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#idk why it's like there's an actual physical wall in my brain stopping me most of the time

eilidh-eternal · 3 months

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HOW DO PEOPLE WRITE SMUT??

I've been trying to write a chapter in a fiction book I'm writing and idk how to do it properly 😭😭

I've read copious amount of smut, and yet I'm stuck, help 😰

-🌈💋anon

Hi love! I'm not sure how much help I can really offer, but here's some advice from a reader-turned-writer.

I wanna start with this: It's always going to feel a little cringe when you're learning, and that is Completely Normal!

It could be the most tame, vanilla, soft sex, or the kinkiest, hardcore smut you can't even believe you dreamt up. It's going to feel really weird writing it because you have to think about it. You're plotting and planning and deciding how these two, or more, people are gonna get down and dirty, and that really isn't something that happens when you actually do it.

Sure you daydream, fantasize, imagine what certain positions might feel like, what your partner will look like—but you're not really planning anything.

Sex is, largely, a spontaneous act. Our brains receive and perceive external stimuli and translate it into desire, desires that take shape in many different ways from person to person. We act on what we feel in those moments of desire, let instinct take over, so It's the thinking that makes the process feel, at least for me and in this particular context, awkward and stilted. Thinking about what's happening too much can pull me, as a reader, writer and participant, out of the moment and ruin the experience. Hence why the thinking part of writing it makes it feel so... meh. Embrace the spontaneity of the act when you're writing and focus your thoughts instead on the most important part, in my opinion—how what's currently happening feels for your characters.

The second part of this is going to be personal because sex is just that—a highly personal experience that we all have boundaries and personal preferences for which dictate how we experience it. Those boundaries, preferences, or a lack of experience with a certain kink, lifestyle or even position can also contribute to that awkward feeling.

Don't shy away from drawing on your own experiences for inspiration or guidance either, even if you haven't done the exact things you're writing! Fall back on the emotion you experienced, let your characters feel the same things you felt, and build off of that. If something feels good you probably don't want it to stop, right? What did you do to chase that particular feeling? What stimuli did you respond to in that moment that made you feel that way and how did you get more of it? These are the main factors that lead to changes in or the maintaining of position, pace, power dynamics, toys, etc..

It will take some practice, as all writing does, to learn how to let these scenes flow out of you naturally instead of trying to map out every single thing your characters do in detail. In the meantime, focusing on feelings rather than mechanics will help you avoid a lack of emotion and prevent you from neglecting the inner monologue or omniscient narration of what's going through a characters mind when they're in the moment. leaving out this context makes the scene feel more robotic, less organic, when the only thing being described is what's happening mechanically and nothing is said about how a character feels emotionally or physically; i.e., “going through the motions.”

This last bit is a very nit-picky subject, but the wording you use to describe anatomy can make your writing feel too clinical or immature depending on what you choose. For me, things like "cunny", "goey", "gummy" and "spongey" used in reference to the female anatomy feels more immature, lacks the finer details that could more vividly describe the experience. Using proper anatomical terms that you wouldn't normally use in the bedroom, like penis, labia, vagina, vulva, etc., will make it feel too clinical, though this isn't an absolute. Phrases like "silken walls", "velvety warmth", "slick heat" and "glistening folds" tells me soooo much more about what's being seen/felt and has more vivid imagery.

You can, however, go overboard with this. I'm sure we've all seen those tiktoks talking about the wild ways some authors have described anatomy; e.g., "love tool" and "pleasure canal." In this case, just call it what it is. Pussy and cock. Cunt and dick. Manhood/member and nether folds/lips if the style of writing or the time the story is set in is more conservative and you want to adhere to that. I know we have been societally conditioned to view these words as lewd and unacceptable due to some negative connotations, but I would much rather have a partner tell me they want to fuck my pussy raw than "take a ride on my pleasure canal." I cannot stress enough how much of this is a matter of personal preference and that this all my very biased opinion on anatomical descriptors.

I am by no means an expert, but I do hope some part of this helps you feel more confident about your writing! Remember that what works for some authors won't work for others, so if the advice I've given doesn't help it is not an indication of your writing abilities. The more you write the more comfortable you’ll feel, and you’ll start to get a sense of what does and doesn’t work for you!

#eilidh's asks #eilidh tries to give advice #not an expert #writing is subjective and should be for your enjoyment #what works for me might not work for you

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clownhonkbonk · 30 days

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to any interested here are my reactions i remembered to write down for the magnus archives in it's entirety :3 it's not too many bUt this is what you get

the episode numbers are written with them!!

ft me trying to understand the story with a great deal of pain writing on my phone in my notes app mostly at 1 am

REACTIONS 👀

56 sub statment thinf w martin

avtually got tears in my eyes. i love you martin. i love you jon. im so happy he just went " avtually, im rather relieved " or whatever bc hell yes girl u are so unwell.

this show is so addicting.

OMG 28 DAYS LATER MENTION!!!! THE END IS EXTREMLY FUCJING NEIGH!!! not the reference but excited

spooky.

WAY too attached to them

only just skipped the add and " episode Fifty-Eight. Trail Rations" And immediately went " oh NO !! cannibalism :( " and the read the description like LMAOO everytime there's anything relating to food in this podcast i just go " oh no it's cannibalisim "

holy shit it's a woman cannibal, diversity WIN

WHAT THE FUCK I REALISED WHATS HAPPENING WHEN THEY'RE BOTH DEAD

benjamin wtf homie this is NOT good bedroom foreplay

ouuugg auch good writing.

i understand the possible cannibalisim thing now

YES JON OFC THEY R WORRIED ABT YOU YOU DUNBASS IM CRYING PLS

at lwast he doesn't think it's martin as much anymore ❓❓❓❓

i NEEEED to stop going through s1 animatics but QOW this fanvase is awesome i love all the designs.. i used to think martin and tim were the same person for a few episodes

honestly hell yeah tim. shout at jon for being weird. but also sike you can't leave.

insane.

ok im like halfway through this but like so for the deities / entities that r silly

we got

eyes, spider, diseases / insects ( though they maybe different ) and meat maybe???? maybe there's just three..

oh oh the guys r all core fears / most common fears, one extra is THE STRANGER OOOOoooOooooO

i love you martin for filling in n trying to take over for jon ur such a cutie

idk how much i believe that elias did it but like all evidence does point to that

actually love their lil dynamic. cuties.

103

OUUUGH JON WHAT THE FUCK DID U USE UR BRAIN POWERS ON HIM WTFFFFF

104

martin is getting spaceyyyyy uh oh.... be careful bb..

107

jon have you been DRUGGED?!?! (8:00)

jon bb mayb take a break you seem to be like having iron deficiency LMAOO

111

ok we got 14 whores of the universe

1 end - death

2 eyes

3 vertigo

4 the stranger

5 the spiral - madness

6 isolation - fear of being alone / seperated form ppl

7 burning/fire

8 the desolation

9 the slaughter violence

10 the web - also being manipulated

11 the vast

12 filth disease insexts

13 claustrophobia

14 darkness

the meat ❓❓❓

124

OUUUGH HE LITERALLY DITCHED THE RECORDING JUST TO RUN AFTER MARTIN the gays r getting to me

126

WHAT HTEH FUCKKK !>??!?!?!? !??

bro this is NOT therapy. bro ham lukas peter you dickwad what the fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

ISOLATION??????????????????????? WHY IS THE ISOLATION GOD POKING AT MARTIN ?!?!?!?!?!?!??! DICKWAD??!?!?! ?criyng asobbign why

i actually low key love lukas " dynamic duo " is sO funny sjkdjk

martin i miss u come back it;s not woRTH ITTTTTT

fuck i draw jon like trent crimm if he was a twig and gayer and green

131

i physically recalled at the start they've IMPROOOVED their aUDIO... fucking crazy.

also bitches be bitching ( jon AND melane )

honestly fuck yeah helen girl

133

girl is dealing wth SOOO much trauma poor girl........... jeez.

cannot stop thinkin about martin :(

i miss tim.

134

WOOOO MARTIN

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HE LEFT THE TAPES FOR JON WTF

the buried / cave

the end

the corruption / filth

the dark

the desolation

the eye

the flesh

the hunt

the lonely

the slaughter

the spiral

the stranger

the vast

the web

135

feeks like they're reading together but w a wall in the way which is sad

142

MARTIN PLEASADEEE

also jon what the fuck please don't be a dick this lovely lade lost her job and gained so much trauma.

143

jon stop using ur thing constantly on people it makes me worried for you and insanely pushes you to not being human.

jon i know she tried to hurt you both but ur being so mean, im WORRIED.

hell YES hellen

144

martin im still upset at you for going " why does no one tell me anything !!!! " while literally avoiding them and asking yhem not to talk to you!!! wtf broham.

anyway loving this story

145

gertrude what a girl holy cow<3

146

IM SO WORRIED ABT MARTIN AND JON GUUUUUUH WHAT THE FUCK.

150

jon u r so self destructive...

151

holy ahit simon fairchild..

154

what the fuck im sobbing what is this good omens bullshit i love it but im crying not really but like heartbreaking????

171

i don't know if jons gonna survive if he doesn't stop getting weird and weirder.

also adorable "is he your boyfriend?!"

" yes actually "

jon what the fuck w u n these flesh flowers

ok hi!! thst was the last one.:3

i didn't write down reactions for further episodes but if we can bring our attention to me writing at some point ( in early season 5 ) in my sketch book " 10 bets jon or martin dies at the end "

#tma spoilers #times a million.#tma #the magnus archives #sorry about the... crude language and insults. i was never once in my right mind 😔

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unethicalexperiments · 1 year

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idk how to really start this but like. my mental state is just so exhausting like im so tired of it. theres no reason i should be this volatile theres no reason i should react to situations the way i do. just last night i had a weird (not even that bad) interaction with a stranger and it pissed me off so much i tried to kill myself. i wasn't sad or embarrassed i was just so furious over it, because it was a 10 second interaction and i couldn't explain myself to the other person, and i was just so fucking angry i was ready to physically hurt the other person over it well after i walked away. and then once i got home i was so upset that i got that unreasonably angry over a nothing interaction. and its not like i even got angry while i was still with the other person! it wasnt until after i walked away! there were only two thoughts circling in my mind for about 30-60 minutes after (idk im so bad at keeping track of time) that were just "why do i react to things like this" and "i just want it to stop hurting" bc thats the worst of it it just hurts so much. i swear im in physical pain after having breakdowns like that i feel hollow in my chest and obviously i dont have to say anything else about how much it emotionally hurts. i just want it to stop hurting. is that really too much to ask for? to not be in so much pain for just a little while? i guess i still havent come to terms with the fact that im disabled, because i still think of being disabled as someone who uses aids, even though i know invisible disabilities are a thing. i dont see other peoples invisible disabilities as being invalid, just really my own, because i still feel like im high enough functioning that i shouldnt consider myself disabled. i dont use mobility aids yet i dont take pain medication yet so therefore the literal brain damage i have isnt bad enough, im still fine. i kind of got off track but thats also part of it i guess. another thing that really gets me is the fact that i actually do have bpd, i was diagnosed by an actual doctor at 17 and its still a more than valid diagnosis. i feel like im in this constant cycle of "i have to get better because i cant keep living like this" and "i have to get worse so everyone else can see what theyve done to me". like last night i literally had to sit down and reread the dsm chapter on bpd to remind myself this is why youre like this. you do have this diagnosis its real and it is a problem. my 30 minute episodes of actively trying to kill myself to be followed by watching tv or something and laughing as if none of that happened. i still cant fathom not living like this, not having to go through this every fucking day. and then on the other hand i had a great interaction today at my job that made me feel really good about what i do and proving the work that i do is actually helping the community around me. and i felt on top of the world for like an hour, i felt great! and then another thing at work happened where i proved myself/my team to be right about something! which was also great! and i got another half hour of happiness. and then i get home and im reminded of how alone i am, how i really have no one to do or share anything with anymore. which is partially my fault and partially not! im not gonna act like im the most pleasant person to be around or that im easy to deal with, but fuck, man, i try. and it always feels like no one else is trying. i cut my own hair for the first time a few weeks ago; it came out great! and had no one to tell about it.

and now im just staring at a wall over all of it. none of the bad stuff happened none of the good stuff happened. im gonna get violently angry later and im gonna be nearly euphoric later, its just another day. and i want to change i want to change my lifestyle so bad but how can i do that without any help. i spent years of my life begging for other people to help me and got ignored, which resulted in my disability. i tried so hard to fix it on my own but i couldnt! im not a doctor! and now ill never be because i couldnt finish my pre-med classes because of my disability! i feel like im constantly screaming at the top of my lungs and waving red flags shouting please for the love of god someone help me every day and every day nothing changes. they say you cant help someone who doesnt want to be helped, but has anyone actually tried helping people before? youre telling me you cant problem solve? you cant find a different road to a solution, just because we cant take the easiest one? im sorry that its not easy for everyone else to help me, but how does anyone else think i feel?

but whatever. im fine now. i relived every emotion i went through while writing all that but im fine now. now that its all out there its all out there, out of my system. i dont care anymore. because it didnt matter. because it doesnt matter. none of it matters. it happened and its gonna happen again. ill go through these cycles again tomorrow and the next day and the next week and the next month and the next year and so on. it is what it is i guess. but does it really have to be.

#talking to myself #content warning for like. borderline personality disorder. i guess.#this is just a wall of text bc i wont go back to therapy no one feel obligated to open or read this

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detectivehannibal · 2 years

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Idk why the idea of Will, when in the throes of sexy time, seeing his partner very much blissed out because of him going

“This is my design”

Idk why that is just super…..hot to me like. I can’t be the only one to think that. Like…..

Anyway I am Hannibal trash now so. That’s fun.

Will Graham x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Male/Female. Mentions of violence/gore.

Word Count: 1.4k

“You’ve gone quiet on me.”

“Look at you....” He drawled through breathless words and with a knowing smirk, “I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you quite like this.”

The heaving of your chest, the parted position of your kiss swollen lips, and the desperate grip of your hands on his biceps were all confident indicators that you were floating lost and freely somewhere deep in the clouds of ecstasy and sexual bliss. If you hadn’t known any better, then you would’ve been sure that Will Graham was the only other person in the world at this moment. Your brain was only focused on him. It actually could not focus on anything other than the man hovering over you and his cock buried as far into you as he physically could go.

Will was on a different type of energy tonight. Maybe it was the season change or maybe Will had just had a better day than usual, but nonetheless, Will was absolutely untamed tonight. Usually, Will tended to be a softer kind of lover. He was careful and more tentative to the situation at hand. However, based on the way he was right now, an outsider would’ve never believed it.

He rolled his hips backwards, withdrawing his cock that was dripping and slick with the arousal that had soaked you. The warm sensation from the loss of his dick inside of you was only temporary, because he was pushing back into you just as fast as he had pulled out. The palms of his hands were splayed over your bare hips, his grasp keeping your back pinned to the mattress and your legs wrapped around his waist.

He was bottoming out each time he stretched your walls, listening to your squeaks and moans to ensure that they were pleasureful and not painful. He was still keeping in mind that he had never handled you in such a rough, wild manner, because hurting you was never part of his intentions.

“Are you alright?” Will continued to thrust into you, the head of his cock pushing against your cervix that was stopping him from going any further, “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

Your noises had dwindled down to erratic breathing and whimpers of pleading. His thrusts slowed to a more glacial push in and pull out when he saw the black pupils of your eyes shimmer as if you were about to speak to him.

“S-Say it again.” You stuttered, but still managed to create a raspy whisper.

Will’s brows straightened and his smirk grew wider. He had you at his mercy. He had you right where he wanted you. It was moments like this that reminded him how much power he really had. He had you in a puddle of whines and moans just because of his words.

He lowered his head and chest downwards, his lips positioned just below the shell of your ear. The words were hot and sent a certain tingle down your spine as they echoed from the depths of his throat.

“This is my design.”

When he withdrew his cock the next time, he slammed it back inside of you as roughly as possible. A surprised, pleasant cry sounded out from your chest as the words he spoke and the motions of his body mingled together to create the most lustful experience for you. Pleasure was exploding and spreading all through you like a burning fire through a forest. You had never felt more connected to Will than at this moment.

You were feeling everything.

The fast beating of his heart, the rush of his blood through his veins, the inhales and exhales of his lungs -- every part of him was perfectly in tune with yours. It was hard to explain, but it was like you could feel your souls becoming more wrapped up with one another.

“My design. Flawless, stunning, wonderful....” Will continued to thrust as hard as he could, not stopping unless you said the word, “Absolutely perfect.”

His hands were everywhere and all at once. He wasn’t letting any part of you be neglected. Will respected you and he worshipped your body too much to let even an inch of your being left to be untouched. Will couldn’t understand how he had been graced with someone as beautiful and someone as exquisite as you.

He had witnessed events that most people didn’t believe to exist outside of movies and TV. Will had seen a lot of bad things in his life, to say the very least. He had seen the most ugly, brutal, horrible, and the downright evil things that the world had to offer. The things that took another devastating blow to his soul each time without fail.

So, he found himself to be very lucky to have someone such as you in his life. Someone to find comfort with. Someone he found relief with. Other people in his profession didn’t have that kind of person, and he had seen the damage that had done to them.

“Every single part of me goes into my design. Everything I’ve ever wanted....everything I’ll ever need is all right here in my pretty little design.”

