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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 19 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader and Spencer share the night together following her doctor’s appointment. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, degradation, daddy kink, Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), spitting kink, unprotected sex (creampie), vague mention of subdrop, aftercare included Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

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There was something about the BAU bullpen that felt like another world. The open layout and the way it could shift from frantic rushing to bored silence in seconds sometimes made me feel like I was the most normal person contained within its walls. It was a rare sight, to see me there, and for good reason. I didn’t like to be there, considering most of my time there had been spent being questioned about homicide.

But it wasn’t like that, not that morning. I’d finished my doctor’s appointment early enough that I could hopefully locate the elusive Dr. Reid before he took off for lunch. And sure enough, just as I excitedly bounced over to his desk, I heard the ever-excited, yet comforting squeak of my boyfriend as he returned with a freshly poured cup of coffee.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he practically yelled through a smile, rushing over to drop the mug on his desk. He couldn’t do it fast enough and barely made it. Once the mug was barely safe on the desk, his arms raced to wrap around me.

I giggled at the enthusiasm, considering it’d only been a couple hours since I saw him. But I was ecstatic to be with him and share the news I’d tucked away to keep safe on the way over. It was too much to bear by myself for long, and I knew he would be happy to help carry the load.

“I finished my appointment early and since I was in the neighborhood, I wanted to come see my boyfriend and give him the good news in person.” I explained. Spencer eyed me cautiously, careful not to get too far ahead of himself. I looked back with what I’d hoped was a cheeky grin, but I had a feeling it just turned into a goofy, toothy grin. Just as Spencer figured it out and his eyebrows shot up, another voice joined us.

“Mia stellina!” Rossi boomed, the bass carrying through the room like it always seemed to. It was the kind of joyful exclamation that demanded your attention, no matter how dark the circumstances surrounding you were. I knew that from personal experience.

I laughed again as he enveloped both me and Spencer in a hug that the latter only kind-of-sort-of cringed away from.

“Reid didn’t tell us that you were coming in today! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

I snorted at the implication, stepping back to buy back my breathing space. “You’re never a bother, Rossi.” And I meant it, even if he had just interrupted mine and Spencer’s very important conversation. I could table it for a moment, though. There hadn’t been many chances for me to talk to Rossi since the hospital. Although he'd visited less frequently than Derek or Hotch, he'd still come by often enough for me to miss him. He was, by far, the most unique member of the team. People always assumed it would be Penelope, but I stuck with my contention that it’s the quieter ones you have to keep an eye on. Not that Rossi didn’t love to talk, and especially when it granted him the ability to name-drop.

“This is why I like you,” he casually reminded, waving off a slightly offended Spencer on his side. “And I trust that Reid already told you about the plans for next weekend.”

As soon as I turned to look at Spencer, he immediately looked away.

Luckily, Rossi wasn’t obtuse and quickly recognized the display of guilt. “I stand corrected.”

“What plans?” I butted in before either of them could speak. Spencer grimaced at the monotone, as he was fully aware of the level of annoyed it signaled.

“I told him to extend you an invite to the next family dinner, but it seems like he’s selfishly planning on keeping you all to himself.” Rossi’s playful tone was his way of requesting I give Spencer a break, but I wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness just yet. After spending months trapped in my bed, I was always looking for an excuse to talk to anyone that wasn’t my roommate. And when it came to the team... I mean, they were like his family. It made sense I wanted their approval, right? Or was I really, honestly just seeking the approval of men like Hotch and Rossi because of my “daddy issues?” And oh, god, I didn’t want to delve into that psychology.

“How rude,” I deadpanned, instead, elbowing Spencer’s side just enough to elicit a pained exhale and an explanation.

“I was going to tell her. I was just waiting until we actually knew when it was going to happen.”

“He’s lying,” I told Rossi, earning a very adamant, denial from Spencer in the process that I brushed off. We both did. The pout that immediately followed was harder to ignore, but I could be strong.

Honestly, it was just funny to see him in this environment. When he was alone with me, he was usually the one in charge, but at work, Spencer was hardly that. It was the only chance I had to tease the ever living shit out of him with little chance of immediate consequences.

“Yeah, he’s lying,” Rossi easily deduced, waving a dismissive hand at Spencer before continuing, “But luckily, you were here. And whenever it happens, I hope that you’ll be there, too. It’s important for you to have a chance to socialize with us outside of the job.”

