#it was never going to work out long term for us anyway because long distance relationships are hard

[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #smut #smut fanfic #no beta we die like jason gideon #reader x spencer reid #bau fanfic #bau smut #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #x reader #bau #criminal minds fic

[lorimnnn]

Hiii! May I request something for Kazan Yamaoka?

During a match at the Yamaoka Estate where Kazan sees from a distance survivor reader is gonna go to a gen that's in one of the houses but she catches herself before she steps inside. She takes her shoes off and leaves them at the door before going to the gen. Despite it being a realm different from the real world she still respects Japanese culture. And she does this every time she goes through any houses in his realm.

Idk I'm just curious how Kazan would react to this since none of the other survivors or killers (besides him maybe) respect this. But if not that's totally ok!

omg, I can't explain how much I love this request! I know it took me ages but I'm here! I'm looking to write more on Kazan because there's hardly anything on him.

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warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, life-threatening situations, swearing, i hate editing so obviously it's not edited but i'll probably go over it one day

trope summary: fluff, slow-burn

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You were the last one left. Did you know that?

It had never crossed your mind--- so no, you didn't. You had learned long ago not to care about those types of things when you were facing killers like The Oni. He was a devourer. Your teammates never stood a chance to begin with.

But you didn't know that.

The first time The Entity threw you into The Oni's world, you took off running. That's what your other teammates did, anyway. There had been a collective groan when the fog cleared and you all came to terms with where you were--- then a grim caress of fear that seemed to possess all of you. The sight of your teammates so flighty had struck you the wrong way and you weren't going to go about asking questions about it.

The primal roar in the distance said all that you needed to know.

What was this place, anyway?

It was like you'd time-travelled to Edo-era Japan. It was beautiful and antique and you'd never seen anything quite like it. But you'd always wanted to travel to Japan.

The Entity took that chance away from you.

You found yourself reminiscing over all those lost opportunities. You were never going to get them back. You should've gone even when you were sure you were going to be dirt poor afterwards. You should have taken the chance and travelled everywhere as soon as you got the money for it. You didn't even know what you were saving for. Everyone else was doing it, so you supposed you were supposed to as well. But what was the point of having so much money if you couldn't even use it to buy the things that would make you happy?

If you could go back, you would leap at the chance to travel somewhere here. But you supposed that 'here' wouldn't really exist in the real world. Not like this. Not at the peak of it's grandeur.

Ha! The irony.

Could you even call this a privilege when you were only here to die?

You heard Kate cry out in the distance. You flinched; you needed to wake up. Work on some gens. You were still running aimlessly, trying to get away---

Kate had just died, and here you were.

Admiring the scenery.

Idiot.

You'd always been little airy-fairy. Not quite there, sometimes too much in the moment, sometimes a little too far off. It meant you had a lot of delayed reactions, such as now.

Right now, you needed to be thinking of how to stay alive and keep your teammates that way, too.

So you headed for the house, running faster than ever. The doors were open and you could already see the gen.

"Quick," you muttered to yourself.

Before he catches up to you.

You hadn't seen The Oni, but you'd heard stories about him. Gruesome stories of his brutal, unforgiving nature, his mistaken dignity and honour. A true warrior who had been corrupted by his blood thirst.

You wondered how a samurai of all things learned such villainy. Weren't they all about honour? That's what you'd read in your books, at least. Now you weren't so sure.

Before entering the house with the gen in sight, you paused. You know you shouldn't of. You know that he was the last person in this hellish world deserving of respect when he was literally out killing all of you, but---

But this was different.

"It's the bare minimum," you reassured yourself. It helped comfort your warring fear that you were crazy. That you were empathising with a killer.

You took off your shoes and aligned them neatly outside before heading in and working the gen.

~

Too easy.

It was all too easy. Sometimes so much so that it got boring very quickly--- the same chase, the same screams, the same mindless fury that Entity infused him with. It wasn't as though he cared about the survivors in any way. He couldn't care less if they had families, let alone worth it personalities. But there was no more motive behind the kills. No more drive.

It was the ultimate disgrace to his honour---

But if Kazan admitted that, what would the Entity do?

It would be an insult. It would risk his life and extended existence, and there was so much he hadn't done yet. So much he was already doing that he had vowed to finish. One day the Entity would release him and he would resume his life and old purpose. Or maybe he would start all over again and honour his father better.

That was his secret hope.

You were the last survivor. He hadn't met you yet. Hadn't even heard of you, but he knew that you weren't fresh of the boat if you had eluded him so easily. You must have heard things or been smart to ask if it meant that it was your first instinct to run.

"Shoes...?" He muttered to himself.

He could hear you working on the gen. You were so diligent. So focused.

So naive--- how had you not heard him?

Well, Kazan had been taking his time with you. He didn't attempt to be quiet often. The kills were usually so quick that it didn't even matter. He was fast and they were prey and he would consume them before they even knew they were food.

But that was a thought for another day, because---

Because---

You had put your shoes outside. You had set them up neatly. It was a custom he had almost forgotten about and learned not to apply to the survivors. He never bothered to hold it against them, either. In this game of life and death, customary traditions were the last of any of their worries, even his.

And yet you had remembered.

Something dead twitched in his cold, hollow heart. It was small, but so significant that it barrelled into him--- a short breath escaped him in a husky puff.

Warmth.

He was feeling... warmth.

He looked up from your shoes. He watched you gently, the hardness receding from his gaze for that moment alone--- he observed your fixated frown, the nimble work of your fingers, the way you were still too absorbed to notice him...

Kill.

The Entity's voice startled him, even if it didn't show. It had been a while since she had spoke to him at all, and it was only at the start when he'd been summoned to this cruel arena of death.

Her voice was sharp. Cutting.

A warning.

Kill.

Was this all they were meant to do? To kill and consume, to die and be reborn, only for the cycle to continue until the end of eternity?

Could he really kill you now?

He would never admit it. Not allowed, unless he wanted to die. But the Entity's voice, it had disgusted him. It probably knew that. Somehow, even a fraction of his hesitance had amounted into something significant enough for the Entity to speak--- it knew all.

It knew he wanted to spare you, just for this small gesture.

But it knew he wouldn't.

Kazan killed you in cold blood.

He thought about you long after.

~

The Oni was said to roar when he killed. It was loud and brutal and everyone knew about it--- you became a sacrifice in his hands, and you died with honour.

Did he hate you?

Why had he killed you so silently?

One moment you had been working on the gen. The next you were dead. All you saw was a flash of a grotesque mask. It was drenched in blood but you were still able to make out the curving and elongated features of it, the bright red eyes that shone through and burned through your soul. You hadn't even had time to scream. To feel scared. He had grabbed you and killed you from behind and all you'd seen was the blur that the last seconds of living had afforded you--- in that way, you felt betrayed.

Had you insulted him by doing what you had thought would appease him?

You hadn't even intended to win his favour. That gesture had been out of respect for his culture. It had been more for you than anything.

Did he think you were shitting on his culture instead? What the fuck?

You were more angry about it than you had right to be. Jake was out doing his alone-time things in the woods when you bumped into him, kicking twigs and punching trees.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," you grumbled. Jake didn't believe you, and you were terrible at hiding things. You sighed. "I hate killers! I hate them! What the fuck!"

Jake's usually impassive face betrayed the hint of a smile. "I know."

"Why are they such heartless pains in the ass?"

"They're built that way."

"Were they not people, once upon a time?"

"Hardly." Jake shrugged. He tried to end the conversation there, but you kept following him around and eventually he was forced to sit when you clung to his sleeve. "They have inhuman backstories. So I've heard."

"And what's The Oni's?"

Jake snorted. "He's bothering you?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

"He's not worth a backstory," Jake said. "Trust me. He's purely in it for the kill."

Somehow, that made you angrier.

You clung to Jake's sleeve harder when he tried to stand, and he looked at you, slightly irritated.

"Can I go now?"

"No," you said flatly.

"What do you want?"

You stopped. He sighed.

You let go of his sleeve and sat there, fighting tears. They fell anyway.

~

Kazan didn't understand you.

You didn't understand Kazan.

You kept unintentionally respecting him, and he kept killing you. he didn't really know how to react, actually. You were too...

Too-

Too kind.

He caught himself stalking you outside of trials. He covered it up by banging on the boundary that separated the killers from the victims and acting like he was trying to come after you. At first you were scared. He regretted scaring you.

Kazan did it again and again anyway. It had been a while since he'd felt anything. The more trials he had with you, the more things he was left to grapple with. He hated it.

He yearned for it.

So he kept seeking you out.

You were kind. A bit stupid--- how could you not see how the other survivors abused your purpose and skillset? Or did you know? Why did you let it happen if you knew?

You seemed to like the other survivors, though. He couldn't understand why.

He quickly learned that you were sentimental. Ah. That made sense. No wonder you bothered with things such as cultural customs.

Sentimental was not good. It meant emotional.

To be emotional in a place like this was to kill yourself over and over, and everyone knew it. It had established the natural order of kill or be killed. Survive or die. And yet you were there, uprooting it.

No wonder everyone borderline disliked you. You showed too much interest in doing more, being more. Connecting.

How long had it been since he'd connected?

He supposed he had Rin. His descendant. But that was a bit different, wasn't it?

"What the fuck is your problem?" You'd yelled out once. You'd startled him by coming right up to the boundary and screaming in his face--- he'd stopped trying to break it just to let you speak. "What the fuck do you want? Why do you want to kill me so bad? Are you okay? Are you good?" You paused to take a breath. You were panting, hot in the cheeks, sweat beginning to bead in your hairline. "Are you fucking okay?"

He should have been angry. Who gave you the right to talk to him in such a way?

Who?

Who gave you a right to make him feel like this?

Feel anything?

And who the fuck gave you the right to make him feel bad of all things when he caught you crying?

He wouldn't have seen them if you hadn't turned your head that slightest angle, the sun hitting the thing glaze of your tears. They were shining.

You seemed to realise you were about to fall apart the same time he did and retreated. Why were you embarrassed?

Why was he contradicting himself?

Kazan watched you run away into the woods. He growled when he saw that black haired one who often pretended to ignore you sigh to himself and then run after you.

He shouldn't have stalked the both of you as far as the barrier allowed him to. Shouldn't have hid when he heard you sobbing out loud, shouldn't have stayed hidden when that stupid survivor took you into his arms--- pretending to hate it--- and let you cry there as he battled with his red cheeks.

The next time he had a trial with Jake Park, he brutalised him again and again.

Jake didn't know why, of course. And would The Oni ever tell him?

No.

Because how would he even begin to explain what he was feeling when he didn't even know himself?

~

You'd had enough.

The Oni had made you his obsession over and over, saving you for last. It had made his kills twice as brutal and twice as painful because know you were always ready for them.

And recently he'd been coming on to you with a vengeance, like you'd done something wrong.

You were going to sort this out for once and for all. Somewhere along the way it had become incredibly personal and this undiscovered connection and had become intimate, even if it was mostly comprised of him killing you for more than just that, killing you. Somehow that alone made it all the more emotional, all the more addictive.

You couldn't run away; there was nowhere to go.

So the next time you had a chance, you went to his realm on your own. You hunted him down and yelled in his face--- he hadn't expected you, clearly.

He had been meditating in his temple and suddenly you had come flying out of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" You shouted. "Why do you keep doing this? I don't get it. What have I done to hurt you so personally?"

The Oni scrambled--- ungracefully-- to his feet and stood up.

"Are you seriously going to kill me again?" you wailed. "Outside of a trial of all things? I just came to talk! Because you're a bully! A mean fucking bully!"

The Oni hesitated, his hand uncurling from his katana.

"I hate you!" You yelled.

He said nothing. Of course he did.

Now you just felt embarrassed.

"I hope I never get put in a trial with you ever again!"

That prompted the Oni to take a step closer to you. You were already walking away, though, and was surprised to find the Oni close behind, trailing at a modest distance away. You walked faster. So did he.

You walked slower.

So did he.

"Go away," you mumbled, shoving your feet back into your shoes. "You make me so mad. I don't know what I've done to piss you ff this much, but I hope it's worth it!"

The Oni kept following you.

It was quickly becoming aggravating. You stopped and turned around, probably to yell at him, but seeing him just standing there made you too mad for words and you turned back around to walk. You stomped your foot and screamed at the sky.

You hated this.

It made no sense.

You jumped at the feeling of a hand curling around yours. It was big and meaty and riddled with scars and veins. It was a human hand. The Oni's hand.

And he was touching you gently, like you could break at any moment.

Like he was sorry.

But Kazan would never say it.

"...Stay," he said.

You gawked. You hadn't even realised he could talk. You'd been sure his only language was punching and letting out battle cries. Still, over the revelation, you glared at him. "Are you crazy? What if you kill me?"

"I won't."

He held your hand slightly tighter. Was that a threat?

You pulled away your hand to test it; he didn't try squeeze it harder.

Not a threat.

"Um..."

Oh.

What did you do now?

You hadn't expected this.

"Stay," he said again.

"Why?"

"For tea."

You felt like laughing. Was he serious? Was he actually genuine? For tea? He wanted you to stay for tea? Huh? What? Why-

"Yes," you said. "Okay."

You were staying for tea.

~

The Oni was... Not what you expected. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was choked and gruff like he wasn't used to talking. And maybe he wasn't.

You were skeptical the whole time, but not once did he move to hurt you. He didn't even poison the tea that he made--- hand ground and the water boiled over a fire. He showed you his every move with distinct slowness like he knew you were watching.