“Will, I’m going to-”

“Not yet. I need you to hold it for me.” Will interrupted, wanting to savor this feeling as long as he could.

A noise of disapproval bubbled from your throat, a noise that was drowned out by Will’s mouth crashing into yours. He fought against your words, making you stay completely silent and without a word of protest. Your head collapsed back onto the soft pillow beneath you, your legs tightening around Will’s waist as hard as they could to fight the temptation to let your band of an orgasm snap too soon. Will didn’t stop his moments, even more a moment of rest. This was the best that sex with you had ever felt, and he knew that he could always have it this way.

This was the calmest, yet fieriest feeling he’d ever felt. The sweetest taste that had ever danced along his tongue, and he wanted to savor every drop for as long as he could. Will did have to dial his thrusts back a bit, just so he wouldn’t go right after telling you not to. And it was hard not to. The way he filled you so effortlessly and how you felt clenching around him. The two of you were going to be melted messes of absolute exhaustion by the end of this, but it’d be the best fatigue you’d ever get the pleasure to have.

“Just a few more. Come on, my angel.” Will urged.

Your eyes had glassed over, the sense of reality had escaped you long ago. There was nothing else that mattered to you than getting your release, and feeling as much of Will as he had to offer. Will didn’t like to leave you in such a clouded state, not for too long anyways. He didn’t like how it tinkered with your headspace and made you oh-so vulnerable. Vulnerability was one of those things that Will didn’t like to think about.

Will managed another shaky, sloppy kiss from you before knowing that he needed to let this end. He sped his thrusts back up, and made them even harder than they had been before. There was no way either of you could hold out now, and it was written all over your face. Will couldn’t help but offer a strained laugh, because he was right there with you.

“We’re going to go together,” Will instructed, his hands coming to your thighs to keep them secured around him, “Just like always.”

Your grip on his biceps tightened as the two of you released around one another, your visions going white and your mouths making the most beautiful orgasmic sounds. It was one of the more intense orgasms you had ever experienced, one that nearly sent you into a harsh spasm almost immediately. Will emptied his release out into you, filling you with every last bit. He milked your walls white, collapsing onto you when his arms couldn’t support him any longer.

The two of you laid there together in silence, taking the time to regain your composure and allow your bodies to return to their normal states. The two of you were wiped out, but as content as could be.

“Are you okay?” Will questioned after several minutes or so, lifting his head to look at you.

He could tell you were still a bit lost somewhere in the world of sexual bliss, but you were as coherent and clear as you had ever been when you looked back into his kind eyes.

“Yeah. I’m perfect.”

#will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x female reader #will graham x fem! reader #will graham x you #will graham x y/n #will graham fluff #will graham smut #will graham oneshot #will graham imagine #will graham imagines #will graham fanfiction #Hannibal TV #detectivehannibal

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pourcap · 2 years

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thoughts: pg chapter 7

He had grown up admiring Kastor, striving to outdo him because he admired him, and because he was aware of the incandescence of his father’s pride in the moments when he managed to surpass his brother. oh, so basically damen had that kind of super unhealthy relationship with his father where he mostly got affection/attention when he was impressive. also, i do feel a little bit sorry for kastor, but also fuck him.

nikandros? i think i forgot who that was

ugh nooo why are they getting interrupted :( things were so peaceful for once, in that inn

(...) Veretian clothing was frankly useless in an emergency. lol will he ever get over his hatred?

(...) just stood breathless in Damen’s arms. Damen’s hands were on Laurent’s waist; his heart was hammering. ohhh. nice. :') (do you think damen's hands are big enough to hold most of laurent's waist between them? </3)

The shock of the impact was only slightly less than the shock that came from Laurent pressing against him, pinning him firmly to the wall with his body. aaaahhh. AAAAAHHH.

(...) he was plastered so tightly against Damen that Damen could feel every crease in the fabric of his garments, through which, the warm, transmitted heat of his body. / Laurent’s hair tickled his neck. / The whole length of Laurent’s body was flush against his own, thigh against thigh, chest against chest. all those details... damen is really going through it

i can't believe how horny damen is all the time

they're getting chased by who knows whom and even though damen clearly wants to get away without drawing attention, he still can't suppress whatever mixed feelings laurent evokes in him

Damen felt Laurent start shaking against him, and realised that, silently, helplessly, he was laughing. whattttttttt. what. i think my brain just short-circuited

'(...) Not like this boy. Attractive.' this is so mean omg i feel so bad for him :(

The shaking, progressively, had worsened. ‘Stop enjoying yourself,’ Damen murmured. ‘We’re going to be killed, any minute.’ ‘Giant animal,’ said Laurent. ‘Stop it.' i am so sorry for quoting this entire exchange but i love this i love the dynamic i love laurent being amused i love damen being fed up i love it all and i love it so much

i also LOVE when damen mentions that laurent is strong and athletic <3

He found himself laughing a little breathlessly, and saw his expression twinned on Laurent’s face. i don't want to sound like a broken record but !!!! i love this !!! this new side of their dynamic is so interesting and fun and i want more of it

what the fuck laurent????

'(...) Your mousy hair’s like a beacon.' have i ever mentioned how much i love damen's wit???

so sorry for constantly saying how much i love everything every two seconds but i am so giddy reading this chapter

Damen felt it then, the first dizzy edge of new emotion, and he let go his hold of Laurent like a man fearing a precipice; and yet was helpless. i am getting emotional. obv damen has been attracted to laurent before but now, the first time he's seen who i assume is the 'real' laurent, someone who can just be free and have fun and does not have to desperately fight for his life and rights all the time, damen starts actually feeling something for laurent that goes beyond physical attraction?? this is so soft :')

'Trust me,’ said Damen. Laurent looked at him for a long moment without speaking. i feel like i fell in love with them within .3 seconds and now idk how to stop

oh no :(

man, damen's single-minded fighting sounds frightening...

There the man tried ineffectually to throw a rock at Damen (which he dodged) and (...) Damen dragged him up. ‘Who sent you?’ (...) Damen judged the best way to get him to talk. The blow snapped the man’s head to one side, and blood welled and spilled from his split lip. (...) Damen drove him back into the tree hard enough for his teeth to clack together. he's so incredibly intimidating??? not that that's much of a surprise but still... (it's hot, too)

He was going to be too late. no idea what's going on. i'm scared :))))

#capri #captive prince #captiveprince #damen #lamen #damianos #damianos of akielos #laurent of vere #laurent #damen of akielos

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mini-cookie-11 · 3 years

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Analysis of "Real Gabriel"

So i'm going to write this because yes

Gabriel Agreste is a villain, and he obviously is going to receive all the hate of the fandom, mostly. And i think that's what makes him a good villain, even in a kids show. That's the point of being the antagonist.

but

He's a really complex character, as his motivations. I think the fandom hasn't spoke enough about what the actual "wish" is. Like i mostly read that people says -he wants his wife to come back alive- kinda ideas. But he has implied a lot about erasing a mistake, or thinks like that.

I totally bet on that he wants to go back and not do something, or stop Emilie on do something. And that would make all the future "invalid". At the end that's why he's so careless of even Adrien most of the time, because, as cold as it could be, he knows that it just wouldn't count.

Obviously he won't sacrifice Adrien's life because he is his son, but Gabriel is just putting all of himself in getting the cat and ladybug miraculous. Also something to point out, is that he obviously won't go so far away, because is still "his reality", idk if you get the point but i hope is clear enough xD.

Anyway, in Queen Wasp, something curious happens for just a few minuts.

Gabriel actually gave up for good. And the whole self changes.

Who is Gabriel Agreste without the burden of hope that he can save Emilie? Who is he without the miraculous, without magic?

It was just a few minuts, but it gaves enough details to make my brain go insane with ideas. I hope i can make it justice.

His motivation to break the promise he made to Emilie (maybe when she was alive, we don't know) is Adrien's safety. Also that he was powerless, all the options for him where gone.

As he was walking away, Gabriel was leaving all hope behind. And we get to see his sadness next.

Nathalie enters the room, then this.

This is something that any of them could be back from, even when Gabriel actually keeps trying to get the miraculous.

This is just her showing her attention and affection on him, he just receives it with comfort.

On Nathalies side, this whole thing of Gabriel giving up and then stop giving up, was really painful. Because, when she had her "walls", Nath knew that he just would never pay attention to her, and probably at the end she was ok with it (like i know not ok in a good way, but like she was resigned to that). But here Gabe actually received the hug without saying anything against. She was close to him physically in this particularly way; there is no coming back of knowing how it feels to embrace him. So probably all her walls just fell at that moment, there was hope, a hope that she never had in the past. And that same hope that later can mean a broken heart.

On Gabriel's side, is like "ok that happened but i still love my wife so that didn't happen" kinda way of thinking after going back to his goal. But i really think in that moment, he just let himself be and feel. It was the new taste of a future that maybe not now, but at some point, really close, he was willing to build, with Nathalie's help.

random tought: i think it was good that he didn't stop here, like aside that the whole show would have ended, but i think Gabriel needed to grow closer to Nathalie, fighting together, plotting together, maybe at this point he actually get's to know her, and that admiration for her, that she is always standing by his side, is setting the bases for something more... oh let's say it he already loves her uwu.

Gabriel showing himself in public, giving affection to Adrien.

That's it. There's the analysis.

He is loving and caring for his son, like he could have waited until Adrien ends the show. But, it was Gabriel's way to actually show and celebrate somehow that he was actually free. That he can be Adrien's father 100%, that he is proud of the little men he has become. The Agrestes are so extra, you can't change my mind xD.

This is him finding Audrey after akumatize her, with his sad eyes. At this point everything just wasn't worth it, and he harmed somehow his old friend, and later we discover that it was actually Audrey who discovers him.

You can't tell me that Gabriel dislikes Marinette, i mean, look at him. Oh this picture is so much "like father, like son" uwu. He seems really interested in Mari's talent, even happy that she is there. I don't think he would mind if she dated Adrien.

"oh but cat blanc"

I KNOW I KNOW

But as i said before, he knows that if he achieves his goal the future would be erased, and everything would be "worth it". He made them broke up to get the akuma on Marinette, that's all. im not justify him, but trying to understand how his mind works xD.

he looks soft. is my fave version of him uwu

Here Gabriel has this "proud dad" look on his face staring at Marinette xD

BUT THEN

AHHHHHHHH

CHLOE

agreste going :O

But like everything ends just right there.

Gabriel Agreste is the villain, yes, but he would be literally a different person without the burden of being Hawkmoth, having the "responsability" of a promise that he made to Emilie. All things have a cost, obviously the opportunity of saving the one he loves, is taking away Gabriel's chance for a warm present, where he can be free.

Free to be himself around his loved ones, free to actually love them the way they deserve, to feel happy and to spend time with Adrien, free to build his family again.

I'm not saying he would be good, because, yeahhhh his moral is pretty gray, like his hair, sometimes xD, but free of the past, free of his bad decisions.

Free of Emilie, in a way.

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incorrect-nozaki-kun · 2 years

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My marathon continues so

Things that are canon in GSNK that I forgot about but give me LIFE/General observations on the anime

Nozaki is willing to throw away a solid third of his morals for the sake of manga

Wakamatsu has insomnia which BIG MOOD

Nozaki wasn’t just a jock he was a jock

Nozaki really fucking hates Seo it’s to a genuinely hilarious degree this man is ready to throw hands with her at any moment.

Waka is baby™. Literally he’s younger than the others he is actually a baby comparatively but also he’s baby ™

SEO is the one who came up with the nickname “Waka”

My new favorite scene in this show is Nozaki hiding behind a wall watching Wakamatsu fail at confronting Seo with his head in his hands quietly going “bad bad bad bad”

Question for manga readers actually does Waka ever learn about the Lorelei thing. Like for real not in a bit?

HE JUST HANDS HER THE GLOVES. WAKAMATSU IS TOO POLITE FOR HIS OWN GOOD.

So I watch the dub but I really wanna know what honorifics people use for eachother in the show. Does Seo use kun for Waka? I feel like she would but idk.

Wakamatsu logic=I can’t rest in place of Nozaki bc of insomnia. Not bc, you know, thats not how it works or anything.

I love Waka’s little blank face when Chiyo and Hori are trying to screen tone. No thoughts head empty.

The most CHAOTIC TRIO EVER is Wakamatsu Chiyo and Hori. Like my god. Chaotic. One brain cell.

The fact that Nozaki HATES Seo so much that is physically pains him to ask Chiyo for her song but still does it for Wakamatsu is the cutest moment.

I love seeing these characters in casual clothes I might make a HC post about their fashion I wish we saw more of it…

The height different between Chiyozaki effects the speed they walk that’s so funny

Nozaki is literally not physically able to stop thinking about manga for like 5 minutes this man is a disaster.

“WHY COULDN’T I BE THE PRETTY BOY SLENDER TYPE?! CURSE THESE HUGE MUSCLES”-Nozaki

The fact that we have canonically seen Nozaki’s underwear and that it’s bc he tried to wear a sailor outfit like 5 sizes too small is WILD.

Mikorin buying dolls in the store and getting defensive over the dolls is a trip

Chiyo trying to figure out what girl Nozaki likes…oh Chiyo…nobody he likes nobody he’s not even thinking about that.

…I wanna go in this art supplies store they’re in what the hell it’s way nicer than Michels…

I’m trying to figure out the point in the anime where Nozaki starts to return Chiyo’s feelings and I thought it was the mall episode and I was very wrong he’s still stupid here.

Mikorin saying to have self confidence…oh Mikorin…

Mikorin actively saying no to Chiyo but then accidentally roping himself into modeling anyway is really funny.

Every once in a while I hear the Mikorin English VA voice do the Kageyama voice and it makes me laugh so hard

Mikorin truly is the human embodiment of social anxiety. And probably ADHD. No I’m not projecting what are you talking about…

Why is “YOU ARE AN EVIL MORON” not on merch.

#gsnk #mgnk #anime #monthly girls nozaki kun #monthly girls' nozaki kun #gekkan shoujo nozaki kun

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lunar-wandering · 3 years

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“one does not simply go clothes shopping”

so like, a week ago, @smallpwbbles drew this art of Wukong in a bathrobe and idk, something something ‘comedy brain activated’ or something like that, so here’s this fic-

It was a normal morning on the ship.

"Uh, where did you get that bathrobe?" Tang asked, and Wukong paused.

It had been a normal morning on the ship.

"...A closet." He eventually replied.

"Which closet?" Tang asked.

"...Would you believe me if I said it was my own?"

"No I don't think I would." Tang said, crossing his arms as Wukong continued to look more nervous by the second. "Let me change my question, why are you wearing my bathrobe?"

"Uh....."

An hour later, and somehow everyone was gathered in Wukong's room of the ship. Wukong himself, was currently trying to keep the others from opening the door to his closet, by physically leaning against it, arms spread out as though he was trying to hide the door with his body (very ineffectively, one might add).

He was still wearing Tang's bathrobe.

"C'mon guys, we don't have to do this." He said, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. "I assure you, there's nothing to see here- wh- HEY-"

He cut himself off with a yelp, as Sandy easily lifted him off the ground, pinning his arms to his torso so that he couldn't claw his way out of the other's grip. MK stepped around him, grabbing hold of the closet door's handle.

"Sorry, Monkey King." He said, "But the amount of protesting you've done this past hour- which, by the way, woke me up- means I kinda have to do this."

"My own successor, betraying me, I can't believe it-" Wukong dramatically wailed, kicking his legs as he tried to get out of Sandy's grip. This did nothing to stop MK, who rolled his eyes at his mentor's dramatics and swung the closet door open.

The first thing everyone noticed was Wukong's usual outfit, hung from a clothing hanger and horribly torn, damaged in a way that made it practically unwearable. (And honestly, why was he still even keeping it?)

The second thing everyone noticed was their own clothes.

"...When did you take this?" Mei asked, taking one of her jackets and holding it out to inspect it. "I don't think I ever saw you even get close to my room....."

Wukong didn't answer, whistling innocently.

Pigsy threw a spoon at him.

"Ow!" Wukong yelped as the spoon bounced off the back of his head, bouncing off and hitting the wall beside him, before ricocheting and hitting him in the forehead as well. He hissed in pain, for a moment, cringing.

"Answer the question, Monkey King." Pigsy said, crossing his arms with absolutely no guilt in his eyes, promising that spoon would not be the last should Wukong keep refusing to answer.

"I took it during the night okay?!" Wukong admitted, refusing to look the others in the eyes. "You guys should really get better locks on your doors, it was far too easy to sneak in-"

"Wait, so you rummaging through my closet in the middle of the night wasn't a dream?" MK asked.

"You saw him do this and you didn't say anything?" Tang said, incredulous.

"To be fair, I did knock him back out." Wukong said, quietly, under his breath.

"Like I said, I assumed it was a dre- wait you what?!" Clearly, Wukong had not said that as quietly as he hoped he had, as MK spun around to stare at him. "You knocked me out??"

"I admit it was not my best move." Wukong said, shrugging the best he could while still trapped in Sandy's grip. "But it was like, 3 AM and I panicked okay? You were fine anyways so-"

"Is that why you were so overly nice to me the other day? You were trying to make up for knocking me out??" MK asked, Wukong growing more sheepish with every word that left his successor's mouth.

"...Maybe?"

"Okay that's it." Mei said, making the others jump as she slammed the closet door shut. "We're going to take you clothes shopping."

"What?! No-" Wukong started-

"You don't get a say in this, Mr. Clothes Thief." Mei deadpanned.