I smiled, finally looping my arm around Spencer’s to hopefully ease the pain caused by being ignored. Rossi, however, didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength, considering he gave another quick quip. “Hopefully you’ll bring the kid with you,” he teased as he turned away, pointing to the notably older and larger man at my side.

“How am I the kid in this scenario?” Spencer muttered under his breath, the pout still on his face, and still just as cute.

“Will do, Rossi,” I happily chirped.

“Thank you, stellina.” Rossi said with a wink, casually bringing both hands to his lips to blow each of us a kiss.

Once Rossi was fully out of earshot, Spencer sighed in resignation. He had complained before about the fact that the team had immediately felt comfortable with me, contrary to his own experience. But of course, it wasn’t fair to compare. I'd come into their lives piggybacking on their close relationship with him. Spencer didn’t see it that way, though.

“Why do you get a nickname?” he grumbled, dropping his head to the side to rest atop mine.

I didn’t let him rest there long, pushing him back away from me so that I could stand before him again. With my fingers under my chin, I flashed the brightest smile I could while dramatically emphasizing, “Because I’m a little star.”

Spencer looked down at me with a gentle adoration, his hand coming up to brush over my cheek. My face followed after him, desperate for any contact he could offer in the sterile environment. It didn’t really make much sense how touch starved I was; it wasn’t like he hadn’t touched me over the past couple months. Or even that he'd touched me any less-- if anything, it had been more.

But then again, how could I ever get enough? I was certain Spencer would call me spoiled, and in many ways, I was, but I didn’t care. If I could find a way to bottle up the way I felt when he held me, I would. Lord knows there were so many times when I'd needed it and he wasn’t there. I wouldn’t ever admit that to him, though. What would be the point?

He couldn’t always be there. Sometimes he would have to leave.

Unaware of the dramatic monologue in my head, my boyfriend sighed. His lips pursed again while he watched my eyes soften the longer that he held my face. “You certainly are little,” he concluded. I knew he wanted to say more but feared doing so might lead the conversation down a path less suited for work. Although, what I had planned wasn’t exactly work appropriate, either.

“You know we’re definitely going, right?” I replied, peeking my tongue out from behind my lips.

With a loud groan, he took his hand back like the question had burned him. “Fine,” he conceded before quickly shifting the conversation, “but I’m more interested in what you came here to tell me. How did your appointment go?”

“It went very well. I got wonderful news,” I beamed. There were many idiosyncrasies of Dr. Spencer Reid that I absolutely adored, but one of my favorites happened to be the one where his eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead, his eyes going wide with a curious glint. Just like they did then.

“Does this news mean you’ll be staying at my place tonight?”

“It can…” As I spoke, I wrapped both of my arms around his arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear, “unless you want to take a long lunch break and get a head start.”

“Someone’s eager,” he replied with a snort that didn’t sound nearly as promising as I’d hoped.

“Can you blame me?”

Before I could sulk too hard, he poked me on the forehead and chuckled at the resistance I gave to the action. “Lunch, unfortunately, would not give me enough time for what I want to do to you,” he practically purred in a barely-there whisper against my ear. “When I get home, I want to find you on my bed with nothing on. Do you understand me, little girl?”

“Yes.” I had to stop myself from making too much noise, but a pathetic whimper slipped out before I could stop it.

“Good girl,” he whispered with his retreat, “I’ll see you then.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for the hours to pass me by. I couldn’t stay at the BAU for long, recognizing a sudden shift of energy as JJ began rushing them into the office right before I left. At first, I thought it was a case, but Spencer assured me it wasn’t. He promised me that he would be home that night, and that I didn’t need to worry.

But the hours did not fly by; they took their sweet fucking time. I didn’t even bother waiting in the bed for most of them. I honestly spent nearly 8 of them rifling through the shelves in his living room, looking for a book that was both from this century and actually in English.

After I’d rifled through his cupboards and realized that he didn’t have any food, I went to the grocery store and bought food, returned, unloaded the bags, cooked and ate dinner before I came to one simple conclusion:

Spencer Reid was a filthy goddamn liar.

