does it... I mean, you're going to treat your best friend's birthday differently than you're gonna treat a stranger's, right? When you start seeing it happen the way Guillermo does it, though, it's often to create and preserve power. You see it in politics, high school cliques, religion, etc.

For example, let's take new religious movements (or NRMs, i.e. "cults".) They are famous for this behavior. When you create distinct in-groups and out-groups and can behave very differently towards both, you give your followers a strong incentive to stay in the in-group. It makes them feel like they're the "good" ones, the superior ones, the ones with power. The ones that belong. And when they see out-groups being mistreated, well. No one wants to be in the group with no power who's mistreated, y'know? It simultaneously gives people in the in-group a sense of community, belonging, and social superiority and makes them afraid to leave.

But really, you see it all the time. If you have a "good" group that you can never harm and a "bad" group that you can do anything to, that really helps prop up power structures in a lot of ways. Look, I'm not going to get into this too much more because you don't want a freaking academic lecture on your dash, but suffice it to say that I think Guillermo is largely using his in-groups and out-groups in this way, mentally speaking.

He has in-groups (his friends, his family, his boyfriend, the vampires he lives with) and out-groups (literally everyone else, including other vampires) and he badly mistreats the out-groups because he does not want to be one of them. I've noticed he's particularly awful to human prey that reminds him of himself (nerdy, socially awkward, powerless, virginal) and I think that's because he wants to distance himself from them. He wants to make sure no one mistakes him as being part of that group, so he very strongly pushes them into his out-group by not only killing them, but making fun of them and often making sure they suffer before they die.

And then he's even more slavishly devoted to his in-groups, partially because he does truly love them, but partially because he desperately wants to stay in those groups. Or because he's trying to protect his own hide.

I don't mean to say that every kind thing he does is calculated -- I do think he very genuinely wants to make the people he loves happy -- but there's a sort of desperation to it sometimes. When he does these kind things, sometimes it's this desperate bid to be valued and accepted by others in his in-group, which makes him feel like he's earned his place there.

I've noticed that Guillermo has a tendency to do things for people to stay in their good graces (buying his mom a fridge, doing chores for Nandor, giving Derek money) when what they actually want is his time and attention. There often is a vibe that he's trying to earn his way into a group he doesn't quite feel entitled to when actually he's already very much a part of the group and he just needs to maintain those relationships. It's insecurity, frankly, and a nervous sort of self-preservation.

In fact... I'd say that Guillermo's greatest emotional struggles often come when trying to reconcile (and protect) different members of his in-group because he's trying to reconcile (and protect!!!) the different parts of himself.

Like... when he protected Jeremy, he was protecting a friend, but also the idea that some weak, virginal nerds are not prey. He had to protect this member of his in-group, partially because he loved him, but partially because he had to protect himself by extension. If Jeremy could be an exception to the predator-prey dynamics, so could he. Some humans could be valuable.

When he protected his fellow familiars during the familiar fights, he was protecting fellow humans whom he thought had "earned" a better life (and death) than prey humans, but he was also protecting the idea that a familiar could be loved and valued. He was protecting himself and the hope that Nandor would love him.

When he protected his family, he was protecting his beloved family members, but also the idea that vampires and slayers could coexist. Of course he doesn't want his family to die, but he's also doesn't want his hopes that he can have it all to die with them.

Let's all be real with each other here. Guillermo kills humans, and he does so without compunction. He is able to utterly dehumanize prey humans because he has a vested interest in emotionally distancing himself from them. But he gets kind of freaked out when the humans that he has mentally removed from that prey group (his friends, his family, people "like him") are not placed into that same exempt group by others. And this is definitely because he wants to protect those he loves!

But it's also because it means that he isn't special, either.

Let's talk about Freddie, who I think is probably the most complicated example of all this in the entire show. (Save perhaps Derek, who could probably get an entire post to himself because he went from out-group to in-group without Guillermo's consent.) When Freddie first arrived at the house, Nandor mistook him for prey. This understandably freaked Guillermo out, partially because he wanted to protect his boyfriend and partially because it was violating Guillermo's group dynamics.

(Insert meta here about Freddie representing Guillermo's ability to have a happy life outside of the weird, insular one he'd created for himself prior to s4.)

Freddie ended up being kind of special, though, because Guillermo considered him to be part of his in-group and Nandor considered him an out-group until he realized that Guillermo valued him. And then Nandor wanted him to not just be part of his in-group, but a portion of it separate from (but simultaneously representing) Guillermo. It's complicated!!

So we had Freddie 1 who was Guillermo's and Freddie 2 who was Nandor's, but... in the end, Freddie really belonged to no one but himself, right? In the end, he very literally chose himself. He left the -group dynamic altogether.

So Freddie is moving in and out of these groups like a fuckin' oiled-up eel that Guillermo cannot keep a hold of, and that really challenges his control issues as well as his ability to feel like he belongs in the in-groups he's created. It challenges his ability to feel worthy and loved and like he belongs anywhere. It challenges his ability to have faith that he'll ever become a vampire. Suddenly he does not control these groups anymore. If anything, they're controlling him.

While a lot of Guillermo's angst at the end of s4 was about, y'know, normal heartbreak... I think a lot of that was happening, too. He was really seeing the abrupt overturning of the carefully established rules and groups and boundaries and power differentials in his head, and that made him just want to be free of the whole thing.

So he took a step out of all of his preconceptions about what he did and did not have to do to belong in these groups, and took hold of his own destiny.

...unfortunately.

Guillermo's decisions in s4, both regarding his family and his turning, really did permanently shake up a lot of the group dynamics in the show. For better? For worse? (FOR GOOD...? lmao) It's hard to say, honestly. But I'm eager to see how he irons it all out in his head!

Our able-to-self-justify-literally-anything bitch. 💜

150 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 3 months

Text

Chocolate Milk (GN!Reader)

Pairing: Spock (AOS) x Gender Neutral Ensign Reader (platonic) Rating: General Audience Words: 1320 POV: Second Summary: Your childhood trauma left you near-emotionless. While most find it unsettling, there are some crew members appreciating you just the way you are. Note: Trauma not described, reader's physical traits also not described. I want to say ft. my OC, but he is deadass more present than Spock in this so ft. Spock I guess. Tags: mentioned trauma, platonic/professional appreciation, Ensign Michael Gabe the empath, alcohol mentions but no consumption, red alert and Kirk & Bones have a cameo

One moment the white hallways were too bright for the early hour and the next they were bathed in crimson. ‘Red Alert again?’ You wondered as you broke into a sprint. Red Alert happened at least once a month with captain Kirk looking for trouble left and right, but as far as times of crisis went, you had experienced far more distressing situations in your youth. At least, they felt more distressing as a child still figuring out who you are and why you were put into a world that was described as a utopia and yet so so full of suffering.

You arrived at your station not a moment too soon. You were gasping for air, just like your colleagues at the stations adjacent to you. Michael’s fingers trembled with every jolt of the ship. “Ensign Gabe, we need a read on their defences. Any weak spot would be appreciated,” the captain urged the man next to you. His blond hair started sticking to his forehead as he calibrated the scanners to adjust for the shields. You focused on your own task, but from the corners of your vision, you could see Michael making mistakes that were uncharacteristic to his intelligence.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Michael, deep breaths. You got this.” You spoke softly to him, trying to make sure he was the only one hearing your reassurance. You felt him inhale deeply, holding the air for a few seconds and then releasing it evenly. You were aware the empath could feel everyone's distress. With the physical contact you hoped your calmness stood out in the ocean of unease. The blond muttered a brief expression of gratitude. You occasionally touched his shoulder again, trying to focus his gifts on you so he could stay level-headed. Sure, you could die today, but you knew your task like the back of your hand and you knew Michael did as well, in spite of his nerves giving the wrong idea and his abilities nearly crippling him.

Things looked dire for a second, but hardly an hour later, you were at warp 4 en route to a space station for repairs. You stayed at your station monitoring repairs to the systems, while Michael left to get a ‘stiff drink’ as he called it. He could probably use it. You noticed how even lieutenant Chua seemed tense as he checked upon the injured on the bridge, calling over the CMO when he thought they might need a trip to sick bay. You watched how he carried the yeoman with a possible broken leg out to the turbolifts. “Ensign?” You realised you had been daydreaming a little. You whipped your head around, worried the SIC was about to scold you.

“Yes, commander?” Spock was the ever-intimidating presence on the bridge. Very little scared you, but the idea of disappointing your superiors and commander Spock particularly “All repairs are going as expected. We will make it to Sindku station in three hours at our current velocity.” You added your status report after a short pause, hoping that was what commander Spock wanted to hear.