Wukong stood in front of the clothing store, wearing a hoodie that was about two sizes too big for him.

(He wasn't entirely sure who he had stole it from, at some point the pile of clothes had started blending together until he couldn't tell what was from who, which would've eventually been a problem when he'd return all the stuff he'd stolen without the others noticing.

Well. That is, it would've been a problem if he had planned to give it back...).

Mei and MK stood beside him, glancing between him and the store.

"...Well?" MK asked, "Aren't you going to go in?"

"...No, actually, I think maybe I'll just keep wearing my torn up clothes-" Wukong started, moving to turn around, only for Mei and MK to loop their arms around his, preventing him from leaving.

"C'mon Monkey King, what's the big deal?" Mei asked, "It's just shopping for some new clothes, it isn't like, torture or something."

"But it's- it's just-" Wukong started, before groaning in frustration and making a series of noises that were distinctly...monkey-like. Mei looked over to MK with an expression of confusion, to which MK responded with a shrug and a gesture that clearly meant 'IDK, he just does this sometimes'.

"Look, Monkey King, you don't exactly have much of a choice here." MK said, "You can't just keep stealing our clothes, and you are definitely not going to keep wearing your torn up outfit."

"....Fine." Wukong said, slouching a little. "One hour, but after that I'm leaving, whether or not we've paid for anything."

"Monkey King you can't upgrade from casual thievery to actual thievery-"

"Hey, what do you think of this shirt?" Mei asked, holding up a loose fitting shirt for Wukong to inspect. Wukong looked it over, reaching out and feeling the edge of the shirt, before looking away with a non-committal shrug.

"...Fabric's nice, I guess." He mumbled, and Mei looked between him and the shirt, before placing it into the basket along with a few other shirts and pairs of pants. Most of it was soft clothing, hoodies and sweatpants, which Mei had honestly found kinda surprising, she'd thought the Monkey King would've wanted something more formal.

But then again, when she'd felt his torn up outfit, the fabric had been soft, and most of the things he'd stolen from her and the others had been soft as well, so maybe there was more of a texture thing going on here than she realized.

"I'm back!" MK said, appearing from around a rack of clothes, holding a pair of peach-patterned pyjama's. "It took forever to find a pair of these in your size, but I finally did it!"

"Great! Can we go now?" Wukong asked, perking up a little at the prospect of leaving. Mei and MK both glanced at the fairly small pile of clothes they'd gathered, and then back at Wukong's face. He looked antsy, like if he spent another minute in this store he'd start loosing it.

Neither of them particularly wanted to deal with a boredom-crazed Monkey King.

"Sure." Mei agreed, and Wukong almost immediately twirled around, picking up the basket they'd been setting clothes in and moving to go to the checkout-

And bumping into a rack of clothes, sending it crashing to the ground.

An hour later found the three of them leaping onto the ship, ignoring the others confusion as they ran inside and into Wukong's room, slamming the door shut behind them. Mei threw the clothes basket onto the bed, and the three of them stood there for a moment, hunched over, breathing heavily.

"...Okay." Wukong started, once he'd caught his breath. "Just to make sure we're all on the same page here. We're never going back to that store again, right?"

"Agreed." MK and Mei said, in sync, before sliding down and onto the floor, tired. Wukong, after a moment of hesitation, slid down to lay on the floor with them.

It was official, Wukong hated going clothes shopping.

#Monkie Kid #Fanfic #my writing

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

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Ah, I do see your points, anon. I'm not going to post all your asks publicly because if you really feel that unsafe, it's probably best not to have a bigass chunk of your text for people to analyze and try to guess your identity from. I think one of the best points you made is about how close to home it hits when the non-fave is not only your fave but is similar to you in some way like demographic. You're not wrong for having those emotions. I do wonder if they make it hard to see how some other people feel similarly embattled on other axes.

TBH, I think one of the big problems here is that the large aggregate patterns you're talking about are racist, but most individual fics and fans are not really the problem. It's hard to know how to talk about this or who to tell to "fix" it when we're looking at free, hobbyist art.

A lot of people's tastes are certainly formed by shitty society, but once they're formed, they don't change fast if at all. Asking someone to rewrite their libido is a big ask, yet tumblr does it all the time as though it's as simple as snapping your fingers.

This leaves me with the sense that a lot of tumblr is... like... the political lesbians of porn fic or something: desire is not real, only choosing based on logic and politics. Or maybe people are so asexual that they just don't understand the lizard brain's "YES!" at some porn things and complete indifference to others?

I don't think it's great if great swaths of people feel like bottom!Nicky is super hot and top!Nicky fundamentally isn't, but I also don't think they can necessarily just turn it off like flipping a switch.

(If someone reading this doesn't like their current tastes and wants to attempt to alter them, I do think it's possible. What you should do is line up a large slate of media that prominently features characters of the ethnicity or whatever that you don't find hot/interesting. These should be leads whose emotional development drives the plot and is supposed to be central to the audience's enjoyment of the media. Watch/read/etc. this media all the time. All. The. Time. Try out many pieces because you won't like every character or every show, and we're looking for genuine enjoyment, not the fandom equivalent of a pity fuck. Spend enough time on this, and your unconscious sense of who's hot and interesting will eventually shift somewhat. This is a project you should expect to take a few years.)

But I digress.

The one tweet thing is a very toxic pattern. If TOG fandom is doing that, guys, please try to be more conscious of holding the actors of color to a higher standard (or the women or whomever). I know this often comes from a place of paying more attention to our own and wanting to set a good standard, but the effect is that minorities can't fuck up ever while white dudes get infinite passes.

Okay, on to the fic thing... Gotta say, my instant reaction to that description is "Ooh!"--as it would be for the same scenario with the characters reversed. (Ships who start out trying to kill each other are my favorite! x1000 if they're resurrecting style immortals and they literally do.) I can see how it would feel like slamming into a brick wall if you aren't kinky in just the right way and you didn't know it was coming though.

Part of why I react so strongly to a lot of discourse that runs along these lines is that I am a naturally extremely kinky person. It's not so much about what I do (which as a deeply lazy person in a long distance relationship is essentially nothing), but it's absolutely how I'm wired.

And I can tell you that my quotidian experience in fandom is sharing something I don't even realize is a big deal only to have someone I like, respect, and trust react in horror and tell me that it's triggering and awful and should not be allowed in fandom spaces because it makes "people" unsafe. It's such an instant, kneejerk reaction they don't even realize I was sharing it because it spoke to the very core of me. Lesson learned, friend. Lesson learned.

That sounds a bit off topic, I know, but bear with me: The point of that anecdote is that it's pretty common for me to get people trying to raise my awareness of things I have already thought deeply about while denying my essential humanity and not even realizing. As a kinky person who likes to make my fave the top (and generally a conflicted sadist), this constant request to explain and justify is exhausting.

I doubt most of the top!Joe fans have this precise problem simply because people who make their fave the top are much less common in fandom than people who make their fave the bottom, but I see a similar pattern with fans who are just fundamentally wired for rape fantasies (one of the most common fantasies that exists) vs. fans who just don't get rape fantasies at all. Or substitute your BDSM/kinky/messed up fantasy trope of choice. Covertly radical feminist attitudes towards kink and power are on the rise in fandom, and as a naturally kinky person, boy do I notice it!

I know that it feels like crucial activism to share these insights about why the ratio of top!Joe is hurtful, and the pain you feel is real. But it's also the case that it's a big ask to want people to listen. (Not me. Obviously, I routinely choose to engage with discourse. I mean overall.) The reason for that is that you're only seeing a fraction of what they do or who they are, and you don't know how many previous people they've listened to how many previous times. It's a very different situation from someone whose job is making some major TV series or movie or something. That person does, in my opinion, owe you some amount of listening.

Now, I'm not saying no top Joe fan was ever a jerk. I'll bet they were. There's a tendency to be rude and to publicly air your schadenfreude when you feel like everyone has been yelling at you. What I am saying is that a lot of the problem here boils down to conflicting needs, and that means there isn't a good solution. It's a situation where people are genuinely hurt, but I don't necessarily agree that other people have harmed them.

I like that you did an actual count of the explicit fics, btw. It's good to look at the real numbers. I see too little of that in these situations. My off the cuff reaction is that 2/3 to 1/3 is not a bad ratio at all compared to many fandoms, but yeah, it definitely shows a strong trend, and that can be painful. (I have a fandom where I think there's maybe like 1 bottom so-and-so fic in the entire zine era fandom. One. It's pretty extreme.)

I guess my thinking here overall is: What is the practical solution? What are we hoping to gain? What is reasonable to ask of people?

And it can't be "Well, if they would just listen..." That's just a sneaky way of saying "If you haven't done it my way, it's because you haven't listened to me yet."

So the question I would ask of people is this:

What does a non-racist fic where Joe tops look like?

What does a non-racist sex pollen, dubcon, or even noncon fic where Joe tops look like?

And if you say the latter is impossible... well... sadists exist everywhere in the world. So do doms. So do people who prefer to top in a purely physical sense. People with rape fantasies where they're the rapist exist (people who are not actually rapists, I mean). None of this is restricted to any one group. We can't categorically say fic like that about Joe is coming from a place of racism without denying the fundamental humanity of kinky MENA people who'd want to make Joe like themselves or like their ideal partner. (Yes, I agree this won't be the majority of fic writers writing top!Joe, but this is a place to start for figuring out what the better version would look like.)

IDK, maybe you're that kinkster yourself, but your asks gave me the vibe that you don't really get the drive towards those darker kinds of fics and what might be motivating it besides stereotypes and shittiness.

If we can answer these kinds of questions, we can better critique the way people write what they write without telling them all of their taste is bad and they should just stop writing. Even if we think the latter is true, it isn't going to get us anywhere. Figuring out how to make Joe more multidimensional in the fic they already want to write or finding very specific wording that should be avoided might actually work.

Beyond that, the actions I think are productive would be running prompt fests, exchanges, or other events for bottom!Joe or for top!Joe where he's the main character and the fics are required to be from his POV. Themed collections and recs lists are great. (I've seen a bit of this going around in TOG fandom in the past, and that's an excellent approach! Keep it up!) Positive actions tend to work better here. Make more of what you want. Promote what you want to see.

I don't mean this in some fluffy magical thinking way: you aren't going to change that ratio radically just by the power of positivity. But I've seen this kind of thing play out in many, many fandoms, and going after the people who write what you don't like, even in a well-intentioned effort to educate and even in a polite, kind way doesn't do much. A few people feel guilty. A few feel defensive. A lot ignore you. The overall fic doesn't change. It's not a good use of your limited time and energy.

I'm off to look up that fic to see what I think of it in practice, but I'm going to post this before tumblr manages to eat it.

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tobebugjewce · 3 years

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THE WALTEN FILES: my jumbled notes on my blind run-in with this web series

first off this is gonna be long and unorganized, also this is my second time writing this as i had lost literally half of my progress and im This (imagine two fingers almost touching with a 0.0000000001mm distance between them) close to ripping all of the fucking hair out of my goddamn head. but now this will be extra long and yes, i will lose some accuracy to my first writing but thats okay ill probably edit this a kajillion times over

which brings me to my next tangent; im literally braindumping here. so to have a smidge of organization all afterthoughts, edits and corrections will be boldened, i forgot what im gonna do with italicized text but ill probably bolden it here yeah im pretty sure its for side tangents, separate from Corrections, which are in bold. also theyre for emphasis too.

so in general, this post right here is all of my notes i wrote down on my grid-patterned sticky notes (which i used WAYYYY too much of) about the first 3 uploaded walten files youtube videos transferred onto my handy dandy digital notebook, this b(l)og. yeppers peppers. you know im serious about this shit when i typed probably over like a thousand fucking words including boldened shit, italicized shit and motherfucking links, lost it ALL, and im sitting here re-typing it again.

i feel bad about this but im not gonna trigger warn right here, but this is technically a warning. if you want a list of triggers as to what this post (and the walten files in general) i will link a little list to that here

without further a doo doo, (mama mia) here the fucking fuck we go again.

THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #1

clarifying this now, im gonna put some useless shit which i thought was code onto this because even though it was useless it was part of my notes and im physically going to combust if i dont put down every single thing i wrote on my papers. so what i thought was code was in the closed captions, i started writing it down when i got to the second video but came back to my first videos notes to include them. i wrote down the first letter to every word that was capitalized in the closed captions, which i had on as a default because number one i knew going into this id need them because most web horror things like args and cryptic shit like that has some of the most crucial shits in the closed captions. number two i am autistic and have auditory processing issues and have most closed captioning on as a default if theyre available.

firstly jotted, i wrote down the closed captions “code” so im gonna put the rest here too: HYWITB(BSI)Y A(BSI)BJWFKWITW ILHHFSBBSBTLBWI USOISTBNBSFIRBCAWHSHCBWHTAIGRNB*C*BTWLTSFA(20)MCFP ILITIIACPH(1978, 1979)SA(4)YTSCH*C*OGSSU SFTGRPATDBBUTFBNLLCHMIHLBRALLCLAYTUKB*LC*WHATWASTHATTHING

the numbers in parenthesis are there because i wasnt sure they should be included in the “code” or not. i also thought of this with the BSI - bunny smiles incorporated and also the years 1978 and 1979. the shits in asterisks are coughs and light coughs, which were capitalized in the closed captions so i included them too just in case

i then jotted, in parenthesis of course, the names of the animatronics when they were listed in the animation section of the video; bon aka the blue bunny, sha aka the sheep one, boozoo aka the clown<3 honk<33, and banny aka the purpled eyelashed up one who is also a bunny btw. also i got boozoo the clown and boozoo the mustache guy confused because apparently the clowns name is billy???? but they named “boozoo” in bons sleepover and showed the clown? idk maybe im an idiot and theyre the same or just an idiot and theyre different or a super mega (matt and ryan?!?!??) idiot in general which is probably the case

i started drawing little stars to write down things i thought would be super important or to 100% look at again. the first subject of this pointy torture was the part of the video where at 3:00, i marked it down to make sure to reverse the audio as it was most definitely a weird audio that has that signature warp-y effect that makes sure you KNOW its in reverse. i then listened back to it Very carefully (still got it wrong) and got this: “you finally start to remember. that old doll. they will look out for you soon” im also pretty sure i heard “sophie” at the end of that audio but im not entirely sure and dont remember and i dont wanna go back to check lmfao but anyways it didnt matter because i was wrong anyway. after i had finished all 3 walten files i watched the film theory video on the walten files (which didnt cover all 3 but was dece.) out of curiosity and to hear matpats signature silly little voice explain some stuff i already knew, and click some shit in my brain that i couldve thought up of if i was a bit more... i dont know honestly. anyways yeah so the actual audio is “you finally start to remember. that old day. they will look out for you soon.” so yeah. day, not doll.

i then wrote down “sarah evelyn”, the name on the bons sleepover animation (i dont remember if she created it or animated it or whatnot) and scribbled will she matter? under her name. turns out no, as i didnt see her name in the rest of the series, let alone the first video. this is also a great time to mention how matpat theory helped me realize that the walten files are collections of videos, uploaded onto youtube by anthony. (i already knew about anthony as he signed his name in the descriptions of the youtube videos, making me categorize this overall web series more into an arg type genre.) but yes, the tapes, recorded “irl” footage, animated clips, vhs tape recordings and other audio-visual content is all collected and labeled the walten files, as i had mistaken each video to be a tape. stupid me. alrighty, onward!

i starred this one, good for me; MISSING: Jack Walten LAST SEEN: 06/11/1974

i jotted down with an arrow that; sophie was a nightguard? she was wearing the uniform explained in tape 2 i dont know why but i went back into my video 1 notes after i had watched video 2. organization purposes. i guess.??

i then paused the video when the screen flickered a date, the beginning of video footage dated 10/10/1982 (Brian Stells?) god my little genius ass assuming the videographer was brian stells, based on the id card i saw earlier.

i then wrote down what text i saw on the dead, mangled, bloody body in the purple security suit; “i cant feel anything” “he thought i was her” then drew a little arrow pointing to; thought brian was sophie? or ashley? i also starred the name Brian Stells this is totally out of order LMFAOOOOOOOO also i wrote down ashley because, again, my little pea brain went back on my video 1 notes after watching video 2. but yep thats all i wrote for The Walten Files 1 - Company Introductory Tape

THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #2

Tape #1 - created 07/02/1978

awesome how thats first and foremost in the captions. god. so sexy of you martin walls. /j /nsx

this pack of notes is chunkier because again, like i have mentioned before i am an absolute goober and thought the capitalized letters of the words would actually mean something. I MEAN MAYBE THEY DO AND IM JUST DOING IT WRONG but i stopped doing it after this video because holy shit it was exhausting and my stupid little fingers couldnt take the writing anymore becasue i am WEAK.

so write off the bat (squeak) i wrote down 197[] the blacked out rectangle over the last digit of that year and everything im also now assuming its probably 1978 or 1974 because lore reasons but whos to say but yeah i also wrote down this;

Tape #2 - created 08/13/1978

then, straight up in the beginning of the video i caught it, the flash of text, as i had by now realized i gotta be SUPER stupid focused on the screen in case i miss anything, i wanted to be crazy precise on my theorizing and mental notes, among other things. but yes i saw it, the first half of a youtube link; “https://youtu”

claps hands together and rubs them evilly. oh yeah baby. thats the hot lunch. this shit right here? the cats pajamas. lets fucking go.

i wrote down this goofy shit i pasued to inspect when i saw bon sorting through a file cabinet and naturally scribbled down the labels and other written things i could see on the files;

relocate X/X/75 felix

storage K-9 07/23/1975 felix k(ranken)

Bons Burgers 06/28/1974 Jack Walten

Shipping Service 1975

New Location -> 1982

i also wrote down more goofy shit, like when banny was created for some reason; in 1974

starred, i noted to go back and reverse the audio at 5:09, when played back, i didnt write it down so i dont remember. lmao.

i also marked to screenshot and brighten the darkened image i saw at 5:20, i was going to do it on my phone then realized i can just do it on my computer so i quickly took a screenshot, brightened it and wrote down what i saw; a missing person poster that read MISSING: SUSAN WOODINGS(?) Last seen: 1974 i was very unsure of the spelling of her last name because the image was so goddamn low quality and grainy but its what i saw. this is where tape #3 gets thrown in, which im gonna type again because i like how the formatting looks;

Tape #3 - created 07/09/1978 (BEFORE tape 2?!//1/1??? its more likely than you think)

i wrote down more dates, any dates i saw, i jotted down. i wrote;

Technical Support 1978

then,

Brian Stells (for some reason i dont remember right now)

alrighty this is where the stupid capitalized letters come in, but before it looks like i vomit a keysmash time infinity on this, ill put down the little inbetween things i wrote in the midst of the caps lockalypse like timestamps and stuff, so here you go;

- Reverse at 8:16 which i did but of course didnt write down what i heard. i think it was too warbled to hear anything clear out of it, or it was just the good ol auditory processing issues fucking me over yet again. WAIT yep yes i did here it is: “rosemary would go to the restaurant every night hoping that [her] beloved husband would reappear after being missing for weeks but no response until one day [s]he heard a voice [saying] ‘i know where he is rosie’ coming from the back stage” the bracketed stuff is the corrections, i misheard the audio and thought the audio said “his”, “he” and “singing” like a nimrod

- Brighten at 10:14 which was another missing person poster, but i dont think it had any information on it because i didnt write it down, just;

- Sophie again (pic at 9:08?) (dismemberd and put in Sha) i was stupid and wrong haha idiot it was rosemary who was put in sha but anywho

i starred and underlined a huge thing i discovered which was;

- Walten had 3 kids which i dont remember how i found out but it doesnt matter, its good important info i uncovered.