That was my admittedly grumpy thought when I finally crawled into his still empty bed in his even lonelier apartment. His pillow smelled enough like him that I could hug it and pretend that I wasn’t waiting for someone who was probably not going to come back anytime soon. I thought about going home, but I decided being lonely in his bed was better than being alone in my own.

My temper tantrum kept my face sulkily buried in his pillow, so when my phone started to ring, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t notice much of anything, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off into a world where Spencer could keep his promises because his job didn’t suck.

Of course, even in my sadness my mind drifted to other memories spent there. I’d fallen back into the loop of memories of the last time we were together. I could almost feel his breath against my thighs and his hands raking over my hips. And like it always seemed to, reality and fantasy began to blur. Spencer’s hand on my thigh felt so hot, I was burning beneath it. My whole body tensed, my back arching in the hopes of finding him.

I wasn’t sure which woke me first, the low, gentle chuckle, or the whisper in my ear.

“Maybe I should change your nickname to Aurora.”

I sat up before I even registered the words. Reacting to his voice alone, my arms were already around him and dragging him back down before he could say anything else.

“You’re home!” I shouted, groggy but happy to not be alone. If I’d looked at the clock, I would have seen the hands pointing to the early hours of the next day, but it hardly mattered anymore. All that mattered to me was that he was there, in my arms.

“I guess it’s my fault for not specifying that you should be awake when I got home.”

Answering him with a sloppy, sleepy kiss on the lips, I relished the way he couldn’t stop himself from laughing through it. “I’m awake now,” I answered with a very poorly timed yawn. It luckily didn’t dissuade him, and his hands quickly worked up over my hips and beneath the sheer negligee I’d worn to bed hours earlier.

“What’s this? I could have sworn my instructions were to not wear anything,” he chastised with a smile.

“I don’t follow instructions. You already knew that,” I mumbled back. It wasn’t until I ran my hands through his hair that I realized that he’d already stripped down to nothing before waking me up.

How considerate.

His curls seemed so much longer than before, and the movements seemed to distract him enough to grant me some mercy. We both knew why I didn’t want to be naked yet. And it really was a ‘yet.’ I truly believed that I’d eventually be able to own my body again, but that point just seemed so far in the future. Spencer didn’t want to push it. Not that night.

“I’ll let it slide this time.” He shared the words with kisses over my jaw and neck, his hands growing hungrier by the second. They skipped straight from my hips to my chest, grabbing hold of my breasts through the thin fabric. He was almost out of breath already when he murmured, “Before we do anything, you have to promise me you’ll stop me if it hurts.”

“I know, Spencer,” I droned, but he kept going.

“I mean it. Any sign of discomfort, you have to tell me.”

“I know!” I shouted with a laugh, struggling to push him away while he continued to cling to me. Finally having managed to do it, I promptly fell back onto the pillow. As I rolled my body over to lay flat, I managed to grab hold well enough that I could pull him over top of me. “Don’t ruin the mood!”

He stopped to admire the sight before him. All I could see, though, was the way he looked at me. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me like that. He looked at me like he loved me so much he wanted to break me. I wished he would.

“How could I ruin anything when you look so fucking perfect laid out in my bed for me?” He growled, his nails dragging over the sensitive skin of my chest.

I couldn’t tell if it was his intention or some kind of Freudian slip, but I was reminded of the day I marred his chest with a necklace-shaped mark in a very similar fashion. The memory made me giggle. “I’m not so innocent.” The understatement of the century.

“Maybe not, but there are still a lot of things I’ve yet to show you.”

I was waiting for the but. I knew it was coming.

“But for now, we’re going to go slow.”

And there it was. I thought to myself how ridiculously unfair it was that having a good boyfriend meant actually being able to rely on them to take care of you. Even armed with the knowledge of my masochistic tendencies, Spencer was too scared to seriously hurt me. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t scared enough to stop him from sliding his hand up my thigh and slipping his finger into my drenched heat.

“The question is how slow?” he teased, recognizing from the rocking of my hips that I was more than prepared to have him then. “How much should I torture you, little girl?”

“Please,” was the only word I could whine at first, but I still saw too much restraint in his eyes. I knew that if I didn’t convince him now, I might be there for hours before he gave me what I wanted. It wasn’t the worst idea, but judging by his already bloodshot eyes, I figured I might as well speed things along.

