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#( I DID NOT MEAN TO WRITE THIS MUCH )
kingcunny · 7 months
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What's your opinion on Viserys and Otto after the Episode 4 confrontation? There's such a difference between what Viserys says and implies to his face and what he says to Rhaenyra.
When Otto makes his report to Viserys, he immediately clocks what Otto is trying to do. (And makes a clear distinction between Aegon as Otto's blood and Rhaenyra as "mine own." OOP.) And then as he's scolding Rhaenyra, he acts entirely oblivious. "What vulture?" Is he putting on act for Rhaenyra? To counter her trying to put blame on someone other than herself? Is it more conflict avoidance?
And THEN he fires Otto, and he's like, "I think you killed my dad. Or at least you were gleeful at the opportunity his death provided you." There's some deep suspicion and resentment going back yearsss in that conversation that had nothing to do with why Rhaenyra wanted him gone.
oh my god viserys accusing otto of killing his dad makes me INSANE. cause no one wouldve told him that? the fact that we never hear daemon or any other character accuse otto of the same thing means this is a theory viserys came up with on his own, and has been just quietly holding onto all these years. and that theory sounds like the paranoid jealous ramblings of a kid on some “youre not my REAL dad” type shit. like Obviously the man who came in to take his fathers place MUST have killed him to steal his position and power. but viserys was like 24 at the time.
about viserys theory, i believe the unknown is the scariest thing of all. humans have a need to try and make sense of the unsensable. i think viserys theory about baelons death comes from that same place. viserys not understanding how his father could go from “a hale and healthy warrior and dragonrider at the peak of his ability” to so feverish and racked with pain that he cant even get out of bed and finally dying, all in the span of 5 days, is terrifying. he doesnt know what an appendix is, a ‘burst belly’ doesnt mean anything to him (just like his own illness, appendicitis would be both undiagnosable and untreatable in their time) . but poison? treachery? thats simple. thats understandable. he can point at someone and its *their fault* his father is dead.
this doesnt take away from anything ive said about viserys and otto before either. even with the belief that otto mightve killed his dad, what other father figure does he have? baelon is dead, aemon is dead, vaegon doesnt want anything to do with him. jaehaerys is so ill at this point hes calling viserys by the wrong name half the time. otto is the only one he has to cling too, to seek that parental affection and approval from. and after seeing how he takes care of jaehaerys during his final years, and prepares himself for being king, viserys starts to put his resentment on the back burner. otto is just a faithful and loyal servant, he has to be. jaehaerys trusted him after all. viserys was just blinded by grief.
when otto comes to viserys to report what rhaenyra is doing the first thing viserys does is almost engage in a strange game of chicken? like he refuses to accept ottos implications of what rhaenyra and daemon were doing, makes him "speak it, plainly" almost either *daring* him to say it or maybe giving him a chance to back down. and i think this is a part of his conflict aversion, if he can pretend its not real then it isnt. but otto doesnt back down, even when viserys tries to offer the out of "youve been lied too", either because he *is* trying to ruin rhaenyras reputation or because he believes viserys should know the truth. (theres that scene right before this were otto looks very upset. either debating whether or not he should tell viserys or trying to mentally prepare himself for what he knows will be a very difficult conversation? considering ottos conversation with his brother in ep 3, im leaning toward the latter, hes just been given a very real reason to discredit rhaenyra. aside- i would KILL for the rest of the hotd script to be released) its the confirmation that his daughter and brother have betrayed his love and confidence, and ottos refusal to let viserys remain delusional, to speak it into being almost, that upsets him so much. because now he *has* to accept that this is the truth, to deal with each of them, and the knowledge that Someone Else Knows. (both otto AND alicent now) and im wondering if the distinction between "your blood" and "mine own" isnt a freudian slip at this moment, both revealing that he does not view alicents and his children as 'his' and a resurfacing of those old paranoias about ottos ambitions with the new knowledge that otto has been spying on his daughter.
speaking of daemon actually, something interesting when viserys confronts him, he doesnt directly accuse him either. ("my daughter. wont you even deny it?") he tries to offer daemon an out too, for him to offer up some other explanation for what happened last night. but daemon is all too happy to take credit for taking his nieces virginity.
so when viserys finally confronts rhaenyra about it, he doesnt ask her what happened. just implies that he knows. where she challenges him that he hasnt asked her the truth of it, and he replies it doesnt matter what the truth is, only perception, HIS perception. it doesnt matter what really happened now, just what *he* believes is/isnt true. and both otto and daemon have forced him to accept that the truth is that rhaenyra slept with daemon. but he still doesnt directly accuse rhaenyra of this, because even though hes been forced to accept it, hes moved on to the 'covering it up' phase. if he can pretend it didnt happen, then it didnt. daemon is gone, rhaenyra will be married, it didnt happen and even if it did it wont happen again.
i think when rhaenyra calls otto a vulture it takes him aback a bit. cause how many times in those early days, when viserys believed otto was responsible for his fathers death, or at the very least jumped at the opportunity his death provided him, must viserys have thought of otto in the same way? i think he is feigning ignorance here, for two reasons. the first as a way to shift the blame, but not rhaenyras- his own. his own guilt of letting a man who he does not trust to become so close to him. to have allowed himself to become so reliant on someone who does not have his familys best interests at heart. the fact that otto is using him for his own gain, and viserys even suspected him of this and yet let it happen anyway. the second as a similar sort of game he was playing with otto, to see if rhaenyra will confirm his suspicions about otto. to make her 'speak it into being' so to speak. unlike otto however, rhaenyra does not hesitate to accuse him.
and thats why when viserys fires otto, he does not bring up rhaenyra, but instead the thing that originally made him suspicious of otto - his fathers death.
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innocencel0st · 5 months
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@facepeeled continued from here.
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Camp Red Lake had been many things over the years. But the most important thing it had ever been, in Lynnette's opinion, was a sanctuary. A place where women could band together and heal from the damage their monsters had done. But the monsters always came back, in some way or another. Bruce Volker, Christophe Volker, Skye Elliott and Stephanie Fugate. They were Camp Red Lake's monsters. And Camp Red Lake sat in limbo being vandalized until someone was able to buy it again.
That someone was Lynnette, with a little help from the other girls in group. But it was going to be Lynnette's baby. It was secluded enough that she could feel safe, especially with all the precautions Adrienne had once put into place. But it would also give her more purpose than just sitting around in a dark apartment with nothing but a pepper plant to keep her company. She needed it as much as it needed her.
Seeing the debris everywhere made Lynnette sad. To know that people could be so careless with something someone had loved so much. She was broken out of her thoughts by Cricket's reminiscing, and she had to stick a smile on. She remembered being carefree like that, not having to worry about the monsters yet. That was before she'd been turned into a final girl. "Looks like there's a lot of work to do."
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I honestly wish I had saved more of the interactions, emails and so forth from those days. It still disgusts me how the then-dominant community members turned on me and my friend, and we didn't even do anything to them. It all started over some imagined beef with the author of The Lost One. In those days the dominant community was, for some reason, hyper-protective of Peter's legacy (self-proclaimed gatekeepers, in other words!) and anyone who dared to defy them was branded the enemy. Keep in mind that "defying" the gatekeepers may include such things as "jokes" and "enjoying stuff." There is only Approved Flesh here (phrase stolen from the play Equus, but I apply it to the gatekeeping phenomenon because it seems right).
In any case, because my friend was closely involved with the editing of The Lost One, and the fandom ringleader just didn't like the idea of what was going into the book for some reason--like seriously, who cares what you think, you're nobody--that somehow made my friend the enemy. And because I was friends with her, well, that made me the enemy too. I was 14. I barely knew what the fuck was happening.