He did not seem pleased with the answer. Some people would argue there was not a single expression to read on that half-Vulcan face, but you would disagree. You knew the subtle changes too well, have seen them in the mirror plenty of times to recognise them on another. You watched his thought progress, then breathed out a small sigh of relief when Spock seemed to have calculated his next words. “I am aware you have been called to duty during your leisure time. I will assign an on-duty officer to relieve you shortly.” You gave him a curt nod of comprehension. He then left.

And just as foretold, on-duty officers arrived to relieve the bridge staff that had their leisure time interrupted by the red alert. You decided to check on Michael. He was in the lounge, as expected. You had expected him to be drinking alcohol, but spotted him with a big glass of chocolate milk. “Is that your stiff drink?” You greeted him with those words when you stood next to him.

Michael looked up at you, a friendly smile plastered on his face. “What can I say? I prefer calories over alcohol.” He raised his half-empty glass as if he was toasting. “By the way, thanks for getting me through that red alert today. I…” he let out a breathy chuckle, “I really don’t get how you can always keep your cool, but I’m really glad to have someone like you around when all I am feeling from everyone else is the looming dread of death.” You gave him a nod and patted him on the back.

What you wanted to say was ‘you’re welcome, it’s the trauma’, but those jokes have not been funny since the early 21st century, so you opted for a more modern response. “We all have our virtues.” Michael raised his glass again, as if saying ‘I’ll drink to that’. You decided to join him with a chocolate milk of your own. Michael always knew how to get the small talk going. He started off with the latest gossip, then asked your opinion on a personal or a ship matter and after some time, you always ended up talking mathematics. You seemed like total opposites at the bar, one person emoting like a cartoon character, the other virtually a statue. If Michael was not an empath, he would probably assume you never felt a thing in your life, just like everyone else.

The doors behind you slid open and you noticed the surprise on Michael’s face. He tried to hide it, but was doing a piss poor job at it. You turned to see what got him worked up, only to see commander Spock waltz in. The man was only here when he wished to speak to someone privately and he was heading straight for your chocolate milk hang out. Michael whispered he was worried Spock noticed his small panic today, but then you were the one requested to follow him to a less populated corner of the lounge.

You had no idea what you did, but you left your chocolate milk at the bar and joined Spock near the windows. “I meant to say this on the bridge, but it seemed inappropriate with the company present,” Spock started. You hummed, eyes locked together like you were having a stare-down. “I would like to commemorate you for your attitude during crisis response, both on the bridge as we have seen today and in the field as we have seen last week on Unico IV. I will put in a request to have you promoted to lieutenant junior grade. Should you remain equally level headed with more responsibilities thrust upon you, I believe you will, in time, make an excellent captain.”

You were quiet for a moment, trying to take in the unexpected compliments. “Thank you, sir.” It was all you could really say. Spock responded with a polite nod and then made his leave. You blinked as you stood there momentarily. When you were ready, you returned to Michael at the bar. He was chatting up one of the red shirts again, the ever sucker for muscular men. When he saw you though, he slipped off his seat, taking the two glasses with him.

“What did he say?” Michael asked as soon as he was in front of you, handing you your leftover chocolate milk. You paraphrased Spock’s words, leaving Michael gasping and squealing. “That is so amazing! Slay mama!” He somehow managed to make air come out of your nose at a high velocity. You tapped your glasses together. He seemed happier than you, but you let him celebrate for you. Captain? You? You could hardly imagine it right now. Meanwhile Michael was already planning on being your SIC.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

#star trek #gender neutral reader #male reader #star trek x reader #spock x reader #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #spock x male reader #spock x gender neutral reader #star trek x male reader #star trek x gender neutral reader #aos #aos x reader #aos x male reader #aos x gender neutral reader

71 notes · View notes

soft-girl-musings · 4 months

Text

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 3 (My Way Of Life)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N, brief description of injury

wc: 1,676

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: old habits die hard.

----------

You've never put much stock in wishes coming true.

Hard work, determination, and a bit of luck are what your faith lies in. Wanting something so badly that it comes to be? Nothing more than a fantasy.

At least, that's what you had believed before tonight.

The back table has been empty for a while– all evening, to be precise. You catch yourself looking toward the door between interactions. No Wesley. No Lockley.

It's Tuesday night.

Before you head backstage, you see a new guest being led to the back table. You rush to intercept, startling the poor waiter.

“Mr. Manalo, a word?” You smile apologetically at the guest and take his escort aside. “What are you doing, Teddy?”

His eyes turn frantic. “I was seating a guest, ma’am. Did I do something wrong?”

You glance at the clock behind the bar: twenty minutes past the hour, with the usual party nowhere in sight. They’re never this late.

“Miss,” Teddy urgently whispers, as the patron has started to get restless. “There’s no reservation tonight. I-I mean, not for this table, but for James Wesley, either.”

You can’t help how your face falls at the news. “I see,” you chirp, forcing yourself to perk up. “Then please make sure this gentleman enjoys his table. With a drink on the house for the inconvenience.” You pat his shoulder and step away.

Weren’t you counting down the days until his smug face stopped haunting your evenings? Didn’t it grate at your nerves to tiptoe around your own lounge twice a week, guarded and on edge? Isn't this a wish come true?

Later you walk onstage with the band and give your usual spiel. The applause rings hollow. As you scan the room, the man at the back table doesn’t even look your way, too engrossed in his dinner. You place a hand on your stomach to ease the knot that forms with every breath, along with the sinking feeling that something isn’t right.

But the show must go on.

----------

There's a cruel duality to Jake's commission.

Protecting the travelers of the night was, in a way, second nature long before his life became what it is now. Whenever he was out, he had his eye on the underdogs, the vulnerable on the outskirts. Most people were his people. It's the other side of the coin, the means to the end that eventually made his oath a burden, turning his cab into a hearse once the sun goes down.

Not all his passengers give him the courtesy of a quiet departure.

That's the case tonight, the throbbing pain above his eye reminds him. James Wesley didn’t go down without a fight. Jake came out on top– he always does– but there was a surprising ferocity behind Wesley’s bespectacled stare as he dealt a gnarly blow to fend off the inevitable. Stumbling through the night, vision spinning and blurring all at once, Jake wonders if the risk in confronting him unarmed was calculated well enough.

This would not have happened if you had used my gifts.

“Of course you wouldn't let me suffer in silence,” Jake mutters. The old bird has never been one for stellar bedside manner.

You have lost focus, my son.

“Oh I'm plenty focused, big guy. Right now I'm focused on not–” he coughs, mouth tasting of pennies and regret as his head wound steadily bleeds, “–not passing out in the street.”

The night air shifts around Jake as he continues to stumble down the pavement. The waning shape of the moon seems to glare down at him, its light as cold as the wind that stings his labored lungs.

The task at hand requires your full attention, and unless you are aided by my gifts–

“Oh yeah, what a gift. Sharp suit and a few tricks, pretty fair tradeoff for being your puppet.”

A sudden gust of wind nearly makes Jake lose his footing.

Remember your debt, Jake Lockley. I have something your fractured mind wants.

Jake spits, staining the sidewalk red. “Maybe what I want is for you to see you have something to lose, too.” His breath is harder to come by, chest heaving as his temper flares. “Think you've been gettin’ too comfortable with our arrangement.”

You would risk killing yourself to make a point? Look at what your tantrum has cost you.

Jake finally stops walking, turning to catch a glimpse of himself in a shop window. He barely makes out the reflection of a hardened, bloodied man, staring back in resounding silence.

Do you think you would know a moment's peace if they knew a stranger inhabited the body? A murderer?

“You know damn well I’ve always done what I've had to do,” he grunts, slumping against the wall. “Done what you've told me to. They'd hate you more than me.”

Maintain your recklessness, and they’ll never have the opportunity for hatred. You'll bury them with you.

----------

“Sometimes I wish you lived closer to the lounge, this walk is too long.”

The night air nips at your faces as Matt treks dutifully beside you on the way to your apartment. You try not to make a habit of late nights, but over the past few weeks it's been harder to step away after sending everyone home. There's always one more loose end to tie up, another addition to the rehearsal schedule to jot down, some final complaint to resolve with a staff member. You'd all but live in the lounge if Matt didn't make it his mission to take you home every night, keeping you from falling asleep at your vanity if he could help it.

You roll your eyes. “You're welcome to hitch a ride with your favorite cab driver next time, since you're thick as thieves.” You surprise yourself with how bitter you sound; no matter how you feel about the company he keeps, he doesn't deserve your ire. “Sorry. I'm just a bit out of sorts tonight.”

He laughs at your jab, then turns more serious. “Yeah, I could tell. You sounded… distracted when I heard you wrapping up. Everything alright?”

You tighten your coat around yourself as you continue walking. Your shoes click against the pavement, punctuating the silence between you as you search for your words.

“That man, your friend Jake… he wouldn't get you in trouble, would he?”

Matt smirks as he weighs your question. “What's a little trouble now and then? You know I can take it.”