“Please, daddy,” I whimpered much louder, tilting my hips up to present myself to him. I could feel his erection pressed against me, his palm pressing down as he struggled to decide if he even wanted to keep me in place. I could see that desire to destroy me return to his eye with a vengeance. He knew that I was challenging him, but then again, when did I not?

“Take care of me,” I begged. That was the way I succeeded in breaking Spencer; in turn, he would break me.

He grabbed my legs so quickly and roughly that I was almost dizzy with it. Wrapping them around his own hips, he lined himself up and began dragging the head of his cock over my sex. Low and wildly shaking, Spencer’s words were only barely audible over the sound of the blood rushing in my veins.

“Are you ready?” he asked, like my answer would ever change.

“Yes!” I shouted, nodding like my words wouldn’t be enough.

Spencer had barely waited for the confirmation. Inch by inch, he slowly stretched me open like it was the very first time he touched me. His movements were so precise, so gentle and undoubtedly tender, that I thought I might actually cry.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like when he touched me like that. I would never admit it to him, but with every passing second, I could feel the love rushing back to me. That connection that had felt strained was reinforced and reasserted.

He just felt so fucking good. And apparently, Spencer had similar thoughts in mind.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his head falling forward to knock our foreheads together. There was clearly so much effort going into not hurting me that I just found myself hoping he was still enjoying it. That train of thought made it more difficult when his next question came. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels so fucking good,” I sobbed, and it was the truth. My hips, though already growing tired thanks to the months of disuse, struggled to try and take more of him. And even when he was fully inside me, I still cried out to him. “Please, Spencer!”

“Be patient,” he said with a grunt, his hips pulling back just enough for him to slam into me with more force. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

The words made a swarm of butterflies burst through my lower half that already felt so full with him. The statement just sounded so perfectly selfish in a way I’d been dying to feel for months. I wanted him to reap the rewards he’d so obviously earned. I wanted to give them to him, really, but I just couldn’t make it too easy. It wasn’t our style.

“So it’s not about taking care of me anymore, is it?” I pouted, although my lips quickly parted again as Spencer increased his pace in response.

“Are you not satisfied, little girl?” he teased, reaching up with one hand to wrap around my hair, forcing my head back among the pillows while he started to drive into me at a reckless pace. “Do you need me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!” I yelled, my hands reaching for him, digging into his skin and bringing him closer to me. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Whether he sensed the desperation in my voice or simply couldn’t hold it back any longer, Spencer showed an uncharacteristic level of mercy on me. He barely protested at all before giving into my demands. Holding my head back in that same craned position, he laid sloppy kisses over my throat before whispering, “My little girl gets whatever she wants.”

There were no more words on my mind besides his name, which I recited over and over like a prayer. Each time he filled me, my eyes could barely stay open and my lips were nearly bruised from my constant biting. It was easy to forget that the rest of the world existed— that it was past midnight on a weeknight and everyone in the surrounding apartments would probably fucking hate us.

But Spencer didn’t seem to care either. Well, that’s a misstatement. Spencer definitely cared about my volume, but he didn’t care about other people not being able to hear it. He made that quite clear when he gripped my lower jaw in one hand and pulled it down, forcing my mouth open for him.

He had that look in his eyes again. The one that told me there were entire worlds in his mind that I hadn’t seen. Deeply hidden desires lurking just under the rippling surface. I wondered how far they went and just how much Spencer would hurt me if I could convince him to.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered through clenched teeth, his jaw tensed and eyes still burning. There was a hurricane happening behind those hazel rings, and I wanted him to let it out.

I didn’t know how to ask him to do that; to convince him to break me even while I lay before him already broken and barely keeping it together. I did the only thing I could think to do with his hand still holding my mouth open to him and presented my tongue to him.

Spencer tried to remain composed and stoic as ever, but his body betrayed in him the same way it always did. His eyes. From the second they flickered down to see what I was asking for, his pupils blew out and swallowed the comforting toffee color of his irises.

With an even darker tone, Spencer chuckled, “You’re a filthy, greedy bitch.”

It’s hard to explain how much the words filled every part of my body. The way goosebumps rippled over my skin and an undeniable, almost unbearable heat burned at my face. It only got worse when Spencer finally did as I asked, gathering the saliva in his mouth just to drop it into my own.

The second it hit my tongue, I felt so irrefutably his that I was high with it. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I swallowed between hungry gasps for air. And when it was over, I presented my tongue to him again.