And here's what really gets me: the leaders liked me at first. They gave me nice compliments on my art and we had fun discussing Peter's movies and so on. But then everything turned on a dime practically overnight, and it scared me. It was my first taste of the real harm cyberbullying can do, and for someone as anxious as I am already... well, I didn't like it one bit.
Later on, after thinking about it, some of this behavior may have been driven by fear. The group often talked about adult things, sexual attraction to our favorite star, and themes of that nature. I was a minor, and I ignored the 18+ warnings for the fan fiction and so on, because OF COURSE I WOULD. What teen would not? What young person is not curious? Even if I did make a pest of myself, it's no excuse to bully me out of the space.
Keep in mind, many years have passed in the interim and I tried to forget a lot of it. I deleted the email correspondence and bogus legal threats tossed around (yes, I was threatened with legal action for... god only knows what). Therefore it is ENTIRELY possible that some of these details are mis-remembered, or wildly exaggerated in my frightened teenage mind, but that's just it. I was a teenager. The fandom leaders were in their 30s or 40s. They abso-fuckin-lutely knew better. To this day I am filled with rage that they would believe their bullying was in any way acceptable. Their behavior, to put it mildly, was an utter disgrace. I can only hope that Peter himself would be exceedingly angry with them, and perhaps deliver a sharp stinging smack to each of their craniums all the way from the afterlife, but that is my wishful thinking at work.
Now I am 36, approaching solid middle age. I can't exactly call myself the dominant force in the fandom today, but I am olde, and I remember shit, and y'all are stuck with me. Know that I would never, never in a million years, treat anyone in this community the way they treated me. That is my promise.
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addic-tea-d · 1 year
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[It Was All For Them]
*Inspired by SVSSS cause I can't get them out of my head*
Part 1: It Was All For Them
Part 2: Why Was It Them
Part 3 (potential)
Word Count: 4404
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How does one apologize for ruining another's entire life? An unspoken prophecy, if you will, that chokes my breath and will follow me to my grave. No way out and no way around it, the only way is to shoulder it all, knowing that in the end, it’s all for them.
The first time I recognized them, standing right there beside me in the grand hall about to greet our new teacher, I realized everything. In the blink of an eye, I saw their future full of laughter and power, but also pain and betrayal — power through betrayal and the one holding the sword through their back held tightly in my grasp.
I tried to change the vision I saw, doing everything I could to not cross paths. I thought I was doing them a favor in hopes of changing their future but the more their future deviated, the more they suffered. Others looked down on them and our teacher paid them no mind. It didn't take me long to realize the vision must be followed. My only salvation through their suffering was knowing after all of this is over, they would stand above it all and finally obtain their rightful happiness.
I hid while they were bullied by the other disciples knowing it would fuel their ambition of gaining power. My mouth stayed shut while our teacher punished them for things outside of their control and forced them to practice until late into the night while I stayed up waiting for them to return to bandage their wounds. I snuck them snacks because I knew how often their food would get stolen and forced to not eat dinner as more punishment. Many nights I would stay awake, my only company the flickering candle while I mended their clothes as they slept soundly an arm's length away. It was all I could do to ease the guilt that grew in my chest day after day.
Our bond grew year after year despite my efforts to build a wall between us but every time they would break through and drag me with them. Their ranking in our sect rose and rose and I couldn’t help but watch with pride as they became our teacher’s top disciple. They became our sect’s pride and joy and finally obtained the power to look down on those who used to bully them. But I knew it wasn’t enough. They were destined for greatness and one day ascension. 
There was only one thing left from the vision and as hard as I tried to delay the inevitable, I knew it was time as I watched them struggle and became swallowed by frustration because there was something missing but they just couldn’t figure out what it was. But I knew. I’ve always known.
I didn’t know when it would happen, but one morning when I awoke, I just knew. It was a feeling that tore at my heart and clogged my throat. That morning I laid there unmoving, replaying the scene from the vision over and over, dreading every moment. I would have laid there all morning if I could but they came to call me for our new mission down the mountain. From dressing myself to hearing about the mission from our teacher to descending the mountain, all I could see was that one scene. It only stopped once we reached the village besieged by monsters.
The two of us defeated monster after monster, our fighting two pieces of a puzzle that fit together so perfectly. It didn’t take us long to finish them off, both of us covered in monster blood but they shone so beautifully with that smile on their face. How could I ever bring myself to do what I was about to do?
We could feel the ground tremble beneath our feet, another monster coming our way. They readied their sword, walked forward, and got into position. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. That was the moment but the sword in my hand felt heavy, so… so heavy. We saw the monster on the horizon, a giant monster as least thrice our size. My world went silent, only the sound of the gravel shifting under their feet as they steadied themself. They would flicker their gaze towards me, wondering why I haven’t raised my sword despite the monster getting closer.
I don’t even remember moving but the moment I could hear again, it was my name on their lips with my sword through their back. I couldn’t see their face but I could feel their warmth spread on my hands. My hands were shaking but I couldn’t tell if it was from me or the approaching monster. I pulled away from them, trying to ignore the blood on my sword. They stumbled on their feet, turning around to face me. The look on their face will follow me to my death; the look of utter betrayal.
They reached out a hand towards me, almost grabbing into my sleeve but I stepped back. Unbalanced, they fell forward, trying to hold themself up with their sword. However, the aggressive vibrations from the monster caused them to fall over. I almost went to lift them up but stopped myself in time. As much as I hated it, it needed to be done. I grabbed their sword and turned my back to them, trying to ignore them calling out to me. I couldn’t let them see the tears flowing down my face, nor let my heart be shaken. It was all for them. It was all for them.
I traveled back up the mountain alone. So many times I almost turned around, so many times my body refused to move except to scream at the world and at myself. The only mantra running through my head was “this was all for them”. They would finally unlock the last level of their spiritual powers and gain the attention of a passing deity who would take them under his wing. I clutched their sword tightly to my chest, the only thing which kept my mind even remotely sane was their blade digging into my grasp.
When I returned to our sect, they all questioned me about where they had gone, why I returned with only their sword. I could only say they sacrificed themself to save me and that they were gone. Our teacher tried to take their sword away from me but I refused with all my might, grabbing on with everything I had. I had already lost them, I couldn’t lose their sword as well.
I went into seclusion soon after, unable to meet the eyes of everyone and unable to return to that room where the two of us had spent our lives together. I chose the deepest seclusion cave our sect had to offer, deep within the mountain and far away from everyone. The only light was a crack in the wall barely larger than my palm. There, in the only light in the entire cave, I struck their sword into the ground. Directly behind it, using only a rock, I carved their figure into the wall to the best of my abilities and every day, I would pray.
I would pray and beg all the deities in the world to protect them. When I wasn’t cultivating myself, I kneeled in front of that sword and begged for forgiveness. My vision stopped at their return to the sect after completing their studies under the deity, but I was blind to everything from my betrayal to then and the only thing I could do was pray. Kneeling from day to night until my skin became bruised and legs went numb.
Thankfully, my spiritual level had risen to a point I seldom needed to intake food. Once in a while, another disciple would leave some food at the cave’s entrance though that was very seldom. I would drink water I collected in my water pouch. Only on days when the sun was hidden behind the darkest clouds or when the moon graced the skies did I ever leave the cave because I didn’t deserve to walk under the sun they loved so much. That was how I lived for ten years without seeing a single person.