“I'm serious, Matthew.” You link his arm with yours and slow your pace. “I know he's more than your client, but I don't want to see you get hurt.”

Matt Murdock has been your friend longer than he's been your lawyer. As he walks you home for the thousandth time, that same uneasy feeling from before rises in your stomach. Your thumb traces his sleeve. “I can't afford to lose you.”

His hand finds yours and stills it, pausing for a moment. “You won't. I promise.”

You search his face in the yellowed streetlights. You're typically at a disadvantage when it comes to one of you being able to lie to the other, but right now you believe him. Or at least, that he believes himself.

He pats your hand and resumes walking. “I have to say, Jake's not a bad guy to have in your corner. A bit rough around the edges, but I'm sure he'd be on your team if you'd let him.”

You sigh. “We don't have to keep talking about him. He takes up enough of my time when he deigns to show up and pester me.”

Matt's eyes crinkle behind his glasses. “Level with me: is he really that unbearable?”

“Yes.” You shake your head after a moment, mind racing like it was when you realized his weekly routine was broken. “No… I don't know.”

The man has been a nuisance, but when you think about it, he's never been more than an annoyance with his cheeky persistence. Jake's like a puppy that continues to get underfoot, staring up at you with big brown eyes whenever you offer a crumb of attention. You may loathe his yapping, but without it, something was missing tonight.

“I know a friend of yours is bound to be decent,” you concede, “but I can't get over the feeling that he's hiding something. And I'm not too fond of anyone who makes me question what they could have up their sleeve.”

Matt nods as you talk, hesitant before responding. “You know, it's not completely fair to push him away because you don't know him… when all he seems to want is the chance to let you.”

You scoff at the thought. “You know full well I don't have time for entanglements, Matty. You've seen the blackmail. There's too much on the line to get distracted.”

“Sometimes distraction is a good thing.”

“That's rich coming from you.”

“Alright, so I'm not the most social guy,” he laughs. “But you should still think about what I'm saying. Jake's alright in my book.”

You remove your arm from his, wrapping it around yourself again. “It doesn't matter, anyway. He didn't show tonight. Bigwig client of his must have found a new rendezvous spot.”

You see Matt's jaw clench at the mention of Mr. Wesley. “You know something.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Don't lie to me, Matty. You know something about that man he's been driving, don't you?” You walk slightly ahead, studying his face as you press on. “And I bet you know where they went tonight.”

Matt stops in his tracks, rigid and alert. You've learned that look, the one that tells you he's latched onto something like a bloodhound and won't rest until he hunts it down.

“Something's wrong.”

He takes off down the sidewalk, barely giving you time to catch up as he rounds the corner. A few more twists and turns in your route and you finally stop.

There, slumped against the brick wall of the apartment complex, bleeds out half of your 7 o’clock reservation.

----------

A/N: besties this is now a 10-chapter project... how did i get here

i am living for the speculation and hype in the tags/rbs, please don't feel shy-- let me know where your head is with all this! of course, if you are shy, no pressure. glad to have you along for the ride either way :)

as always, thank you for reading <3

tag list: @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedroo, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #jake lockley #jake lockley fanfiction #noir!jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x woc!reader #jake lockley x poc!reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley/fem!reader #jake lockley/woc! reader #jake lockley/poc!reader #matt murdock #khonshu

73 notes · View notes

closetnerd62 · 5 months

Text

Brotherly Advice

A Lautski + Spankoffski Bros Fic inspired by Writing Prompt #2504 from @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

Summary: after months of watching Pete fail to actually make a move with Steph, Ted refuses to let history repeat itself and offers some brotherly advice

“Bye!” Pete said shyly, holding the door for Steph.

“Bye!” She smiled.

“Bye!” He repeated dreamily.

“You already said that.” She giggled.

“Oh! My bad.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly with a blush.

“See you later Spankoffski!” Steph shook her head with a smile.

“Yea- yeah,” he stuttered as she descended the apartment stairs. “Definitely.”

As he shut the door, Pete pressed his forehead to the door with a groan.

“That. Was painful.” Ted cringed. “You two have been ‘hanging out’ for three months now without making a move. Look, if you ever wanna get with her you have to be smoother than that.”

“I’m not like you Ted,” Pete snapped. “I don’t just want to ‘get with her’ asshole. I really like her. But there’s no way she’d ever actually reciprocate.”

“You’ve gotta play the field pal.” Ted said, slapping Pete on the back. “Go find another girl and take her home with you. Then little Lauter here will get all jealous and when you play hard to get, she’ll be on her knees practically begging for you.”

“No-NO! She’s not like that,” Pete interjected defensively. “Sure, she acts like she doesn’t care but she can be so incredibly passionate and she makes me feel like I’m worth something for once! I know you wouldn’t understand but I would be willing to suffer if it meant that she got to be happy!”

Ted was hit with a wave of recognition. He was amazed. He himself had only ever experienced a feeling that strong once, for one girl… Jenny.

“Holy shit.” Ted softened. “Pete, are you in love with this girl?”

“What? No!” Pete hissed.

“Yes, the fuck you are.” Ted pressed. “I can see it!”

“Then maybe you need to get glasses too, dickhead!”

“Listen to what you just said jackass! You love her!”

“No I don’t!” Pete cried, “I can’t!”

A memory flashed in Ted’s mind. He could see himself in college, laying on his dorm room bed saying the same thing about Jenny.

“I shouldn’t.” Pete continued.

“Maybe.” Ted offered. “Maybe it is the worst thing you could possibly do. But I’m sorry buddy, you do. You love her. And there’s no moving forward until you admit that to yourself.”

The brothers sat in a heavy silence. Ted could see the gears moving in Peter’s head, the calculations being made. A look of defeat slowly crept across his face. Mournful of the bliss of willful ignorance.

“I love her.” Pete breathed, miserably.

“You gotta tell her Pete.” Ted sighed.

“See you don’t understand Ted!” Pete thundered. “I can’t!”

“You have to.”

“No!” Pete insisted. “It feels safer to love her from a distance.” His face twisted as if he was trying to work up the ability to face his worst fear. “I can’t lose her if she doesn’t know.”

He looked exhausted. As if the mere thought of her not being in his life had drained him. Ted stared at him, as if looking in a mirror to his past self. Spankoffski’s had a knack for making history repeat itself, but Ted refused to let that happen this time. This time he had been given the chance to go back and save his brother from everything he had done wrong.

“I’ve made that mistake before.” Ted admitted. “Don’t do it.” This was the most sincere that Peter had ever heard his brother speak. “Anyone worth loving should know the truth.”

Pete nodded.

“I’ve gotta tell her.” he confessed, rising from the couch and grabbing his coat. “I’ll be back in a bit Ted.”

“Go get her!” Ted called as Pete rushed out the door of their apartment and into the hall, heart pounding against his chest. He barreled down the stairs, tearing through the halls, fueled by intent and need and yearning. He yanked open the door, ready to race to the Lauter house, only to find his mark already at the door, about to press the button to be buzzed in. He stared at her in amazement.

“Oh Pete! I was just about to call up, I accidentally took your calculator with me.” Steph’s face was pink from the outside cold. Peter stared, soaking up everything that was the girl before him.

“Pete?” she repeated.

“I have something I need to tell you.” He said breathlessly.

“Okay?” she prompted, intrigued.

“I- um…” He stuttered. “Uh… we’ve been hanging out for so long and well… after everything we’ve been through together, I just- I-”

“Take your time.” Steph encouraged, placing a supportive hand on his arm.

“I think I’m in love with you.” he blurted.

Shock plastered itself across Steph’s face. She blinked, trying to process.

“I’m sorry,” Pete rambled. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way and I don’t expect anything from you, I just thought it’d only be fair to let you know and I understand if you don’t ever want to hangout again or talk or-”

“Pete!” She cut him off. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize.” And with that she grabbed the collar of his button up and pulled him into a kiss.

As Ted glanced through the window he was filled with pride. Even though he knew it was too late to go back and get it right himself, the satisfaction of knowing maybe eventually he could, if he could only be more like his kid brother, gave him a new hope. He meandered his way over to the phone in the kitchen, dialed a number, and listened as someone picked up on the other end.

“Hey Char,” He murmured, “I need to tell you something.”

#Ted is accidentally a good big brother and I will die on that hill #this bitch can monologue #spankoffski bros #lautski #lautski fic #pete spankoffski #ted spankoffski #steph lauter #hot chocolate boy #stephanie lauter #hatchetfield #starkid #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #starkid npmd #hatchetverse

63 notes · View notes

climbthemountain2020 · 26 days

Text

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 6

Part 7/25 | Ao3

Tilly

It had been a little over two weeks since Tilly had come to the Forest House, and she was surprised by how acclimated she already felt. She’d wondered more than once if she’d have felt the same coming from her father’s home, or if it was the last two years living with Donal that had more to do with that. Not that she’d be here at all had her father still been alive, but that was a thought for a different time.