"Does it ever get lonely here?" You found yourself blurting. "All alone. I mean, I heard you're related to Rin. Is that true?"

All you got was a nod. You weren't sure whether that was to the first or the second question, but you ran with it.

"Do you often make tea?"

He shook his head.

"Am I annoying you?"

The Oni looked at you again--- this time sharply, and you tensed and held your breath. You weren't expect the flash of deadpan attitude in his eyes when he sighed and turned away.

"So... I'm not?"

"Drink your tea," he said.

You did.

~

You should have never come back.

But the tea...

The tea was good.

Yeah, the tea.

~

So... Kazan may like you more than he thought.

It wasn't intentional; it had just happened. You kept coming for tea, he kept listening to you babble, and he started to crave your company the second you left. You had managed to fill a gap in his chest that he hadn't even realised had been vacant to begin with.

You were just so beautiful.

It had caught him by surprise. One day you came to his realm, took off your shoes and waited for him to pour you a cup of tea and it had struck him that you were the most stunning thing to exist in all his millennia of living, and could spend a millenia more of just admiring you if you allowed. But you never did.

You always thought something was wrong when he stared at you for too long. Always took it as your cue to leave.

Kazan regretted killing you over and over again.

Maybe if he didn't, you'd be more willing to trust him again.

"Yamaoka Kazan," he said one afternoon. It had slipped out. You were in the middle of talking and then he'd just said it.

"Pardon?"

"My name."

"Oh, well if I'm right, you introduced yourself with your last name first. Out of respect, should I call you Mr Yamaoka?"

That alone sent a shudder down his spine. Kazan barely managed to hide it. The only thing stopping him was his need for you to say it again, say it more intimately. Say it like you meant it. And not his last name.

"No," he said.

You were past that. You deserved more. Deserved everything.

But selfishly, he wanted something from you first.

Hesitantly, you tried his name in your mouth. "... Kazan?"

Kazan.

Kazan.

Kazan.

Suddenly he was just a man, not a killer. A man who had lived and breathed and felt things, and now he felt them for you.

"Well, if we're on that level, my name is Y/n."

"Y/n."

You looked away from him, and he smirked beneath his mask.

It seemed he affected you just as much.

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I swear to the universe the only thing i could think of with 'you were staying for tea' was that meme from mulan like 'would you like to stay for dinner' and then the grandma yelling out 'would you like to stay forever' but it's rin

I wanna write a pt. 2 for this but would you be interested in that?

As always, please reblog!

#dbd #kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka x reader #the oni #the oni dbd #dbd killers #dbd killers x reader #the oni x reader #dbd the oni x reader #the oni dbd x reader

[mtkay13]

Qi Ye ensemble cast poster, second edition

Yet another one of those LOL Qi Ye just has that power over me. You know the drill; more info below!

I'll go straight to the point: my main reason to draw this was because I wanted to draw the most somber, dark-looking Helian Qi possible with some dark cross-hatching effect. And because I don't want to draw a Helian Qi solo image because who the HELL does that, I had to turn it into an ensemble cast thing again. I just REALLY like to do that for Qi Ye, for some reasons!!! For a general note, first: shading was a PAIN but making a nice composition and thinking about how to make a hierarchy that both works in terms of storytelling and visual composition was fun. I also liked finding out the "color scheme" to use and I do like lineart. So, now, little notes about each character, and the obligatory name poster just so I'm sure we all know whom I'm talking about:

Jing Beiyuan: I've mentioned it before but drawing Beiyuan is like. The easiest for me, I think, out of ALL Qi Ye/TYK characters combined. He happens to have my general goto "pretty face" (which conveniently has peach blossom eyes). I'm happy with how he turned out here! And got to put the sable around his neck which makes for a nice additional touch. Helian Yi: He's easy to draw as well and I'm glad with how the guan turned out. He initally looked sideways, but I liked it better having him wistfully stare into the distance. Helian Zhao: has the exact same face as in the other, coloured poster, and that cracks me up bc that wasn't even intentional. Helian Pei: GDI I find him so hilarious. He looks so done and out of it. Shout out to all his bird as well, which, I find, really complete the look. Helian Qi: I can't possibly say that I love him as an antagonist because there's nothing to love about this literal trash, but I'm still grateful that we got some of the most rancid stuff going on in Qi Ye just because of him and I'm always here for that. He deserves the villain visual treatment, at least. He was VERY fun to draw and I tried to push that nasty grin and shading as much as possible. He turned out exactly how I wanted him to! (the shading on his face and the balance of light and shadow was a bit of a challenge, actually)

Wuxi: Again, a rather easy one, always pleasant to draw! I loved working on his hair (but complained a lot while doing so)--which I think turned out nicely. Bai Wuchang: Finally! Finally I draw him!! He had to be there, since he's like. The base of the whole Qi Ye plot. Lining him was....... a pain, but at least it looks nice.

Su Qingluan: nothing much to say--I think it's always important to have her there in Qi Ye stuff, and I put her next to Helian Zhao because of how he tried using her--but it did make me feel bad for her when I realised that. Song Ping'an: The real star of the show, lowkey, but always alert and present. Feng Xiaoshu: FINALLY. PRINCESS JING'AN. I'm sorry I took so long to draw her. I want to work on a proper design, I swear. To make up for having completely forgotten to include her in the other spread. I'm so sorry. I like how her face turned out! Liang Jiuxiao: I never, ever, EVER get enough of drawing him. Have I mentioned how much I like him? How much of a great surprise he was reading Qi Ye? How many times I've wanted to high five because finally someone is as confused as I am? I love drawing this very specific smile on him, SO satisfying. Also Bichen said he was "THE Qi Ye antagonist" and I live for that LOL Zhou Zishu: do I really need to say anything atp Jiang Xue: I'm so sorry I put Xiao Xue next to ZZS. The cruelty. But she came out really cute didn't she T_T Anyway that's it. I'm still obsessed with Qi Ye and given my current (totally secret) retranslation project I'm nowhere near done going crazy about this book.

#qi ye #jing beiyuan #wuxi #bai wuchang #helian yi #helian pei #helian zhao #helian qi #su qingluan #ping'an #princess jing'an #liang jiuxiao #zhou zishu #jiang xue

[stellisketches]

why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it. 

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from. 

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be. 

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves. 

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from. 

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress. 

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way. 

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau. 

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

#zane ro'meave #garroth ro'meave #vylad ro'meave #minecraft diaries #aphmau garroth #mcd #mcd garroth #aphmau mcd #aphmau #mcd zane #mcd vylad #stelli rants #also just as a sidenote that you don't have to take seriously #i tried taking the quiz as I think each character would and got the same results #mcd aphmau #mcd rewrite #minecraft diaries headcanons #garroth #garroth romeave #vylad romeave #vylad mcd #zane romeave #soldier poet king

[cupid-tune]

hey uhm could you tell us more about your fantrolls? they all look really cool but i dont know much more about them besides that. :P (also i like jhudas shes very pretty :])

OH ABSOLUTELY!! You have no idea how happy I am to get messages like this! This is gonna be a long post just because I want to get all of my guys in here, apologies in advance!

Not all of my trolls have fully fleshed out backstories yet, but the ones with dancestors are part of a fansession I'm in, they've had the most development by far.

Armane

Armane is probably my most neglected character, but I do really love his design and concept! He's a Burgundy with a lot of fight in him, despite his weak stature. He partakes in a lot of underground fighting rings in lowblood districts, usually to take out his anger or earn a little extra money. He's obviously gotten very hurt from it many times in the past, but that hasn't scared him away from a fight just yet. One of the reasons he gets violent so often is just the fact that he wants to prove himself to be tough and independent, since his lusus is very protective of him and has been ever since he was a wriggler. He's just a little problem child.

Armane is very afraid of death, but he hates mentioning or bringing up any of his fears. In general, he just isn't a very social or talkative troll, preferring actions over words and keeping his distance in any kind of gatherings. You could probably get him to warm up to you easy if you don't pose as a threat, but Armane follows the hemospectrum pretty strictly, and usually won't talk to mid bloods or higher on his own.

Nonemu

Nonemu is the leader of a cult called the Anon Trolls. I haven't done very much with their character in terms of backstory yet, since I really like them as a blank slate for whatever I could use them in. Her cult is meant to serve as an escape from society, living in a commune much more isolated from other trolls. To be apart of the family is to denounce your place in the hemospectrum and completely hide your color, as a way of being treated equally amongst everyone else in the commune. It's unknown what caste Nonemu is, but some say all the possible traits are hidden away, like their eye color for example.

Nonemu is a very kind and patient troll, serving as a sort of parental figure over his commune. He takes great responsibility and pride in his work, and can be quite a mystery to talk to. Nonemu is the type of person to speak in very vague terms, never really being fully truthful or transparent. It's up to interpretation whether or not they can be considered truly kind or malicious with their intentions.

Fennek

Ok Fennek is like. Think of troll Jesse Pinkman and that's what you got. My concepts for Fennek are in general pretty scattered, but his main gig is that he participates in a lot of illegal business as a supplier and seller. Having grown up on internet culture and self study, Fennek has taught himself all kinds of useful skills in advancing his unfortunate position to make the most of life. Chemicals and weapons are his specialty, but his skills and personality are nearly opposite.

Fennek is a very chill and easy-going kind of guy, never really taking any situations seriously. It's a wonder he hasn't died yet with the amount of life threatening risks he puts himself in. The mask really is the only precaution he takes when it comes to working with chemicals or other substances, his hair is probably full of toxic shit. It kind of gives off the idea that Fennek knows he won't live very long anyway, so he doesn't care either way. Live life to the fullest while you can.

Trinet

Admittedly, the dancestor designs are some of my favorites. The first concept for Trinet was that I just wanted a troll who was really into explosives, and oh boy is he into them. Similar to his dancestor, Trinet is an inventor who specializes in bombs. Explosives of any kind! He's very loud, probably due to the fact that his hearing isn't all there. It's probably a Snuzek tradition to just not be properly equipped for the shit you're trying to do, precautions aren't a concern whatsoever.

Trinet is VERY outgoing and active! He talks a lot and fast, you might not catch everything he says. Although his personality kind of gives off the idea that he's dumb or aloof, he's much more impressive when talking about the stuff he actually knows, like how to make this specific bomb or what that compound of elements can make! With how bright and joyful he seems, sometimes the things he talks about can be pretty dark or upsetting. There are lots of themes of death surrounding both Snuzeks, which I'll probably elaborate more on another post.

Zuzu

Zuzu is a whole fucking bundle of fun!! Ok the original concept was supposed to be a DJ troll, but somewhere through the designing process, they ended up turning into a Vocaloid. Centered around a lot of 2010 scene-type themes, Zuzu is an underground music artist and singer trying to make a name for herself. She'll take up any gigs available, hoping to be the party of the life and meet all kinds of trolls. Unfortunately, the music business is tough, and trying to get famous off of it is a lot more work than he initially thought.

Zuzu is the type of troll you'd go to for help or advice, a people pleaser with the full intention of trying to look good in the eyes of everyone. They can be pretty pushy at times, and they're not very good at reading the room. Although Zuzu means well, they fuck up social situations frequently, instead making him seem desperate or clingy. It seems like their emotions are amplified on all sides of the spectrum, one bad day can be a harsh blow for them.

Farrow

Although scary looking at first glance, Farrow is probably one of the most harmless trolls you'll meet. A simple farmer with a goal to live a just as simple life, Farrow is a recluse who lives on the outskirts of the city. They hardly ever interact with other trolls, not after an incident that caused them to lose their vision. A long time ago, Farrow worked as a bounty hunter, usually taking culling jobs as a means of getting trades for other goods. Now Farrow has taken up a more harmless line of work, disposing of the bodies from other troll's dirty work. They'll get rid of anything you might need to hide, using it for their own benefit such as fertilizer or food for their lusus.

In general, Farrow is very close to their lusus, using him as a guide around the farm and other places. Laying low is the next best option, but Farrow really doesn't mind. They are a welcoming troll with a habit of appearing much scarier than they mean to. Whether it be a creepy smile or misjudging you for an intruder, Farrow walks the line of good and bad. They don't really see their actions as immoral, simply understanding that their planet is a cruel place, and they really aren't the worst there is out there.

Fichte

Fichte was my first fan troll ever, originally used as a persona and turned into a dumbass philosopher. He is an absolute stuck up prick and will not apologize for any of his behavior. As cold cut as you can get with someone, Fichte is the type that will upright tell you his intentions and then get upset when you don't follow through with them like he wants. He'll study you, use you for research, and completely discard you after if you aren't of any use to him.

While seemingly emotionally distant, if you spend even a little time with him had he not pissed you off already, you might start to see signs of insecurity or loneliness. Fichte always favors logic over emotions, finding comfort in knowledge rather than the untameable pool of socialization. The subjects he studies varies, but his main interest is philosophy and studying the behavior of other trolls. One thing he especially loves doing is keeping notes of just about everyone he meets, and he has plenty of notebooks filled with just that.

Xarlow

Xarlow is just the guy you'd expect him to be, a silly clown guy with a horrible personality. He likes to consider himself popular and well known, running his own circus with his found siblings and performing to his heart's content. Xarlow specializes in the art of extreme performance, commiting acts of violence against others and himself. His tight corset is in fact one of the self proclaimed "art pieces" of his, using his body as a canvas and thereby destroying it. Speaking of, Xarlow had managed to lose one of his horns by accident during a public show, which ended in him tearing out the other to match. That was not a pretty show.