- Tape #4 - Unkown Date

- recorded 07/12-07/14 1978

- Hilary B, Ashley P & Kevin W i made sure to get these names down as soon as i saw them on screen but then realized shortly after i wouldnt really need to have it as the closed captions made sure i knew which person was talking by using their first initial (capitalized of course) before each line of text. this is the perfect time to announce the arrival of the clusterfuck of capital letters, which is going to include colons which will indicate that the letter before it is the initial of the person talking. without further aedue, here comes another chinese earthquake;

TCWTSTATO(K-9)TBSSFWFCNEHAWBSUBIUC(BSIIDC)OWHISF INBIJTILNSPL(K-9)LCSCKCCCWTTLTLITTTYROTFAJAMHPYYSTCSPMBBWSBIB H:NTPPCCK:DA:HH:YCPRPMWTCBCRAWK:JH:SYYTCPBACPSTBAWCA:TK(?):FMTTCMK:TCPNOA:DTOFK:ITNPPRA:YBUTIRRFH:HKIBESRAIA:TCK:WA:WPCCFTRRIDPEH:GGK:GPA:LKK:WA:HNCGTKMK:YH:IGKA:ESK:MFH:RK:HILRLBNTRPPUWHITRRTPEIFEPH:YWBEBPK:MAHPBTRPTRPEL(LN)HTACPKLIKHPFITSKLTKLB(LB?)ISIBSUBIPRW AEBATHSPUAICTPURTWBBRPHTRTIIIILTCITCUCCP S(bpe, be)WA”IDCPBPSIB

holy shit its finally over okay now onto some MORE of what i wrote down in between and also after that keysmash attack;

12 doors? (backrooms) 27? 26? i was unsure because ashley was unsure too lmfao

found cassette (6/11/78) <- says “discard”? yeah it did

Tape in clown audio, speaking voice; jack, susan, charles(?), rosemary, sophie, last word sounds like “walrus” it was walten lmfao

Ashley died? yeah she did lmfao OR AT LEAST I THINK SO??

starred this one, Reverse @ 17:06, then got this;

“they left the next day, they thought ashley left early, but she was in the backdoors, screaming as much as she could, but no one heard the screams, the following days the caretakers would complain about an awful smell coming from the backdoors, company decided to shut down facility until new advice, the relocate project was unsuccessful. ashley is still there, but she is not screaming anymore, she saw something she wasnt supposed to see and now shes beautiful” the phrase “shes beautiful” was repeating like a bajillion times in that wall of text. then, god motherfuckng bless:

at 17:23 i found the other half of the youtube link, “.be/k07QqEDOfQ” i pieced that bad boy together as instant as i think any form of ramen could never be, but remained ever patient. because i made sure to jot down this before moving onto my next segment;

@ end of vid 2, “shadow man sees* me when lights go off” im an idiot *it was actually “feeds” not “sees”, which AGAIN, i only found out after watching the stupid little film theory video *begins snarling and foaming at the mouth*

okay im not proud to admit im editing this to post it and realized ive lost my notes. well.

might as well post what ive got! if i find my shit ill add onto this, i suppose.

#the walten files #twf #notes #horror

12 notes · View notes

honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

Text

The Day Gatlon Fell

(TW: VIOLENCE)

IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY AFSGHJAFSGHJA. I should’ve done something nice but I don’t seem to be physically capable of doing that, sO IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AFGSHAFGHAJ. I guess from the title it’s...kinda clear what this is all about, because I like to write about my imaginary complex relationships in Renegades. Yet, I wrote it with love and I hope you like it :’)

This fic is actually a present for those who want to accept it (If you don’t, I understand tbh). But I’m going to dedicate it for the ones who constantly pretend they tolerate me and like my writing, which are my fellow Reneweys: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @alecjamesartino @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare . I love you guys SO much. Thanks for being a safe space full of people who share the same mother tongue and laugh at my stupid jokes.

Also @all-weather-is-bad whom I love very much. Thank you for tolerating me to :’) <3 and @ifyouhadntbutyoudid bECAUSE FELLOW LATINA <3 (also your art for HCTTR still makes me cry and I know you like Leroy).

And idk if this matters or not, but, for the ones who understand Spanish, this fic was heavily based upon this (yes, the contemporary dance and everything don’t judge me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaaVpaE1XGA

Alec called them the Anarchists, because he called himself Ace Anarchy. And, in a world where prodigies were hurt, mistreated and killed, he also called them hope.

Hope called themselves the Anarchists, and they reunited at the outskirts of the city, and then they marched towards Gatlon when it was still dawning. There were many, many of them, creating a huge mass of people. Some of them were only wearing masks in order to protect their identity, but others, like them, the main circle of Anarchists, were in full costume, including Alec, Ace Anarchy, who was marching at the back of the crowd, for Alec Artino had faked his disappearance (and possible assassination) less than two weeks ago.

As an act of symbolism (in Alec’s own words) the Queen Bee was at the lead, while him, Leroy (Cyanide), stood two steps behind her, with Gerard Hoffman, Atomic Brain, at his right, and Lincoln Palmer, Brimstone, at his left. Behind them were Dexter Hartley, Rat, and the Thompsons. Then, everything was too much, and there were too many people to name them all, when he barely remembered his own name at the moment.

Every distance looked moderately short until you had to travel it by foot, or when you were too anxious to arrive at your destination. Leroy, personally, didn’t consider himself to be anxious per se. At least, that wasn’t the word he would’ve used to describe his situation.

For the first time in forever, Leroy’s mind was making too much noise, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, nor did he know how to decipher what it was trying to say to him. While he marched, Leroy was surrounded by sounds. There were the distant, faint movements of the awakening city, the ring of keys, the dragging of boots, the hasty breaths, the silent prayers, Honey humming to an inexistent melody, while her dress danced to her voice, hanging from her body.

Honey was easily one of the best dressed out of the bunch, which was a very typical Honey attitude from her part. The most meaningful thing in his own costume was the lab coat and the scientific pun, but it was more than enough for him, knowing that, after today, many of the people here wouldn’t be alive anyway, and he wasn’t even sure whether he would make it, either.

By the time they started reaching the city’s main entrance, the sun was covering half of their bodies, announcing they might have “nice” (hot) weather today. For a while, at least. And the heat was so extreme it made Leroy’s temple sweat, as well as the rest of his face, behind the mask. However, he resisted the urge to remove it, as his mind started making too much noise again, when it forced him to remember Alec’s words.

“And, remember, that you are the pain, you are the fire, and I am the courage.” He said, while they were sitting around the campfire, one messy night, running away from the police. “Because courage comes from the same place as fear.”

Leroy didn’t agree with some of Alec’s ways. Hell. He really didn’t. Nevertheless, he was also aware of his own position. He was aware he was a prodigy, and he was aware people were exhausting.

Even before he became…special, people were already picking on him. Leroy had been a punching bag the entirety of his life. First, for being too ordinary.

There was always a defect they could find in him.

When he admitted his father had abandoned his mother not long after he was born, he became the fatherless kid who wasn’t important enough to make his father stay (as if his father being an asshole had been his fault); when his mother met Claire, his other mother, he became the outcast who lived with two insane and sick women who dared to say they were in a serious, romantic relationship (even though they were evidently in love); when he discovered he enjoyed science, he became the weird kid who liked Thursdays, because that’s when Mr. Ruiz used to take them to the lab; when he discovered he was good at school overall and teachers offered him to move him one grade ahead, he became the ugly, creepy and fat nerd kid who lived with dykes and had no life.

And so, Leroy was murdered by his classmates in eleventh grade, in the lab. And when he came back as a prodigy, he became the burden. The fucker. The freak. The disgusting prodigy who should’ve stayed dead.

Because, when it came to people, it was never enough.

It really was never enough.

When they didn’t like you, there wasn’t a limit they wouldn’t reach in order to let you know. They hated you when you were too ordinary, but they hated you more when you were extraordinary.

Being a prodigy meant being your own fight. It meant being out there, in a minefield where everybody was chasing after you, and nobody stopped to help. People were often afraid of the things they couldn’t understand.

But courage came from the same place as fear.

And it was a dark, messed up place that, in the rare cases where it didn’t drive you crazy, it ended up killing you.

Alec’s ideas were extreme and a little twisted, even, but nobody had ever seemed to care as much as he did, and Leroy had to give him that.

He strongly defended that, if nobody did, then there would be a time where somebody would have to, and he had to give him that too. Because, one day, he just decided that person would be him. Because, if not him, then who?

“I’m my own fight. We’re all our own fight. And you should just face that and shut your ass, before you get killed.” Leroy told him the day after he personally met him, when Honey called him, saying the wound in his calf had gotten uglier and he was banned from the majority of the hospitals in the city. At first, Leroy didn’t know why that should’ve been a matter of concern to him, but he ended up showing him at the apartment anyway. When he realized Alec hadn’t learned anything from the previous experience and was already planning the next riot, he felt the burning desire to cauterize him out of spite.

So Leroy cauterized him, with no previous warning. Alec screamed so loud he thought he was going to pass out. But when he was done, Alec thanked him, because, sure, he had nearly fainted thanks to the pain, but the wound was closed and no longer bleeding.

“I won’t get killed.” Alec declared, as if he were some type of almighty god. “But if I do, it will be defending my place and my rights. You say we’re all our own fight. Correct. But, as prodigies, we have to stick together.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Because somebody has to fight for us.”

“You want to fight for us.”

“I want us to fight for us.”

At that moment, Honey came into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming cup and a plate with French toast with honey.

“They can’t kill us all.” She said.

“Oh, but they can.”

Before she could answer, Alec spoke again.

“Then how come we’re still here?”

As the hours, days, weeks and months went by, Leroy, beneath all his cynicism and incredulity, realized he cared. And, once he was invested in the cause, he decided he cared enough to believe them.

They couldn’t kill them all, but they could kill some of them. Yet, they would die caring and believing, and defending their legitimate right to having lived in the first place. There were some things they couldn’t take back, but there were others they could stop them from taking away.

Because somebody had to.

And, if nobody wanted to fight for them, then they had to be their own fight.

Leroy had already gone down once, and that was the reason why he was willing to do it again if necessary. There were Alecs out there, who had been born prodigies and judged, mistreated and pointed at because of it; there were Honeys out there, who had suffered from fatidic accidents that had left a mark in them forever; there were Leroys out there, who had been bullied for not being a prodigy, but also for being one.

As long as he was alive, there would be no more Leroys. No more Honeys, either. No more Alecs.

They were their own fight, but they were also each other’s fight.

So, as they marched towards the city, they were carrying tons and tons of weight, even from the pain that didn’t belong to them. Even from pain that had already been silenced.

Silenced like the inert body of a murdered prodigy.

Silenced like the city the moment they saw them come.

Needless to say, they were coming in with previous instructions to show no mercy in case anything went wrong, knowing these people had already been attacked right at the heart of their system (their mayor), but when they saw them walk, they showed no resistance to let them through.

Gatlon City met the Anarchists in a moment that remained suspended into the air, while some of them dispersed to block the entrances and exits, and others stood in the middle of the traffic, creating a human wall that prevented the cars from moving forward.

Traffic lights exploded, as well as display screens, just like the days when authorities were trying to censor a violent riot. Doors became locked, just like the days when citizens were being notified of a group of violent prodigies marching through the city, except this time citizens weren’t the ones locking themselves in. Telephone lines became cut, just like the days when they did that so agonizing prodigies wouldn’t say a last goodbye to their loved ones who lived far away.

They were many. Too many.

And they couldn’t kill them all.

When they realized that, panic started spreading among them.

Queen Bee was still taking the lead, but the lines began to become blurrier and blurrier with every second, as some of the prodigies had to leave the formation in order to silence those who dared to try to oppose.

Gatlon City was a bold, intimidating place, with huge buildings, blinding lights and overwhelmingly wide streets that could swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. Yet, it welcomed the Anarchists in a scene that was as surreal as it was fascinating. Out of a sudden, it seemed to shrink before them.

To the elemental prodigies’ hands, the sky started to look as if split in two, fragile and breakable like the green leaves hanging from the trees, which were swaying like Honey’s blonde curls that day at the beach.

It was a public music festival, which they had attended while the Thompsons babysat David, out of pure and classic peer pressure coming from Honey herself.

Leroy showed up late at the beach, after waking up from a seven hour nap (the result of not sleeping at night), given that, despite living together, Honey expressed she hadn’t woken him up because she thought it was only an excuse to stand them out.

Beneath the loud chattering, the live music and the crowding, their presence became as irrelevant as a single grain of sand before it was taken away by a wave, but they still managed to get a decent spot, where they could see the stage from the blanket they were using as seats.

Out of the few bucks they were carrying with them at the moment, they managed to gather enough for a bucket of fish and chips from the food trucks, so they sent Alec to go get it, which left Honey and Leroy alone (though surrounded by people) in the blanket.

It was about time she said something about it, but when she did, Leroy still felt the need to roll his eyes at her until they rolled out of his face.

“You’re the only two people I know who dress like that to come to the beach. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

She was referring to the fact Leroy was wearing jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, while Alec was wearing jeans as well, and a black T-shirt he had gotten for free at an event in his faculty.

“What are you? A vampire or something?” Upon saying that, Honey got her hands in the cooler and took a can of lime flavored soda from it.

“I don’t like leaving the house without my hoodie.” Leroy responded above the clic and the hissing produced by the carbonation. “It hides my rolls.”

It’s not like Leroy was ashamed of his body. In fact, he didn’t give a damn about it, for he wasn’t one to take care of his physical appearance that much. Nevertheless, having people pointing out defects he already knew he had was annoying and an inconvenience he rather preferred not to go through.

“What are you trying to say to me?” Honey let out a screeching laugh, shaking her head to get her hair off her face, before taking a sip from her soda, very slowly, staring directly into Leroy’s eyes, with an arched eyebrow, not mad, but a little malicious and suggestive.

Whatever she was trying to do, it worked perfectly well, because Leroy could tell the exact part of his sentence where he had gone wrong and dug his own grave. Despite his efforts to conceal it and pretend he didn’t regret saying it, he still felt his face burn a little.

Honey was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that day. A yellow bikini top with white polka dots (“Hope you’re getting a great view because this is the only time you’ll ever see me wearing a bra” “You really are a hippie pothead” “So what?” “Honey Hippie Harper” “Great name, Lery”) and a tight, also yellow with polka dots skirt. The top had a huge white bow tie that fell all the way towards her stomach area, but it’s not like it covered much, and Honey wasn’t exactly the size of a Barbie doll herself (though everybody in Gatlon agreed that, somehow, she still managed to look like one).

Good thing her self-esteem was as high as Everest.

“You’re just jealous I’m so hot it feels like my entire body is catching flames while you look like a poor man’s Dracula.”

“Your lexicon is above the clouds today. Did you teach yourself how to read? And you read Dracula, just by chance?“

“You’re such a comedian. I’m dying. My lungs are aching from laughing so much.” Honey laughed sarcastically, in a flat tone, before taking another sip from her soda. “I had a pretty productive and nurturing self-teaching session yesterday.”

“I see.”