Thankfully, things had calmed a bit since the wedding. While Beron was still exactly as deplorable as he always was, the attention had shifted from her and Eris, at least. Callum had killed a male in a tavern nearby, and that had become the primary focus of the week. Callum, muscled and hewn like a building from stone, had simply crushed a man’s head after a disagreement. While the sons of the High Lord were all but untouchable by the law in Autumn, they were not granted the same reprieve by Beron.

Even with his fae healing, Callum could not recover quickly enough to hide the beating Beron had given him the following night. Worse yet, he’d demanded his presence at dinner so the family could behold the injuries that Beron had bestowed upon him. Callum may have been able to crush a man’s skull with nothing but his hands, but Beron would make sure at the end of the day that everyone knew who held the power.

His eyes were both blackened, turning to a sickly yellow and purple around the sockets, and his lip was still split wide open, indicative of the severity of the initial injury. Part of his hair had been burned off, as well as a variety of patches along his arms. Judging by the limp, she guessed the injuries ran deep below his clothing as well. Tilly remembered thinking when she’d come here that Eris had a limp–she’d recalled it from meeting him during that childhood visit–but he no longer suffered from one. She wondered with sudden clarity and nausea how early Beron had begun abusing his sons.

She subtly surveyed the table, Beron discussing some treaty with Bray over the meal. Eris barely feigned interest, that cold, calculating mask of indifference placed squarely on his beautiful face. It was still so strange to see how quickly he could slip in and out of the role, how stark the contrast was between this persona he used in front of everyone else and the person he was with her. They were still in the most tentative stages of friendship, still getting to know each other, but that night with the books had changed things between them. There was a mark of trust between them–two people who knew what it was like to have to pretend. Two people who had started to hope, beyond belief and what they’d been taught, that they might have found someone to trust with parts of themselves they’d been keeping in the dark for ages.

Another new addition was the switching of her guard to Cormac and Eris’ men. While she still knew better than to trust anyone in the Forest House, save Eris, she did much prefer their company. On the days Eris had to work or travel, she’d roam about the house, learning the different hallways and alcoves, and learning the habits of the people who lived there. She took great pains to never run into Beron, Aradnus, or the brothers alone. Even her guard could not save her from him, so she was very careful to avoid the situation altogether.

She observed the comings and goings of the brothers, too. Bray spent a great deal of his time in the large family library, both reading and working on political documents. He appeared incredibly studious, and was perhaps the only one who had caught Tilly watching him as he watched her in turn. Academic he may be, but he was lethal in a training ring. He was lithe, but she could tell by the way he moved that he’d spent his life being underestimated. He was quick as an adder, and always the first to strike. His likeness to Beron, save for his shock of bright red hair, left her permanently uneasy as she watched him. Callum, unsurprisingly, spent the majority of his time with the soldiers, sentries, and personal guards of the family. He was never without his swords, but he also had a laugh you could hear for what felt like miles. It bellowed like thunder through the halls of the great house, and reminded her a great deal of her father, actually. Killian was hard to track, as he spent most of his time away. Truly, that was fine with Tilly, as he scared her witless. She’d seen him no less than three times using a dangerously sharp dagger to pick at his nails as though that sort of pain pleased him. His scar unnerved her, and she’d sooner be caught dead than be anywhere alone with him–with any of them, really.

Her favorite place was still the garden, and she spent a great deal of time there, even taking tea there with Alanna a couple of times. Their conversations, as Alanna had warned her, stayed very surface level, but they had made their own ways to communicate. Alanna had also made a habit of sending snapdragons back with Tilly, doing her part to make Eris smile in the ways she still could. They talked about her sons, food, flowers, and growing up in Autumn. Tilly tried not to dwell too much on the way her heart warmed at the mothering Alanna was doing with her–it had been so long since she’d been able to feel a mother’s love, and she missed it. But, at times, it felt like a betrayal to receive the love that her true sons could no longer have from her.

By far, Tilly’s favorite thing about living in the Forest House had become nights spent in front of the fire with Eris and the hounds. Since the reading revelation, he had taken the time to pick out a few books he thought she might like, and she’d devoured them. He was thrilled to have someone to discuss these books with, and she always looked forward to tucking herself up on the couch, her feet beneath her and a dog or two at her side, to discuss the wild tales of fantasy and adventure with her husband. The light that animated his eyes, despite his snark at some of her opinions, was worth every second of less-than-pleasant interactions in the Forest House. That was where she found herself tonight–tucked into a corner of the couch in a nightgown, a thickly woven blanket around her shoulders and Cinder at her side, arguing with Eris about a main character that she felt was brave, and he felt was lacking basic common sense.

“He cares about his people. It makes him brave, not stupid. He’ll be a good ruler.” She rolled her eyes as he scoffed.

“You’d fit right into the Night Court, Tilly. Truly.” He sneered, but she could see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Alright, well, you’ll have to just drop me off next time, I suppose.” She leaned in to taunt him, resuming her scratching of Cinder as he nuzzled a wet nose into her hand.

“If you like brave but stupid males, I’ve got just the bats for you.” He said dryly. She couldn’t help but let a laugh escape, and it cracked his facade. They both dissolved into a fit of laughter, slumping back into the cushions of the couch. “That aside, don’t defect. I rather like having someone to talk to about these books.”

“Oh, I have no plans to. Who else’s literary opinions am I going to disagree with?” She threw a pillow at his face, which he didn’t even try to deflect.

“Treason it is, then.” He tossed the pillow back at her without even looking, knocking her hair back while he fixed his own, pushing a bright red curl back off his forehead. “How are things here, though? Are you feeling settled?” His tone was quieter, and he refused to meet her eyes as he asked, as if he was afraid of the answer.

“Truly, it isn’t bad. I had horrible worries about being here, none of which have come to pass. I miss the freedom of being outside and walking around, but I understand the circumstances. My husband is not too great of a beast, at least.” She lifted a brow at him and he chuckled again.

“I will see what we can do to get you outdoors.” He smiled at her, then looked back down to his book. Tilly was stuck staring at him.

He’d try to get her what she wanted. Could it truly have been that simple?

It had been so long since someone just cared. Not since her father had died. Without another word, she slipped her hand into his, twining their fingers, and set her eyes determinedly on her own book before she could change her mind.

Eris

Eris was thinking about cleaving a man’s head in two with a sword. He was thinking about the reek of death on a battlefield–blood and gore and piss and shit. Eris was thinking about the horrible fungus mushrooms that bloomed on the edges of the marshier woods of Autumn that stank like a decaying corpse and ruined the scenery for miles each year.

Eris was thinking every ugly thought so that he wouldn’t become a complete and total animal at the prospect of holding Tilly’s hand. His face betrayed nothing, his breath was steeled into controlled, even breaths, but his mind was absolutely racing. He knew the second he let himself think about the brush of her warm hands against his skin, the small, almost delicate, calluses of her fingertips brushing his, it wouldn’t be possible to hide his scent from her.

She had grabbed his hand with such ease, as though they’d sat and done this every night of their lives, and he’d just about swallowed his own tongue with the shock of it all. Every time she touched him, even in passing, he felt like his stomach would leap forth from his throat, but this sustained, gentle holding was a new torture of the most pleasant design. He struggled to swallow, even to keep his eyes, unfocused as they were, in the general direction of his book.

Deep breaths. In. Out. What sort of youngling was this reducing him to?

He’d been in a meeting with Beron and Killian earlier to discuss the fallout from the male Callum had killed. There had been funds deposited to the tavern owner, and the family of the man killed had been threatened by Aradnus to gain their silence and complacency. Eris and his brothers had been there to watch the beating Beron had brought down on Callum in the aftermath. They always were. Beron ensured all the brothers were to watch each time penance was dealt, and they were expected to show the correct amount of bloodlust for the beatings.

Callum had taken the lashings and punches and fire stoically, as was expected of him. Eris had jeered, looking down his nose at Callum, as was expected of him. The brothers all sneered and smirked over the beating, as was expected of them. Beron wasn’t even mad that Callum had killed a man–he was angered because it had been a fight over a female. Beron hated nothing more than anyone whispering any utterance of the worth of a female. The fact that his son had killed a man over one was shameful, and that drove his rage harder than anything else.

Tilly knew how to play the role well, fantastically even. In another world, she would easily stand at his side as equal. She knew how to work the court, speak to the courtiers and the simpering idiots of the noble houses, and manipulate her tone and personality to fit the people she was required to entertain. In a world without Beron’s looming specter, he would make her his High Lady in a blink, and she would certainly be more suited for it than Feyre, the fresh fae who was only an illiterate human last season, it seemed.