Xarlow doesn't seek sympathy. He isn't a good person outside of performing and he knows it. The general consensus of his personality is that he's bad, but there are so many personalities to choose from that it becomes confusing at times to pinpoint just one. He's manipulative and cruel, hypocritical at its worse. His history with Fichte is a great example of this cruelty, moirails turned kismesis to what eventually became too toxic to keep. They both hurt each other in their own ways, it's difficult to take sides. One thing is for certain is that their experience has had lasting effects, Xarlow isn't someone you should consider for a quadrant.

Onette

Onette is the definition of a gentle giant. What you see on the outside is entirely what's on the inside, a harmless troll who wants nothing more than to just create and enjoy life. A very soft spoken girl, Onette tries her best to appear harmless and approachable despite her size and caste, dressing in delicate clothing and using a gentle, warm voice to reassure others. Onette has a fascination with creation and art, one of her biggest hobbies being that of making dolls and paintings.

Onette has a certain distain for those in her own caste, often chastising them for their treatment of lowbloods, but doing nothing herself to stop them. She's soft, but perhaps too soft. Onette can be frightened easily, and is extremely nonconfrontational, something that she has a difficult time trying to come to terms with. Ironically, Onette has an interest in purplebloods especially, due to their popularity in being known as clowns. Many of her dolls are inspired by them, which can almost be seen as creepy or obsessive if you stepped into her hive.

Jhudas

Jhudas is very different from her dancestor, nearly opposite in nature. My biggest inspiration for her was the song Brutus, which can be seen in both her design and personality. She is a backstabber, often engaging in violence of all kind just to pave her way to the top. Unlike Onette, Jhudas has a clear hatred for the castes above her, purplebloods especially because she believes they rub their position in her face as being the caste right above. Jhudas deals with anger issues, and will likely explode on you with any minor inconvenience. She works as an assassin, usually taking up jobs from fellow highbloods even if she despises that fact.

Jhudas will be subservient to those she works for, but you can tell there are ulterior motives behind it. Waiting for the right moment to strike, to prove she is above everyone else in order to get what she wants. Despite all this, Jhudas may be one of your best allies, especially in quadrants. She's protective of those she deems worthy, and exerts a lot of tough love if she believes you can do better in handling yourself. It's just advised you should watch your back with her no matter what.

Veictr

Just from looks alone, you can tell what his deal is. Crazy scientist troll with the absolute worst intentions, gleefully using others in his nonsensical experiments all for the name of research. Veictr is just that! Everything about him should tell you that he's dangerous, and he very much is. Having stole the headlight of his dear lusus after a particularly nasty fight, Veictr began his work diving into the world of body modifications and mutation. He managed to find a way to hook the light to his own system, forming a symbiotic relationship with his body and the bacteria just as a symbol of award from his lusus.

Veictr is quite a confusing character in terms of personality, showing absolutely no sympathy for anyone while also being a sweetheart to those who manage to stay alive in his presence. He doesn't mean to intentionally hurt anyone, it just so happens that death and injury occurs when experiments fail. He's quite giggly too, with a hyperactive attitude and a great interest in others, Veictr can make for great conversation. His curiosity knows no bounds, and it really is a wonder how he manages to prove some of his theories correct.

Lucius

Lucius is probably the most unfortunate of my trolls. Having suffered the consequences of their own actions, Lucius managed to find herself trapped at the bottom of the ocean by a certain Fuchsia due to an obsession gone too far. Before this incident, she was considered a dangerous troll, perhaps just as much as her dancestor, but unfortunately, she was shut down far before she could get too bad. Although her entrapment was meant to be her execution, Lucius managed to survive with the help of her lusus, escaping after a sweep of just barely making it out.

Now, Lucius is an entirely different person. After so long of being in isolation, they've become paranoid and weak, suffering the many effects the ocean put them through. What was the most interesting part, however, was the fact that they returned with a strange mutation. It is unknown how exactly it happened, but Lucius now suffers with a bioluminescent stomach, her skin seeming thinner or perhaps even transparent.

Her story breaks off into many directions depending on the context, but one involves the scientific interest her own dancestor took of her after being discovered in this state. I'm currently in the progress of making an animatic based on this particular outcome which I'm very excited about! More lore stuff to be expanded on later.

This is the general information for each of my characters so far! There's a lot more detail I'd like to expand on in separate posts, especially considering I'm trying to cram a bunch into one. I really really appreciate the interest in my characters, and I hope to post more content about them soon! It makes me super happy that people enjoy them as much as I do.

This took a while to make LMAO

#homestuck #homestuck oc #fantroll #oh get ready for these tags #armane cedroc #fennek snuzek #trinet snuzek #zedroi telcho #farrow takshi #fichte nicolo #onette anikin #jhudas anikin #xarlow anowin #veictr loffei #lucius loffei #nonemu #long post

[stxrvel]

greatest fear (3)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: bucky has to learn to deal with the fact that things don't always work out the way we want them to.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +5k i think

warnings: none? angst, that's for sure

note: hello!!! i think it's been almost a month? but better late than never. this didn't came out like i wanted at all, but i'm still gonna publish it bc i don't dislike it that much. i probably could've approach the subject way better. maybe i'll edit this someday. anyway, i do hope you all like this and give it some love 💜 i'll try to keep it up to get you guys pt 4 sooner, but i don't promise anything. feedback is always appreciate!! thank u all!!

masterlist | next | series masterlist

Everyone already knew Bucky's greatest fear. He had spent years being untouchable, seemingly the only person on the team who wasn't afraid of anything, not even living on the edge. They had spent years getting used to seeing the inscrutable face of an emotionless man. And they'd spent years thinking that was never going to change. To be honest, Bucky believed the same thing. As he resumed his “normal”, ordinary life, he felt that there was nothing he hadn't experienced before and that, because of that, there was nothing that could really hurt him. So why bother worrying about anything, why be afraid in the first place?

Bucky used to be an unflappable person. Even after meeting you, after confessing his feelings for you, after knowing that you might be a weak spot, Bucky still thought he wasn't afraid of anything. What's more, with you by his side he considered himself an invincible person. Unreachable. The people around him saw him as so sure of himself that they never once doubted that he could be the most fearless man in the world.

Until you had the accident.

Bucky began to see the world in dark colors. He had been afraid, yes, he had said so many times. But he was also struck by how close he had come to going insane. The people around him had ceased to view him with respect, but with concern. He had never allowed himself to be seen that way, because even if he had ever felt in a similar way, he had never been as strong as he was that time. He was at a point of vulnerability that was almost incomparable to anything that had happened in his life before.

The level of despair and stress he was dealing with from the moment he found out about your accident until months later when he knew how to manage his emotions, he couldn't quantify it in a rational way.

And the people around him were sympathetic, but he still hated that he had let himself be seen that way. The quivering mess he'd become since he found out about it haunted him like a symphony echoing in his head on the highest note. Sometimes it wouldn't let him think, wouldn't let him remember, wouldn't let him live. Even being there in a room with you, there was nothing but a din of incongruous notes crashing against each other, without any harmony, without any order.

At other times there was silence. A deafening silence sometimes accompanied by a beeping that increased as the minutes progressed. The voices were echoes and the images were blurred figures in the distance. There was nothing else in his head but space to process the silence.

Everyone knew Bucky's biggest fear, and it had caused him some long-term problems that he still didn't know how to handle. Since everyone knew that, he was no longer the fearless Bucky, the most daring person. Now he seemed to be perceived as a walking time bomb, even though he seemed to be the one who handled the situation the best… well, not from the beginning, but he learned to cope.

He hated that that stage of vulnerability had become so embedded in the memories of others that it was now the only thing they evoked when they thought of him. He hated that consideration. As much as he wanted and appreciated the support, he hated when it came from regret. From condescension. Of the wary glances. Like tiptoeing around him in fear that he would explode at any moment.

That was how Bucky felt at that moment. With everyone watching him around him, thinking that at any moment he would freak out and start screaming at each of them.

“She's okay now,” Bucky heard Natasha's voice flooding the room that had become the recipient of an imperturbably uncomfortable silence. Her voice was neutral, calm and patient, like the others', even though their faces showed incomparable chagrin.

Bucky let out a long sigh and let his gaze fall on any object in that room.

The rain was lashing hard against the city that day. The drops bounced off the large window and fell swiftly towards the end of their ephemeral life where gravity used to drag them down. The cold crept into the building through every crevice it could find, as if seeking any refuge from itself within the warmth of the human structure.

Bucky didn't plan to ever feel fear again.

He was constantly surrounded by worry, but tried to reassure himself that you were in a safe place surrounded by people who were willing to protect you. Until Steve appeared running down the hallway of the rooms shouting his name, and then yours, and then named Dr. Cho. A peculiar combination of words but they were enough to push him over the edge.

He had never run so fast from one end of the building to the other since that fateful day.

Memories slipped as fast in front of his eyes as raindrops did that day, swept away by the restlessness of his mind surrounding almost possible catastrophic scenario. Bucky knew he shouldn't do that, but telling him not to was like going against nature.

The worst part was that he couldn't see you as soon as he got to the medical wing of the Complex. He could barely make you out through the glass doors.

And so hours went by.

Bucky stayed in the next room waiting for some news, when one by one the others began to arrive.

Near midnight Natasha appeared and finally gave him good news.

“They stabilized her and are now waiting for the drugs to take effect.”

Bucky nodded at her words and the vibe in the room finally changed. Sighs of relief and comforting words leapt into full view, but Natasha didn't take her eyes off Bucky.

“What happened to her?” he finally dared to ask, though he knew the answer the moment the redhead entered the room.

“They still don't know. One moment they thought it was cardiac arrest, then a stroke, then she had seizures. But finally she was just… still. At some point she regained consciousness and said her whole body hurt. The doctor gave her some medication and now she sleeps. All her vitals are fine, like nothing ever happened.”

Bucky was not thinking clearly. He had understood every single word that came out of Natasha's mouth, but he couldn't pin his thoughts down to a single idea. His mind was conjecturing at an incomprehensible speed and it was causing him severe irritability that he couldn't come up with a solution.

“Did she say anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

--

It had been six hours when you woke up. Bucky had settled into a chair in the corner of the room, not too far or too close to where you were lying, and was trying to get some sleep, but worry wouldn't leave him. Steve accompanied him for a while before he had to leave on a mission, and Natasha stopped by at some point to drop off something to eat before leaving, just like Steve, on a mission. After that, he must have spent about two hours trying to fall asleep, but it seemed an impossible task. The constant sound of the machine monitoring your heart kept him unconsciously aware of his surroundings. And, even if there were no external stimuli to keep him awake, his mind would have done so. The fear, the panic, the hopelessness…. He almost feared that you would never even wake up again.

His body almost reacted to your movements because he opened his eyes just as you were beginning to move on the gurney.

“Y/N?”

Rising from the chair, he began to slowly approach you, even though his body was begging him to run to your side and wrap you in his arms. He watched you move one of your arms to cover your eyes for a moment, before focusing your gaze on his.

Your frown did not bring him good news.

“Where am I?”

Finally reaching where you were, Bucky pressed the button on the side of the gurney to call the doctor, his heart heavy and aching. That those were the first words out of your mouth should have made him understand what had happened, and in a matter of seconds the limbs of his body shook with a shudder. But it couldn't be like that, he couldn't go through that again. Bucky was not in the capacity to go through that again.

He was promptly convinced otherwise and focused on your confused expression.

“You're at the Avengers Complex in Washington.”

“What do I do…?”

“You were in an accident. You lost consciousness for several hours.”

The dazed expression on your face didn't change and Bucky's nerves ascended with each passing second. The words came out of his mouth as an automatic response and your face contracted taking in the reality, but you didn't seem to make peace with understanding. The few things Bucky had told you seemed to only worsen your state of confusion.

“Do you know what day it is?”

When you shook your head, Bucky felt a cold chill run through him as if he were standing in the middle of a heavy snowfall. The fear he had deprived himself of and had almost prayed he would never feel again was making its way through his mind and body, and if he didn't stay calm things were not going to go well.

“It's November fourth of the year 2023. Do you remember anything about this year?”

You shook your head again. Your expression was starting to change from confusion to fear and Bucky knew he had to do something soon to keep you from being consumed by the feeling.

“No… No, I don't understand… what's going on. It's like my head is totally black. There's no-I don't see…”

Your distressed gaze met Bucky's and your bewilderment bordering on concern caused a pang in his heart. He felt like he could die of a broken heart at that moment. He didn't know what the look on his face was, but he knew it must not be as neutral as he wanted it to be because somehow he had to let out the feeling that was choking him at that moment. It seemed like that look Bucky had on his face gave your tears permission to start bulging in your eyes.

“I can't remember anything. At all,” you sobbed. “I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't remember what happened. I don't remember who-”

Bucky watched your eyes move around the room and noticed how you clenched your hands on the sheet. Your breathing becoming ragged confirmed to him that you were about to have a panic attack. Of all the times he had done it before, he automatically reached out to you and took your hands in his. He swallowed the feeling that wanted to overpower him and the hopelessness in a second. He couldn't leave you in that situation at that moment. Your glassy, big eyes turned to his.

“You're okay right now, okay?” with your eyes locked on his, still breathing erratically and your heart about to burst, you nodded slightly. “Okay, then breathe with me and then we'll talk again.”

Bucky took a deep breath, lifting his shoulders and not taking his eyes off yours to urge you to mimic him. He stayed in that position until you did the same, taking a shaky breath and tightening your fingers around his hand. The tears wouldn't stop coming and the sight almost made him cower in the corner of his head to cry with you.