“I did teach myself how to read though, but, just so you know, I read Carmilla and not Dracula, because she came first.”

Being that said, she winked.

By that time, Honey didn’t attend as many feminist movements as before, nor did she lead them, but she still looked pretty invested in her cause and beliefs sometimes, and those were the moments when she looked more like herself.

“The more you know.” Leroy said, between his teeth.

Knowing she had won, Honey didn’t respond anything else on the matter, and reached for her sunglasses instead, putting them on. Then, she kept singing along to the song played by the band, about how the world was going to end soon.

Which was fitting for their current situation.

The entire world wasn’t ending today, but maybe it would, in case they succeeded. Leroy wasn’t the most positive person to have ever stepped on Earth, but, if one thing he knew, was that he was completely able to read and accept facts and get to the truth, and said truth was that Gatlon didn’t have much on its part. A bunch of regular citizens, against a bunch of prodigy citizens, whose mere existence was an advantage over them. And it’s not that Leroy thought prodigies were superior, but, objectively, prodigies could do things normal people couldn’t. That’s what made them prodigies in the first place, and it was part of the reason why they didn’t like them, too.

The terror in their faces made Leroy straighten his back. Above his head, he could already hear the helicopters and planes, both from the press and the government. Still standing in his place, he saw Honey stop. She didn’t hesitate or flinched, but she did stare directly at them. Her lips shimmered, as well as her eyes and the bee hanging from her neck, when the remaining morning sun reached and caressed them. Her expression remained serene, until it wasn’t, and her lips started arching into a sideways smile. With the whole crowd waiting behind her, Queen Bee clicked her tongue and giggled. Then, she waved at the sky, with her eyes grinning as well, behind the mask. Leroy could almost visualize the picture in a History book, in the chapter that talked about the day Gatlon fell.

When he took one step forward, he also saw himself in the frame. Honey, for sure, acknowledged his presence before she continued walking, squeezing his wrist a little, as a reassuring gesture he thought he didn’t need.

With two Anarchists at the lead, the weight of the protest became more evident, but the rest of the recruits were keeping them grounded. Flying prodigies were above their heads, keeping themselves at a prudent distance from the planes and helicopters, becoming an emergency signal for the others. They barked orders, so their companions knew where to aim.

The cocky individuals holding guns while standing in the sideway were attacked from behind and killed on spot. Some others didn’t have it that easy, for they were grabbed by extra arms or tentacles and smothered to death. Others were stabbed by flying pieces of glass or other sharp objects. And the one man who thought he was clever enough met Leroy’s palm, and while he tried not to step on his agonizing body (like Honey did) with a face now looking like a melted candle, he didn’t feel anything when he heard him wail in pain.

In fact, Leroy felt so blinded by adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything at all.

The only thing that managed to make him snap back into reality for a short while, was the warmth that later turned into almost unbearable heat and left them with a lack of oxygen for a short while.

Aracely Thompson, Dome, stepped forward and, with a stomp of her foot, translucent, golden chains rose from the ground, trapping the main Anarchists (plus Jerome and her) in a wide intangible circle, which chains melted into each other once the area was delimited, and turned into a see-through bubble. The ones from the outside could see them, but not hear or touch them, let alone harm them.

Leroy wondered why they hadn’t thought about that before, but he figured they had just thought about how Alec would manage just fine on his own at the back.

Fearless and merciless, they kept on walking the cracking pavement, through the growing chaos, trapped in their bubble with recycled air.

With the traffic suspended, the streets looked empty, as if naked. People had already gotten the message, and they were running like scared roaches, trying to get out of their way. Some were holding their children, some were holding their pets, and others were holding both.

“Where’s Ingrid?” Leroy asked in Honey’s ear, upon seeing a mother run away with her child, who looked around Ingrid’s age.

“At a daycare for single mothers…” Aracely was not a single mother (but she was only married through the eyes of religion. Jerome and her weren’t legally married, and, in theory, her name was still Aracely Brito, but she preferred to be called Thompson, and it was the only last name Ingrid had in her fake birth certificate) “In front of a lawyer firm by Trinity street. So, no matter what happens, don’t touch that building.”

They would have to warn Alec about it, or take Ingrid out before he could reach that daycare.

Some years ago, before Alec arrived to Gatlon, there had been an incident, where a daycare for prodigy children had been destroyed; it wasn’t considered legal, of course, and, through the eyes of the government, it didn’t exist. So, when they contacted the owners to ask them to close it and they refused, one of the gas tanks of the daycare conveniently exploded, resulting in a fire and the death of several prodigy children, which meant that, among a lot of other things, Alec would show no mercy for daycares for regular children. In other words, the entirety of daycares in Gatlon, including the one Ingrid was in.

Alec never forgot, nor did he forgive, and he had a wide knowledge in regards to the crimes Gatlon had committed against prodigies.

They continued on walking through the main street, which led to the main bridge, from which cars were falling like little ants. Nobody truly knew what Alec was planning to do, because he was as pragmatic as he was unpredictable, and the more you hung out with him, the looser the thread your life was hanging from became.

He just said Gatlon would fall.

And when he said something would happen, it usually happened.

Upon reaching the bridge, they were greeted by familiar faces, with familiar uniforms, who maybe thought this would be just another routine intervention. That they would be retouching a line they had already painted some time ago. That they had another chance.

There were uniformed men and women, some in cars, some in tanks, some in patrols, holding their guns and pointing at them, the ones who had made it into the bridge instead of staying in the fight below.

Leroy was starting to suspect a part of them knew it would be useless, because this time they weren’t giving them an option, but, still, in their eyes he could see they were desperate enough to try.

Due to the fact there were so many prodigies stepping on the bridge at once, the ground seemed to be buzzing, as well as the air, and the clouds, and the sky, and the life surrounding them, filled with the distant cries and the echoes of the ones they had lost in the way.

In that moment, when they had already arrived, Leroy drifted away.

He heard the bullets.

Bang, bang, bang.

It was a couple of months ago. They had just taken a government building with brute force, and they had locked it from the inside.

They stayed there for almost a week, until the police finally decided to cease fire and left the area. They had no food apart from some crackers and cheese sticks, they had no water (and no water elementals whatsoever), no electricity and no running water either. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, some of them were injured or losing blood, and the bullets kept hitting the walls on the outside.

Bang, bang, bang.

Honey had always hated being unclean. Even when she wasn’t in the mood to take care of herself, she kept complaining about how much being dirty disgusted her. Hence, after two days, she sat in a corner and refused to move, until the day they were finally released. Everybody was at the verge of going crazy by then, and so, she decided to stand up and join Alec’s motivational speech about why they were doing this in the first place, in which Leroy was also involved.

Then, when it all went quiet, they just stayed there, with the question “Now what?” floating in the air.

One important part of Alec’s motto as a visionary, was reminding others that prodigies were people too. That they had rights. That they had feelings. That they had needs.

Honey, being herself, started singing Rivers of Babylon out of the blue, and while everybody in the room stared at her like she was crazy at first, suddenly, Alec started harmonizing with her, singing as loud as he did on Sundays, at Mass, dehydrated, hungry and everything.

Leroy just stepped aside, looking in the opposite direction, as if that would make everyone believe he didn’t know those two.

It was useless, because many people had already followed them by the second chorus.

Leroy still remembered the one line he had to drag out of his mouth when Honey placed the lipstick tube she was using as a fake microphone very close to his mouth, and everyone suddenly went silent, waiting for him.

“… When we remembered Zion…”

They went ballistic, almost as if they hadn’t been the ones to take this same building in the most violent way one could think about.

After two or three more cheesy songs that Leroy hated, there was a period of two or three minutes where nobody dared to take a turn in the invisible karaoke, and they realized there was something new there.

Absence.

There were no more bullets.

They were alone.

“I’m not very fond of Miss Harper’s taste in music.” Alec told him later that day, back at his apartment, where they had gone together to check on David and shower. “But it’s exactly what our revolution needs in its darkest times.”

“Because it’s obnoxious and loud?”

“No.” Alec told him, smiling sideways. “Because it’s vibrant. When choosing the head of a revolt, Leroy, everything’s about balance. You are serious, she is vibrant and I am versatile.”

“I thought we were talking about her music taste.”

“Are you implying that a person and their music taste aren’t deeply connected?”

That had been forever ago, compared to now, when the triggers were clicking loudly, and they were staring at their companions from sideways or from above.

Sirens screaming in the distance, along with the citizens. There was pain. There was death. There was blood. There were prodigies.

There was anarchy.

And through the confusion and anxiety, something started moving.

They started moving, at the sides, one by one, to let him through.

Now leading the crowd of Anarchists, stood Alec Artino, Ace Anarchy.

His costume was simple, with the boots, the pants, the navy blue sweater, with the golden A, the gabardine…

And the coppery helmet, made by David himself, shining on his head.

If Leroy didn’t know him well enough, he could’ve sworn he was losing his mind and that his mental health was in an extremely dark place.

Alec used to say David was one of the most powerful prodigies that had ever existed, and that this helmet would be the one thing that changed everything, once and for all. Leroy, who had never finished understanding what David could do, often doubted his words, and, to him, the helmet, if anything, only made him look ridiculous.

But he said Gatlon would fall today, and everyone believed him.

Hard as it was for him to admit it, Leroy did too.

“REMOVE THE HELMET AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

If Honey had been able to speak instead of being completely frozen, she probably would’ve said the man at the front looked, plain and simple, like a cop. Light skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair combed to the side, gun in a trembling hand, afraid of the unknown.

The unknown, meaning Alec standing in front of him, with his hands laced behind his back, and his gabardine flowing with the wind.

“I SAID…!”

“I believe it was clear enough I heard you the first time.” Alec declared, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t a person entitled to decide what questions they desire to respond to by sorting them according to their level of relevance?”

The man gulped so hard Leroy could almost hear him, and then Alec smirked.

“Can you drop your gun or is it attached to your hand? Because if it is, then I will not bother you again. But if it is not, I am going to need you to put it away so we can have a civilized conversation, like normal people do.”

“You’re… y-you’re not normal. Any of you are! YOU’RE NOT NORMAL, YOU MONSTERS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”

Honey’s bees were starting to present themselves at the scene, flying around her, a little uneasy. Leroy, from his part, felt calm, because this, sadly, wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah. That is exactly the problem.”

“STEP BACK!”

Alec refused to obey, and remained firm, right there where he was. Slowly, as if he were trying to mentally torture them, he lifted his right hand up. His fingers were in a very specific position, like he was about to make the sign of the cross on somebody.

It was Alec, meaning that, if he had done that, Leroy wouldn’t have been surprised.

But he didn’t.

Besides, if he had actually been planning to, they didn’t give him time for that, for the very second they saw him move, they shot, and many emergency alarms went off.

The bang was so loud Honey covered her ears, and her bees started trying to shield themselves by hiding behind her, beneath her hair or landing on her skin, never stinging her.

Leroy, from his part, felt his fingertips dripping with acid, preparing himself for the impact.

The impact never came.

Right in front of their eyes, the shower of bullets stops. The smell of gunpowder was still filling the air, and the bullets were still there, as present as ever.

However, they were suspended into the air, and one of them was almost touching Alec’s nose, who just smiled, before saying, in such a low volume Honey and him were the only ones who could hear:

“So be it, then.”

Being that said, he lifted his chin.

The bullets turned around.

Then, they were shot in the opposite direction, at full speed, to Alec’s will.

The man at the front of the formation fell first, followed by many others, with the bullets they had shot themselves, in an attempt to kill them.

They fell, one by one, and soon there were puddles of red on the floor, and other voices barking orders.

Shoot the canyons, they said.

But the canyons fell too.

Bring the bombs, they said.

And Alec waved them away as if they were some type of insignificant thing.

The planes, they said.

And they spun and flew out of control, before falling straight into the water or exploding midair.

Bullets stopped again and killed their shooters.

There was blood.

Tons of blood.

That’s when Leroy felt his heart pounding, upon coming to the maybe horrible realization that never had Alec been so strong.

His powers didn’t act like this.

His telekinesis was a hundred times more powerful.

It was…

It was the helmet

“GET THEM!” He shouted then, snapping Leroy back into reality, making him wonder how much time Alec had waited to say those words out loud.

To use those putrid words, the ones they always used before attempting against prodigies, against them.

If he wanted to be honest, hearing them felt good, but Leroy didn’t react immediately.

First he saw the chaos, when the mass of uniformed men and women melted between the prodigies in costumes, stepping on the dead and the dying, sometimes accidentally.

The massacre began in the rest of the city, as the sky became wilder, the tide started to roar and the screams became the type of symphony one would hear when entering the gates from Hell.

Gatlon City was starting to look red.

But the red wasn’t coming from the prodigies, but caused by them.

“You two stay with me.” Alec commanded, looking both at Honey and him. “I need you to clear the path.”

“Clear the bridge?!”

“Did I make myself understood, Queen Bee?”

Honey flinched the very moment she heard her own alias, and Leroy watched her as she tried to process everything.

“Clear the bridge.” She repeated. “Yes. Clear the…”

Leroy hoped that didn’t include the bodies.

He guessed it didn’t. Alec, after all, didn’t seem to care about that.

“Clear the bridge. Got it.” Leroy nodded.

“Excellent.”

Alec didn’t stare at them, and he didn’t move either, standing in the middle, with his hands into his pockets, and his face held high, feeling the movements all around him, prepared to get rid of any threat as soon as he spotted it.

Honey and Leroy rarely talked about their tactics before putting them into practice, but, just for once, Leroy wanted to do it.

And, of course, it wasn’t possible, because just as Leroy was preparing to grab her by the wrist and drag her aside, she got herself out of his reach.

“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, not because she was desperate, but because she wanted to be heard above the rest of the din.

Fortunately, in an almost surreal scene to watch, her voice caught Alec’s attention, and his green eyes caught hers, listening.

Leroy stared at Honey, both incredulous and speechless.

“A—” She stuttered. “… Acey.”

Acey.

Fucking Acey.

Leroy arched an eyebrow sharply, but Alec nodded, as if approving the nickname or acknowledging she was talking to him.

“I… “

BANG.

An explosion.

A loud, very loud explosion, followed by the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Maybe, if they were at a lower spot, they would’ve smelled the burnt flesh too.

Good thing they weren’t.

That didn’t make Alec less mad, though, for he unnecessarily adjusted his helmet and straightened his back.

“Acey, wait, I…! “

“Maybe not right now, Queen Bee.” He declared, plain and cold, but solemn.

Somehow, Leroy already knew what she wanted to say, and he also knew she would never say it after today, because he knew her well enough.

And maybe he knew him well enough too.

“Later.” He promised, empty.

Then, just like that, sitting in a cross-legged position, Alec levitated, perhaps to have a better view of the city.

Leroy took Honey by the wrist, this time for real.

Alec made the tank shoot in the opposite direction, and then came another explosion.

Back to back, Honey and him waited for the ones who came and tried to attack. Leroy started feeling his own heartbeat in his ears, and his whole body was vibrating, while Honey’s hasty breaths tormented him, trying to convince himself that they were doing fine, and that they were right.

Because they were.

They were just fighting back.

Leroy saw the scene as if he were out of his body.

The two of them, below Alec, but higher than the city, which was in flames; the body to body fights, with a considerable unbalance of power. The Anarchists were annihilating them with not a drop of mercy, nor remorse. The fights were on top of cars. On top of buildings. Through the streets. Pipes were leaking. The sky was roaring and wailing at the same time. Bullets were flying. Cables were hanging. Trees were moving as if made of paper.

Leroy could still feel Honey’s back against his’, and they only separated when they had to meet the officials who were coming into the bridge, before sending them to the top of pile of bodies.

A man came in, and he was a little taller than Leroy, with his head shaved and a bulletproof jacket. He wasn’t holding a gun, but a metallic tube instead. In posture and enraged expression, Leroy could tell he wasn’t a cop. Maybe a veteran, or some dumb fuck who enjoyed hunting season.

First, Leroy got rid of the tube, melting it with his hand, and next thing he knew, he was attacking him, trying to put his whole body weight on him. Leroy resisted and grabbed him first by the wrist and then by the cheeks, which made him wail in pain. Leroy pressed his palms harder against his skin, and it was only then that a swarm of both bees and wasps came in and started devouring the man’s face, gathering together into the burnt cheeks and wrists.

Honey grabbed Leroy by the arm and tried to pull him up, grunting and gasping, until Leroy was lucid enough to help her and got up himself.

At that very moment somebody kicked her back and made her trip forward. Fortunately, Leroy was able to catch her, but his blood started to boil, and, then, he just knew he had gone in a blind assault of rage.

Out of a sudden, he didn’t feel like himself. He could feel his pores dripping, and the acid was so strong he felt his whole body itching; getting into a fight position, he asked Honey to get behind him with a hand motion, which she obeyed, though also in defense mode.

It was a female official this time. Light brown hair tied in a small ponytail and muscular body. Leroy waved his hand, and that was enough to send the acid flying towards her, straight into her eyes and different spots of her skin.

She screamed in pain.

Honey was already fighting another man, but still, Leroy felt the bees surrounding him too, and there was a very specific group that stayed even when Honey moved towards another position, and they buzzed loudly all around him, notifying him when somebody was coming.

“They’re like an alarm.” He recalled Honey saying once, standing in the middle of the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags. She was covered in bees, as if they were children asking their mother what she had gotten for then. “They usually see the enemy before I do, so they buzz in their direction. From the outside it looks like I have outstanding reflexes but… Baby, you’re too close to my lashes and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies, would you mind? Thank you.” A bumblebee flew away from Honey’s eye, to stand above her brow instead.