She deserved more than this. She deserved more than him and this godsforsaken house. She knew how to play the role, but she shouldn’t have to. His eyes found her, as they seemed to constantly, looking entirely content tucked up onto this couch with him, holding his hand and reading his books and shining in the firelight. Perhaps it was selfish, but he wouldn’t give her up, even if she did deserve more. She would never be fully safe here, with him, but he knew already he would move heavens to keep her out of harm’s reach.

He knew that she wasn’t anything like the daughters of noble families that he’d been forced to interact with before, and she wasn’t going to be won with bought items. No jewels were going to make her smile. No, Eris needed to get her outside. She had told him what she missed was the freedom of the outside world, and if she’d done her part to keep their act up and keep his secrets, then the least he could do was give her some slice of nature, considering they were surrounded by it.

Eris stroked a single finger along Tilly’s palm, felt her shiver, and smiled to himself as he began to plan.

____________

“I think it’s important that they see her with me, see how I am able to control a bride so that they might trust me further to control the assets of Autumn.” The words felt like acid tumbling from his mouth, but he kept his face blank as he pitched the idea to Beron, who was currently splayed in his own chair at the head of the study table, stroking his chin.

“It isn’t the worst idea, if you can control the bitch.” Eris fought to not grit his teeth. “She seems to know her place. Wouldn’t it be an inconvenience to travel with her, though?” The question was calculated and calmly placed–a test.

“She will not require much, she knows her worth does not lie in her ability to contribute. Her only value lies in her ability to serve me, and so she will.” He wanted to rip his traitorous tongue from his own mouth at the words. They coiled inside him like snakes, writhing and venomous, but Beron looked pleased at the answer. He’d passed.

“It will do good to have them see how you’ve brought a female from the wild edges of Autumn to heel, especially once you’ve bred her.” The fire raging in Eris told him to lunge at Beron and rip out his throat.

Get it together.

“Fine, you may bring her along.”

He tipped his head down in a bow. “Will that be all, father?” He always toed the line of being respectful and indifferent, but found that Beron had come to accept his general sneering disinterest. In fact, he felt it better equipped him to deal with the matters befitting an heir in Autumn. Beron was under the impression that, of all his sons, Eris was the one who never let emotions get the better of him. It had worked in his favor so far.

“For this meeting with the lords at Granthall this week, you will go alone. They do not like strange females in their port.” Another nod. He’d be a few days away, but maybe he could use the time to set up something special. The wheels were already turning in his mind, but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. “You may leave.”

He turned on his heel and exited the study. He knew he needed to get a reign on his emotions–he couldn’t fathom why he was reacting this strongly. Eris had curated years and years of control–centuries even. He cared about Tilly, of course. She was kind, and he could not deny the feelings that had begun to evolve. He was falling for his wife, but it was a dangerous thing for him to feel so undone by her after so short a time. Especially as he felt those walls he defended so staunchly falling. Beron could not know how he cared for her, not now, not ever. He remembered painfully what had become of Jesminda.

He released the wards as he entered their rooms, Tilly poked her head out of the bedroom.

“Hello! I’m just putting away the last of my clothes. I put a few trinkets on the shelves in the study–not many–I hope you won’t mind.” He smiled.

“Not at all.” he shucked his jacket off and went to look. There, on the shelves, were a few small items that had not been there before. A wood-carved tree of flame, a small iron bow and arrow, and some pressed flowers in resin. On his desk was another beautiful vase of snapdragons. He’d come to expect and love their presence in their rooms. Her small acts of comfort, the little pieces of her strewn about the space, were endearing him to her all the more. It was seamless how easily she’d fit into his everyday life, and he couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

He walked back to their room, putting his hand on the doorframe and peaking around it at her.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” She turned quickly, a few pieces of golden hair flying into her eyes which she quickly pushed away. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked at him wide-eyed.

“A surprise? For me?” She turned from wide-eyed shock to disbelief in seconds, her brows crinkling. “What kind of surprise?” Eris laughed.

“A good one. You’ll like it. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a few days for it. I must go to the coast to deal with the ports and the unfortunate lords that go with them. When I return, I will take you. It should only be a week or so.” He let the distaste seep into his voice, but the smile was back on her face.

“Oh, how terrible.” She pretended to pout. “Eris, must be wined and dined by the rich lordlings of the realm. A truly sad hardship of life.” She shot him a smirk, and he stuttered through every thought. He couldn’t remember the last person who’d had the balls to mock him, other than his brothers, and even that was rife with tension. When his smile crawled across his face, it was genuine.

“I’ll try to survive it, just for you, my lady.” He raised her hand and kissed it, and the quiet, involuntary gasp that shuttered between her perfect lips was worth it.

Tilly

It had been four days since Eris had left, and Tilly was bored. Before he’d left, Eris had again warned her to be cautious in his absence, so she’d tried to remain in their rooms as much as possible. She’d taken most of her meals there and avoided the garden, much to her dismay. The guards took the dogs for walks, and they always looked very nervous to do so, but Cormac was always delighted to see them.

Tilly found, more than anything, she truly missed Eris’ company. The rooms were too cold, too quiet, without him there. She had expected to be bored in his absence, but she hadn’t expected to miss him so deeply, especially at night, and she’d been trying to use the days with him gone to unpack that. She’d been lonely. So much so, that she’d taken to letting the dogs sleep sprawled out across their massive bed. She craved the warmth that she’d grown accustomed to in the time she’d been there, and at least the dogs could allow her to pretend as she drifted to sleep each night.

He had said he’d be about a week, so she knew she’d have a few days still to go. She found herself awake in the bed, stroking Hestia’s warm belly and wondering what he’d meant by a surprise. Hestia, the sweet girl, was truly Eris’ dog. Tilly swore sometimes he’d speak to Hestia, and Hestia would answer him in her own way. She’d warmed to Tilly in the past few weeks, though, and now was always excited for the belly rubs she knew would follow Tilly’s presence.

He’s going to rage when he finds that they’ve evicted him from the bed.

She giggled in spite of herself, and tried her hardest to close her eyes and beckon sleep, but it wasn’t coming to her tonight. Every time she shut her eyes, all she could see was his. She couldn’t deny how attractive she found Eris, but things were precarious right now. This was a friendship where they’d be expected to produce another heir, and sooner rather than later. The difficulty of the fae getting pregnant was notorious, which bought them some time, but would getting actual feelings involved complicate this even more? To Eris, this was transactional, she was sure. If she put her heart out on the line for him and he squashed it beneath his immaculately polished boot, would it make the rest of their lives together doubly uncomfortable? Knowing that she had been the fool to fall in love, when he’d been perfectly fine to do more than was required and be her friend in an arranged marriage?

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and groaned quietly. It was more than just the strategy of it all, too. She wanted him, and she hated to admit it. She couldn't fathom how she was going to lay with him intimately and not allow her feelings to progress any further when she already felt as though she were about to erupt into flames every time his eyes wandered over her.

Deciding whether or not to fall in love with my own husband, what a joke.

She would have laughed at the irony of it all, but she heard the front doors to the main room creaking. They had a tell–a single creak once they passed a certain point on the hinge. It was quiet but unmistakable, and Tilly shot out of the bed at breakneck speed.

She’d put the wards back up, right?

Relying on instinct alone, she rifled through Eris’ bedside drawer, immediately finding the blade she’d guessed he’d hide there. She blew out the candle closest to her, moving the blankets so someone appeared to still be sleeping there. The dogs hadn’t moved other than to grunt at her for jostling them. Perhaps they hadn’t heard.

She tiptoed on feather-light feet, dagger in hand, and perched behind the door to the room in the shadows. Everything was silent as the grave, but Tilly could sense a presence on the other side of the door. Who would be stupid enough to break into the heir’s chambers and attempt to kill Eris? She was overcome with a blinding outrage at the thought, and she fought to contain her fire as she hid in the darkness.

A creak on the floorboards just feet outside the door–they were close. She readied her knife, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to strike. Centuries of training with her father had left her deadly with a knife, and she planned to use every bit of the rage and offense that was digging through her veins. The shadowy figure had barely passed the doorway when she jumped, deftly wrapping her arm with the dagger around the stranger’s throat, pressing the cold steel to the skin and sticking an ankle behind their legs to destabilize them. In a voice darker than night itself, she asked “Who sent you here?” She’d be damned if someone was here to hurt her or Eris.

A warm hand gently wrapped around hers, caressing her fingers with elegant ones of his own.

“It seems my darling wife has some further skills we might need to discuss.” Eris’ voice was a low rumble, and she felt the sound through his back. She gasped and dropped the knife to the ground, pulling back and releasing him.

“Gods, Eris!” He chuckled in the dark, casting a flame into his hand and illuminating the tight space of the doorway where they found themselves with only a breath in between them. “I am so sorry. I thought someone had broken in to kill us.” She was breathless.