“Now let the air out of your mouth slowly.”

Exemplifying your words, Bucky let the air out and you mimicked him next, still not letting go of the trembling.

Bucky took another deep breath and you followed suit, expelling the air once he did.

Like that, again and again.

And again.

And again.

Until you could only stare into his blue eyes without a single thought in your head.

“Feeling better?”

You nodded without a word.

Bucky could notice your lowered shoulders and the few tears on your red cheeks, so he ventured to let go of your hands. He didn't let it go unnoticed the way your eyes parted from his, after so long, to observe the place where your hands were joined. You intertwined your own hands and let out a sigh. Bucky had to swallow again the feeling and the urge to move closer. It made him angry inside because he thought he had already learned how to handle the distance and because he didn't think he would have to go through such a scenario again, but life is full of surprises.

“I understand that you're scared and worried, okay? But I want you to try to stay calm for a while while Dr. Cho asks you some questions and runs some tests, are you okay with that?”

Bucky watched as you shook your head as he pointed behind him to where there were two women standing in the door frame who he had heard enter a few minutes ago, but didn't acknowledge their arrival until you were calm and willing. He was dying to know what had been going through your head as you cocked it and frowned slightly watching the women.

“Yes,” you barely mumbled, but Bucky could hear you perfectly. He could hear you even in any kind of crowd.

With a heaviness in his soul, Bucky got up from the gurney and gave Dr. Cho and the nurse, Christina, room to pass.

He took a few more steps away, until he was near the door, and it weighed on him to see how your eyes did not leave his figure. He didn't know whether to leave or to stay there waiting for them to finish. He didn't want to leave you alone, that was clear, but the pressure in his chest grew stronger with each passing second, and he wasn't sure he could stay any longer if you kept looking at him like that. Like he was the only person in the room, like he was the only person who mattered, like he was someone you remembered… but you don't. You don't remember him. Not anymore.

--

Bucky found himself wandering around the Complex until he decided to settle on the rooftop. He thought that spending that time alone wouldn't do him much good because his mind would replay over and over again the moment when you had that frightened expression on your face again, and then he wouldn't have time to try to calm down and regain his composure. And he did. For a few minutes.

Bucky let his mind snap. The tension building up on his shoulders was too much, and if he didn't let it out, he feared it would explode inside him. He was thankful to be alone at that moment because he didn't like to cry around people. Not just crying, but expressing too much in general.

At that moment he was crying not only for his suffering, but for yours. Because more than not wanting to go through it himself, he had to think about what you must be feeling and thinking, being in a completely foreign environment and with strangers proclaiming to know you more than you know yourself. Bucky hated the thought of you having to go through that again, even if you didn't remember the first time. Bucky was crying on that rooftop because once again life had robbed you of the well-being you deserved, because you could no longer spend a moment fully aware of yourself.

More than his pain, Bucky ached to think of yours.

And what could he do about it? Nothing. Just like last time.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, arms resting on the edge of the rooftop overlooking the green field around Complex. He only knew it was around noon when Tony Stark opened the door behind him.

“You must be hungry,” was the first thing the man behind him said, trying to lighten the tense mood that must have been surrounding Bucky at that moment. But no, he didn't have time to think about mundane things.

“Not really.”

A silence settled and he knew Tony must be weighing whether or not it had been a good idea to show up there knowing he was alone. Bucky really didn't mean to be hostile, he just felt too much anger and rage against life and the universe inside his body that he wanted to get out somehow. It wasn't the right thing to do, of course, and he was trying to control himself, but he didn't deny that it would be difficult.

“I'll leave it here, anyway. Just in case.”

Bucky caught the sound of the bag and then the sound of Tony's shoes that weren't moving away but coming closer.

“Thanks.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“And you didn't have to. I was almost going down anyway.”

Tony snorted, moving closer to the wall where Bucky was leaning.

“Surely you don't even know what time it is.”

“Surely,” Bucky agreed, nodding.

Both men took a detailed look at the trees stretching a long distance away in an oddly comfortable silence.

“Did Dr. Cho say anything?”

Tony turned to watch him, and stood for a moment pondering what to say.

“Everything's fine. She ran several tests, but everything came back fine.”

“Everything's fine except her memories are gone again.”

“She thinks it may be some kind of condition left in her brain after the accident.”

“It's been over a year now, Tony.”

“I know. They're exploring every alternative.”

Bucky nodded, getting a bitter feeling in his mouth. He knew he should be grateful you were alive, but damn, did you have to go through all that?

“How's she doing?”

“She's looking good. She hit it off real quick with Christina and was eating with Clint when I came out.”

“And she's eating well?”

“Yeah, the usual.”

Bucky nodded again. Maybe he should come back, stay with you for a while and talk about some things; anything. But every time he thought about going back he felt that tug in his chest that made him recoil from any progress. He didn't want the situation to overcome him, but he was losing the battle.

“Barnes, I wanted to tell you-”

“Tony, it's not necessary.”

“It is, especially at this time.”

“No, it's not,” Bucky spat, shifting his body to stare at the mechanic. “Especially right now, it's not.”

The man pursed his lips and Bucky turned away to look at the lunch that should have been inside the white bag on the table.

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. That was it.”

Bucky turned to look at the man who had settled in the same way, both of them with their backs to the green field. Bucky sighed, and knowing Tony he knew he couldn't leave without having his conversation. But maybe that would do him good. It had been months since he'd last talked to anyone about that situation.

“There was no way to foresee it, you know that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky watched the man shake his head as he did every time someone gave him a similar comment. He just wouldn't accept it.

“I could have been more vigilant, you know? I've spent my life trying to learn from my mistakes, trying to take care of the people in my charge, trying to do my best to keep everyone safe. I still don't understand how… How I could have made that mistake.”

“We were dealing with something bigger than ourselves. I think, even if you had gone all out, there couldn't have been any other ending. And believe me when I tell you I'm the person who would have wanted another ending.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest with his eyes on the rooftop floor. His mind roamed over those memories he tried not to return to under any circumstances, and he allowed it only because he couldn't deal with that situation any other way.

“I had to have tried.”

“Tony, I know you did your best. And I also know that after everything that happened you asked FRIDAY a thousand times if there would have been another chance to have avoided what happened. Did you have an answer?”

Tony didn't answer.

“Then it doesn't make sense for you to blame yourself for something you simply couldn't have controlled. I guess that's the way things were supposed to be.”

“It's unfair.”

“Life isn't fair to anyone.”

Bucky stepped away from the wall and reached over to take the bag Tony had brought him. “Thanks for this.”

And without further ado, he walked into the building once more.

--

From outside, Bucky watched you talking animatedly with Clint and Carol. Dr. Cho had told him that, although she had not yet been able to find the reason why you had lost your memories again, you were in perfect health. Bucky wanted to punch a wall, but settled for thanking her for looking out for you.

The day had gotten extremely long and he had only spent a quarter of it with you. It was already dusk and he had barely mustered the strength to come see you. And seeing you there, so giggly and happy, made him question whether he should come in and ruin all the fun. He knew his face was a jumble of a hundred emotions that he still couldn't quite control, because even seeing you caused him a sharp pain in his heart that he couldn't tolerate. So he didn't know if going in looking like that was the best choice.

But before he could weigh it further, your gaze met his through the masses of air, and his breath hitched for a few seconds.

The look of recognition you gave him brought a sense of warmth to his body. It was like wiping a damp cloth over his bruised heart. Bucky knew you didn't remember him, but that in such a short time you could give him that kind of look meant too much to him. Your face looked much more serene than the last time you had seen each other, and you no longer had so many wires around your body embedded in your skin, from what he could see from a distance.

Maybe it was indeed safe for him to enter.

Act normal, act normal…

“Hi, Bucky!” you greeted him effusively.

Bucky felt his body faint. Halfway through he planted his feet on the ground and watched the other two with you hold back smiles. Well, Clint wasn't so sneaky.

“How's it goig Bucky? Did you enjoy lunch? It was courtesy of Tony for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he replied dryly. He knew Clint was trying to keep his spirits up, but he didn't feel moodily ready to keep talking to other people, just to share a pleasant silence with you.

“Y/N ordered ravioli,” Carol added to the conversation, turning to look at your red face. “And she also ordered your lunch.”

Bucky frowned.

“I'm glad you liked it,” you mumbled in his direction, barely audible but crystal clear to him. His heart flipped, and he hated that his mind was trying to remind him of where he stood. He wanted a small moment of ignorance.

He didn't know what to say other than thank you, so he just stood there in front of them in a very awkward position.

“All right, Y/N, our fun is over.”

“You're leaving already?”

Bucky detailed you looking at Clint as he and Carol stretched to leave. He mentally wondered if it bothered you to be left alone with his presence, if you didn't want them to leave and leave you with him. If you saw him as an annoying, grumpy figure. He wondered if the others had said something to you about him that suddenly made you see him in a less sympathetic or friendly light. He wondered if-

“We have a mission to attend, and we're very punctual,” Carol's voice broke in on Bucky's train of thought.

“As soon as we get back we'll be here. We have a lot of other things to talk about.”

“Okay, have a good one!”

Bucky watched you shake your hand in farewell to the two people who were leaving the room and was surprised at how much your attitude had changed since he saw you after you woke up. But hey, it had been a while since then. Maybe you had been able to make peace with what had happened by now, and they must have told you everything?

“How are you?” Bucky found himself suddenly asking.

“I'm feeling fine. Besides the obvious, I'm not in any more pain. Dr. Cho told me I'll probably be discharged tomorrow.”

“That's good,” the man mused. “And you want to talk? About what happened.”

You made a thoughtful grimace that Bucky found quite tender, but his mind conjured up the times when you'd made similar grimaces in the past and he'd planted a kiss on your mouth. It wasn't a good time to reminisce about things like that, and the twinge in his heart proved him right.

“Not really,” you replied. “Why don't we talk about you?”

“About me?”

“Yes.”

“And what things do you want to talk about me?”

“Well, I was told that our relationship was different from the friendship I had with everyone else, so we can start there.”

“You want to know what kind of relationship we had?”

“Mm-hm.”

“We were married.”

Your eyes expanded in surprise, as if you expected any answer but that one. Which was strange for Bucky because he couldn't conceive of what other kind of relationship you could have besides a friendship.

“Married?”

“Yes.”

“But I don't have any rings,” you mumbled as you held up both hands to look at your fingers, then held them out to him, as if to let him see you weren't lying.

“You don't use it anymore.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Bucky didn't know how far to go with his historical account because he didn't know how much Dr. Cho or the others had told you and he didn't want to saturate you with information either. “What do you know about what happened?”

You took a deep breath and brought your hands to your lap as if you had been waiting for that question. It probably was.

“Dr. Cho told me that I had an accident over a year ago due to which I was in a coma and lost my memory. That a couple of months after being in the hospital I was discharged and came to live here. And that almost two days ago I had some kind of incident that caused me to lose my memory again.”

Bucky was taken aback by the matter-of-fact way you told him all that. The only thing that was going around in his mind was how before you didn't like to mention the subject at all and used to avoid it any way you could unless it was strictly necessary. At that moment it was as if you were telling someone else's story and not your own, because not a hint of emotion could be seen on your face.

“Then why don't I wear the ring?”

Bucky held his frown. This was definitely almost that much of a sharp change to the last few times he interacted with you.

“Hum… You've had it removed since the accident and I gave it to you after some time in the hospital, but I told you that you didn't have to wear it if you didn't want to.”

“Oh, I understand. So I decided not to wear it. And where is it?”

“I don't know. You kept it. Maybe it's somewhere in your room.”

“Right. I'll go look for it when I get back.”

Bucky nodded at your words not really knowing what to say. He didn't know how to act in reason to your behavior. Well, it should be good that it didn't seem to affect you as hard as it did before, but he found it hard to believe that it didn't affect you at all. Could it be that it really was?

He couldn't know for sure, but the calm expression on your face was about to convince him completely. The way you looked like you didn't have a care in the world made him feel much better, and he would definitely battle to make it last much longer.

“Besides that, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Too many things.

“No.”

You let out a short laugh that bloomed in Bucky's chest.

“Then our relationship boils down to: we were married, and that's it.”

The man shrugged, not really having a clue what else to say about it.

At his gesture, you exhaled with a determined look.

“We were close?”

“Yes.”

“Did we make jokes?”

“Yes. You mostly.”

“It definitely had to be that way. Did we go out on dates often?”

“Yes.”

“Did we argue?”

“Not a lot.”

“Okay. Did we buy each other gifts?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw. Did we live together?”

“Sure.”

“Did we sleep in the same bed?”

“Of course.”

Bucky frowned as you stood for a few seconds in silence, just watching his face.

“We had children?”

The man went blank for a few seconds, only looking into your eyes. He definitely wasn't expecting that question, but it was something that had been on his mind a lot before.

“No.”

“Ah. So, did we travel a lot?”

“Yes, we traveled quite a bit.”

“Excellent!” you smiled genuinely at him, with that kind of smile he loved and that since the accident he had almost never seen. If he had seen it, it hadn't been directed at him. “Then we were a good match.”

Bucky smiled. It was almost an instinct. His mind flashed back to the one memory that at the time didn't cause him sadness: sometime, someday, you had told him that some questions had to be answered in a positive way to know if they had fulfilled their purpose of being a perfect couple. He didn't remember if it was those same questions, but he could make the connection to that memory he had of you at the time. Then, for a second, he allowed himself to enjoy the present. No worries, no sadness. You were alive right there in front of him, in an excellent state of health and, it seemed, a good state of mind. Beyond that, what could he ask for? All that was left for him to do was to make the most of every moment he had.