But one day everything was flipped upside down. It was noon, I was just about to kneel in front of their sword when the sect’s bell started ringing. Whenever that bell rang, it meant something big and important was happening. It had rung a few times before when another sect’s master had visited or there was an important meeting everything in the sect had to attend, save for those few who were in seclusion. As such, I had no intention to head to the sect and planned to return to my praying.
However, the bell never stopped ringing but instead seemed to be getting louder and more frantic. Something must have happened down at the sect. Just as I was about to get up, a disciple came running into the cave, startling me. Not only was he the first person I’d seen in ten years, but his eyes were opened so wide I was afraid they would bulge out of his head and his face was practically the same color as the clouds in the sky. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Before I could ask him what was wrong, he told me, nearly stumbling over his words so hard I almost couldn’t understand. When he regained his breath and repeated himself, I was rushing out of the cave before he could even finish.
I ran. I ran with no regard to my surroundings, nearly tripping every few seconds and getting scratched by all the brush. I could hardly breathe and the only thing I could see was straight ahead and nothing else. The closer I got to the sect, the louder the bell became but also the murmurs of people. Even from halfway down the mountain I could see the large crowd that had gathered near the sect’s main entrance. A flash of light in the middle of the group caught my eye and I tumbled down the last few feet of the mountain.
I wasted no time in getting to my feet and rushing over to the group. I pushed fellow disciples aside, knowing full well how crazed I must have looked covered in dirt and leaves with my face full of desperation. But it was more just plain desperation, I was frantic nearing hysterical.
I finally made my way to the middle of the group, entering the small clearing. I completely froze. I almost stopped breathing. There, in the center, was my master standing next to a nearly blinding deity in conversation. But it wasn’t them who I was interested in, it was the person behind the deity, almost equally blinding with a soft glow dressed in silk robes that flowed despite there being no breeze. Their skin looked absolutely flawless, even the tiny scar in their eyebrow was no longer there. Between their brows glowed a golden lotus symbol, evidence of their soon ascension to becoming a deity. They looked absolutely magnificent.
I didn’t even know I had fallen to my knees until I finally noticed they were staring down at me, face completely void of emotion but I could tell, those eyes… those eyes stared down at me with all the hate in the world and more. But I didn’t care, not even a little. I only cared they had finally returned alive and well. They’ll finally get the happy ending they deserved.
I was so ecstatic I don’t remember what happened next, only that I woke up staring at the ceiling of the room I used to live in at the sect. It filled me with nostalgia, staring up at that ceiling I’d known most of my life. But something was different; it no longer carried the same warmth as before, the air had a heaviness to it. Even though I knew it would’ve been too good to be true, I still glanced toward the bed on the other side of the room, smiling through the ache in my heart when I found it empty.
Footsteps nearing the room caused me to sit up, my heart was climbing up my throat. Could it be them? I was clamoring to my feet, a thousand words mixing in my head as I pondered what to say. What could I say? But in the end, nothing ever came to mind because the one who walked through that door wasn’t them, but the deity who took them under his wing. I greeted him as sincerely as possible, bowing as low as I could in respect to the powerful deity.
I kept my form as he stayed silent but when he finally spoke, my head whipped up to gaze upon his glowing self. He knew who I was, which was of no surprise to me, but what he said after tore my heart to shreds. I thought I did well ten years ago, a swift blade through their back and then leaving them behind to follow their fate. But with my blade covered in the blood of those monsters, the moment it went through their body, I had doomed them.
When the blood entered their body, it was dormant at first but over time, it slowly poisoned their senses. After a few years, their five senses were completely numb. They could no longer touch, hear, taste, smell, or see. It was all thanks to the deity that they were able to recover some of their hearing and sight, but he wasn’t able to completely cure them, which was why he came to find me.
When he first saw me when I pushed my way into the clearing, he knew there was something about me. He proceeded to check my horoscope and found I was the perfect match to theirs. If I were to exchange my spiritual energy with theirs, there was a high possibility they would be completely cured. Of course, in turn, my senses would go numb as I absorbed the poison into my body. I agreed immediately. They were suffering from my mistake, I had to be the one to make things right.
He brought me to the guest wing the two of them resided in, taking me to their room. We went inside and there they were, meditating on their bed. I could almost feel the warmth of their spiritual powers. Noticing our presence, they reigned in their powers and stood up to greet us. I expected them to scream at me to leave, but when as they looked in my direction, they had no reaction. I nearly cried at the realization of just how severe their situation was.
I was introduced as a mute disciple their master had found in order to heal their senses. They accepted me easily and thereafter, I would attend to their needs every day from dusk to dawn and all throughout the night. I would assist them around the sect and during the afternoon, I would exchange our spiritual energies. It was a weird feeling, exchanging energies, slightly painful at times as I could feel the poison eating away at my senses. After each session, I would feel slightly drained while they looked brighter and brighter.
The deity advised me on how to heal their senses. Each sense would take a month to heal, each session a couple days apart. As their senses got better, mine would worsen, and as such, I should start healing their smell, taste, and feeling first before I heal their hearing and sight. And as such, first I healed their feeling to allow them to cultivate easier, then their taste to finally enjoy the wonderful flavors of food for the first time in years, and their smell to enjoy the flowers they used to adore when we were young. But then it got complicated, should I heal their hearing or sight next?
If I healed their hearing, I wouldn’t be able to hear if they needed me. If I healed their sight, then they would know it was me and would most likely reject further sessions. I discussed with the deity, and it was decided I would heal their sight first. Should their sight be fixed, then they would no longer need my assistance and I would be able to leave their side, needing only to meet up for our sessions. The deity would also provide me with a mask to hide my face with the excuse I had horrible scars.
As our sessions were every three days, I had only three days left to take them in before I would lose the chance forever. I stared at them whenever I could; when they ate their meals as if those dishes were the most delicious things in the world despite not needing them, as they trained while moving their body like the wind with such strength and precision, while they meditated in quiet and glowed so softly they could easily replace the moon. I absorbed every scene like ink to paper so I may recall even the tiniest details in the future.
Three days passed by far too quickly. It wasn’t long before I found the two of us sitting on their bed with their back toward me. Taking in their grace one last time, I put on the mask provided by the deity and started exchanging our energies. Even though it would take multiple sessions before their eyes healed, I couldn’t take any chances. The entire time, my eyes felt as if they were burning, yet I bit my tongue in order to not utter a sound. When the session was over, I had to dig my nails into my skin in order to keep myself conscious. It was all worth it, seeing their face brighten as they took in the multiple colors of the world around them.
As our sessions progressed, the more my sight became blurred and darkened, but nothing could dim their smile as they could finally see more and more. I no longer had to keep them company the entire day as they could take better care of themself. Whenever I wasn’t attending to them, I remained in my room, for what else could I do? I spent ten years in that cave, I had no close relations to my fellow disciples, and there was no need to cultivate any longer.
With only one last session to cure their sight in two days, as I was about to clear their dishes away, they picked up their guqin, hands gently running over the strings. I stopped my hands, sitting down to watch with whatever little sight I had left. They plucked the strings, not necessarily playing a specific song, but it sounded absolutely beautiful. If there was ever a scene I wanted to be burned into my mind, it would be this; watching them play the guqin so gracefully with the softest smile on their face. I could feel the tears begin to prick my eyes and quickly gathered the dishes and left, the music continuing until it slowly faded away.
With only one day left and as it also happened to be one of my rest days, I decided to venture back to that cave. It was a struggle, climbing up the mountain with little sight. I tripped over stones and roots every few steps, running into branches that scratched my body. It took me an hour to finally reach the cave when it usually took me fifteen minutes. When I finally made it, I ventured to the deepest part where I lived for ten years. Everything was silent, even more so than usual. The darkness took away what little sight I had left until I made it to the very back.