“Tilly, no one is getting through those wards but you and me. This, however, has been incredibly illuminating.” His smirk told her that she would be doing some explaining.

Eris

Cauldron boil and fry me.

She’d had a knife to his throat. She’d known immediately and without hesitation how to disarm an intruder. She could have killed him before he’d even gotten a word out. He’d illuminated the room with a flame close to their eyes to pull attention away from the erection now straining painfully against the front of his trousers.

The lovely smell of vanilla and fire slowly moved over him, taking over every other sense of his until all he could focus on was her wide eyes in the dark. He wanted her hands on him, he wanted his mouth on her. The situation wasn’t at all helped by the blush that had rapidly spread over her cheeks and beautifully arched ears, or the rapid heaving of her chest mere inches away from him.

Eris’ only saving grace was that at that exact moment he caught sight of five very large and familiar shapes taking up the entirety of their bed.

“Tilly, why are there five dogs in our bed?” He could see her blush anew, though he wasn’t positive if it was at being caught or at the usage of the term “our”. Hestia lifted her head and chuffed at him, then went back to sleep.

“I, uh, I was having trouble sleeping without you.” She said it so quietly he barely heard it, but the admission made his chest burn.

She’d missed him.

He wound the flame back and grabbed for her hands in the dark, the only light now coming from the moon outside. “I missed you.” He whispered. “But I finished early, and I finished your surprise, too. It will be ready for us tomorrow.” The look in her eyes in the dim moonlight was enough to knock the wind from him–open and excited and happy.

“I can’t wait. Truly, I am simply glad you’re home early.” Eris bent to pick the knife up off the floor. He flipped it in his hand and handed it to her, hilt first.

“This is yours now, but I’ll get you a prettier one, too.” He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he winked at her as he said it, regretting it immediately.

What are you playing at, you idiot?

But the way she bashfully turned her gaze away made him rethink his regret.

He lovingly shooed the dogs back to their own beds, much to their grumbling annoyance, and pulled down the covers, heating the bed for Tilly as she sighed. He disrobed quietly in the dark, risking taking his shirt off entirely tonight, and climbing into the warm bed and letting her sweet smell wash over him once again.

“I am very glad you’re home.” Her musical voice bridged across the bed.

“I am, too. Let’s get some sleep, and when we go see your surprise in the morning, you can tell me all about these secret skills you have.”

+++

The sunflowers were on fire, scorching stalks raised high towards the sky as if reaching for the sun in one last plea for life.

Eris could hear sobbing, horrible piercing wails that cut through his chest and threatened to bowl him over.

“Beron, please. I’m sorry!” His mother. It was his mother.

“You’re not supposed to be out here frolicking in these insipid flowers with our son. You’re supposed to be waiting for me. It’s been years, Alanna. Aren’t you able to learn a simple routine?” He could hear his father growling at his mother, and he knew what would come next.

Eris tucked himself behind the bushes, closing his eyes and evening his breaths. He clutched the blooms he’d accidentally ripped from the ground trying to smell them. He was only six, but he knew what these fights meant. He knew what would happen to his mother next. She always smelled like honey and chestnuts and warm hearth smoke, but for the next few days it would be tinged with the sharp copper tang of blood, too.

“I was just watering the flowers–we were coming right back!” Some of the fight reentered her voice then, but the smack sounded through the courtyard, and the tears dripped hot and heavy down Eris’ round cheeks.

“I don’t give a fuck about these Day flowers.” Eris could hear her hitting the ground, and he’d had enough. He wouldn’t remember what exactly had possessed him, but he ran out from the flowers, dropping the snapdragon blooms with dirt still clotted at the bottoms from his hand, and pointing his finger at his father.

“You leave her alone!”

“Eris, no–” But he stood strong between Beron and his mother, the adrenaline and the urge to protect the one joyful part of his life overwhelming all other senses.

“Don’t you touch her!” Beron’s eyebrows flew up, rage covering his face as he took in the scene before him.

Disgust. It was disgust on his face.

Before he could even blink, Beron had him by the arm, lifting him off the ground as he cried out. He could hear his mother shrieking.

“You think you’re old enough to stand in my way? Then you’re old enough to learn who has the power in this house.” Eris cried against the pain as he felt his arm dislocating while Beron dragged him violently down a dark hallway, his mothers screams fading behind him on the wind.

“ERIS.” He was screaming. Beron’s hands were on him, and he thrashed against the grip. “Eris! It’s Tilly! Stop fighting!” The shock hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Tilly. Tilly was here. It had been a nightmare.

He panted, sheets drenched with his sweat, Tilly’s cold hand gently caressing his bare shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s just a nightmare. It’s okay.” He was having trouble catching his breath, but her hand on his skin was allowing him to focus, to fill his lungs one short breath at a time. “I’m here. Would you like some water?” Her voice was soft and calm, soothing. He nodded sharply, still unable to speak. It had been so long since he’d had a nightmare about his mother. He’d buried them and the memories so far beneath everything else for so long, they rarely surfaced anymore. He heard Tilly padding back to the bed, handing him the cool glass. He lifted it to his lips and drank, finally starting to come back into himself.

“Are you okay? That seemed horrible.” Her voice was quiet, but her hand found his back again in the dark, almost imperceptibly rubbing circles along his skin.

“Sometimes…” His voice was hoarse. Fuck. How loudly had he been screaming. “Sometimes I dream about my mother.” Her hand never stopped moving, gentle sweeping motions up and down his back and over his shoulders as his breathing evened out.

“Do you want to talk about them?” He let his head sag, his eyes falling closed. He felt like he hadn’t slept in years.

“No,” he whispered. “But thank you, Tilly. Thank you.”

“Come on, let’s lay back down.” He felt like his bones were creaking as he lowered himself back down to the mattress, pulling the covers up over them. Her hand left his back, only to trace its way down his arm and grasp his fingers tightly in hers. “I’m here if you need me, okay?” The warmth in his chest warred with the void left by the jarring nightmare.

“I can’t tell you what it means…” He didn’t know how to say it.

“It’s nothing, Eris. I’m here.”

But it was something. It was everything.

Taglist of the most lovely humans alive <3: @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #flame of autumn #arranged marriage #allies to lovers #eris vanserra x oc

23 notes · View notes

crowleyholmes · 9 months

Text

Concerning the Metatron's "offer"...

So I've had some thoughts about season 3 and I've hesitated to post them because a little voice in the back of my head kept piping up telling me it's a bit fanficion-y, but, like... was season 2 not fanfiction-y? I feel like with the jane austen ball dancing and the match-making, and the "oh..." moment and the dramatic angsty kiss-and-immediate-break-up, anything is fair game.

So here's what I've been thinking about - it centers around the Metatron's offer to let Aziraphale reinstate Crowley as an angel.

So at this point we're all in agreement that the Metatron knew perfectly well that Crowley was never going to accept the 'invitation' back to heaven, right?

It was only a clever ploy to get Aziraphale to really consider it and to make him finally accept the 'promotion', so they could bring him back to heaven and use him for whatever it is they really want him for, without Crowley, because I think separating the two was a big part of why they want Aziraphale back in heaven. Maybe because their combined miracles are so incredibly powerful and heaven is worried about what they might get up to once they realize?

Anyway.

I don't believe that getting Aziraphale to heaven was the only purpose of the 'offer' to reinstate Crowley as an angel – I think it was a very calculated set-up for further manipulation. And I'm stepping from in-story facts to meta now, because what is it that Aziraphale needs to do next season? He needs to finally and irrevocably separate himself from heaven, right? If he wants to be with Crowley (which we know he does, more than anything), then he can not be with heaven (at the very least not as it is right now).

But heaven, for some reason, needs him to help bring about the Second Coming. So heaven needs to make sure of 3 things: a) to keep Aziraphale away from Crowley, b) to keep Aziraphale in heaven in general, and c) to absolutely turn Aziraphale against hell. Which he already is, but I don't think he is quite strongly enough against hell to satisfy heaven and to be willing to bring about Armageddon #2 and destroy them all. They need to re-brainwash him, fully.

The need to keep up and REINFORCE Aziraphale's desperate believe in heaven as unquestionably The Good Guys, and hell as irredeemably The Bad Guys. And what's the easiest way to Aziraphale's heart? What's the easiest way to manipulate him? What is the most important thing in the world to him? What could we possibly use as a tool to get this little angel to dance to our tune? What would make Aziraphale hate hell with a divine fury?

Mhm.

Something Bad is going to happen to Crowley (either arranged by heaven and convincingly blamed on hell, or done by hell but arranged at LEAST partly by heaven).

And THEN the Metatron can tell Aziraphale 'look what they've done/they're doing to your friend. Look how he's suffering, isn't it awful? He could be here with us right now, safe and sound, because we were ready to forgive him for all his sins and take him back, if only he had accepted our kindness, such a shame...”