“Yes, we were a good couple.”

--------

A/N

😶😶😶😶😶

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[free-for-all-fics]

Ryan Gosling/Beach Ken and maybe Simu Liu/Tourist Ken prompts. I don’t know, maybe some of these can be interchangeable between which Ken you want. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these and I’d love to read it! 💕

1. Something similar to that scene in Toy Story 3: You’re a doll that’s one of Barbie’s friends. You’re not named Barbie, but have your own name. You don’t have a Dreamhouse like the Barbies but your place is cozy enough and you like it, having given it your own personal touch. You’ve had an unrequited love for Beach Ken but can’t compete with how perfect Stereotypical Barbie is. Besides, Ken is usually stuck to her side like glue. Wherever she goes, he goes. So you keep your feelings to yourself. You’re sure Ken only sees you as a friend anyway. But while Barbie is still in the real world, you’re horrified at Ken brainwashing all your friends as he turns Barbieland into Kendom.

With Barbie gone, he turns his sights towards you and keeps you for himself, wanting to make you either his bride-wife or long-term long-distance low-commitment casual girlfriend. The choice is yours, but you’re not leaving his sight until you decide. He keeps you confined in Barbie’s former bedroom of his now Mojo Dojo Casa House and tries to brainwash you too, but it doesn’t work because you already love him. You feel heartbroken and betrayed that he’d try to turn you into his mindless piece of arm candy or servant like he’s done to the other Barbies. You used to daydream about him finally noticing you and returning your feelings, about being wrapped up in his arms and kissed silly, but he’s becoming someone you don’t recognize and it scares you. You often lie awake while he sleeps soundly next to you in Barbie’s former bed with his arm either over your waist or behind your head. After who knows how long under house arrest, you break down and have a panic attack.

“I can’t take it here, Ken! I’ve always wanted to live together but not like this! You were wrong about me, about what I wanted. I do want to be with you, Ken, I do! Just please take me away from this, take me away!”

Your crying and hyperventilating makes him feel things he’s never experienced before. What is this pain in his chest? Is this…remorse? Guilt? He doesn’t like these feelings and wants them to go away. He wants to see you smile again. When was the last time you smiled? He’s horrified when he realizes he can’t remember. He holds you and caresses your hair as you sob, even as you try to struggle out from his grip and push him away or beat your hands on his chest in frustration. He’s begging you to breathe and cease your tears. As he tries to talk you down from your panic attack, he realizes what a mistake he’s made. Let him earn your forgiveness. Give him a chance to fix this. What can he do? Please, just tell him what to do to make it all better, to make you happy. All he’s wanted is love, he’s just been too foolish and focused on Barbie to see you were always there, already giving it to him. He was seeing things through tunnel vision but he can see more clearly now.

2. Write something for the Ken of your choosing with the Toy Story 3 quote, “She’s a Barbie doll, Ken, there’s a hundred million just like her!”

“Not to me there’s not.”

3. You’re a mermaid doll that Ken falls in love with. While he’s a land walker and you’re a sea princess, you make it work. He’s often carried you around bridal style to different places he wants you to see and lets you stay in his large swimming pool at his house or in the bathtub so you can spend more time together. Most often you meet at the beach during the day, but sometimes you’ve met on the beach at night after everyone else has gone to bed. You’ve spent many nights together around a nice campfire. Ken always tries to show off and impress you, and you’ve splashed him with your tail sometimes to be playful and flirty. You’ve shared kisses while going for swims together, gone on treasure hunts, etc.

4. You’re a human that Ken starts dating after the Kendom Versus Barbieland debacle. You never thought he was crazy unlike some other humans he’s met. You help him acclimate to the real world and stay by his side as he works to discover who he really is. He’s so in love with you he’s even taken you to Barbieland, regardless of what the suits at Mattel might have had to say about yet another human crossing over. What Ken was not expecting or in any way prepared for, however, was you getting sick. (Whether you’re sick while in Barbieland or the real world is up to you.) He’s unfamiliar with things like fever, headache, cough, etc. Nobody truly gets sick in Barbieland ever. They’re always cured within seconds. But this is the first time he’s seeing the full extent of sick symptoms on a human and it’s even more concerning since it’s all happening to you, the woman he loves.

He genuinely thinks you’re dying. He’s never witnessed death before and doesn’t really know what it is, but as beautiful as you are he can’t help but think you look like death itself and it terrifies him. Is it possible to die even in Barbieland? He doesn’t want to think about it. You ask him not to leave your side, but he thinks he has no other choice than to fetch Doctor Barbie. You do your best to calm him down as he begs you to hang on and wait for him until he returns. Don’t fall asleep just yet, he’s heard falling asleep can cause humans to slip into something called a coma. He’s not sure what that is either but it sounds really bad. Don’t succumb to your sickness and leave him while he’s gone. Please don’t slip away, he’ll be back with the doctor soon, he promises. He holds your hand. He kisses your forehead while he presses a cold cloth to it. Doctor Barbie uses everything at her disposal to make you feel better and Ken follows her instructions to a T. You assure Ken you’ll be fine, you just need medicine and lots of rest. Despite your many assurances, he’s still determined to watch over you 24/7 until you’re fully recovered.

5. You’re a doll and Ken dates you after working on discovering himself. What you’re not prepared for is the unexpected seasonal change in Barbieland as it turns to winter and becomes incredibly cold. It’s almost always summer here in Barbieland, but the Winter and Christmas Holiday Barbies are visiting and have brought the snow and cold with them. It’s fun for a while; You and the other Kens and Barbies experience snow for the first time and are shown how to make snow angels, snowmen, and have snowball fights.

But the cold eventually soaks through your clothes and seeps into your bones, becoming too much. So you and Ken retreat back inside and get the fireplace going. After you get changed out of your wet clothes, Ken wraps you in his mink fur coat when he realizes you’re still shivering. You’re so used to the summer sunshine weather in Barbieland that chilly winter is new for both of you, but maybe it’s not so bad if it means you and Ken can snuggle up together under the warmth of his coat and the many soft blankets while the fire in the fireplace burns. There was a special drink the Holiday Barbies gifted you too. Hot chocolate or cocoa you think it’s called?

6. You’re a Haunted Beauty Barbie like the Mistress of the Manor, Ghost Barbie, Vampire Barbie, or Zombie Barbie. Everyone else in Barbieland is either low-key or high-key scared of you and steers clear. Whenever you leave your haunted mansion or whatever you live in, none of the Barbies or Kens interact with you much if they can help it. They think you’ll put a curse on them or suck their blood or something, even though you’re actually harmless and really nice. It’s near impossible for you to make friends because of your off-putting appearance. You know you’re kinda scary looking with your gothic or Halloween style, but you don’t want to change it to suit their preference because you believe it’d be disingenuous to who you are. You’re actually kind of shy and introverted, usually sticking to reading books or making art. Beach Ken is the first person brave enough to approach you and talk to you like you’re normal. He’s nice to you and invites you to hang out with him, wanting to be your friend. Over time, you share your likes and interests with each other and your friendship becomes a romance.

Ken is happy to learn he was right about you and that you’re actually a very sweet person underneath your scary exterior. You introduce the other Kens and Barbies to things like Halloween and show them it doesn’t have to be scary, it can be cute and fun too! With things like pumpkin carving, dressing up, arts and crafts, candy, etc. One time you gave Ken a goth or Halloween makeover when he asked, since he was still trying to discover his identity at the time. He wasn’t sure if he identified with the goth or Halloween aesthetic, but he appreciated you taking the time to make him over. He really thought this new look was fun to try out! He wouldn’t mind if you gave him more makeovers in the future. You really are a pastel and goth couple and it’s adorable.

7. What if it was Ken who started having an existential crisis and dark thoughts in Barbieland because the human in the real world who was playing with his doll needed his help? He’s expecting a child, a young girl or boy with childhood trouble but is surprised when he instead realizes it’s you, an adult who’s Going Through It. When you finally meet him face to face, you can’t believe that he’s real, that he’s standing in front of you in the flesh. But only a Ken would probably wear outfits like what he has on now. It suits him though. You played with his Ken doll to escape reality for a bit and take a break from the stresses of being an adult, but it seems you’ve inadvertently poured your feelings onto him and they have seeped into his psyche. He’s experiencing new things like his eyes are leaking, he has feelings that there’s danger but no threat is in sight. What are these things and what do they mean? Crying? Anxiety? Seems like you don’t just need his help, he also needs yours.

While he’s in the real world, you take him shopping for some normal clothes, but he turns it into a modeling montage. You try to demonstrate how to eat and drink real food, but watching him reminds you of the dinner scene from Beauty and the Beast, etc. Shenanigans and Hijinks ensue and you fall in love along the way. After you show him your world, he takes you to his and gives you a grand tour of Barbieland (When Tourist Ken tries to cut in and give you the tour himself, your Ken tells him to back all the way off! You’re his girlfriend and he’s got this!) Your eyes light up in amazement much like how his did when he entered your world.

8. You’re either an equestrian in the real world or a Cowgirl Barbie with a ranch called Barbie’s Horse Adventures. Either way, you have pet horses and lots of experience working with them. You surprise Ken by bringing over 2 horses so you and he can go horseback riding. You teach him how to ride and he’s so ecstatic yet nervous because he wants to do it right. He wants the horses to like him. He feeds them treats and laughs at the feeling of their lips and big teeth against his hand. He pets their necks and helps you look after them. You go horseback riding either through beautiful forested trails or along the beach. It’s awfully romantic and Ken can’t help but lean forward in his saddle to kiss you while your horses are walking side by side. He apologizes afterwards, but you tell him you liked it. Your mutual love for horses is the starting point of a beautiful romance. He can’t let you do all the labor by yourself! He loves helping you around the ranch as a….What’s the word again? Groom? Are you married now!? Is he your groom-husband and you his bride-wife??

When your horse gets spooked and rears up on its hind legs and throws you off, Ken is immediately off his own horse and coming to your rescue. Are you ok?? Are you hurt? Let him look you over please. He’s not a doctor but he has some First Aid supplies in his saddle bag. When one of your mares gets pregnant, he’s so excited and wants to name the foal when they arrive. Both of you are by the mare’s side while she’s in labor and give her everything she needs. But for some reason, she’s suddenly not looking so well. You don't know what's wrong. It was moving along, then it just stopped.

“But her water broke, right?” Ken asks, petting your mare’s neck to comfort her.

“About ten minutes ago.”

“I think she's distracted.”

“What?”

“By that colt over there. She keeps eyeing him like she'd prefer a little privacy.” Ken is already back up on his feet, urging the colt away. “Shoo! Get out of here! Give poor mama horse a break!” He comes back to your mare’s side and resumes comforting her. “There, that's better, huh? Now you can push your little baby out with some dignity.”

“She's doing it. She's pushing. Yeah. Here we go. That's my good girl. Ok, here it comes. Well done, [horse’s name]! It's a girl/boy, just like we were hoping for, Ken! Look how cute she/he is. She's/He’s so sweet. Welcome to the world, little one. What do you want to name her/him?”

“I have to admit, I'm amazed how great you were with [mare’s name],” you later commend Ken while you’re both watching her with her new foal.

“What can I say? We totally bonded.”

Ken is so proud and encouraging when the foal tries to stand up on its long gangly legs and walk for the first hours of its life. That’s his horse, and he loves them already. They’re gonna grow big and strong under his care and he’s gonna train and ride them once they’re big enough. He’s a proud Horse Dad!

9. You’re a child doll in Barbieland, so you never age or grow up. You’re perpetually young both mentally and physically. Barbie and Ken are either like your big brother and sister or your adoptive parents. Tourist Ken is like the Cool Uncle who tries to get you to like him more than Beach Ken by bribing you with ice cream for breakfast and other fun things behind Beach Ken’s back. Beach Ken and Stereotypical Barbie are great at raising you like a sister or daughter, but there’s not really much of you to raise. You’ve never grown bigger or changed. Until the human in the real world who’s playing with you starts experiencing puberty and having the weird thoughts and feelings that go along with it.

You become self-aware that you’re not growing and have the same confusing thoughts and feelings. You’re full of questions and become self-conscious about your body. You’ve lived here for years, so why aren’t you an adult yet like most of the other Barbies and Kens? You never really thought about it before, but you want to grow up. When Barbie moves to the real world and becomes human, you go with her. When you experience growth for the first time, you’re both excited and scared as your body and personality go through constant changes. When you visit Barbieland, you’re so excited to show all the other Barbies and Kens how you’ve grown taller and updated your wardrobe, among other things.

10. You’re Stereotypical Barbie’s twin sister but you’re a Plain Jane Barbie. You’re like the Mary Bennet to her Elizabeth Bennet. You’re not conventionally pretty, you have hobbies but aren’t exactly talented at them, your social skills are weak and your flirting game/love life are nonexistent. Your sister is a girly girl and you’re a tomboy. In the real world, Mattel said something about sisters who are total opposites being more marketable and selling more toys. You have a huge crush on Beach Ken, maybe you even love him, but he’s been pining for your sister for so long you doubt he’s ever really noticed you. If there’s one thing you are good at, it’s being invisible.