“What was I saying?” She tapped her chin, making the bees go away for a second. “Ah. Yes. I do have good reflexes, but yeah, it’s usually thanks to them, as well.”

Leroy remained leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So.” She pointed at the counter, now full of groceries. “You’re gonna help me or what?”

Leroy wasn’t scared of bees. He had never been. Not particularly. But when he met Honey, he became immune to them and decided he would never be, either. Sometimes, when he was alone in the apartment and saw a swarm by the door, waiting for Honey to come back, he would even try to talk to them, which was useless and, judging for how they always stung him, they didn’t like it.

Maybe the bees didn’t like him whatsoever, but right here, in the bridge, they were pretending they did, because Honey had asked them to do so.

And yes. Hard as it was for him to admit it, they were useful.

Very useful.

On the other hand, it also made him feel dumb, because he didn’t know how desperate you had to be for your powers to respond to you through another prodigy.

Leroy was stabbed during one of the (very violent) riots. It wasn’t by a cop, but by a regular, non-prodigy civilian instead. It was a deep cut, and Alec got so mad he ordered to kill as many as they had to until they found the one who had done it. While Hell was breaking loose, Honey dragged him like a human crutch towards the park, hiding him behind the bushes.

“Don’t fall asleep or move unless you really need to, and don’t try to cauterize yourself because that shit hurts and you might pass out. Wait for Rina. I’ll send her to you.” Rina was a healing prodigy, and by the time Honey was saying that, she had already been killed, so they ended up sending Gwen instead. “You understand? Now it’s not the time to be the stubborn piece of shit you usually are. That’s not how we’re rolling. You understand?”

Leroy understood, but he didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached for the small blade he always carried in his pocket and, before he handed it to Honey, he tried to release his power in it.

She stared before grabbing it.

“Don’t let go, Leroy.” She asked, whispering, as she placed the blade in her own pocket. “For all you care, don’t let go.”

And when Honey’s skin touched it without her screaming in pain, he thought maybe it hadn’t worked at all, but a few days later, when Alec came to the apartment and tried to remove it from the dining table (because David was there too and he liked to touch everything), it hurt his palm.

The blade had become poisoned, and it burned everyone except for Honey and himself.

She still had it to this day, and right there, fighting in the bridge, he witnessed the exact moment when she took it out, while he stood behind her, with her bees, that she had lent him.

The sudden war seemed to have gone on forever when Leroy felt the breeze at his feet, produced by Alec’s body cutting through the air. He looked like a ghost. A very tangible and imposing ghost, who stood like a stone looking at the destruction he had caused himself, with his arms behind his back and his eyes closed.

Honey and Leroy came to his encounter, with the “Now what?” floating above their heads, like that time Honey and him had harmonized to Rivers of Babylon.

With sweat rolling down his face through the helmet and mask, Alec smiled sideways, and held his hand towards them, with his eyes showing a mild fuchsia tonality. None of the two, needless to say, knew how to react to that at first, but Honey believed him enough to try, and she wrapped her hand around his’, like a shell protecting a pearl.

And Leroy believed Honey enough to try, and wrapped his hand around hers’, like he was the sand or the water protecting the shell that protected the pearl.

And there they were.

The three of them.

Like the day Leroy met them for the first time. Like the days they travelled together, hiding from the police or not. Like all the days Alec forced them to go to Mass. Like the days they had to sleep under poor conditions, in motels or abandoned buildings, and Alec and him woke up with back pain because Honey always had to have the most comfortable place they managed to get. Like the days one of them was so injured they didn’t know he or she would wake up the next morning, and so they started praying they would.

Repressed memories started coming back, and Leroy managed to dodge every single one of them, although a part of him didn’t want to.

Then Alec stared at them. They were very close together, with their foreheads touching, while the three interlocked hands remained in the middle.

“Courage comes from the same place as fear.” Alec reminded them.

“And the day we decide to burn, they will all come with us. “ Ace Anarchy said.

And then, he lifted.

Honey was the last one to let go of him.

Next, he was gone.

Ace Anarchy stood above it all, like the burning sun, with both his arms extended to his sides, towards the emptiness, and, at the same time, towards the everything.

Leroy took Honey by the arms, putting her aside, as they stared. Maybe in awe. Maybe in fear.

Ace Anarchy looked up at the sky, then at the front again.

All the guns were pointing at him. All the lives were hanging by the thread he was using to sew his way in, and also his way out.

The Earth trembled in fear, and then it shook in pain.

Honey screeched, shoving her nails into Leroy’s arm to recover her balance, though Leroy was also on the verge of falling.

They tried to hold the other up. To force each other to remain standing.

Gatlon City left the ground, light as a feather. The buildings fell, the bridge started to crack, the sea escaped from the place it belonged to, people screamed, screamed, screamed.

Everything was in flames.

The light became brighter.

The wails became louder.

Time became slower.

Time became torture.

Time became endless.

And Gatlon City remained suspended into the air, shattering into little pieces, leaving a trace of blood and flesh.

Then, just like that, it fell.

Gatlon City fell, like a sinking boat.

Like it was nothing.

Like it was made of paper.

And it fell.

And, just like Ace Anarchy prophesied, they all fell with it. And with him.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie Writes #Leroy Flinn #Cyanide #Honey Harper #Queen Bee #Alec Artino #Ace Anarchy #Im not an ace apologist #not even a honey apologist #even though i love them i also want them to choke and die bc thats what they deserve #does that mean im only and exclusively a Leroy apologist? yes #yes absolutely #hes my grandpa #Las crónicas de gatlon #el viejo rancio la patrona y el 100tifiko #theres two mexican references here because mexico is so wild i base Ace's movement upon it lmao #TW: VIOLENCE

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akvtsuki-ari · 4 years

Text

Sweetheart (Ch.2)

Warnings: smut!, choking, uhh insecuity maybe??, sub!spencer, dom!reader, talks of bdsm protocol

Length: 4.2k

Authors Note: heyyy yall. i feel like i haven’t uploaded in DAYS idk why. another chapter of this fic bc i love it a lot but my next fic will be a dom!spence oneshot that i can’t get out of my head lol. this chapter is kinda open conversation

Plot Summary: Spencer can’t stop thinking of you but he’s too nervous to do anything about it. You’ve got doubts that only he can fix and he has questions only you can answer. Spencer really likes being choked, apparently.

Ch. 1

Look at you baby, your lashes are so long, aren't they? Such a pretty boy," your voice rings out softly in Spencer's ears. A light sheen of sweat coats his chest as he feels your fingers around his dick, his throat caught - words disappearing from him.

"Fuck - please, Miss I'm gonna -," Spencer's voice is broken when he feels an orgasm wash over him.

Then of course, Spencer wakes up. Sunlight hitting his eyes as he blinks himself awake. He can feel it in his pajama pants, still not having registered the content of his dream before he looks down to see the massive mess. It's managed to happen a 3rd time, and its only been a week. Spencer shuts his eye in disdain as he stands up, pulling his pants off and tossing them in a hamper before he heads into the shower.

Spencer hates cold showers, he remember this fact as the water beats down on his back as he washes himself up. He washes his hair while he tries to compartmentalize the situation.

Like Spencer mentions, it's the 3rd time he's had a dream that wakes him up in such a pleasant way. You two had been dating for 2 ish months now, but Spencer chokes everytime you try and take things further. You never give him shit for it, which is more than relieving to him. You always reassure him that the two of you can take your time and that it's okay if he doesn't want it right away.

You were an angel, he knew that for sure but Spencer did want it. He was just, well - as nervous as a person could be. He still hasn't really talked to you about any of that, not about how it would work the first time the two of you did.. it. He didn't even know if you still wanted that - he'd been too petrified to ask if you still wanted to dominate him or if maybe that'd change now that you actually knew him. He didn't even know how to bring it up, or if there was a time for him to do just that. The whole thing filled him with such intense anxiety, he just didn't bring it up at all.

But, he wants to go further with you. He likes you so fucking much - of course he wanted to go further with you. He figured you knew that.

You didn't, really. You figured Spencer found you unattractive to some extent so he just kept putting off sleeping with you. It felt like a juvenile insecurity to have but well - he always reacts so poorly anytime you take this further. You knew he was anxious but there was always that self-loathing voice that told you that it was your fault, that he just didn't find you attractive enough. You pretended it didn't hurt since you like him so much, but it was starting to take it's toll.

On both ends, it was a fucking mess. Neither of you really knew why it was a mess for the other person, but it sure was one.

Spencer gets out of the shower when he hears a knock on the door. His eyes flit up to his analog clock on the wall, you were here right in time, Spencer thinks. He throws on an oversized sweater and some jeans that you bought for him. He liked them but he only really wore them cause you like them so much.

Spencer can't help the butterflies that fill his stomach when he sees you. Your eyes are dolled up in this pretty dark eye shadow, and red lipstick. You're pretty, dark and pretty but still pretty. The makeup was just new. Spencer feels like he's choking as he looks at your smiling expression Spencer shuts the door behind you as he lets you in.

"You ready to get brunch?," you ask Spencer. He dries his hair off and finds something to style it with as he walks back into the bathroom. All stuff that's new that you've introduced him too. He likes using the stuff that you told him to use though cause it makes his hair look less greasy.

"Yeah, but we've got some time before then - right?," Spencer ask. You smile and nod your head as you walk up behind Spencer, wrapping your arms around his waist. He feels small - your actual size unimportant to the way you make him feel. You pat his sweater down, hands dangerously close to his waist as you look at him, eyes gleaming. You give him a small grin when you peak over, as Spencer's eyes meet yours in a small blush. Your hands find themselves underneath his sweater, brushing his waist as you sway into him. Spencer focuses so much on doing his hair, just trying not to get hard.

"What should we do in that time?," you ask, mostly to yourself. You know Spencer probably won't do what you were thinking of doing. Spencer just blushes before shrugging, finished fixing up his hair as he moves away from your touch. You're a little hurt, not tryng to let it show as he walks back out into his living room, you following suit.

"I think they're playing some animal planet re-reruns," Spencer suggests. You give Spencer a small, half-hearted smile.

"Yeah sure," you say softly. You don't mean to be disappointed because you really do respect Spencer boundaries. You don't ever wanna do something that he's not a 100% down for and you just like him so much it doesn't matter. You had to admit though - god, you wanted to fuck his brains out and the fact that he may not return those feelings hurt a little more than your ego wanted to admit. Spencer seems to sense your disheartened demeanor, and with trying to ignore his immediate panic he looks over to you as you lean into him on the couch. He moves away from you for a few moments to look at you, and you turn to him confused.

"Are you okay?," Spencer asks concern. You give him a small smile and nod, taking his hands in yours and playing with his fingers. Spencer looks at you for a while longer before you begin to talk.

"It's nothing serious - it's kinda silly actually, so we don't -,"

"Hey," Spencer pauses. You look up at him, his eyes so full of concern. You can't help the way your heart melts, leaning up to meet Spencer's lips for a second. You look at the clock, still a good hour before the two of you have your plans. You sigh, looking down into your lap before you speak.

"I just wanna say first, that I totally respect any and all of your boundaries regarding sex - and I would never, ever pressure you into something you don't wanna do," you say slowly. Spencers nerves crawl up his back but he waits for you to continue.

"But uhm, well - I don't know, I guess I just wanna know if you still, well or if you ever wanted to sleep with me. Like ah, you know, maybe you found me unattractive. I mean, I get it - I guess I'd uhm, just wanna know beforehand," you trail off, unsure of how to say your comments. Spencers a little incredulous - did you genuinely think the reason he'd been avoiding sex was because you weren't attractive to him? Spencer just shakes his head violently, wanting to say so much but not wanting to scare you away with his words.

"Well, uhm - no it's not that at all. I think you're super attractive, and I defintely want to.. you know - with you I mean," Spencer starts, feeling the way your hand tightens around his instinctevely. This the most vunerable you've been with Spencer in your relationship so he wants to make sure you know how much he cares

"I have dreams about it, like all the time recently. I really like you, and I really do think you're very beautiful, I guess I'm just - nervous, you know? I don't know what to do, especially since we've never done that before and we met under such.. interesting circumstances. I don't know how to approach it,"

"You have wet dreams about me?," you say, a little too excited for your own good. Spencer blushes before nodding.

"Huh, I just openly admitted that didn't I? To answer your question, yes - I had one before you came over," Spencer remembers. You give him a cheeky grin and he hides his face in his head, groaning. You only laugh, pull them away before kissing his knuckles. You were more than pleased to hear this info. You stand and sit down in Spencers lap, hands on the side of his face. He gives you a small, gentle smile.

"It's okay if you're not ready to talk about sex at all, but it may help if we cover general BDSM code and standard. Nothing has to be decided or talked about if you don't want, but maybe just going over it will ease your mind up," you say softly to Spencer. His nerves settles as you continue to reassure him - your behavior is so perfectly soothing. The hand on his back, the softness in your voice and your reassurance, Spencer knew you were experienced but he was still impressed. Spencer just nods, letting you pepper kisses all over his face that made his expression scrunch up. Cute. Spencer was so cute.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Spencer manages to push out. You give him a warm smile. You move away to sit next to him, still maintaining physical contact but clearly becoming more serious.

"The most important thing to know is that everyone practices BDSM differently. There are two common standard procedures that people use, however - safe, sane, and consensual is the most common. It's just saying that both parties are participating in something that is just as it implies, and it prioritizes safety. Knowing you, I'm sure you've read up on most of this, but it doesn't hurt to explain," you say softly. Spencer nods, he did already know a lot of what you were talking about.

"The other is 'Risk-Aware Consensual Kink,' which is where both parties are participating in something they knew could have consequences that are harmful. In both situations - both parties need to be aware and understand the lengths of whatever they're participating in. It's the core of all BDSM practice, and since this is all new for you - let me be clear that your safety and sanity come first to me always. BDSM is a psychological thing at heart so making sure you're okay is firs priority," you clarify. Spencer is in awe by how.. well-spoken you were about it. He knew you were experienced but it was more than you let on. Spencer just nods, unsure of what to say.

"You've actually done this before, but the same goes for me - you know," Spencer adds. You give him a sweet kiss which he returns.

"Thank you, love. With all that, the way you assure someone's safety is obviously having discussions about limits but also by developing a safeword and system to make sure that a scene can stop at any point. It's especially important to make sure that those words are a out of place. You shouldn't use words like "Stop," or "No," as safewords because in some peoples play they refuse something as a part of foreplay or a part of the scene. Maybe a submissive whose being bratty is refusing something but they're okay with it happening - thats when a safeword can come in. If a partner at any point wants to tap out, they use that word," you explain.

Spencer nods in understanding, he didn't even think about people using those words for the purposes of foreplay or whatever else. He gives you a curious look, as you lean back. Instinctively, Spencer moves himself to lay his head on your lap which you'd sorta pavloved onto him. You'd always pat your lap when you wanted Spencer to do it, and at first it was so embarrassing but you'd do it so much he just sorta got used to it. You run your hands through his hair, the other one on his chest. His face is a little hot.

"For me, I like the stoplight system - Red meaning stop completely, yellow meaning slow down and let's talk about this, and green meaning go, I'm totally down for this. I like that system because it's a lot easier to get a sense of how the other person wants the scene to go, and if I want to try something, I can ask my submissive 'Color?,' and they can respond however they like. If they say yellow, I can break character and ask them whats up which can give them some real reassurance. Every submissive is different, but this sytem is really universal and easy to keep up with, " you say lovingly, patting Spencers chest rhythmically. You look down at his expression with serious eyes.

"Listen to me carefully when I say this my love - if we participate in a scene and there is a single doubt about what's happening, you use one of your safewords no questions asked. Using your words with me or any other signals may discuss is so important and it doesn't make you a bad submissive - okay? We are equals, always. Even if you want me to step on you, or call you pathetic - we are still equals and always will be, okay pretty boy?," you say in a stern, but loving voice. Spencer just nods, softly - so far he doesn't have many questions though he's sure that'll change at some point. Spencer nods, leaning his face into your hand as you cup his cheek. You lean down and place a kiss on his lips.

"I know I've been talking a lot, but lemme hear your thoughts, yeah? Anything," you ask Spencer.

"It's weird - I've done so much research on safe BDSM practices and understand all this stuff in theory but it seems so different in practice," Spencer comments lightly. You nod, letting him continue.

"One thing that I did notice was that you use If/When scenarios about you dominating me and I wasn't really sure what that was about. We are girlfriend and boyfriend, doesn't that sorta just imply you are my dom?," Spencer asks. You give him a pat on the chest before you go into explanation.

"It certainly helps that we're dating but you and your submission is something to be earned. We've never discussed in length until today, but of course - I was hoping that you'd want that from me. It's really just like an everyday relationship, but a lot more involved in trust and respect. We have a strong romantic connection which is really lovely, because it builds a lot of that trust and respect that you need to practice BDSM healthily and safely. I wanna lead you so I can see you grow, and hopefully, you wanna submit to me out of respect - those sorts of things," you say, playing with Spencer's hands. Spencer just nods, looking up at you.

"Will you be my dom, then? I want you to be. I don't think I could really imagine it being anyone else," Spencer asks out of the blue. You weren't expecting the question so suddenly, or the way your heart rips through your chest hearing it. It's so simple and innocent when Spencer asks.