I'll go off on a bit of a tangent here but...

This also works very well for another reason that is extremely important narratively: Aziraphale needs to be the one to rescue Crowley from something - it's happened the other way around Too Many Times, there's an imbalance there, a big one. Crowley gives and gives and gives and sacrifices and compromises over and over and over, and Aziraphale has been taking him for granted.

Now don't get me wrong, I know that Aziraphale would come to his rescue IMMEDIATELY the second he got the faintest whiff of there being any NEED for him to. He has, in the past, offered to do things for Crowley, asked him what he could do for him.

It's just that, so far, in his eyes and as far as he knows, Crowley has never needed rescuing, or given Aziraphale any kind of reason to believe that he cannot simply get himself out of whatever situations he might get into. In Aziraphale's eyes, Crowley is incredibly strong and unafraid and capable of anything and does not need him. Or at the very least, does not need his help.

And it doesn't help that Crowley is way too proud (and protective of Aziraphale) to ever admit that he needs help. Hell, he doesn't even tell Aziraphale that he's living in his car because he lost his flat.

Which brings me back to the Something Terrible that is going to happen to Crowley. Aziraphale will see him in whatever horrifying situation, suffering and completely alone, and he will DROP EVERYTHING to get him out of there as fast as he can.

I don't think this will go over well, because at this point Aziraphale will probably already be quite re-brainwashed and while he will likely get Crowley out of any immediate mortal danger, I don't think the two of them will reconcile there already – unless Aziraphale realizes during the rescue that what happened to Crowley was (at least in part but probably in LARGE part) heaven's doing and he'll finally be back on Their Side instead of heaven's or hell's, for good this time.

But even if he doesn't realize that yet, and sticks with heaven for the time being, I think it will be enough to show Crowley that he is loved. Really loved. That Aziraphale asking him to come back to heaven with him was never about making Crowley be an angel again. That was never the part Aziraphale cared about, not really. The part he cared about was that it meant that they would be together and they would be safe, Crowley would be safe.

Because, while I do think that Aziraphale never thought of Crowley as someone who needs saving from anything, Aziraphale isn't stupid. He is very aware that Hell deals out harsher punishments more frequently than heaven does, and he knows that Crowley does not deserve ANY punishment – has never deserved any punishment, beginning with the Fall itself. All he wants is justice and safety and happiness for Crowley, and I think after Aziraphale rescues him (for which, in order to do it, Aziraphale will have to make compromises and sacrifices himself, most likely to Heaven's detriment), Crowley will understand that. Aziraphale loves him exactly as he is. And loves him more than he loves Heaven.

Aziraphale only chose heaven at the end of season 2 because it was, in his eyes (and to be fair, also in my eyes) the right thing to do (as painful as it was), and Aziraphale's most FUNDAMENTAL character trait is that he always strives to do what is right, even if it goes against what Heaven tells him is good.

He chose heaven because he believes it can be saved, and Aziraphale would never give up on anyone or anything that he believes can be saved.

I think in the end, Aziraphale will either actually manage to make a difference, or he will realize that heaven can NOT be saved and that is when he will give up on it and realize that the only place for him to be is With Crowley.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #spoilers #good omens theories #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable partners #mine #gomens2 #good omens spoilers #sorry i think this may be a bit incoherent in parts #i stayed up too late last night and slept in too late today and my brain is a bit scrambled

80 notes · View notes

thevalleyisjolly · 10 months

Text

Some Eärendil and Elwing headcanons because I love them:

It took a long time for Eärendil to start singing again after Gondolin, and it was mostly sea shanties and Mortal tunes. Only in private and only with Elwing (and later, his sons) would he sing in Quenya the songs of his childhood in Gondolin.

When Elwing was 12, she decided that she wanted to be a great seafaring explorer and sail all the way around Middle-earth. Her hopes were rather harshly dashed when she stepped foot on a ship to pay Círdan a short visit on Balar and discovered that she suffered from terrible motion sickness. Eärendil gallantly vowed to go on the adventures instead and come back to tell her all about them.

Elwing is just a little bit taller than Eärendil. He quite likes it, even though it’s not a very great difference.

Eärendil is fantastic at sewing, and has a good eye for embroidery as well. When he has downtime on Vingilot, he creates beautiful patterns and designs on tunics, handkerchiefs, shawls. The crew of Vingilot was the most well-outfitted crew to ever sail the Sundering Seas, and he’d always make sure to bring back little embroidered patches with scenes from his voyages, which first Elwing and then the twins would add onto an ever-growing quilt.

Elwing learned how to make lembas from Idril, but for Eärendil’s journeys, she bakes him hardtack in the Mortal fashion. He likes to make “pudding” out of it with sugar and water.

Elwing loves math, and is very good at it. By the time she was ten, she could do complex calculations in her head in a matter of seconds that Elven scholars thousands of years her senior would need several minutes and a writing surface to do. She didn’t have the time or resources to seriously study it while she was in Middle-earth, but in Aman, she does a correspondence course with one of the universities in Alqualondë and promptly has to deal with a whole hoard of mathematicians coming from all over the Blessed Realm to her tower wanting to learn from her.

In their own home, they speak a mixture of Quenya, Sindarin, and Taliska with each other. They also have a secret written code that they came up with as children, which they leave little love notes for each other in.

Neither of them have ever learned to ride a horse. Eärendil has fuzzy memories of being put on his grandfather’s saddle for a gentle trot when he was young and the Gondolindrim assure him that he once briefly had a pony, but there were very few steads or mounts at Sirion. Frankly, both of them find horses a little bewildering.

The twins were a surprise because they’d been aiming for triplets. Mostly just to see if that was even possible, and also because neither of them had ever been pregnant before and didn’t truly understand what it would be like to carry and birth triplets.

Despite the harps of gold they brought to him, Eärendil does not actually play the harp very well. He’s not fond of wearing white either because he thinks it’s too hard to keep clean. Elwing looks very good in white, but it’s a mourning colour and she generally prefers warmer yellows and oranges.

Eärendil’s favourite colour is the soft silver of Elwing’s hair, and Elwing’s favourite colour is the warm gold of Eärendil’s hair. Their favourite wedding present was a tapestry woven by some of Idril’s ladies depicting the intermingled light of Telperion and Laurelin in those exact shades.

Elwing is a vegetarian. Eärendil isn’t, mostly for practical reasons onboard a ship with limited supplies, but is happy to eat vegetarian when he’s at home. The real challenge at mealtimes came from Elros being a picky eater and Elrond having a seafood allergy.

There is an outdoor bathhouse at Elwing’s tower because Silmaril glitter is absolutely impossible to get rid of once it’s in the house. The grout in the tiling there has become permanently shiny, despite their combined best efforts at scrubbing.

#lotr #silmarillion #elwing #earendil #starwing #long post

84 notes · View notes

lutzlig · 1 year

Text

Tumblrwoman Election Q&A

As to not flood all of your timelines, I'll answer everyone's most pressing concerns once daily! If you just followed for the polls, keep scrolling and have a nice day!

Important things first:

Franz Kafka was not german, he was Czech! Sorry for the mistake. Sadly, i cannot edit polls but I'll make sure to get it right in the future ones!

Peridot is nonbinary, which I was not aware of. Sorry for that! I made false assumptions based on her pronouns.

A lot of you have mourned your faves not being in the poll, and I hear you! We initially had over 100 women on our list and some of them have been mentioned in your comments. We're gonna host a round of honorary mentions right before the finals, so comment your women we forgot and we'll consider them for it!

I block transphobes on sight. This is not only because they are cruel and wrong, but also because they have absolutely no taste in women.

A lot of you are leaving funny asks in my inbox! Forgive me for not answering them, but I'd like to keep posts to a minimum - I'd prefer to not annoy the dash too much. If you want to clown around, go to @lutzposting and i might reply!

Remember to be civil. I'm leaving the discussions to their own devices for the most part, please be aware that this is all for fun.

This poll is not randomized! What we did was think of the most likely candidates (Queen, Vriska, etc) and spread them out as far as possible. We figured we'd get more genuine and interesting polls that way.

Some of the matchups are jokes we allowed ourselves. The edna penis poll was calculated

You might notice some of the pairings are very similar characters or have a similar fanbase. This is to make you suffer! I want to see bloodshed on every single stage of the poll, I want brutal battles through and through! I want to inflict pain on the biggest possible amount of people. All jokes aside, this is an attempt to make things interesting in the early rounds. Everyone gets their own corner of the chart to worry about until the later rounds.

We'll be checking the #twe23 tag for everybody's 2 cents as this goes on, and we'll see you in the next one!

#twe23 #tumblrwoman election asks

176 notes · View notes

nevis-the-skeleton · 1 year

Text

Why do we hate Airachnid that much?