Their sword glowed under the light that streamed through that crack. I kneeled immediately in front of that blade, in front of that wall. I burst into tears, thanking the heavens they survived, for answering my countless prayers. They may have returned poisoned, but I would be able to overwrite my mistakes with spiritual energy. I don’t remember how long I cried, but after I calmed down, I made my way to their sword, grabbed the handle, and pulled it from the ground.
From where the sword resided in the ground, I began to dig. I pushed aside dirt and rocks, using my nails to dig as much as I could until I came upon a small wooden box. Pulling it out, I brushed off the extra dirt, wiped my hands on my clothes, and opened it to reveal a little vial. A vial of poison I once procured when I decided I would end my life when they one day returned and I would atone for my betrayal with death. While I didn’t deserve one, it would grant a quick and painless death.
Placing it in my sleeve, I grabbed their sword and began my way back down the mountain. Perhaps it was because I was traveling downhill, or because of how many times I slipped, but I reached my room faster than my ascend. Knowing I was filthy, I hid the bottle under my pillow where it would be easy to reach and hid their sword under my bed before heading to the baths, making sure my mask was still secured after falling so many times.
For the last session to heal their eyes, the deity joined us with the excuse of wanting to make sure nothing went wrong since the eyes are a sensitive area. However, the truth was he was there to help me leave after as my sight would be completely gone. He stayed off to the side and I started the energy transfer. It was excruciating, it took everything in my body to not pass out and make any sound. If they knew the price to heal them was at the cost of another, their gentle soul would never allow it.
After the last of the energy transferred into their body, I nearly collapsed but the deity caught me. He checked on their eyes, and while I could no longer see, I could hear their excitement at finally being able to take in every little detail around them; from the embroidery on their clothes to the paintings on the wall. As they excitedly looked around the room, the deity escorted me back to my room. Before he could leave, I grabbed their sword from under my bed and handed it to him, begging him not to tell them I had it.
During the three-day wait until the next healing session, I remained in my room. Where could I go without my sight? I couldn’t risk stumbling around. Not only was there the risk of bumping into them, I also had no intention of bothering the other disciples in the sect. And so I sat there in my room, trying to accept the darkness that became my life, recalling all the memories of the past couple of months in order to try and stay sane. With merely one month left, I only had those memories to keep me going within the darkness.
Finally, the day to start healing their ears arrived. The deity came to lead my way to their room. I was told they were already waiting on the bed, that way they wouldn’t see me struggle my way over. I took a deep breath before carefully making my way over.
When the session started, I almost pulled my hands away. An intense ringing pierced through my ears and wouldn’t stop. It was so intense I wanted to rip off my ears but I persisted. I had to. I had to do it for them. When it was over, I never felt more drained. The deity quickly took me away and for another three days, I remained in my room alone. For the following month, the closer we got to the last session, the more drained I became but I had to keep going.
When the last day arrived, my hands were trembling. I was on the verge of tears, I could finally make it up to them. The deity had to assist me all the way to the bed due to how weak I was and I was thankful to him. The pain that day was worse than ever, so many times I almost pulled my hands away but we were so close, so close to finally healing them. When the last of my spiritual energy entered their body, I couldn’t help but slump forward. My head bumped against their back, but I could no longer feel their warmth anymore. I couldn’t help but smile. My role was finally over.
A hand grabbed my arm and lifted me up. With my legs weak, I fell against them. I recognized them as the deity. We didn’t leave right away, but we left soon as he helped me stumble back to my room. I slumped onto my bed. In the darkness and silence, it was surprisingly calm. They would soon pass the last level and become a deity just as the vision foretold, gaining the power they needed to finally obtain the hapiness they deserved after all these years.
Would the other side be as dark and quiet? Or would I fall to the depts of the underworld and burn for my sins? Either way, there was only one way to find out. I felt around under my pillow, finding the vial. Sitting up against the wall, I uncapped the vial and brought it to my lips. I hesitated for a split second before drinking the liquid inside down to the very last drop.
I could feel my eyelids become heavy, my body quickly following suit. I’ve never felt so tired. It was just like falling asleep. Despite knowing my end, I was quite calm. As my body became more and more heavy, I replayed the scene of them playing their guqin with the softest smile on their face. It may not have been the clearest memory I have of them, but that smile was evidence everything I did was in the right. Because from the beginning to now, it was all for them.
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thedreadvampy · 1 year
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Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.
"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."
translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"
It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!
very this
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#red said#it's just. I'm obsessed.#everyone on Twitter is saying 'never happened' and i think they're wrong#this absolutely did happen and she's been obsessing over how vindicated it made her feel enough to WRITE AN ARTICLE ABOUT IT#because she MISHEARD SOMEONE IN A CASUAL CONVERSATION#i lay out my reasoning thusly: if you were INVENTING a scary trans woman in bathroom story out of nothing. why would it be this?#why would you go with 'we had a banal conversation until she said a sentence that makes no sense and that no human has ever uttered#but which does coincidentally sounds almost exactly like a mishearing of a very NORMAL thing to say in the circumstances#then she left and nothing else occurred'#if you were going to INVENT a story you would probably make it MAKE SENSE or SOUND THREATENING#i truly believe this is a very authentically told account of what she thinks happened#because who would. by means other than mishearing. think 'I'm going to wipe my hands on my penis' makes any sense at all.#a) 'I'm going to dry my hands on my genitals' says the presumably fully clothed woman#b) who then proceeds to leave without doing anything threatening#c) WHO SAYS PENIS THREATENINGLY? sorry it's writing out 'penis' repeatedly that made this jump out to me but like. who says that?#you might hear someone talk casually about their dick or cock but i stg it's only doctors and TERFs who casually use the word penis much#it's so. clinically descriptive. it's a weird use of language. but it IS. something you could plausibly mishear from 'pants' or 'trousers'
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crimeronan · 11 months
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i've seen a couple people in the notes of this very good post about fictional polyamory by @thebibliosphere say things along the lines of "oh, i've been doing it wrong :(" or "how do i know if i did this right??" or "i should probably give up and start over, i wrote this badly :(" and. no!!!!
(i AM seeing far MORE people say "oh, this clarified and helped me so much, i think i know how to fix issues i've been having with my own story" which. YES!!!!)
listen. if you're a monogamous person who's writing a polyamorous relationship, and you've been focusing mainly on The Triad and All Three Together All The Time as the endgame, that's literally fine. that's a perfectly acceptable and strong starting point for your plotting, imo. you do not need to give up on a story that you've started like this.
but the things discussed in the post Can and Should improve your execution!
you can keep the same plot beats and overall relationship arc 100%. polyamorous relationships are infinite in their formations, every one is unique. "basically a monogamous romance but with three people" Does exist, as a relationship type. you're not hashtag Misrepresenting (TM) poly people with it
BUT i do think it will help to read up on some poly people talking about how their relationships Differ from monogamous ones.
so i have outlined some basic important concepts about polyamory.