He’s always tried to impress Barbie or keep her attention on him. You’re so clumsy and socially awkward in comparison to your perfect and popular sister, you can’t count the number of times you’ve fallen flat on your face or otherwise embarrassed yourself in front of the other Barbies and Kens when you’ve tried to fit in or stand out in a good way. Your attempts to embody your sister have all failed and your friend group is small or nonexistent in contrast to her large social circle. But you’re still worried about her when her feet become flat and she keeps falling over herself. You try to console her when she gets cellulite and thoughts of death. She’s always been there for you when you needed her emotional support, especially when you finally confided in her that you have a crush on someone. You weren’t brave enough to tell her who it is, but she was supportive and encouraged you to go for it anyway. She gives great pep talks, so now you’ll do the same for her.

When Ken tries to turn Barbieland into Kendom and kicks Barbie out of her Dreamhouse, he lets you stay. You’re torn between them and don’t know what to do. You’re stuck in the middle of a conflict between the man you love and the sister you love, and you don’t want to choose one side over the other. The situation is made even more uncomfortable when Ken realizes his patriarchal brainwashing didn’t work on you like it did the other Barbies. You didn’t go with him and your sister to the real world, so he eventually puts together that your immunity must be because you already love him. This is not how you wanted him to find out about your feelings, but there’s no going back now. Your secret is out in the open. What happens next?

11. You’re a doll and the kid who was playing with you leaves you unattended and at the mercy of their younger sibling(s). In the real world, the little kids color your hair a bright unnatural color with markers and/or cut it in a choppy, messy style. They scribble on your skin/face and mess with your clothes. So in Barbieland, your appearance reflects that. When Ken (and maybe Stereotypical Barbie) see what’s happened to you and what a mess you are, they come to your rescue and you’re given a luxurious makeover. Your boyfriend (and bestie Barbie) do your hair, makeup, wardrobe, etc. They give you lots of personal attention as they fix you up and get you back to your normal, beautiful self in no time.

#barbie ken x reader #ken x reader #ryan gosling!ken x reader #ryan gosling!ken #simu liu!ken #simu liu!ken x reader #barbie 2023 #barbie fanfic #beach ken #tourist ken #random prompts #random fic ideas #fic ideas #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it

[lunar-years]

Tell us about the Time Loop lad?

the full note for it in my Notes app is "time loop but its going from established rjk to Jamie traveling back to s2 roykeeley at their peak relationship, reliving man city over and over" which I vaguely remember dreaming up and then dismissing soon after as being too depressing even for me lol.

The full idea I think was that Jamie gets sent back to a bit earlier in the s2 timeline and tries to get Roy and Keeley to remember that like, in the "real" current timeline they're all together and happy!! But Roy and Keeley don't remember anything and Roy is still in his #1 Jamie Hater era, so Roy gets pissed that Jamie is talking to Keeley again and accuses him of trying to get back together with her, which makes roy hate jamie even more, etc. Still, Jamie is trying to slowly win them over when Man City approaches. Jamie in the current day has come a long way in terms of healing and distancing himself from his father, so he's like fuck this i don't need this and tells security before the game that if his dad tries to come into the locker room he's not allowed. So the confrontation never happens, but then neither does Roy comforting him of course, and nothing changes, and then Jamie wakes up and he's back to where he started in s2.

Repeat cycle, and Jamie has to keep reliving man city in different ways whilst trying to find a way to both stop his dad from abusing him at wembley AND get roykeeley to believe him about the time loop and help him. Nothing seems to work. For example, one time he tries not giving his dad tickets at all, and then Bug and Denbo come and beat him up so badly he can't play at all. He wakes up in the hospital and Roy and Keeley are there, but Jamie's so out of it on drugs he can't stay awake long enough to talk to them, and by the time he wakes up--bam he's back to the start again. Another time he has a heart to heart with Sam and gets Sam to believe him about the time loop, and he's feeling so good about at least winning his friend back that he forgets about his dad until he's in the locker room, only this time Sam steps in first and shields then hugs Jamie, so he again never has that moment with Roy.

Eventually this culminates in Jamie deciding Roy never would have warmed up to him if he hadn't witnessed Jamie being abused and then "felt so sorry for him" that he took him home afterwards. Like, he gets in his head that Roy pitying him is the only way to get Roy to eventually love him (obviously this isn't actually true, but it's very heartbreaking in jamie's head for a bit). anyway, there's lots of angst and jamie has to decide whether it's worth letting his dad mock him exactly how he did in canon, even though every instinct inside him is screaming at him to prevent that from happening again, if there's a chance it will jolt him back to the present. Because nothing else he does seems to get Roy to CARE. and then he has to reckon with why he even wants that relationship back when he thinks it's just built off his trauma.

I have about a 95% chance of never writing this tbh because 1) the wonky timeline/time travel/time loop combo is too wonky for my pea brain to keep track of 2) i have zero clue how this would end??? 3) truly idk what i was on when I thought this one up because??? damn. that's depressing as shit.

but anyway there you have it!

#royjamiekeeley #royjamie #ted lasso #asks #ask games #my writing #tw abuse #my most fucked up idea honestly idk im so sorry jamie

[kanmom51]

Hi i saw your post about jikook filming and taking pictures of e/o thru the years...i started tearing up a lil bit.

i'm kinda mad at all the jikook blogs that keeps appearing in my feed lately i'm not following any of them but i do follow the #jikook tag, i even blocked some out of anger because they keep saying jikook are distanced and shit over what exactly? because no new SNS media of the two of them for the past few days??? i admit it's a jikook drought but isn't y'all reaction too much? can't we just appreciate their bond without speculating and speaking for their bond without knowing absolutely nothing that's going on in their lives rn? we don't know shit! and that's it! but if there's ANYthing i'm damn sure about it's jimin and jungkook and their love.

i'm really in need of some wholesome jikook accounts that celebrate sweet and lovely jikook moments, i'm new to tumblr so i'm kinda lost...so i followed you ^v^ you seem like a very adorable and fun mom hehe i think i like your space a lot <3

have a good day!!!

Thank you for your kind words @tinygoo  and welcome to my blog.

💜💜

I kind of feel like maybe not all, but most of the 'jikook blogs' that are talking about them being distant were either not jikook blogs to start with or are more about the shipping and not supporting, expecting or feeling owed the content (like these are two puppets and not actual humans living their day to day lives).

I kind of feel like those that talk about them being distant are mostly young and immature with zero to no good loving and long term relationship experience.

But there are also MANY trolls utilizing this insecurity (which I for one don't get anymore - it comes in waves, it is always proven to be wrong time after time, and still it doesn't seem to go away). They hide as supposed jikook blogs or call themselves ex-jikookers, but they were never believers or supporters of the couple to begin with, and you can see it if you stay around long enough and read all their posts or comments. For the life of me, I do not understand people wasting their time and energy to try and convince people that a certain pair are not a couple, not a couple anymore or were never a couple. Like, I believe that JM and JK are a couple. Do I go to TKK accounts and try to convince them TKK aren't a couple, or try to convince them that Jikook are? Nope. I just don't get it.

This story of distant Jikook has been going on for exactly a year now. Starting when they got back from LA.

All while it was the exact same situation - not seeing them together, not having them to interact AT ALL on SM. stories of them being distant, them breaking up, JK cheating on JM, JM being with a new lover, and it goes on and on and on. All total bullshit. All totally baseless made up fanfics. All because people just cannot see them as two normal (yet super talented and successful) human beings actually having a normal long term loving relationship.

And every single time it gains traction, it's proven wrong by their behaviour with each other, things they say or do or even things we hear from other members (cough Hobi cough).

As you said: "we don't know shit". Not what they are doing workwise (apart from a vague knowledge JM is working on his album), what they are doing in their spare time, who they are spending their time with at work and in their free time (out and about or at home).

There is sooooooo much Jikook content, and although I'd love to get some new content, I do understand their need to stay private and silent at the moment.

So, why not enjoy what they have given us up to this point?

Anyway, I'm babbling away here. Lovely to have you onboard. Hope you enjoy the content in this blog, I will do my best to continue to add more and more in the new year too (I feel like it helps with missing them so much).

And I will take this opportunity to wish you and all my readers Happy new year. 💜💜  

#ask #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #Jimin #JK #JM

[sendarya]

Hello Sendarya,

and thank you so much for the Good Omens video essays and analyses! Especially the ones about music (hidden clues etc.) are so enlightening, and for a person whose mother tongue is not English, your way of speaking is clear and easy to follow. Thank you!

I've been a long-time (but now several years absent) member of Wheel of Time community (tarvalon.net's Brown Ajah), but new to GO fandom, and I thought to ask you before pestering Neil Gaiman - I mean I don't know if this has been already asked of him (didn't find it in the spreadsheet FAQ, though).

Appearing/disappearing miraculously. Furfur has the ring, Aziraphale has his portal, both angels and demons can travel through telephone wires. Then there's the lift, and the "big transporter" (out of service) and "little transporter" (maybe the lift?), and the stairs. In addition the demons and angels just appear, sometimes with fanfare, lightning, or flames directly from heaven or hell.

What puzzles me is whether they can appear from place to another on earth without telephone wires or other transportation means, and without going to heaven/hell in between. Do you know if Mr. Gaiman has answered this? Shax seems to be able to, at least short distances (from outside to inside the Bentley, and after the "awning of the new age" disaster in front of the bookshop, but that might be something else because she appears as random people on the street and not herself all the time - and then when she's masquerading as the woman needing a lift).

Crowley drives everywhere, and when Aziraphale wants to drive the Bentley, Crowley suggests Aziraphale should go by train, like a miraculous way of traveling wasn't an option.

And related thing, about the last episode of S2 when Beelzebub, Furfur and Dagon appear directly inside the bookshop. Always before both the angels and the demons have appeared outside and then needed a direct invitation to come in - save in S1 when Gabriel and Sandalfon can walk in, but that's probably because it was the rare times the bookshop was open for customers (anybody could just walk in). Do you know the demon trio could appear inside the bookshop because "the thing with the halo" somehow neutralized the threshold/boundary line?

Sorry for being so wordy, and thank you if you can enlighten me!

Hello!

Never be sorry for being wordy. Your English is also excellent! I'm always impressed with bilingual skills.

I'm glad you've enjoyed my videos! Finding and sharing things like the hidden music is a real joy. I'm also glad I'm easy to understand, and thank you fur the compliment.

As far as I know, Neil has not addressed the question of how transportation works in the Good Omens universe magic system.

My answer, my best guess anyway, is in two parts.

First, the magic system in Good Omens seems to be a soft magic systrm. This a term coined by author Brandon Sanderson, and essentially it means that although there are rules to the magic, they are flexible and often not clearly defined. This allows the writers to use the magic in whatever way they need that best tell the story.

Second, from what I can tell, demons and angels can only teleport on earth to one another, not to any location they want. Crowley at the Bastille, Shax to Crowley in the Bentley, Aziraphale near Crowley at the Bentley, etc.

Why can they sometimes just sort of beam up or down (the teleporter i presume) and other times need to take the lift, I don't know. It's a good question, but one who's answer might just be: "because it serves the story."

It's not the most satisfying answer, but much like the messy angelic heirarcy, in the end I'm not sure Neil or Terry ever created a solid, fixed magic system with inflexible rules that we can make sense out of.

#good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman

[magalidragon]

dragonstone’s secrets | a Jonerys drabble (with HOTD tie-in)

I had to stay late at work and was like hmmm and before I knew it had this ditty down. It is similar in a way to a Dany POV fic where she goes searching Winterfell, but this is Jon at Dragonstone and has an HOTD tie-in but nothing crazy. Just a necklace and a name that I really loved for a tragic character that I felt so sorry for but it seemed to work. Anyway, here you go.

It was pouring rain, also storming, and Jon Snow was very, very, very bored.

He stared up at the ceiling of his bedchamber, flat on his back on the stone floor, counting the swirls of dragonglass in the ceiling's carved dragons. It was a pastime he'd started when he could not stop his mind and when he wanted to hide away from all the other things that called to him on an almost hourly basis. Besides, the floor was warmer because Ghost was curled up against him, snoring softly and occasionally kicking his back leg out as he dreamed of chasing elk.

In the distance he heard one of the dragons screech. There would be no riding today, he thought, and a very distinctive roar followed the thought as Rhaegal tapped into his mind. He chuckled and rolled onto his stomach, peering out towards the open archways from his chambers' terrace. He could pull the heavy curtains closed, but that would block the light, and honestly, one of his favorite things in the world were storms.

The cold, blustery winter storms in the North were never pleasant because it meant that the snow would pile up and they'd be locked in for some time until it could be dug out. He enjoyed helping as a child to do that but it grew tedious as he grew older. Now he could enjoy the screaming winds, the deafening sound of crashing waves, and watch the rain pour off the dragon sculptures' mouths like fountains without having to owrry about cleaning up when the storm passed.

He crawled to his feet, rolling out his shoulders. In lieu of the day's canceled activities-- no practices in the yard, no dragon riding, and certainly no meetings as the Queen had indicated all should spend the day enjoying themselves and <i>not</I> working-- he found himself wondering what to do. And wandering.

Dragonstone was older than Winterfell and like winterfell, it carried secrets it would only share to select individuals. And only on its terms. He liked to wander the halls and wonder about all the Targaryens who had stepped foot there before him. Before it became the seat of House Targaryen, it had been a trading outpost, and one evening while he'd been digging around in the cellar looking for spare weapons, he'd fallen straight through a concealed door and into an antechamber that had dusty old spice sacks and barrels that had to be at least 300 years old.

Maybe he'd find one of those today, he thought, Ghost padding silently behind him as they exited the room. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his breeches. It was odd to be without armor, but he didn't need it in the castle. He was in only a shirt and a light leather vest, belt low on his hips, no weapons weighing him down.