I saw a short but rather interesting post from @cosmics-beings, which questioned why most of us hate Airachnid that much: here

A possible first answer was that it was because she killed Breakdown. But as cosmic says, Starscream killed Cliffjumper and Megatron killed Dreadwing, yet that doesn't stop us from liking one or the other, or even both : here

So what is different with Airachnid? What makes us don't love her, sometimes going so far as to hate her. Because deep down, she's not much different from Starscream. Both are characters who don't really belong to one side, and who are selfish and calculating. They both have:

-Tried to betray Megatron

-Became MECH Allies

-Killed a partner of Arcee/or other (so Breakdown for Airachnid)

And yet, despite these striking resemblances of actions, the two did not do it for the same reason, or in the same way.

First, why do both of them want to betray/kill Megatron? Starscream attempts to do this because he is being abused by Megatron. He's actually one of the few Starscreams to be at least loyal as long as you treat him well, and meet some of his expectations. In the beginning of the series, Starscream shows no signs of betrayal, until Megatron begins to hurts him. It's from this moment that Starscream begins to think again of betraying him, by killing him. This is one of the first reasons, the second being an undeniable thirst for power from him, which he somehow tries to fill. Adding the fact that he led the Decepticons for three years, and as soon as Megatron returned, everything started to go wrong. Thanks, Dark Energon…

But, Airachnid? Why does she do it? Why does she want to betray Megatron so badly too? For power? Like Starscream? But what is the motivation behind it? She seems more the type to live alone, and all of a sudden she wants to lead? In fact, we don't understand her intentions unlike Starscream, this is one of the first points that makes us not like her, because we can't understand her. A character on the villain side can be appreciated, but has to be understood.

Then why did they try to ally with MECH? For Starscream, the answer is simple: he was literally starving to death, and MECH had the resources to solve that problem. Afterwards, one might wonder why he betrayed his species in such a way by revealing to the MECH how to build an artificial Transformer. Already, because it suited him, the MECH was bound to look for energon for their robot, and he knew that in return for his information, he could have some. In Starscream's head you don't get anything for free, if you don't have anything to give back, you get nothing. This, he already learns with the Autobots, because if he didn't have the necessary information, Ratchet wasn't even fixing him. And surely it was already like that even with the Decepticons. Starscream also indeed shot Bumblebee's T-cog, but he had no real malice behind it, in fact the shot practically go off on its own. And, yes, he mocks Bumblebee. But at the same time it's Starscream, we can't expecte from him to have compassion for an enemy.

Airachnid on her side does it for her vendetta against Arcee, nothing else. She just takes pleasure in making Arcee suffer, by threatening her human family: Jack and June. She doesn't gain much, except the pleasure of hurting her nemesis. She is not necessarily looking for a refuge, or an ally. She was planning to betray MECH right after anyway. Because, let's be clear, she has no real reason to hate Arcee that much… Airachnid hurts Arcee more than Arcee hurts her. Except maybe her pride.

Then, both killed robots, but the way to do it is different. Starscream usually tries to kill in one shot. We saw it with Cliffjumper, both in the scene where he kills him, and in the flashback. In episode 1 of TFP, Starscream kills Cliffjumper in one shot, aiming directly at the Spark, he does not seek to make the prisoner suffer.

So yes, it's frankly not cool to kill a prisoner, but the Decepticons are not angels in this series, nor are the Autobots. So it's not necessarily surprising for him to do so. Especially when we're talking about Starscream. Afterwards, we see that he is not necessarily interested in killing an enemy in pain, because in the scene in the past, with the first appearance of Shockwave. Starscream has a multitude of choices to kill Cliffjumper, more or less painful.

He had the choice, but between making suffer Cliffjumper, or make him silent forever, he prefers the second option. He prefers a standard, quick way, a hit claws straight into the Spark.

Even with Wheeljack, if Soundwave hadn't stopped Starscream, Wheeljack's death would have been instantaneous.

When Starscream kills, it's to be effective, he doesn't seem to really enjoy hurting others. Except perhaps with Arcee, but the little desire for revenge must have been just as present as for our dear warrior. But here, too, he wanted to kill in one shot, like against Airachnid with his missiles. But I also add that's he don't hate makes suffer others, he's not a cool bot you know. But, he seems to have a preference of instant kill instead of painful one.

While Airachnid takes pleasure in making his opponent suffer. She never kills them right away, prolonging the fight, or imprisoning them in her webs. Already to put pressure, but also to make his opponent totally at her mercy.

And sorry but, is it me, or does she really don't know what "personal space" mean? It's kinda interresting in fact.Why is she doing this?

Anyway, like I said, you can't really hate her for that, killing in the back or when the enemy is helpless is the Decepticons way in this series (except Dreadwing). But, even there, she does not kill them right away. For example for Breakdown. Well that's technically a case of self-defense, because he was trying to kill her too. But given Breakdown's scream of pain, it clearly wasn't quick. And then you just have to see the state of his corpse! Why cut him up like this?! Clearly, it wasn't necessarily to do so, especially since there was always Dreadwing, which could have happened at any time. Yet she took her time, literally tearing Breakdown apart piece by piece.

Even Megatron is more lenient on this, often giving a quick kill or an effective hit, like against Ratchet. And, for example, he shooted directly into Dreadwing's Spark, without trying to torture him.

And, yes, Airachnid killed Tailgate with one hit, but she had tortured him beforehand, in front of Arcee! Not to mention that she massacred entire species, for her morbid collection, which is super creepy. And, again, apart from showing that she's a psychopath, I don't really see the point of this collection.

So, Starscream and Airachnid are selfish and calculating as I said before, but Starscream mainly uses this as a defense mechanism, whereas Airachnid seems to be aware of it and enjoy it.

We also see that unlike other Decepticons, she shows no signs of empathy, or bonding with others, or even weakness. For example, Starscream has empathy for Breakdown and that's kind of what drives him to save him, beyond orders. He is also disturbed by the state of his corpse with Cylas in it. We also see his weaknesses, or when he doubts, which also pushes the viewer to have empathy for him. As another example, we have KnockOut who is enraged when he finds out what Cylas did to Breakdown. Or Dreadwing, who is a super endearing character because of the love he had for his brother. Even being a Decepticon, he kind of mourns his death. There is also the friendship between Megatron and Soundwave. Just see Soudwave's reaction, when Airachnid tries to betray Megatron. And we have a moment of vulnerability from Megatron when Orion Pax somehow returns, which is what stops him from killing Optimus. While Airachnid is cold, and shows no real emotions. Even Shockwave who is supposed to be emotionless has more than her, and he has a bond with Predaking. We can for example see small affectionate moments between them.

Airachnid has no friendly relationship, even if it's not unheard among the Decepticons: Breakdown and KnockOut, Starscream and KnockOut, Soundwave and Megatron, Megatron and Shockwave, Predaking and Shockwave, Skyquake and Dreadwing, and even Soundwave and Starscream (in a way). Airachnid seems to have only enemies and no friends.

The fact that no character is attached to her or appreciates her, makes that the viewer does not get there either. Major characters like Starscream, Arcee, and even Soundwave don't like her. And they are characters that fans appreciate. So, inside, without realizing it, we don't love her like them.

We don't always understand her intentions, and she seems to take too much pleasure in making others suffer, which makes the viewer unable to appreciate her. We also don't know much about her, especially on an emotional level. In fact, Airachnid isn't deep enough, and doesn't really show any weakness. We rarely see her being scared, sad, or having doubts. Things that you can actually see in the other Decepticons. I think the reason most of us don't like Airachnid is because she seems to us as totally unsympathetic and sadistic to an extreme degree.

Unlike Starscream or even Megatron who don't necessarily seem to take pleasure in hurting or killing. This is also the case with most of the other Decepticons, the only exception being KnockOut against Cylas, but he does it mostly out of revenge. For example even Megatron when he beats Starscream doesn't seems to appreciate it. It's impulsive and out of anger, whereas Airachnid most often does it hyper-premeditated. She's a psychopath, so it's hard for the viewer to get attached to her.

But, it's don't mean that we can't appreaciate her, or that we can't appreciate a character like Airachnid. For example, Overlord, who's kinda like Airachnid, is like by many fans. But the difference is that he shows emotions, even sadness or doubt. Not just joy about hurting people.

All I said doesn't mean she's a bad villain, quite the contrary. If she had been exploited better, they could have easily made her the main villain of Season 3. I made an analyse, where I explain that she's could have been a really cool villain, but that they don't show her full potential, and that her character has not been explored enough : here

If you have others ideas about why we don't like her that much, I would be happy to hear it :).

#airachnid tfp #airachnid #tfp #transformers prime #analyse #why do we hate airachnid?#maccadam #starscream #tfp starscream #tfp megatron #megatron #decepticons #autobots #transformers

95 notes · View notes