"I mean, I'd love too but are you really sure? I mean -," you try to think of a reason for Spencer to say no but you really cant. Spencer just smiles at you, sitting up to look at you completely.

"I trust you so much because I know you'd never do anything to hurt me on purpose - I mean unless I asked but, you know what I mean. I'm more sure than I was about asking you to be my girlfriend because you're just a trustworthy person. You're smart and kind and lovely all around. I know I'm new to this but theres no one I trust more than you to teach me. I really like you," Spencer says warmly. You wrap your arms around him, avoiding the tears in your eyes. Spencer is so sweet, reassuring by nature and it makes your heart yearn.

"Well, then - yes, I'd love to be your dom. And to answer your question about what we do for the first time, it'll be rather purely vanilla. No hijinks, just regular sex - since it's your first time partaking in BDSM with someone else, we gotta go really slowly so you don't have to worry. It might make you a little impatient but have faith in the process," you explain softly. Spencer is relishing in the fact that you know so much - you seem to have such a tight grasp on what you were doing he had no urges to question you. You lead so naturally, you don't demand anything from him but still, Spencer follows you. Spencer would follow you into the darkness if you kept speaking to him like that.

"We'll discuss things slowly and we'll make it really easy, okay? Once I get to know you a little more in bed, we can plan and talk about our first scene. It takes time to figure this stuff out, you know," You play with Spencers hair as you look over to the clock. 27 ish minutes before you two went out for brunch. Spencer sits up, face flush as he opens his mouth to try and ask you for what he wanted - now that he knew what was on the table his mind was thinking of everything he was missing. All the touches he was aching for you to give him. Spencers eyes were a little lost as he tries to explain to you.

"Can we -? I mean, would you, you know - uhm," Spencer voice can't get the words out. You give Spencer a small smile as he leans back into the couch. You pull your dress up, straddling Spencer's lap, and Spencer's throat dries up. He can't speak as he feels your heat up against his jeans. He's hard nearly immediately, a painful feeling for his dick up against the tight denim. Spencer stares up at you startled, a playful smile on your face. You place your hands on Spencers chest, feeling him up before settling your hands on the side of his face base of his neck. You lean in slowly, breath brushing Spencers ears as he heart pounds against his chest. His body felt a little out of control, and you just seemed to be so comfortable Spencer didn't know how to deal. He's so aware of the where your fingers seem to linger around his neck - he wants to blurt out "Choke me, please," but the words seems to disappear when he opens his mouth.

"You want me to touch you, Spencer?," you ask softly. Spencer nods violently and you can't help but laugh, maintaining eye contact for a few agonizing seconds. You lean in to kiss Spencer as your hands work the zipper of his jeans, your fingers making indirect contact with Spencer's cock. He whines aloud - he's sensitive, apparently. You can't help your pleased reaction as you pull his erection of his boxers - the tip is swollen, you can feel it ache under your touch. Spencer's eyes roll up in the back of his head, despite you having barely done anything for him at all.

"How fast do you think you can get off, baby?,"

Baby. Fuck, Spencer liked when you called him that. It was so natural to you, and Spencer just sighs.

"Fast," Spencer admits, a little embarrassed. He'd never needed to cum that quickly before in his life, yet here you were making him feel like he'd break at any second if you touch him too long. He was an adult but the thought of having sex with his girlfriend made him feel like he was gonna fucking combust.

"I cum first today, hope that's okay with you," you tell Spencer warmly. He gives you a nod, he's more than okay with that. You guide his wrist under your dress, feeling his hands palm through your panties. You moan quietly, and Spencers pleased with himself. It's hard for you to not just tell him to lay back so you can sit on his face - because god did you wanna do that.

"You lead the way," you joke to Spencer, more just telling him that he has permission to do his thing. Spencer just nods, as you lean into his neck to bite hickies into it. Spencers hands are careful with you, two fingers pressed against your clit as he rubs circular motions, his other hand holding your waist steady.

"A little faster, love," you ask Spencer. He just nods as he hears your voice, soft sighs falling from your lips as you feel your orgasm build in your core. Spencer likes you so much, he's so eager to please you in every way so when you finally reach your orgasm, Spencer doesn't hesitate on letting you ride out your high. His dick is pulsating against your thigh, as you finish up and flutter your eyes open to look at him. Spencer gives you a small smile, eyes looking for your approval as you give him a lazy smile.

Spencer watches you pick your bag up from the couch, laughing as he sees you pull out a condom. He gives you a look of surprise and you just shrug, rolling it on for him.

Your lipsticks mostly on but smudged a bit as you kiss Spencer, lifting your hips up before settling back around Spencer's cock. You feel so good around him, the feeling of your lingering orgasm gripping him tight makes him choke. You ride Spencer with ease, hands around the base of his neck. Fuck - Spencer wants you to choke him so bad.

"Choke me, please," Spencer spits out. You give Spencer a look.

"Are you sure, love?,"

Spencer strains for a second, feeling his orgasm coming at him full speed before squeezing out another "please". You debate for a second, but you figure non-kinky couples do this all the time and you tighten your hands around the base of his neck.

Spencer relishes the way the air leaves his lungs and doesn't return. He loves the way you look at him when you do it, the way you adore how much he's under control. He tries to calm down but before he can think, his orgasm shoots up his spine as he looks at you pleadingly. You purposefully clench around him and Spencer's leg twitches underneath you. Your grip on his neck releases immediately and he misses the feeling of you around his neck, cumming into the condom with a heavy sigh.

"I really like you," Spencer breathes out as you cum. You bubble up with laughter as you kiss his cheek, a little red pair of lips sitting on it. He goes to wipe it off but you stop his hand, grabbing his wrist.

"Leave it," you say, an edge to your voice. Spencer can't help but nod, touching it carefully as you slip off of him. You pull off the condom for Spencer, throwing it in the trashcan of his bathroom before heading to his bathroom with your bad. Spencer follows suit, wiping himself clean with a wet-wipe before tucking himself back into his jeans. Spencer watches you fix your makeup in the mirror, as he clings onto you in the mirror. You turn to him, wetting your lips before kissing that same spot, then using your little brush to put powder on it. You smile, leaning up to kiss him on the lips. He wraps his arms around your waist instinctively.

"Now it'll stay put. And, I really like you too," you say, rubbing his back as he hugs you. He may have been tall but he clings to you like a big baby. It was so damn endearing.

Spencer's heart beats so loudly in his chest. You were so lovely, you smelled good, and tasted nice and were so sweet to Spencer. Spencer liked you so fucking much, he just wanted to stay like this forever and the best part was you liked Spencer too. The way you rubbed his back, soothing him and humming as you gave him the affection he always dreamed of made him feel more happy than he could imagine. When he pulls away and you look at him, you place your hands on the side of his face and smile.

"You're so pretty, doc," you say. Doc - you only called him that when you felt affectionate. Spencer blushes.

"So are you,"

If you two didn't have a brunch reservation, Spencer was sure the two of you would stay like this forever. Not that he really minded, anyway.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #dsjkfhkje idk

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s-c-r-i-p-s-i · 3 years

Text

Eternity

[Dead by Baelight’s Secret Santa 2020]

🖤 🖤 🖤

“Darling mine…”

The acoustics of the mind are unlike any other. His words roll into Feng Min’s consciousness like a sweet, sultry fog. Blanketing all. Filling every crack and crevice.

“If you don’t stop moving I’m going to have to strap you down.”

🖤 🖤 🖤 Pairing: Herman Carter (Doctor) x Feng Min

Rating: Explicit

CW: smut

Word Count: 960

“Darling mine…”

The acoustics of the mind are unlike any other. His words roll into Feng Min’s consciousness like a sweet, sultry fog. Blanketing all. Filling every crack and crevice.

It had taken a while for her to get used to the way he spoke - or, more accurately, communicated. Now the second voice in her head was almost as welcome as her own. Maybe even more so.

You could say Herman Carter lives in Feng Min’s head rent-free.

“Yes?” She answers the way lovers do, breathily, her eyes fluttered closed in concentration on the feeling of him filling her up so nicely. Perfectly conjoined. He caressed every wall.

“If you don’t stop moving I’m going to have to strap you down.”

He must have felt her clench around him in anticipation of him making good on that saccharine threat, - or perhaps merely caught the needy note in the sound she just made - because his next words are:

“You won’t find it very fun, I assure you.”

She has no doubt he means it. Herman would strap her to a gurney and just leave her there without so much as batting an eye - and not just because the things were permanently forced open.

But because she’d let him.

And sure, he’d indulge her. Eventually. But he’d make her wait long enough that it really wasn’t fun anymore.

God, It wasn’t fair! She wanted to drive him absolutely feral. Make him lose control. What a power trip that would be.

Instead, here she was, sat on his cock, and he was reading a fucking book.

She doesn’t understand how he can be so blase about it all. But he’s always been like this. Tolerant, sometimes even cooperative, but for the most part? Zero fucking interest. Even when they were in the heat of it, he seemed much more fascinated with her reactions - the sounds and twitches he could pull out of her - than anything else.

Min moves to adjust herself a little - for her own comfort this time, and this is apparently allowed, seeing as he says nothing, just quietly flips the page. But it gives her an idea.

“It’s uncomfortable,” She whines.

It’s not. She feels so, so full, but it’s not bad. Not painful. He would have never abided her grabby little hands coaxing him hard and allowed her to sink down on him if he thought she couldn’t take it. He is, in some ways, actually concerned about her comfort.

But he also takes no shit.

And the only thing that was uncomfortable was her arousal and how painfully not enough this was.

“You’re welcome to leave whenever you want,” he reminds her, and she feels a spike of irritation shoot through her as he has the audacity to cooly turn the page again without so much as a passing glance. “No one made you get up there, rabbit.”

Quite possibly Min’s least favorite of all his pet names for her. Sure, it was cute... until he explained it.

‘A bouncy, sex-obsessed nuisance animal.’ She remembered a thoughtful, almost impish pause. ‘Also, you stomp when you cum. It’s fitting,’ he said.

‘Fuck you’, she said.

Then he called her a paragon of eloquence and she stormed off somewhere.

So she’s not good at expressing herself. Big deal.

Even now, she’s vibrating with mounting anger, ready to reach up and snatch his collar and give him a piece of her damn mind.

The only thing stopping her is the fact that she has dick-brain at the moment and she hadn’t settled on what exact words she was about to lay down - but you could bet it was going to be colorful and choice. Whenever she figured it out.

As her anger starts to rise, so does she - a tic Herman has seen enough times to recognize.

He calls it ‘a lizard-brained threat response’ and apparently finds her ‘puffing herself up to look bigger’ incomparably hilarious.

She calls it ‘You’re a gigantic asshat, stop psychoanalyzing me.’

Min doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until she hears the odd split-tone note of both his telepathic giggles echoing off the caverns of her skull and the real, audible little huff of amusement from the back of his throat at the same time.

His hand comes to cradle the small of her back, and slowly, Herman eases her back down and towards him in something of an embrace, fingers gently stroking her back as he pins her to him.

Min has a hunch he only did it so he could read over her head, but much to her dismay, the constant pressure has the soothing effect of a weighted blanket, and she can feel the steam slowly leaving her.

Relaxing if only briefly, Min leaned into his warm chest and let her gaze idly roam around the study. Books upon books upon books.

“You need to learn how to slow down,” He tells her. “One can enjoy being immersed in a field of flowers without snorting all the roses like crack cocaine. Savoring is an important coping skill.”

He’s very good at dancing around her... problems. Gentle allusions. Open-ended questions. Exasperating impartiality. He is, at his very core, a therapist.

And she hates it.

All she wants to do is bounce on his dick. Why does everything have to be a teachable moment?

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound in the study some boring documentary he had on the television, and eventually, the rasp of paper as he flipped another page.

There’s nothing physically stopping her from moving. Just the knowledge that, if she does, he’ll pluck her right off of him for 'distracting' him and 'not being good.'

“Quit your pouting,” He tells her. “We have eternity.”

Eternity.

What a scam. 🖤 🖤 🖤

Thank you for reading!!!

🖤 🖤 🖤

Author’s Notes:

Okay, okay, okay - so this TECHNICALLY isn't a secret Santa present but I still wanted to feel like I ~participated~ and more importantly, give my darling @pugglers a little something for Christmas.

This is just a teeny tiny window into one of the dynamics I could see DocFeng potentially taking on, and I'll admit it ended up a lot more... wholesome (and a lot less smutty) than I was expecting.

This is also way more, idk, floaty and freeform and spur of the moment than I'm used to doing for a published work, so I'm a LITTLE insecure about it on multiple levels but here we fuckin goooooo!

---

Please comment if you enjoyed; I am a simple goblin who thrives on the external motivation.

You can find my socials and masterlist on my carrd!

Or, join my 18+ DBD thirst server 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 here!

#dead by daylight #dbd #docfeng #doctor dbd #feng min #ficlet #scripsi #my writing

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kiara-carrera · 3 years

Note

“actually i’m…i’m really not okay.” + Leah for the comfort starters?

convinced you can somehow read my mind across the internet because you're always picking the best prompts for them like this allowed me to write a hc that's been living in my head since may anyways. i also wanna fight myself bc this is like 3 fucking thousand words and its super fucking sad idk why i did this to myself.

content warning for parental abuse and a mention of alcoholism.

In the middle of the night, something brushed against her face.

She was asleep on her side, some of her hair falling into her eyes, but it was swept aside, the feeling tickling her skin and it caused her to stir briefly. But her eyes stayed shut and she merely burrowed deeper into her pillow.

Leah had never been much of a light sleeper, but the feeling of her bed dipping next to her seemed to rouse her enough.

It took her a moment to settle into waking, eyes fluttering and lips smacking together tiredly to combat the dryness of her mouth. A tiny yawn escaped her, her eyes doing their best to adjust to the darkness of her room, the only source of light being the sparse moonlight that trickled in through her window.

It was enough to make out the shape beside her.

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of them sitting on her bed, arm pulling back towards itself. It felt like something out of a horror movie or perhaps the evening news with the headline of a teenager being stolen from their bedroom. Fear gripped at her with icy hands, eyes widening at the realization that someone was in her room with her.

Lips parted, she was a mere second away for screaming out for her father and brother before a shred of moonlight at just the right second highlighted the unruly blond hair of the intruder.

Pushing up on one shaky hand, she asked, “JJ?”

Leah’s sleep addled voice cut through the silence, a harsh and hurried whisper into the dark. If it truly was JJ sitting on her bed, the volume would need to be kept near silent — she wouldn’t put it past Jack Thompson to treat JJ like an actual intruder.

The voice that replied was unmistakably that of her boyfriend’s, a little tired and a little sheepish. “Hey baby.”

Relief flooded her body and she allowed herself to slump back down into her pillow, a quiet groan escaping her lips. “Jesus fucking Christ, JJ, I thought you were a serial killer. What the hell?”

She couldn’t really see the expression on his face, but she saw him look down at his hands. “Wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me at —” She paused, turning to squint at the alarm clock beside her bed, neon numbers vibrant in the dark. “Two am? How the hell did you even get in?”

“Window.” He jutted a thumb behind him in its direction as if to make his point. In an attempt at lighthearted conversation, he jokingly added, “You know, you should really lock that thing.”

Leah pulled a face, disbelief coating her features. Sleep was still mulling in her brain and she couldn’t for the life of her make sense of this situation. It wasn’t the first time JJ had ever snuck into her room. Even before they were dating, he’d mastered slipping in through her window often enough that he even knew which floorboards would creak loudly under his boots.

But the difference between then and now was that this was the first time he’d done it without warning. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d come unannounced like this. It had to have been months ago, when he’d shown up after —

Fuck.

Leah pushed herself back up on her elbow, a sense of unease washing over her as she squinted at her boyfriend in the dark. The last time he’d shown up unannounced in the middle of the night, it hadn’t been for a midnight make out session or because he’d randomly wanted to spend the night — he’d had a bruised cheek and a busted lip, compliments of his father.

He’d dripped blood on her floor by accident and she’d nearly woken up her brother while getting the first aid kit from the bathroom. She’d gotten a mini one from the dollar store the next day to keep in her dresser just in case.

Except, she didn’t want there to be a just in case. Didn’t want there to be a next time. She’d cleaned JJ up from multiple fights in her time as his best friend and now girlfriend, but nothing left her with a pit in her stomach like cleaning him up after his dad was through with him.

“You didn’t come here from the Chateau, did you?”

It was phrased as a question, but it was more of a statement. JJ shifted awkwardly in his spot beside her. Even if she could make out his expression in the dark, he wouldn’t look at her anyways.

“Lee ...” He trailed off, almost as if he wanted to ask her to drop it.

But he knew her and he knew she wouldn’t. “J, did you go back to your place tonight?”

A small noise of discontent escaped him, but he nodded his head.

“Got into it with my dad,” he finally admitted, letting out a chuckle. It was meant to play off the situation, but there wasn’t a single trace of humor in the bitter sound.

Despite how tired she felt, eyelids heavy enough to drag her back under, that single sentence seemed to wake her up just enough. She squinted at him in the dark, heart thumping a little quicker in her chest as she blindly reached for the lamp on her bedside table.

It switched on, bathing the room in a soft glow as Leah pushed herself up into a sitting position. She blinked a few times, letting the now lit room to come in to focus, a hand reaching up to try and rub the rest of the sleep from her eyes.