MORE IMPORTANTLY though, i've broken down some questions that you can answer throughout the writing process to strengthen your individual dyad relationships, your individual characterization, & your characters' individual feelings/experiences. this is a writing resource have fun
future kitkat butting in to say i spent over two hours writing this and it definitely needs a readmore. it is also NOT comprehensive. but everything should be pretty simple to follow! feel free to reblog if you find it helpful yourself or just want to reward me for how gotdan long this took KSLDKFJKDL.
i've grabbed quick links for a couple of the important concepts, some have SEO pitches in them but the info largely seems to be good. (if i missed anything Egregiously Gross on these sites i should be able to update the links with better ones later, since they're under the readmore.)
sidenote: this is NOT meant to be overwhelming, despite the length. if you can't read all of this, that's Okay. you do not need to give up on your writing.
here we go:
compersion!
compersion is a BIG thing in a lot of polyamorous relationships. it's joy derived from seeing two (or more) of your partners happy together, or joy derived from seeing your partner happy with someone else.
compersion is really important as a concept because it highlights that every individual relationship within a polycule is different -- and that that's a GOOD thing. it's sort of the inverse of jealousy.
by the "inverse of jealousy," i mean that instead of feeling left out and upset and possessive, you feel happy/joyous/content.
i can use personal experience as an example: it's a Relief for me when my partners receive joy/support/sex/romance/etc that i can't (or prefer not to) give them. and i love seeing my partners make each other laugh and be silly together.
it's 100% okay for a poly triad not to be together 100% of the time, it doesn't mean that the third member is being left out or not treated equally when two people do things alone together.
(i have individual dates with my partners all the time! PLUS larger 3-and-4-person date nights.)
if the third member DOES feel jealous or left out, then the polycule can have a conversation to figure out what needs/wants aren't being met, and solve that. this happens semi-regularly in my polycule, as it will happen in any relationship (including monogamous ones)! it's just part of being an adult, sometimes you have to talk about feelings.
metamours!
a metamour is someone who is dating your partner, but ISN'T dating you. this may not be relevant for people writing closed three-person romantic sexual triads, but it's a super helpful term to know.
the linked article also lists different types of metamour relationships with some fun phrasing i hadn't heard before. the tl;dr is: sometimes you'll be domestic cohabitation friends, sometimes you'll be buddies with your own friendship, sometimes you might not interact much outside of parties, every relationship is different.
there's no one-size-fits-all requirement for metamour relationships. sometimes polyamorous people will end up dating their metamour after a while (has happened to me), sometimes polyamorous people will break up with one partner for normal life reasons, but remain friendly metamours.
the goal of polyamory is NOT for EVERYONE to fall in love. it is 100% okay if this happens in your story, it happens in real life too! but it is also 100% okay for characters to be metamours without ever becoming "more than friends."
(sidenote: try to kill any internalized "more than" that you have when it comes to friendship. friends are just as important and special and vital as partners.)
of course there are a million ways for messiness to occur with metamours within a complex polycule, exactly like with close-knit platonic friend groups. however this post is not about that! there's enough "here's how polyamory can go wrong" stuff out there already, so i'm focusing on the positives here :)
open versus closed polyamorous relationships!
i'm struggling to find an online article that reflects my experience without directly contradicting at least SOME stuff. so i'll give a quick rundown
google has a bunch of conflicting definitions of open relationships and whether open relationships are different from polyamory. the general consensus seems to be that an open relationship prioritizes one partnership (often a marriage), but that each partner can have extraneous flings or long-term commitments (most often sexual in nature).
this is not typically how i use the term wrt polyamory. the poly concept is pretty simple. a closed polyamorous relationship is one with boundaries like a monogamous one. there are multiple partners in the polycule, but they are not interested in having anybody new join said polycule.
an open polyamorous relationship tends to be more flexible -- it just means that IF someone in the polycule develops mutual feelings for a new person, it's fine for them to become part of said polycule if they want to! the relationship/person is open to newcomers.
some groups will need to negotiate this all together, others will just go "haha, you kids have fun." just depends on the individuals!
with open AND closed polyamorous relationships, the most important thing is making sure that there's respectful communication and that everyone is on the same page. but there's no one-size-fits-all way to do that.
i wish i could give you guys a prescriptive "You Must Do It This Way" guide, but that's.... basically the opposite of what polyamory is about, HAHA.
feelings for multiple people!
i was gonna tack this on to the previous section but decided it warranted its own lil bit.
a defining feature (....i'm told?) of monogamous relationships is that a monogamous person only has feelings for One individual at a time. they only want a relationship with one individual at a time. or, if they DO have feelings for multiple people simultaneously, they're still only comfortable dating one person at a time & being exclusive with that one person.
this is perfectly fine!
the poly experience is generally different from this. but once again..... polyamorous people all have different individual perspectives on this.
for me, i have never been able to draw hard boxes around romantic vs sexual vs platonic relationships, & i love many people at once. my personal polycule lacks many strict definitions beyond "these are my chosen people, i want to forge a life with them indefinitely, whatever shape that life takes"
some poly people feel explicit romantic or sexual attraction to multiple people at once, some poly people feel almost no romantic or sexual attraction at all. i'd say that MOST poly people feel different things for different partners, which is not a bad thing!
some poly people are even monogamous-leaning -- they have just chosen one romantic partner who is themselves part of a larger polycule. (so this monogamous-leaning person has at least one metamour!)
or alternatively, they might have one romantic partner AND a qpr, or other ways of defining relationships. (this is a factor in my own polycule!)
i made this its own point because if you're writing a straightforward triad, this is unlikely to come up in the story itself -- but it's worth thinking about how your characters develop/handle feelings outside of their partnerships.
like, is this sort of a soulmateship, 'these are the only ones for me' type deal? in which they won't fall in love with anyone else, and can be fairly certain of that?
that's pretty close to typical monogamous standards but you Can make it work. just be thoughtful with it
alternatively, can you see any of these characters falling in love Again after the happily-ever-after? and how would the triad approach it, if so? what would they all need to talk about beforehand, and what feelings would everybody have about the situation?
it's worth considering these questions even if the hypothetical will never feature in your actual canon, because knowing the answers to these questions will help you understand all of the individuals & their relationship(s) MUCH better.
i've been typing this for nearly two hours and there's a lot more i COULD say because... there's just a lot to say. i'll close out with some quick questions that you can ask yourself when developing the dyad dynamics within your triad
first, take a page and create a separate section for each individual dyad. then answer these questions for every pair:
how does each pair act when alone?
how do they act differently alone compared to when they're with their third partner?
are there any elements of this dyad (romantic, sexual, financial, domestic, etc) that these two people DON'T have with the third partner?
if so, what are they?
are there any boundaries or hard limits within this dyad that aren't shared with the third partner?
if so, what are they?
partner 3 goes out of town alone for a few weeks. what are the remaining two doing in their absence?
(doesn't have to be anything special, it's just to get a sense of how the two interact on a day-by-day basis without the third there)
what is something that each partner in the dyad admires about the other -- that they DON'T necessarily see in the third partner?
what problem do These Two Specifically need to solve in the story before their relationship will work?
how is that problem DIFFERENT from the problems being solved within the other two dyads?
doing this for ALL THREE dyads is VITAL imo. that way, you develop complex and nuanced and different relationships that all have unique dynamics.
those questions should be enough to get you started, i hope
then After you've charted the differences in relationships, you can start to jot down similarities in the overarching triad. what does one person admire in Both of their partners? what are activities that all three like to do together? what are boundaries or discussions that all three share?
but the main goal is to figure out how to Differentiate each relationship!
a polycule is only as strong as the individual relationships within it. if two people are struggling with their own relationship, adding a third person won't fix that.