I did so good, sir. Please tell me that I’m good, sir.

There were no words, but Spencer praised me in his actions. He lowered his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding against mine until our mouths were connected in the basest manner. For all the destructive power he held, he kissed me so softly. He still kissed me like he loved me.

Neither of us lasted much longer. Spencer’s hand slid from my jaw to rest on my neck, and a moan tore through my chest. Even though he applied no pressure, the casual reminder of what he could do to me was all that I needed. I lost myself in the bliss of him, my hands tangled in his hair and holding his mouth against mine even when I couldn’t kiss him anymore.

His eyes watched me, still covered in the blackness of his pupils and that animalistic desire to claim me however possible. I watched those eyes the entire time I came, wanting to both grant him the submission he deserved while also selfishly wanting to see the control I had over him, too.

Spencer kept his eyes open as he followed after me, unable to resist the calling of my body, begging him to mark, use, and fill it however he pleased. I watched his eyes roll back ever so slightly, his breath hitching as he pulsed inside me in tandem with my walls that held onto him for dear life.

I was his. I'd known that before, but how easily I’d forgotten. How quickly I’d let some stranger and some lead lay claim to me and make me believe that I could be anything but Spencer’s beautiful little girl.

When all semblance of fight left our bodies, Spencer still managed not to collapse on top of me. Apparently not even me letting him spit in my mouth was enough to convince him I was alright. I wrapped my arms around him and tugged him down on top of me, feeling the comfortable weight of him holding my chest down to more manageable breaths.

That was all there was for a while; our heavy breath breezing over sweat-covered skin as we lay tangled together under the sheets. I soaked in the feeling of slightly uncomfortable bliss, enjoying the way that we didn’t care if it wasn’t perfect because it felt close enough to us.

“I missed this,” Spencer said under his breath. It was a rare showing of selfish honesty— the first time he’d admitted to me that he had been having to hold part of himself back for months. He hadn’t been able to love me like he wanted, either. He might have been worried that I would take it the wrong way, but in reality, I had never felt so relieved to hear it.

“Me too.” I returned, trying to assuage his guilt as much as I could. I knew it wouldn’t do much, but I needed him to understand how grateful I was to share the moment with him.

Then again… They do say that laughter is the best medicine. So with a bit of a giggle, I mumbled, “Not so much the next part, but this one, yeah.”

With a small, sleepy chuckle, Spencer slurred against the pillow, “You’re such a romantic.”

“Says the asshole who doesn’t have to get up,” I reminded him. I struggled to move underneath him as he seemed to drop even more dead weight on top of me.

Like I said: Asshole.

“I wish you didn’t have to get up. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

I rolled my eyes, continuing to push at his stubborn shoulders while huffing back, “It’ll only be a few minutes, Spencer. The bathroom is right there.”

Nuzzling his face into my neck, he mumbled back, “Too long.”

“I can never tell if you’re more of an old man or a big baby.”

“I don’t know, let’s stay here and talk about it for a long time,” he answered with a laugh. I hated the fact that I laughed too, my attempts to shove him off finally ceasing. He pulled his head back, looking at me with all the love in the world.

I wasn’t ready for him to look at me like that. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of him loving me still felt so terrifying. That fear was compounded by the realization that he might see it.

“Get up, idiot,” I replied to hide that emotion. It also helped to distract me from my own thoughts, and I ended up biting on my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. It didn’t work.

“You’re so mean to me,” Spencer whined as he slowly removed himself with a small grunt.

“Only when you deserve it.”

Normally I would have eagerly gotten up myself, but I realized then just how painful it was to move. Spencer watched me with a massive, overwhelming guilt that formed before I could even think of how to prevent it. I decided it wasn’t worth it to try. It wouldn’t work. I just let him guide my legs off the bed so that I could shakily stand and shuffle off to the bathroom.

The best part about the time alone was being able to pull myself together and massage the angry scar tissue.

It won’t always be like this, I reminded myself, we can be beautiful again without it hurting.

That was the pep talk, anyway. It was the thing that got me back into the room and under the covers. Curling up by his side was like nature’s medicine. All of my muscles relaxed against him... until he turned around and ruined the perfect comfortable position.