Her gaze eventually landed on her boyfriend, looking uncomfortable as ever under her gaze. His hat was in his lap, hands wrung into it, while his hair looked like he’d raked his fingers through it anxiously a number of times on the way over. And his eyes, normally cheery and mischievous, looked almost hollow, a glossy sheen to the redness that surrounded the blue of his irises.

He looked ... broken and Leah’s heart stuttered a bit at the dejected expression he wore.

She’d never considered herself violent or capable of truly hurting anyone, but it was moments like these where she swore she could put Luke Maybank six feet under if she put her mind to it.

Unless he drunk himself to death first.

JJ watched on quietly as she let her eyes trail across his face intently, no doubt scanning for new scrapes or bruises or split lips. A twinge of guilt flickered in his eyes, one that Leah ignored. She didn’t care if he felt like he was burdening her or that he felt bad knowing she was expecting him to be dripping blood on her floor like he had one too many times before.

She didn’t care about that, because all she wanted was to make sure he was okay.

Leah hated when he went home. She knew that JJ was too proud to spend every night at the Chateau and knew he thought he could handle himself on the off chance that he ran into his dad. Rarely, though, did that seem to be the case.

“It wasn’t like that,” JJ supplied, noticing the way her eyes strayed to his shirt, more than likely wondering if there were bruises littering the skin it covered. “He was too drunk to start anything physical. Probably would’ve tripped over himself before he got two feet.”

Leah nodded, though his admission didn’t do much to quell her nerves. She didn’t know much about Luke Maybank to start with, but something told her his words were probably as painful as his hits.

After a moment, once she decided that his face looked the way it had when she’d seen him yesterday, save for the frown and his bloodshot eyes, some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Not all of it, though, because her mind had already started jumping to the next possible idea of what exactly had happened in the Maybank home earlier that night.

“Do you ... do you wanna talk about it?” she asked gently, tucking her legs under her.

Getting JJ to open up was ... tricky. Leah had been around him long enough that she could clock his bad moods at the drop of a hat, could read most emotions swirling in his eyes like second nature.

Noticing something was wrong, that something was eating away at him, was easy. Getting him to verbalize it and let her in fully was the hard part. Even around the Pogues, around Leah, JJ held a certain level of walls up. Thoughts and secrets and the level of abuse at the hand of his father that he kept guarded for one reason or another. There were things that they knew, things that they found out on accident or because he’d hit his breaking point, but Leah wouldn’t be surprised if there was a whole slew of things she didn’t know.

Her heart clenched painfully at the thought, but it didn’t surprise her when JJ waved off her question.

“Nah, it's not a big deal,” JJ replied easily, brushing it off as he adjusted his position on her bed.

He forced another smile on his lips as he regarded her. It was one that almost looked genuine. Almost. It might have fooled someone who didn’t know him well into thinking that he was fine, someone who wouldn’t pick up on the way he was fidgeting with his rings or how he seemed incapable of looking her in the eye for more than a brief moment before glancing away. But Leah wasn’t just someone and she could pick up on his unease just as easily as she was taking her breaths.

Because Leah knew when JJ wasn’t okay. She always knew.

Treading lightly, like she was dealing with a deer who might spook, she said, “Well, it must have been if you came all this way here.”

Annoyance wrinkled his expression. Tossing his hat to the side, he asked, “Can’t a guy just stop by to see his girlfriend?”

“JJ, it’s two in the morning,” she told him seriously.

His frown deepened. She could see his jaw clench and he nodded his head a few times. “Yeah, okay, you know what, this was fucking stupid. I’ll just leave then if you’re gonna keep looking at me like that.”

She knew the that in question was the pity he was probably reading across her face. But the problem was that she didn’t pity him, she was worried for him, but JJ never seemed to know the difference between the two.

The sight of him getting up and turning to head back towards her window had Leah lurching forward, hand circling around his wrist. “Hey, hey,” she whispered, giving his arm a tug. “No, J, don’t leave, please, c’mon.”

At her pleading tone, he halted, a sigh escaping him. It took another moment before he was sitting back down, a frown still etched on his face.

Leah’s hand slipped from his wrist and she longed to twine their fingers together but she didn’t in favor of scooting a little closer to him on her bed. She tilted her head a bit, trying her best to get eye contact with him.

He finally sighed and looked up at her, another sigh slipping past his lips. “Lee ...”

“Look, I’m not trying to push it, okay?” She bit her lip, thinking over her next words carefully. She didn’t know how many times she could successfully talk him out of leaving tonight. “I just ... I get worried. If you really don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. We can just go to sleep and leave it, but I need you to know that I will listen if you wanna talk. You came all this way here and it’s so late and I know —”

“I just wanted to see you,” he repeated, cutting her off. There was no edge to his voice. Instead it was softer, a tone that suggested there was more to it. Unconvincingly, he added, “I’m fine, Lee.”

A shaky breath left Leah’s lips, tears beginning to sting at the back of her eyes. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her words sat in the air for a few moments. Or maybe it was minutes. JJ was watching her intensely and Leah could almost see the legions of thoughts bouncing around his head at her statement. His eyes were glassier than ever, tears brimming along the edges. He chewed on his lip anxiously and Leah could do nothing but wait for him to make the next move.

When he did, she was certain her heart broke.

“Actually I’m ...” JJ’s voice was thick with emotion and his breath hitched in his throat as his bravado began cracking under her thoughtful gaze. He couldn’t meet her eyes again when he choked out, “I’m really not okay.”

The first tear betrayed him, dripping down his cheek and disappearing somewhere on his shirt.

“Oh, JJ,” Leah whispered, her soft voice, laced with unmeasurable concern, nailing the coffin shut.

Within seconds, tears began streaming down his face as the dam finally broke.

Leah was quick to shuffle across her bed, the last bits of sleepiness washing off her like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. Her arms were curling around him tightly, pulling him into her as the first sob racked through his body. His face was pressed into her neck, the collar of her shirt dampening with his tears.

He was mumbling into her, words muffled by her skin and her shirt, fragmented by the sobs that snuck through. She could only make out pieces, the words hate it and hate him and sorry repeating more times than she could count.

“I’ve got you,” she mumbled into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer, impossibly close, like he didn’t think she’d stay with him.

But there was nowhere else she’d ever dream of being, not when he was like this.

This wasn’t the first time Leah had seen JJ cry. While he always tried to hold up a devil may care attitude, the wild Pogue image, the view of a kid from the Cut with no worries besides keggers and weed, there were times where he’d hit his breaking point in the past. She’d seen it before, seen the facade shatter like glass against the floor. There was only so long he could go on being strong, feelings bottled up inside him like a ticking time bomb, before he’d burst.

Another sob wracked through him, a quiet and painful noise buried into her neck.

“I just want it to stop,” he told her between hurried gulps of air. “I’m so fucking sick of it.”

Leah’s eyes squeezed shut and she ran a comforting hand through his hair. She told him, “I know, J, I know,” because what else was there for her to say? What else was there for her to do in moments like these?

Anger burned in Leah’s chest, a sudden hot feeling, akin to a pot left to boil over on the stove. It was seeping into her veins as she listened to his cries,

Anger at the world, because it took people like JJ and put them through hell. He was sixteen. Sixteen fucking years old and this was the shit that he had to deal with. This was his reality. It was two in the goddamn morning and instead of being asleep in his own bed, safe and loved by his own fucking father, he was here in pieces because of him.

Anger at his father, for being such a useless sack of shit. Who did this to their child? Who could look at a kid like JJ and do nothing but tear them down until they started believing the lies being fed to them? Leah hated him, she’d decided that long ago. Hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life and the feeling of JJ shuddering under her hands only seemed to make it run deeper.

And then there was the anger at herself, because she knew there wasn’t enough that she could do. She could patch up his wounds and hold him tight, could let him cry in her arms until he had nothing left to give, and it would never be enough. She couldn’t fix the world for him and there weren’t enough words in the world to describe how important he was, how special, how loved. His father’s words would always exist somewhere in the back of his mind and she wasn’t sure she knew how to combat them with ones of her own.

It pained her to think he’d believe any of it. To think he was worthless or going nowhere or a waste of space. She wasn’t sure exactly what Luke had said to him tonight, could only guess, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt, with every fiber of her goddamn being that they were lies.

Leah knew JJ. She knew every reason that she loved him was because he was unapologetically him. He could be brash and impulsive and crude and he didn’t always say or do the right thing. But she also knew that when it came down to it, he was loyal and brave and selfless and better than anyone on this goddamn island. He deserved the goddamn world. He deserved a mansion on the Eight with a koi pond and a ridiculous marble statue or Yucatán and lobsters and surfing all day and whatever else he wanted and it was because he was better than the world gave him credit for.

Tears of her own were pooling in her eyes, steadily dripping down her face as she rested her chin against the top of his head. She knew in that moment that this, being here with him right now, letting him deal with this pain in whatever way he needed to, was all she could offer him. She knew it didn’t come close to what he needed, but she’d hold him as long as he wanted.

As he clutched at her like a lifeline, Leah held him a little bit tighter.

#asks #comfort prompts #mayson #will i ever let them have a fun happy time??#claryxjackson

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vampirequeenoffan · 4 years

Text

Intrusive

IDK, just a DP drabble that seized me by the hands and forced me to write it. I haven’t re-read or edited lmao so it’s probably Real Bad but I have other shit to be doing so imma just dump it here, sorry to yalls eyeballs

Tucker pokes him in the shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Danny groans. He’s got his arm slung over his eyes and he’s upside-down on the couch; legs hooked over the back and back pressed into the cushions. It’s not exactly the world’s most comfortable position, but if he eases off the gravity a little it doesn’t actually hurt. Besides, the discomfort is grounding, pulling his brain away from itself and back into the physical world.

“Ghost bullshit,” he grunts at Tucker. He doesn’t bother uncovering his eyes. He doesn’t really even need to, not the way he is right now, with Tucker picked out so neon in his mind that he can almost taste his presence. He doesn’t use his eyes to “see” when his friend sits down beside him, leaning his elbow on the back of the couch and drawing his legs up off the floor.

“That sucks,” Tucker says.

“Tell me about it.”

“Do you wanna?” he asks. “Tell me, I mean. Get it out of your brain.”

Danny contemplates that for a moment, falling so still he nearly forgets to breathe. Then his lungs start complaining, reminding him that he is very much still in human mode, thanks, and that he does need air for more than just vibrating his vocal chords.

Danny sighs.

“Urges,” he says. One-word response.

He still can’t see Tucker, but he can “see” him nod. He’s such a pleasantly warm shade in Danny’s mind right now, a color he can’t describe because humans can’t perceive it. Danny could look at it forever.

“One of the fighting ones again?” Tucker asks. Danny shakes his head.

“I wanna put you in a box.”

It’s a testament to their relationship that Tucker doesn’t freak out about that sentence and all that it could imply. Instead he just pauses, purses his lips in the way that Danny can only vaguely “see” (a slight variation in his color, dipping almost orange on the spectrum), and drums his fingers against the back of the couch.

“Like. . . a coffin?” he asks, tone casual. More casual than it probably should be for the subject matter.

“Not really,” Danny says. “I mean, it’s not not a coffin either, but it isn’t specifically one. My brain just. . . really wants you and Sam to be tucked away somewhere safe where no one else can touch you and I can guard you forever. And ever.”

He pauses.

“And ever.”

Tucker nods, the motion burning brightly in Danny’s mind.

“Creepy,” he comments.

Danny groans again.

“I hate my brain.”

“So do I, you’re not special,” Sam calls from the other room. Danny’s itching under his skin with the urge to go grab her, despite how the walls in between them don’t dampen the “sight” of her in his mind. He presses his arm a little harder down over his eyes, as if that could block out her luminous smear across his consciousness.

“We’re having a private conversation,” Tucker yells back at her. “Me and Danny are bonding. Get your self-depreciation out of here!”

“Then stop talking so loudly, idiots!” Sam says. She’s crouched on the ground, rifling through what Danny knows is a box despite neither seeing nor “seeing” it. It shouldn’t take her that much longer to find Dead Teacher iii, and then she’ll be back in the room. Danny has to keep repeating that to himself.

Tucker reaches down and pokes his shoulder again.

“It’s really bugging you, huh,” he says. “That she’s in the other room.”

“How can you tell?�� Danny asks. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t acted on any of his instincts. For all intents and purposes Tucker should just see a normal teenager lying sprawled out next to him, albeit in a somewhat awkward position.

Tucker shrugs. His shoulders bleed color behind them in an echo of the movement.

“Your teeth. They’re always pretty sharp, but right now they look like you could bite your own lip off. You’re not kissing anyone for a while, by the way,” he adds.

Danny’s groan borders on a whine this time.

“My ghost half is ruining my life,” he complains.

Tucker snorts and pokes him again, this time on the cheek. The warmth of his skin, of his presence in Danny’s mind, make Danny shiver. He wants so badly to bundle Tucker up in his arms and never let go.

“Is it just us right now?” Tucker asks. “Do you wanna box up anyone else?”

Danny hesitates, turning that thought over in his head.

“. . .no,” he ultimately concludes, “Not really. My brain’s got my house categorized as safe and mine and that’s where my family is right now, so they’re fine. And Val– well. Val is Val. I’ve always got conflicting feelings there.”

“It would be nice if those cancelled out, huh,” Tucker muses. Danny’s complained about this to him before. Fight and Protect fluctuate in his mind from moment to moment when it comes to Valerie and The Red Huntress, and the overlap when they’re both at their strongest can nearly give Danny a migraine. In the same way he can have a panic attack while in the middle of a depressive episode, he can very much want to swaddle Val in bubble wrap while also wanting to stab her.

“Well,” Sam says, straightening up and starting to (yes!) return to the room, “We can’t do a box, but we were already going to cuddle pile on the couch.”

“I still can’t get over you saying cuddle,” Tucker says.

“There’s nothing more hardcore than cuddling,” Sam huffs as she flops down on Danny’s other side. Her arm swings as she makes to throw what Danny assumes is the DVD box at Tucker, and Danny’s hands shoot up to snag it out of the air before it can strike his friend.

There’s a moment of silence. Danny opens his eyes. It’s weird seeing the world around him and “seeing” on top of it, part of why he’d covered his face in the first place. His brain just isn’t meant to process that much visual information at once, the same way his brain isn’t actually wired to “see.” He tries to focus on what’s real, on the actual light bouncing off his friends and into his retinas, and blinks away the glowing smear that isn’t even on the visual spectrum. He’s holding Dead Teacher iii in his hands, and he stares at the cheesy cover art with the single-minded focus of a guy recalibrating his eyes.

“Ah,” Sam says. “That bad, huh?”

Danny lets go of the DVD and it lands on his face. It hurts, but not that much.

Tucker sighs and grabs the case, standing up and moving to pop the DVD into the player. Danny, with a herculean effort, manages to not grab his ankle on the way by and drag him bodily back onto the couch.

Sam stretches, her long pale fingers tangling together overhead, physical form barely more present in Danny’s mind than the glow of her presence. Then she drops her hands and lays down, plopping her head onto his stomach and peering up into his very-close face. Danny can pick out every sun-starved freckle-that-could on her face, inherited from her parents and dampened by lifestyle choices. In the summer, when even the extra-strength sunscreen Sam slathers on can’t fight back her love for the outdoors, those freckles darken and bloom like constellations in the night sky.

The weight of her head against his stomach smooths some of Danny’s anxiety. She’s here. She’s real. She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s his.

She isn’t, of course. Tucker isn’t either. No one, on this planet or off of it, belongs to anyone, least of all Danny. And Danny knows this, believes it with the same certainty and maybe even the same part of his brain that knows that the earth goes around the sun, but that doesn’t get rid of his ghost-lizard brain chattering away in the back of his consciousness.

There’s the hum of the DVD player starting to spin the disk, then the previews begin behind Danny’s head. Tucker sits back down and, with Sam taking up the real estate on Danny’s abdomen, hooks an arm under one of the legs thrown over the back of the couch. He drags Danny’s limb closer and starts using it like a headrest, cheek pressing against Danny’s shin.

“You guys–” Danny’s voice breaks off. Finally, the anxiety that’s been buzzing at the back of his mind for the past hour and a half is tapering off, soothed by his proximity and contact with those he wants to protect. It’s such a relief that Danny could almost cry. But. . .

“You guys don’t have to be that close if you don’t want,” he says. Because it’s true. Sam and Tucker are under no obligation to play along with his ghost brain, no obligation to surrender to whatever weird instincts Danny has jammed into his consciousness. Danny has no right to ask them to, and he doesn’t. Not ever. They can make their own choices, and he refuses to become the kind of monster who would try to take their free will from them. They’re his friends, not his property, and he’s never going to forget that.

“Danny,” Sam says, “Shut up. The movie’s starting.”

“Yeah, man,” Tucker chimes in, “We were gonna do this anyway. Let us know when your brain’s calmed down enough to be upright, okay? I want popcorn later and there’s no way we’re gonna be able to integrate a bowl into this mess.”

Danny kicks his foot lightly, jostling his leg in Tucker’s hold and bumping his head, but he’s smiling. His friends are here. They’re alive. They’re watching a dumb movie from a dumb series they love and hate in equal measure.

And Danny’s happy.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Tucker Foley #Sam Manson #Eternal Trio #kinda #I use the term friend a bunch but there's also the implication that They All Be Smoochin #sooooo #Posessive behavior #intrusive thoughts #Ghost Bullshit functioning like anxiety #IDK this is probably super poorly written and I might delete it later but #whatever!

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