(UNLESS the third person is the catalyst for those two to, like, Actually Communicate And Work Their Shit Out. i just mean that the old adage of "maybe if we just add a third-" works about as well to fix a miserable non-communicative marriage as, uh, "maybe if we have a baby-")
AND FINALLY.
if you're not sure whether your poly romance reads organically to poly people, you can hire a sensitivity reader with poly experience. if you can't afford that, you can read up on polyamorous resources like a glossary of terms & articles actually written by poly people. (and stories written by poly people!)
you can also just.... ask poly people questions, if they're open to it. i like talking about polyamory and my own relationships so you're welcome to send asks if u want, i just can't guarantee i'll answer bc my energy levels fluctuate a lot and i don't always have time.
polyamorous people are in an uphill battle for positive representation right now & so the LAST thing i want to see is authors giving up on their stories bc they're worried about getting things Wrong. well-meaning and positive stories that treat this kind of love as normal, healthy, & aspirational are So So So Needed. even if you guys end up with some funky-feeling details.
seriously, if you're monogamous then you probably don't have a full idea of Just How Nasty a lot of people can get about polyamory. i wish it DIDN'T mean so much for you guys to want to write nice stories about us, but it does mean a lot. and it means a lot that you want to do it WELL.
in conclusion. this is not a prescriptive guide, it's just a way to raise questions. and also, you all are doing FINE.
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obsessedwithstarwars · 11 months
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Bruce: How was your class trip Damian?
Damian: It was quiet and productive Father.
Bruce: I’m glad to hear it. What was your favorite part?
Damian: I learned how to escape an Iron Maiden.
Bruce: …
Damian: …
Bruce: Explain please.
Damian: A boy Drake’s age taught me how to escape an Iron Maiden.
Bruce: How did he have that knowledge?
Damian: He claims his family has a dungeon full of medieval torture devices. I believe he may require further investigation.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months
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Get Souped!
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otaku553 · 10 months
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Haha
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limbel · 2 days
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did't feel inspired to work on a new prompt today so i decided to keep exploring dean's notebook from this piece, since i am very much Still Thinking about it a Normal Amount
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turtleblogatlast · 5 months
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[ cw: risk taking behavior / circumstantial self harm kinda / ignoring of injuries / self-depreciation / slight ooc-ness but for a reason! / ]
Post invasion, Leo is fine.
More than fine! He’s better than before, even. That is, if you don’t count the slightly cracked shell and still healing bones, but those are only a problem when the weather wants them to be!
Leo really is better in the ways that matter.
He’s not as cocky, not as self-centered, and overall just more heroic in general if he does say so himself.
Raph even said he was proud of Leo!
So obviously things are going well.
But.
It’s not enough.
Leo’s better, sure, but he’s still got work to do.
So - and here’s something that will probably make his brothers faint on the spot - he needs to train.
_____
His brothers do not faint, but it’s a near thing for Raph. Mikey has to fan the snapper’s face and Donnie almost brings out the smelling salts before Raph shoots back to his feet with an excited grin.
Leo’s big brother gets teary eyed soon after and envelops him in a bear hug, saying once again how proud he is that Leo is growing up.
Leo lets himself be hugged, even hugs back as fiercely as he can, because unbeknownst to Raph, this marks the end of Leo’s childhood.
He lets himself be hugged like a kid one last time, looking through the hole in Raph’s shell all the while.
_____
Leo only trains the regular way with his brothers and occasionally April and the Caseys, but most especially Raph.
But of course that’s not enough, it was never going to be.
So he goes through the motions of the stretches, the spars, the meditation, and then he leaves.
He makes sure to have his excuses ready, usually defaulting to Hueso as his go to since his brothers are easily bought off with the promise of pizza. Leo hasn’t yet found the tracker Donnie installed in him, but when he does that’ll be dealt with too! But for now, this should be good.
See, the invasion made him realize something.
It’s not about him, but it was his shortcomings that led to everything going to hell.
So he just…needs to get rid of those shortcomings.
He’s working on it, gaining fighting skill in training, but there’s more he needs to do, more skills he needs to train.
Leo watches intently as Repo Mantis swindles someone, he memorizes the sleight of hand that Hypno performs, he sneaks back into the Mystic Library and is so quiet the hush bats forget he’s there, he talks Big Mama into honing his manipulation, and he even sneaks into human hospitals and reptile veterinary clinics to get a clue on more serious injuries.
And after any of these, he heads to Run of the Mill to compete in the Maze of Death.
_____
This is his twelfth time going through the (newly remodeled and even more deadly) Maze of Death, and would be his fifth time winning. The first three times had him waking up in Hueso’s office, and each time he wakes his old persona shines through.
He always waves off Hueso’s annoyance and questions and insists on trying again next time before he steals some pizza and bails.
The skeleton actively tries to stop him from entering the Maze after the first time, but hey- mystics are allowed before you enter.
It’s easy enough to teleport on by.
Harder to meet Hueso’s - and later his brothers’ - eyes when he fails again.
When he first actually won, Hueso congratulates him in that typical deadpan tone of his.
“Ah, felicidades, Pepino. Now you can move on, sí?”
“Hm? Nah, boneman! That run was sloppy!”
And then Leo runs off before Hueso can stop him.
He doesn’t even look at his picture on the champion wall when he next comes around. It’s not much to look at anyway.
_____
His second win is much like the first, and only his third win is actually acceptable.
But he knows the field too much now. He needs a challenge.
When he attempts to go through it blindfolded, he’s quickly shown how much he doesn’t know the Maze. So, obviously, he loses again.
He got a bit more banged up that time around.
“Pepino, basta ya, you’ve already won. Where are your brothers?”
“I can’t stop yet, señor! This is for my brothers - no les digas, please.”
Even if Hueso wanted to tell Leo’s brothers, they haven’t been in enough for him to get to, and it’s not like Hueso has their number since Leo’s the one Hueso usually contacts. For now, Leo’s safe to continue as is.
Though his injuries are getting harder to hide, and there’s only so much his shell in particular can take.
So to speed things up, he incorporates the blindfold into his regular training.
His brothers question it, of course, but hey, he initially got the idea from seeing Lou Jitsu do it in the third best Lou Jitsu movie, so it comes as a great excuse now.
He’s only a little put off by how fast Mikey adapts to it when the others try.
“I dunno-“ Mikey shrugs when asked, “You guys shine so brightly anyway, a mask doesn’t do much.”
Seeing their mystic energies is pretty cool, Leo can admit.
He just wishes he could grasp that himself - and that it was useful for a death maze.
_____
Leo’s training pulls off eventually, and soon, after a few more losses, he wins a forth time. But it’s a near loss, and a near loss is the difference between someone living and dying.
He’s gotta go again.
Hueso’s more insistent than ever, though.
“You must stop, Pepino.”
“But I can do better-“
“You don’t have to! Your shell is bleeding - ¡por tu propio bien, poner fin a esto!”
“I told you, this is for their own good! For everyone’s own good!”
He forgets the pizzas when he leaves. He claims sickness when he hides under his covers.
He ignores how childish the act makes him feel.
_____
Leo’s getting better, and his reflexes and tact in training shows this. His other training of his subterfuge and medical skills also prove to be useful.
He’s pretty good at hiding injuries, now! Though not so good at hiding a pained shell. Even Donnie looks at him with blatant concern (and understanding) when Leo can’t help but take a sharp breath whenever he lands on his back.
It’s hard not to go right back into waving everything off with jokes like he used to. Deflections are easier when they’re annoying!
But- this is just another reason that he needs to get better, right? So his brothers won’t worry. He doesn’t need the spotlight anymore - he’s over that, thanks.
He squashes down the part of him that perks up when Splinter says he’s growing up. He actively kills the part of himself that cries at the same phrase.
_____
So. Yeah. This’ll be his twelfth time running the Maze. And, hopefully, his fifth win. Maybe he really will move on after this.
The Hidden City is pretty big! There’s probably a bigger challenge somewhere.
Maybe Big Mama has a more secret Nexus hidden away, out of the public eye.