Alone on his trek through the corridors, he found himself going up a tower he knew he hadn't visited. It had a turret and long, spiral staircase that appeared to be without end. Ghost huffed behind him as they climbed, clearly not happy about the exertion post-nap. "Sorry mate," he apologized, but not really, because when he got to the top of the tower, there was a lock on the door. "Hmm," he murmured, examining it.

He wasn't completely unprepared, he thought, reaching into his pocket and removing a thin dragonglass sliver he used during council meetings when he was bored. He liked to just fiddle with it and keep his mind occupied. He slipped it into the lock and a moment later, it gave away, the door creaking open, hinges rusty from years of saltwater spraying in through a small curved opening in the stairwell.

Ghost sniffed ahead of him. The room was dark, glass shutters locked against the elements. He coughed a few times, dust settling in his nose. "What's this?" he murmured, looking around. Sometimes he encountered random things from Stannis Baratheon's time as castellan and they ranged from plain weird to gruesome.

It looked as though even in Stannis's time no one had ventured here. Or if they had, it was to use it as a storeroom. It was filled with boxes, covered paintings, and broken furniture. All of which had dragons on them. He remembered the Red Keep, when they finally got in to look at what the Lannisters and Baratheons had done, and despite his loating of all things Targaryen, it appeared as though King Robert had simply hidden away all the artifacts, armor and paintings left intact in chambers deep near the Black Cells.

He touched the top of an armoire, the wood almost giving way, rotten. He reached for the handle and tugged. It pulled straight out and the door came off the hinges. "Huh."

Ghost sniffed around some paintings, pulling at a tarp. He glanced over his shoulder and blinked, staring at the image of a haughty, square-jawed Targaryen with sleek silver hair pulled from his face. In black and red, with his hand on the hilt of a sword that he knew was Dark Sister, he recognized the face from the illustrations in the histories. "Daemon Targaryen," he breathed, forgetting the armoire and striding towards the paintings. He ruffled Ghost's head. "What did you find here, boy?"

He knelt, pulling at the painting, which broke easily from its rotten frame. There were more behind it. Targaryens going back almost to Aegon. He didn't know some of them. There were a lot. There weren't that many paintings in this stack, and he set aside a couple for future investigation. He was slightly disappointed he didn't find any of his favorite Targaryen. Well, one of his favorites.

Actually, his former favorite, Daeron. He also liked the Dragonknight.

He had a new favorite Targaryen now.

He stood and went back to the armoire, allowing Ghost to poke around behind a stack of crates. "I think we found some treasure, boy," he murmured, removing the other door and taking stock of what was in the armoire. It was old gowns, red velvet and black leather, with intricate embroidery and beading along the cuffs and collars. Back when the Targaryens were at their height, he thought. They were all womens' clothes and he grew bored, finding nothing of interest.

Ghost had climbed onto a stack of crates and was pawing at one. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, sighing. Ghost blinked and returned to scratching the lid. "Get down, let me get it."

He tugged at the lid, grunting with effort and falling backwards when it gave away. He pushed it up and looked inside. More random things, but this one was slightly more interesting. There were a few chests which he removed, setting aside. He took one, propping it on the crate and flicked the clasp. It was like a jewelry box, he thought, thinking it looked familiar to the one in his chambers.

Except it was no jewelry box.

Well, sort of.

"An ossuary," he whispered. He bit his bottom lip and lightly touched a few of the bones that were contained inside, on velvet cushioning that was still soft, despite the ages it had remained in the tower. He picked up one and recognized it quickly; if the shriek from a dragon beyond the tower didn't already confirm it for him.

It was a dragon tooth. There were a few of them, along with what he knew was a claw. And a necklace. "Odd."

He picked it up and stared at it, running his thumb over the ruby in the circular center. It was cool to touch. His eyes widened, understanding a second later. "Fuck Ghost. Do you know what this is?"

Ghost huffed; of course he did. He pocketed the necklace, locking up the dragon teeth and claws, and put them back in the crate. He rooted around a bit more with the paintings, checking them all to see if he could spot the necklace on one of the various Targaryens depicted, but none wore it.

He left the tower, closing the door carefully behind him. There was plenty of time to inventory all that that room contained, but right now he wanted to show this find off. He jogged down the stairs, dizzy by the time he got to the bottom, and took off, returning to his chambers. The bed was empty; which it hadn't been when he left, and he heard water splashing in the accompanying suite.

"Dany!" he exclaimed.

"Where the bloody hells were you?" came his devoted wife's complaint. She was propped up in the copper tub, her silver braids in a pile on her head. The top of her belly poked over the water line. He leaned over and dropped a kiss to it before pecking her lips. She wrinkled her nose. "You stink, what were you doing?"

"Looking for stuff."

"You're bored again."

"It's the storms. Look." He dropped the necklace in front of her, eyes wide, excited like a green boy with his first woman. "Valyrian steel. I found it in that tower in the east wing, near the south end of the castle. It's filled with stuff. Paintings and dragon teeth and claws...incredible things."

She grabbed the necklace, staring at it, her brow furrowed. "Wow...I've never seen Valyrian steel jewelry before...not even in Essos."

"I wonder who it belonged to." He knew that so many of the Targaryen artifacts had been lost to time and history. Blackfyre, somewhere in Essos. Dark Sister, up beyond the Wall. Aegon's crown. Her mother's crown.

She scratched her thumb over the disc, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't know, but...I think I've seen it before...I can't remember...a book maybe."

"Well, it's yours now."

Peering up, she smirked at him. "You're giving me gifts from your treasure hunts, Jon Snow? I'm flattered."

"I could give it to the babe."

"The babe is a boy."

"Nah, it's a girl." He leaned over again and dipped his hand into the water, cursing. "Fuck Dany! That's fire!"

She sighed, slouching down a little more and grinning. "A dragon does not fear fire."

"This one does," he mumbled.

"That's your wolf side."

Ghost snorted in agreement, coming over to briefly nose her belly and wag his tail. She reached to scratch his ears. "See, Ghost thinks the babe is a boy." He huffed again and shook his head.

Now it was his turn to smirk. "Hmm, a girl."

"We already know if it's a boy we shall name him Aemon, but what about a girl, have we decided?" she sighed, dragging her fingers over her belly. "I like Lyanna."

"I like Rhaella."

"There's plenty." She smiled sadly. "We could always do the female version of Aemon."

"what's that?"

"Aemma." Her voice grew sad. "Aemma Arryn was the wife of Viserys I Targaryen...she died in childbirth. She was the mother of Rhaenyra. The first Queen. Well, second, if you believe Rhaenys should have been queen first."

"As I do," he assured her. He never believed in the absolute rule by a male over a female, if said female was in line first. Or was better suited for the task, as was often the case. He thought of Arriane Martell or Olenna Tyrell. Seven hells, even Arya and loathe as he was to admit it, Sansa.

She furrowed her brow again, whispering. "I know this necklace. I can't place it, but...anyway...Aemma was tragic. She makes me think of my mother. Dying to birth an heir...and my father already had his male heirs."

He smoothed his hand over her cheek, brushing his lips to her forehead. "Your mother died so you could live, as mine did. Without her, there would be no you."

"Or you," she whispered.

He smiled sadly; it was unfortunate. Their mothers were probably the only ones that they knew nothing about. No one wrote about the women in the books, always the men. He picked up the steel necklace from her and shrugged. "Well, whoever owned this necklace, it's yours now." He kissed her gently, nose brushing against hers, murmuring. "Queen Daenerys Targaryen."

She giggled. "King Jon."

"Consort. I hate that title."

"You could use your real name."

"Hate that name too." He flicked water at her and got to his feet. "Come, the storm isn't letting up. We can go explore some more."

"We can look for dragon eggs."

"Aye, let's go look for dragon eggs."

They didn't find any dragon eggs and Dany couldn't remember who owned the necklace try as she might to remember where she'd seen it, but a few days after that horrible storm blew through and the clouds opened to sunlight, she went into labor and gave birth to a baby girl they called Aemma.

#jonerys #my fics #my moodboards #my drabbles #hotd sort of #random things #absolutely terrible but oh well lol #hotd #for the people who are blocking tag! #no judgment lol #but this is not really hotd

[seizurecube]

So the impression I get is, Brassius and Hassel were together at some point in the past, very much in love for a time but eventually parted on good terms. Larry goes home after work 5 days a week to have disappointing sex with his wife, who will probably leave him one day. Iono only knows about sex from memes and her relationships are largely parasocial. Kofu does not know what sex is either but is somehow very good at it. Katy is a self-described “professional feeder”. Ryme has had many partners in her time but ultimately prefers to just hang out with her dog. Grusha has many distant admirers but he tends to drive people away, this was true even before his snowboarding accident, but possibly could change if he could just get over himself, he likes getting pegged but won’t admit it. Tulip has long been pining over Dendra, who is completely oblivious and more likely to accidentally get married to Miriam. Jacq is in a long distance relationship with Professor Willow from Pokemon GO. Tyme used autistic girl swag to land the man of her dreams (possibly Clavell? We may never know). Salvatore likewise has extreme autistic boy swag but society isn’t quite ready for him yet. Raifort fucks nasty, she bites, and has probably done it in a classroom after hours multiple times. Saguaro lacks confidence but when he finally gets laid it will be the best dick of whoever’s life. Rika is obviously a lesbian and single and yes you the girl reading this have a chance with her. Geeta is single because she has quite particular standards, but she isn’t in a rush to find love anyway. I think that about covers it, bear in mind I haven’t read every text box in the game yet.

#pokemon scarlet and violet

[mangodestroyer]

For a while, I was kind of envious of my peers. It just feels like everyone else is getting it "figured out" faster than me. They have long term partners they plan on marrying, or have already married. They either already have or are thinking about having kids. They live on their own and started a career. Many of them are also already done with school, or have something they're doing for a living without a need for college.

But... I'm only in my mid-twenties. Seriously. We're all only in our early to mid twenties (like, 22-24). And some of these people have already decided to settle down and have kids???

I mean, it just hit me at work yesterday that there's so much I'm able to do right now because I DON'T have a long term partner or a child to take care of. In fact, I am chronically single. Never been kissed. Had one long distance relationship (with a little bit of in person time) that was toxic and, tbh, didn't even feel legit. And the whole thing left me feeling depressed and bitter because I'd become convinced that maybe I'm just not the kind of person who finds a loving partner.

But honestly? While I was dating, I just remember getting a lot of shit for still going for my bachelor's. Feeling bad that I didn't make a lot of money at my job (so pretty much being limited with what I could do at the time and what I could contribute). Being made to feel like my ambitions in life were "too much" and were just not going to work for the relationship. It felt like the only way I could make things work was if I buckled down, got my education over with ASAP, worked a "real" job and had kids.

And yeah, it just felt like compromise after compromise. And also, finding ways to "mute" who I am as a person to make things easier. It got to the point where even certain hobbies and interests of mine were becoming "too much." Constant arguments too. And being policed on when and how I could talk. I got so sick of it and just left one day.

People have told me that this isn't normal. That if I just found the right person (TM), they would treat me so much better. But... what I went through does actually seem to be very common. I'm well aware that decent people exist. I've had healthy friendships and all. But what if some of us just don't find the right person?

And also, I still don't think that I'm relationship material anyway. I don't really want to "settle down." I think it's cool that I currently have the ability to just work/go to school in another country without feeling like I'm leaving someone else behind, or having to talk about it with them, or having to work on getting them to come with me, or straight up just not being able to do it. And, if I have time off from work and school, way more time for myself and my interests. More freedom to eat whatever the fuck I want. MY OWN BED.

Yeah, maybe living life the "normal" way is a bit overrated. I'll admit, there's probably always going to be a part of me that wishes I had a companion, but not nearly as much as I used to. Other things in life just sound far more appealing at this point. The only down side to this seems to be that everyone else is so preoccupied with their relationship and starting a family that it's kind of left me feeling a bit lonely. I almost have to wonder if I thought a relationship was the only way to deal with this.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skelly's brother who doesn't know about resets finds out! With this newly gained knowledge, they have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to reset, and keep their memories! Would they take it? or would they let it pass? What do they do once the reset happens?? Please include HorrorSwap/Fell and Delta, I feel like their reactions would be interesting to see!!!

Undertale Papyrus - No. It seems unsafe and way too much power and he doesn't want to have that power. He's no one to steal the life of so many people just to change things for the better. Life would be boring if everything was always working as it should. Instead, it can help him to understand Frisk a little better.

Underswap Sans - Hell no. He's already aware of it because his brother told him and it's a BAD thing. He doesn't want anything to do with it and he thinks no one should have this power. Time magic is always bad magic.

Underfell Papyrus - It's tempting, of course, he could go back in time and just prevent Asgore from hurting everyone, but they are happy right now, so what would be the point? He's very fine with the way things are right now and wouldn't change anything.

Horrortale Papyrus - He would refuse. Sure, he would have loved to change the past, and that they would never have to go through the famine and Undyne's betrayal... But this also means he would be the one with a great power, with the right to decide what is a right time and what is a wrong time, above consequences. After seeing what power did to his best friend, he really doesn't want to test it. Things happened, but in the end, they are alright. And anyway, it doesn't mean because he changes things, things won't get worst than they were.