Well, whatever. That’s a future problem for him to figure out, yeah? For now, he carries on like usual, teleporting to the entrance of the Maze and diving right in.
Even blindfolded, he works his way through, dodging and weaving and feeling as he goes. He even tries to evoke his inner Mikey and calls on his mystic energy. Not enough to cheat, but enough to feel.
Usually, when Leo teleports, he swears he feels every part of himself disperse into particles. Now, with energy thrumming under his scales, he can feel particles everywhere.
It’s not refined enough to tell him everything, and he gets a fun new burn and a nice whack to the back by getting distracted. Still, it gives him more than he had before. It makes him more aware of everything, like he licked a finger and held it in the air to feel the direction of wind, but every direction blew wind, all in different ways.
He makes it to the end with minimal injuries after that, and sure, his shell is screaming at him now, but he thinks he did a shell of a good job.
…Ah, he needs to cut that out, huh? Man. Maybe Donnie’s collar idea was a good call after all.
Leo needs to be a hero. Not a face man. Not a failure.
Not a kid.
_____
Leo doesn’t smile when the Minotaur takes his picture again for the champion wall, and he doesn’t listen when she tells him to “go home and never come back.”
He doesn’t plan to, anyway, yeesh.
He’s tired as he trudges out of the exit, and Hueso catches him when he stumbles.
Hueso doesn’t say anything. Leo doesn’t either.
Or, he doesn’t, until he feels a familiar large hand helping him up as well.
Leo’s face whips up as he flinches back, eyes wide as they meet with a worried (so, so worried) Raph’s.
“You told them?” Leo asks Hueso in betrayal, heart thudding wildly in his chest.
“Pepino…”
“Told us what?” Mikey pipes up from behind Raph, coming closer to get a better look at Leo, “Leo, what’s going on?”
“Your shell has been having pretty big setbacks on its healing, is this why?” Donnie demands, glaring fiercely as he motions toward the Maze.
Leo feels unmoored. “I-“
“Leo.” Raph interrupts, and no Leo doesn’t want to hear it- “Are you okay?”
And Leo wants to say “it’s not about me”. He wants to say anything that proved he learned his lesson, that he’s not a liability or worse, an active danger to his own family.
He wants Raph to continue being proud of him. He wants his brothers to trust him.
Instead, he passes out.
_____
The next time his eyes open, Leo’s on his side, staring at his blue lava lamp.
He knows without looking that his shell is re-bandaged. He knows his other injuries have been dealt with too.
And unless Leo learned how to do some pretty impressive medical sleepwalking, he knows he’s not getting away this time.
All three of his brothers being in his room prove that.
“What’s been going on, Leo?” Mikey asks, and his voice cracks partway through.
He’s looking at Leo like he’s searching for something, but Leo doesn’t have anything to show. Nothing’s hidden, he just did some light spring cleaning is all, throwing out all the parts he didn’t need.
All the parts they didn’t need.
And yet despite everything, he can feel himself falling back into old ways, a grin tugging at his beak and lackadaisical deflection on the tip of his tongue.
Maybe he should let that part of him show, just for once. It wouldn’t seem like too much of a setback would it? And he could really use a fun pun right about now-
No.
No it’s not about him. He needs to remember why he did all this in the first place.
“Okay- sorry, guys.” He smiles, softly, quietly, “I guess I got too caught up in training. I’ll work at it some more, don’t worry.”
“Oh, I see. Training. That’s all it was, huh? Training.” Donnie hisses more than says, nearly vibrating in anger.
“…yeah?” Leo nods slowly, because, uh, that’s literally the most honest thing he said. It was training.
“If it’s just “training” then why the secrecy, hm? Why in Curie’s good name did you prefer to sneak around rather than, oh, I don’t know, tell your family?”
Leo feels his shoulders rise at Donnie’s aggression, defensiveness welling up in him, “It was my training! Nothing went wrong, I’m getting better!”
“Better?” Raph asks incredulously, “Leo, you’re wasting away. A tap to the shell stuns you for minutes, you lost weight, and your dark circles are worse than Raph’s ever seen them! You aren’t getting better-!”
“YES I AM!”
The words rip out of Leo before he can stop them.
The room is silent as his brother look at him, all wearing expressions of hurt that Leo put there again.
“Yes I am.” Leo reiterates, shaking, “Because- if I’m not-“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “If I’m not-“
Then what was all this for?
Arms slowly wrap around him, and he knows now from the feel of the mystic that it’s Mikey.
“You’ve gotten faster, and sneakier.” Mikey says quietly. “When I accidentally cut my hand, you knew exactly how to take care of it.” His voice grows firm, and he backs out of the hug, “But those are your skills. You, though, you’ve been…you’ve been…”
“You’ve been dilapidating before our very eyes, and trying to hide it.” Donnie finishes, jaw tight. “You think we wouldn’t notice? After everything?” To Leo’s horror, Donnie’s voice is hoarse with tears, “You absolute dumb dumb.”
“I- but I need to train. The Maze is-“
“Leo, we don’t care that you ran through the Maze. We care you did it alone.” Raph says quietly. “We could have joined you, any time.”
“But- but I’m doing this for you-“
“Listen to your brothers, Blue.” They jump as a new voice joins the fray, heads turning to see Splinter make his way into the - frankly crowded - room.
“Dad, I-“ Leo begins, but trails off, suddenly more unsure than ever in the face of his father.
“It’s good you’re finally picking up training! Especially for your brothers’ sakes! But there’s such a thing as going overboard, you know.” Splinter pokes a sharp claw into Leo’s plastron, “Just because you’re dragging it out this time, doesn’t make this any less of a sacrifice. My son, you’ve taken after Karai an awful lot, haven’t you?”
Leo just looks at his father. At his brothers. Then, he looks down at his calloused hands, bandaged and scarred from overuse.
He swallows dryly. “Is that a bad thing?”
He feels his family crowd in around him, feels his father’s hand on his shoulder.
“It’s not wrong to want to be better, Leonardo.” Splinter says, softly and with so much grief and guilt that Leo can never begin to understand, “But you were never bad to begin with.”
Leo’s breath hitches.
“And-” Splinter’s hands rise up to frame Leo’s face. “You are much too young to ever consider sacrifice the best answer.”
“You got me to relax, Leo. So I’ll do the same for you.” Raph grins, eyes wet, “We’re still kids, right?”
And-
Leo smiles, watery but genuine. “Yeah, Raph. We are.”
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NGL I have STRONG opinions about digital releases omitting the letters to the editor section of older comics. I feel like the letters are a part of comic history and should be aggressively preserved.
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scificrows · 10 months
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Okay, my brain refuses to think about anything other than Murderbot, so I looked at every use of the word "friend[s]" in TMBD and... created some pie charts. Normal human activities.
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Some Thoughts™ I had while putting this together (under the cut):
In All Systems Red, Murderbot notes that the PresAux crew are all close friends (twice! and goes on to explain their internal relationships which I think is very cute). This is pretty much the only use of 'friends' in ASR, except for when Murderbot says that SecUnits can't be friends with each other.
It seems that this may be one of the first times Murderbot has ever really been around a group of friends before? Murderbot notes that this is not the norm for its contracts and admits that the fact that they are all friends and the way they interact with each other make it actually enjoy that contract (before!!!! the hostile attack, so it already enjoys this contract before they start seeing it as a person etc ghghhhh). [Inference: Friendship seems enjoyable.]
The first character that calls Murderbot its friend is ART in Artificial Condition. Murderbot immediately refutes this (and then goes on to call ART its friend to its clients for the rest of the book). [Inference: Maybe ART is Murderbot's friend. And maybe that is... agreeable]
Rogue Protocol has more than twice as many instances of the word 'friend' as any of the other novellas. Why? Miki. Friendship and its implications for non-humans are a central theme because Miki is friends with everyone. Murderbot initially scoffs at the notion that Miki and Miki's humans are friends. At the end of the book, after witnessing how desperately Don Abene tried to stop Miki from trying to save them, and her grief after its death, Murderbot has to admit that she had in fact been Miki's friend. [Inference: Humans can be friends with bots and can sincerely care about them]
In Exit Strategy, Murderbot tentatively uses the word "friends" for its humans for the first time (several times actually). It questions whether it can actually call them its friends or not and later realizes that it had been afraid what admitting that the humans are its friends would do to it. At the end of the book, Mensah tells Murderbot the PresAux crew are its friends, which is the first time a human has directly said that to it (at least on-page). [Inference: Humans can and want to be Murderbot's friends]
In Network Effect, Murderbot seems to be more habituated to the word 'friend', confidently calling ART and Ratthi its friends, like it is no longer just trying the concept on unsure if it fits. There are many instances in which other characters refer to MB as ART's friend or the other way around and Murderbot's humans refer to Murderbot as their friend several times. Generally, there seems to be less hesitancy, because yes, all of them are Murderbot's friends, why wouldn't they be. [Inference: SecUnits can have friends. This SecUnit has friends. They care about it a lot.]
Conclusion: The Murderbot Diaries tell the story of a construct that does not seem to consider the possibility of friendship for itself and is fine with that - until it accidentally starts caring a little too much and suddenly more and more people annex it as a friend (ew) to the point where it can no longer deny that this is happening and has to begrudgingly admit that yes, it has friends now and maybe that is actually not a bad thing.
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crypticreid · 8 months
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KINKTOBER DAY FOUR
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October 13 -- Virginity
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author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)
summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.
warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys
word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)
this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!
Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair. 
“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder. 
“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking. 
The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs. 
You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.
“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy. 
Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk. 
You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers. 
“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself. 
“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.” 
“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims. 
Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers. 
“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer. 
“It’s okay.” 
“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you. 
“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper. 
“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid. 
“What?” You whip your head around to her. 
Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.” 
You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.” 
JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?” 
You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it. 
The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.  
Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.” 
“Or gambling.” Emily adds. 
You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.” 
“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles. 
“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk. 
“I do not!” 
Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans. 
On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him. 
“Are you okay?” He asks. 
You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 
He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 
The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly.  “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity. 
“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly. 
Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?” 
“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own. 
“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought. 
“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared. 
You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.” 
His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –” 
“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward. 
“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?” 
One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.” 
“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you. 
“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?” 
He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.” 
You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?” 
“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.” 
“Of course, Doctor Reid.” 
He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.” 
“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked. 
Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.” 
“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?” 
“No, we just –” 
“Hooked up.” You finish for him. 
“For a couple months, yeah.” 
Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?” 
His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.” 
“What did you call her?” 
“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs. 
“Wow, who knew.” 
“What?” 
“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders. 
“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away. 
Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile. 
He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?” 
“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over. 
Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest. 
“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt. 
“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 
“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –” 
“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily. 
“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek. 
“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back. 
You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away. 
His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss. 
His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip. 
“What for?” You blink. 
“Kissing you.” 
“I kissed you.” 
“I kissed you back.” 
“And you should do it again.” 
His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.” 
“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer. 
“It’s inappropriate.” 
“I don’t care.” 
“There’s paperwork.” 
“Not if we don’t tell anyone.” 
“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest. 
“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?” 
He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects. 
You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair. 
“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket. 
He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot. 
“It’s kismet.” 
“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.” 
“It is.” You say earnestly. 
He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.” 
“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 
His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?” 
You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second. 
“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.” 
“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?” 
“We have each other. And you focus on the good.” 
You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.” 
He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.” 
You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing. 
“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you. 
“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck. 
He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core. 
“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck. 
“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin. 
“I want you.” 
He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.” 
“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.” 
He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?” 
“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly. 
“I’ll take care of you.” 
“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own. 
His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment. 
Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?” 
“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie. 
He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.” 
You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately.  “I don’t wanna go slow.” 
He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.” 
Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.” 
His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?” 
“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager. 
“How far?” 
“What?” 
“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?” 
Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?” 
“Spencer,” you plead. 
He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.” 
You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more. 
“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece. 
“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips. 
You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.” 
He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more. 
“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more. 
He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him. 
“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom. 
Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands. 
Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment. 
“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?” 
“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw. 
“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.” 
Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember. 
“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him. 
“I thought of you too.” You confess. 
“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.” 
You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.” 
“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts. 
You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him. 
“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.  
You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest. 
Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed. 
When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you. 
The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back. 
He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear. 
“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?” 
“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action. 
He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained. 
“You can. I want you to.” 
His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word. 
Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place. 
“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.” 
He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 
He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles. 
“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite. 
“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit. 
“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes. 
“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.” 
“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder. 
“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap. 
You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.” 
You force your eyes open. “Spencer…” 
“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”  
“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate. 
“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” 
You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him. 
You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.” 
One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 
This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters. 
“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you. 
“I want you.” 
“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle. 
“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it. 
“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs. 
You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.” 
Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys. 
“What are you doing?” You ask. 
“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.” 
You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.” 
He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head. 
You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath. 
“Are you okay?” He asks. 
“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.” 
He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match. 
At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.” 
His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan. 
You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm. 
“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters. 
You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you. 
He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face. 
“Are you okay?” He inquires. 
“I’m perfect.” 
His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.” 
The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window. 
“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 
“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases. 
Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?” 
“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps. 
“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm. 
“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently. 
JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.” 
“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.” 
“Boo!” Emily exclaims. 
Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!” 
“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you. 
“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns. 
“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.
tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld
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chessb0r3d · 6 months
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i cracked the code.
#believing dirk is the worst guy because its what dirk thinks of himself#ignoring daves bisexuality and think hes a gay man in denial even when he explained hes bisexual#believing john 'im not a homosexual' egbert is explicitly straight while he makes out with his mcconahey and cameron posters more#than he kissed women(literally only once)#believing that rose is an edgy psyhcotic little bitch when she was neglected. she speaks elegantly to cover that shes silly and a total ner#and how did people forget that rose also writes gay wizard fanfiction. reads Wikipedia. and her beautiful artstyle as a result of neglect#(and by neglect meaning having SO MUCH TIME to draw)#jake wasnt into dirk. he also told di that he didnt like how brobot getting touchy with him during strifes#but as part of the repression 4(prospit kids). he refused on changing the bot settings#what jane said about roxy being better when she was drunk. it was fucking sarcasm. its the least insane shit you could say to a best friend#all the kids have issues and of course people get mad over a girl being sarcastic.#when KARKAT said THE SAME THING to rose when she was drunk on the meteor nobody bats an eye#trolls are just grey humans that are bugs. he doesnt get an excuse for being an alien. humans were made from KARKATS BLOOD#jade isnt all silly girl and is so FULL OF HATE towards the trolls. she called karkat a fuckass (VERY FUNNY) to do her a favor#“jade would rather have punched karkat in the fact then had a pleasent conversation with him.”#“she viewed the trolls as rude mean and cruel. and even thought that nepeta was just making fun of her.#despite it being that nepeta just wanted to roleplay and have fun."#dred.loki#I HAVE YET TO ADD MORE. THESE ARE JUST NOTES#homestuck#chss
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skrunksthatwunk · 4 months
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thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.
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