Horrorfell Papyrus - He would reset. He knows it's maybe egoistic, but he is sure he can still make sure none of this happened. He killed Undyne as soon as he is back in time, feeling guilty because she saw nothing coming and her eyes screamed "Why?!". But he knows this is better this way. After Frisk leaves, despite his attempt to hold them back, Chief becomes emperor of the Underground and tries to make things right. Turns out he is no better than Undyne and everyone hates him. At least, he saved his brother's leg and he's not in a wheelchair. Chief will regret sacrificing so much, forcing himself into a second famine, just for so few results. He would never do it again.

Horrorswap Sans - He's doing it, of course. He kills Chara as soon as they fell, take their soul and breaks the Barrier. He then puts as much distance as possible between him, Alphys and his brother, leaving in another country as soon as they have citizenship. Alphys and Undyne will never understand why Blue became so cold to hers, to the point they became strangers to each other in a few years. At least they are happy and his brother is not traumatised by years of imprisonement.

Swapfell Sans - He doesn't. He knows it's no use. Sure, there are things he could have done better, like protect his brother from his addictions better, but he knows that even if he didn't join the Royal Guard, they both could have been killed a long time ago. It's tempting, not being forced to be Toriel's slave, but he doesn't want to take the risk.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He refuses to use it. He could, sure, to take over the throne, he knows he's perfectly capable of that, but he knows it would only make Coffee more of a target that he is already, and he would never put his brother in more danger just to satisfy his huge ego. He can still take control now, but he has only one brother.

Outertale Papyrus - He would not take it. He's in good terms with Frisk, who regrets what they done, and he is perfectly aware of their capacity. He doesn't want to touch that power, it doesn't seem safe.

Disbelief Papyrus - He would hesitate a very long time but does it. If he has a chance, just one chance, to save his brother, he needs to take it. He didn't think seeing everyone again would be this hard. He can't stop crying, even if no one understands what's wrong with him, he could never tell them how much he missed them. He will save everyone, and then tell everything that happened to Sans, because he needs to talk to someone, and after talking so long to the ghost of his brother, he is glad he can finally talk to him for real. He's still going to need a lot of time to heal fully for this horrible timeline. Sometimes, he wished he forgot everything when he reseted.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #horrorswap #horrorfell #outertale #disbelief papyrus #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: The Tax Man Cometh

Ah, tax season. That time of year when the weather is veering from cold to thunderstorms and otherwise upset, but not nearly as upset as the harrowed souls tangling with the labyrinth that is the U.S. tax code.

Mine needed at least eight separate sheets of paper (any amount of royalties counts as self-employed and that is a lot of paperwork), meaning I always bring the envelope to the post office directly to be weighed and have correct postage applied. If the government loses my forms again, it’s not going to be a fault on my end.

...I had someone ask what I was doing as I was photocopying said forms at the library. Evidently it wasn’t obvious.

“Why would you want to do that?”

In case the government loses the originals. Again.

“But that would never happen!”

For a moment I could only blink at her, because this lady was at least a decade or so older than me, meaning way more than old enough to know better. Because it has to me in the past. On at least three separate occasions. How do people sail through life this oblivious?

...Anyway. If you have a government in your world, you have taxes. Even if it’s something as simple as “I’m the head of this clan, I get first pick of everything.” How taxes are collected, and what they’re used for, make a big difference in how your society works, whether or not trade and technological advancement are supported or discouraged, how upset people are with the government in general, and how much power they have to do anything about it.

One of the ways taxes make a big difference is, are they collected in kind, in a specific produced thing, or in money? In a lot of Asian countries, for example, taxes were often historically collected in rice. In the short term this was relatively convenient for the government, which could assess land for its potential rice production and assign taxes accordingly; not to mention acquiring the rice necessary to feed the court, with extra to sell for everything else. But there are several potential problems. Bad weather and famine years would hit marginal farmers with a double whammy; they couldn’t produce enough rice to pay their own taxes, and they couldn’t buy enough food to stay alive. In contrast good years meant the price of rice dropped and the government was suddenly short of cash. Demanding taxes in rice instead of money also forces more people to stay in agriculture, even if the area is better suited to, say, herding, fishing, or long-distance trade. And one of the things about taxing in rice that was particularly convenient to the Tokugawa Shogunate starting out bit them in the rear big-time over two centuries later.

I’m going to elaborate on this because it’s interesting, especially if you’re a Rurouni Kenshin fan. If you’ve looked into the Bakumatsu, you know two of the major drivers of it were the Satsuma and Choushu domains. What you may not know is that when Tokugawa Ieyasu assigned domains and assessed taxes for the Shogunate (which were then mostly followed for centuries after), is that those two domains in particular had been very hard-hit by the Onin War a century before the whole Tokugawa takeover, and thus had lost a lot of farms, and on top of that had land that was otherwise undeveloped. So... their taxes were assessed relatively low, compared to the farmland they potentially had.

Mind, it took them two centuries to realize the whole potential of what they had. But the Shogunate kept on trucking with the same assessed taxes, counting on alternate attendance to keep the daimyo too poor to make trouble. And eventually Choshu and Satsuma... weren’t that poor. And other nations were knocking on the doors, able and willing to sell firearms, among other things....

Taxes, like everything else government does, have consequences. Give them some thought for your world!

#worldbuilding #creative writing #economy

[aeris-flores]

Full Name: Aeris Flores 

Nicknames: n/a

Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Male

Age and Birthday: 34 years old, November 9th

Birth place: Los Angeles, California

Sexuality: Bisexual

Status: Single (& for the streets)

Occupation: Cresent Moon Tattoo Shop Owner

Residence: Seabrook Quarter

Time in Aurora Bay: 7 years

Face claim: Samuel Larsen

tw homelessness, break up mention, dui mention

HISTORY —

Aeris was always one for trouble. He never really thought to much about it though. It just found him. Maybe it's because there's never been a thought in his head. Not one about his future, his ambitions or even about consequences. He grew up easy with a silver spoon in his mouth, his siblings just as easy as him as they were given every single thing they'd ever wanted and more. With his father as a CFO to a big pharmaceutical company and his mother a small actress/model that worked in Los Angeles, they hadn't been exactly present in terms of raising the kids while growing up.

That being said, he had absolutely everything handed to him, never having to want for a thing; and maybe that's has been the root cause for his issue handling being told 'no'. Nothing was ever off limits, everything was always right there for the taking especially when affordability hadn't been an issue. By the time Aeris was a teenager, he became reckless, dumb, and nothing could be said or done to get him to shape up, as much as his parents did try. He chose not to go to college; he figured the whole thing was a huge waste of time anyway (it wasn't like he'd get in; his grades were solid D average).

Instead, he just lived off his dad's money, not giving a thought about his future once. His father didn't seem to be worried about it, he wasn't hitting the headlines dragging the family name or anything like that. That was, until Aeris had gotten into an accident while under the influence, and that didn't look good for his father or his mother. It hadn't been the first time, either, but the two times preceeding didn't involved another car so it was easy to sweep under the rug. Thankfully, the people in the other car were fine, and Aeris escaped with just a few scrapes.

Before he graduated, he'd been given the boot and became homeless, sleeping wherever he could. The first DUI wasn't the last trouble he'd been in, and it was soon they'd seen the error of their ways. So Aeris started couch hopping around his friends' places, finding anywhere he could. By the third month out, his parents frozen all his cards and stopped sending him money. It wasn't long before he'd dropped out of high school either. There wasn't a point when he didn't have anywhere to live, or a means of a meal.

Aeris eventyally started staying over at his childhood friend's house most of the time. They were Aeris's best friend, his guardian angel in that sense. It didn't take much after that before Aeris's spot on the floor became a spot in their bed. He may have dropped out of high school, but Aeris still went to prom with them. He cheered them on at graduation, but it all went awry when the first college acceptance letter came in.

Aeris didn't want them to go study across the country, he didn't want to deal with the distance, and he didn't want to get on a plane and join the adventure. So, of course, Aeris did the next best thing - tried to convince them to drop their dreams so they could just live together in Los Angeles. It ended in a fight, and a rather volatile one at that. Nothing got physical, but the words exchanged left them both wounded, and Aeris grabbed his bag and walked out the door.

Drawing hadn't been something he thought he'd use for his future, but going from not having to want for a thing to having nothing he knew he needed to figure something out. As it turned out, he had enough talent to slap together a portfolio, and there was enough promise in his scrapwork to catch the eye of a tattoo artist.

Aeris started an apprenticeship at the local tattoo shop after being encouraged by multiple people to do it. It would get a roof over his head and food in his belly by the time he was a licensed professional right? Early adulthood was rough, but he did his best and eventually managed to be able to afford a small room in a multi person apartment. It wasn't a lot, but it worked.

A bada bing, a bada boom, eh-squeezy (don’t make me write out all of his twenties now, I’ll add details later), he gained enough traction to have a clientele base, and his artwork kicked off. Using social media to sell his work, Aeris’s savings boosted within the year. He opted to leave Los Angeles and sought out buying his own shop. First it began as a travelling artist that bounced around as a guest appearance in various shops around SoCal, occasionally in Nevada, then he found what he wanted.

Crescent Moon Tattoo.

It took a half a year of going back and forth with the current owner, until Aeris stepped in as a permanent artist at the shop by the age of thirty-one.

TRAITS.

+ Intuitive, creative

+/- Magnetic, aware

- Possessive, unforgiving

HEADCANONS.

⊹ Aeris minds his business ™ ~ he didn't see shit, don't bother asking, and he wants to know fuck all about your personal drama.

⊹ When it comes to any problem between you and him, be very specific or he'll find a way around what you said. Twist it to benefit him. How else can he try and turn things in his favor?

⊹ He requires his food is at a temperature dangerously close to burning his taste buds off, or he won’t eat it. Steam must be coming off it or he simply cannot, will not, vetoed and in the trash.

⊹ His level of loyalty to someone is based on how of use they are to him.  

⊹ Getting to know him well enough to be on a first-name basis takes a lot of time and patience, but to fall within the parameters of what he considers ‘close friend’ means you can call him at 3 in the morning without any explanation needed, and he will be there.

⊹ He might not have the money he used to, but that doesn't mean aeris doesn't like to spend it. he splurges a lot, more than he should at some points.

⊹ Aeris can't return to his parents property as there had been a restraining order issued when he tried to break in and steal things post-break up with his one serious partner.

CONNECTIONS.

Not open for pregnancy plots or end game romance plots off the bat. I would like to work his character some before determining any long-term, permanent partnerships. I am open to discussing ideas with heavy plotting, however I look for natural chemistry and nothing forced. He has a lot to learn and even more growing up to do before some poor soul decides to take him as their own.

However, any past or current but temporary (for whatever reason) romance/partner plots, hit me up as I am more laid back about those.

♡ @firefighterrojas - across the street neighbors, and a stable foundation to lean on. aeris never asked for any sort of support when he moved to aurora bay, but angel seems to want to keep him on some sort of right track. whatever that means.

♡ @dilcne - his downstairs neighbor to their bi-level sublet home, aeris finds it funny watching her mill about taking care of the plants. it provokes a sort of banter he finds amusing, even if her nagging about keeping the place cleaned up is purposely ignored.

♡ @mackmontgomery - his employee at crescent moon tattoo. dynamic to be worked

♡ @rhyswilson - his employee at crescent moon tattoo. dynamic to be worked

♡ @nirawuu - his employee at crescent moon tattoo. aeris has a deep respect for nira. from their work ethic to their ability to keep their life relatively private. for that reason, if they need a soundboard he is open to providing his ear to them. he is also a little biased and might favor her out of his employees.

♡ @bradley-banner - someone from his teen years, aeris knows bradley through her brother. the various parties they’d gone to together with her in the background. he might be gone, but aeris still finds time and want to relive old games (pool win tally) and reminisce on the ‘good ol’ days’ with her as often as possible. it gives him a moment to think less on what he’s lost, and he treats her the same despite the fame.

♡ @priyaxdesai - met her one off at a bar, when in a moment of frustration (tinder date ghosted him) he offered a free drink to the person closest to him. just to try and spread a good feeling or something. that night ends with heated kisses and wandering hands before priya parted ways from him in the parking lot. it's been a game since, taunting and teasing and trying to get under one another's skin.

♡ @jaredx- aeris isn't sure what started it, but there is some rivalry between them. whenever he sees jared, he has to start shit for the sake of it. whatever it is between them, he will uphold it because he hasn't ever been known to take the high road.

♡ @chascwilliams - aeris first spotted him at the halloween party dressed as Aladdin, and once again at the diner. they chatted, aeris flirted, he gave chase his number, and now he hopes that at the very least, chase does call him back even just to hang out.

♡ @maura-cortes - first she was zigg's girlfriend, then she ended up a name in aeris's little mental black book. he never intended on it, until the night it happened, and the moment he got the tiniest hint of attention from maura that hinted toward a green light, aeris slammed down on the gas pedal and sped right through it. of course, he didn't expect her to tell ziggy, and now she is forever branded a 'snitch' to him.

♡ @ziggykyeons - once good friends, now enemies, aeris would be lying if he tried to ever said it didn't sting at least a little bit to have ziggy cut him out like that. it also boils down to aeris thinking he overreacted, but he never bothered to try and push it. however, anytime he happens to see ziggy in town, he feels his heart fill with malice.

♡ @jordanmitchell - jordan is a fun conversationalist to him. he will flock to her if he sees her, ready for her to banter and drag him through all the shit she can give him. he won't ever win a conversation with her, he knows that, but it won't ever stop aeris from trying.

♡ @esmemaxwcll - enemies from a fender bender. more tba later!

LINKS

⊹ pinterest.

⊹ inspo.

⊹ music.

@aurorabayaesthetic

#// bio : aeris #// about : aeris