Groaning in the least attractive manner, I pouted the entire time we readjusted. But despite my protests, Spencer looked as happy and comfortable as ever. Plopping my head back down on the pillow, I narrowed my eyes at his contemplation.

“What?”

“L’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle,” he answered, which really only led to my confused face shifting to confused and incredibly turned on again. But one word in particular sounded familiar, as reminded by Rossi earlier in the day. Or rather, the day before.

“I recognize that last word. What are you saying about me, Dr. Reid?”

“It’s the final line in Divina Commedia by Dante Alighieri.” He was doing that cryptic thing again, having apparently not learned his lesson that I would always beat the answer out of him eventually, one way or another

Through a yawn, I mumbled, “What is that, Dante’s Inferno?”

“Well, Inferno is the first section, but I’m quoting Paradiso, which is the third and final installment of the overall work.” And apparently, he was also doing that thing where he taught me really interesting new things when I definitely did not have the brain capacity to understand or retain the information. We both knew I would have to Google it later, so there was no point in lingering.

“Okay, so what does it mean?”

Spencer paused, his gaze sweeping back and forth across my face like he was searching for the proper translation. Like the real answer he sought was something that could only be seen by his eyes. Eventually, he settled on a simpler and equally romantic response.

“It’s the way he describes the piece of Heaven he saw.”

But that still wasn’t good enough for my constantly curious self. It might have been the brat in me, but it was almost like he was avoiding the direct translation. Like I wasn’t smart enough to come to my own conclusion about it. “I’m going to keep asking until you answer me,” I droned, more reminiscent of a nagging two year old rather than a twenty year old.

“Spoiled,” he remarked, lightly tapping on my nose before he sighed. “It means ‘the love which moves the sun and the other stars.’”

I thought about the words for a minute. Or rather, I thought about trying to think about the words. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and blissed-out brain got the better of me, and the beautiful words whispered, in English this time, went in one ear and out the other. Spencer was giving me a smug little smile, like he could see my cluelessness written on my face.

“I like the Heaven explanation better,” I sneered, trying not to let him win this one just yet. But it was obvious from the way his smile grew that he’d already won.

“Yeah, I knew you would. You just had to keep asking.”

Snaking my hand around his waist, I pulled myself flush against him. “I’m a very curious kitten, Dr. Reid,” I purred, gently rubbing our noses together in a very successful attempt to distract him from gloating.

And in a brief flash of self-awareness, I realized how utterly normal I felt. It wasn’t just average; unlike the domestic moments we’d shared over the recovery, this one felt so... natural. There was nothing foreign about his hand on the small of my back, and the rhythm his fingertips tapped felt like a lullaby I’d heard a million times before.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Spencer whispered, breaking me from the brief aside and back into the present.

“I’m pretty sure you’d have me in any form.” I didn’t laugh yet, but once Spencer joined in, there was no hope left for me.

“Yeah, probably, but you don’t have to point it out!” he whined.

I watched as the color started to form on his face, first starting with his ears and nose before spreading out across his cheeks. That blush, still visible in the dim light, was still one of the most beautiful things in the world to me. I never tired of it. Paired with his embarrassed giggles mingled with my own, I felt the undeniable and overwhelming emotion that could only be described as ‘love.’

When the laughter finally ceased, it was just the two of us in silence again, although now we were so close together that we might as well have been one person. It felt that way sometimes. Not like one might think— it was not the supposedly romantic but strangely depressing idea that we aren’t whole without another. It was more like knowing that I would never be more myself than I was when I was in his arms.

Comfortable. Safe. At home.

“Spencer?” I spoke before he could fully close his eyes that he somehow kept open for me.

“What’s up?”

“Thank you.”

That seemed to wake him up, which was not at all my intention. In fact, I'd hoped he wouldn’t respond at all and let the words stand. But he must have heard the hidden message behind it, the fear that all good things must come to an end.

“For what?” he asked. His hand on my back started to make soothing strokes under the negligee, reasserting his presence with me.

I considered answering. I thought about word vomiting all of my fears of inadequacy and broken promises and a future of settling for me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t ruin the moment with such stupid things. The feelings would pass with enough time, right? I didn’t want to bother him with it. I didn’t even know if the problems were problems at all.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m happy and I love you,” I said, instead.

Spencer still saw that I was hiding something, but we were both too tired to push it. We could always talk about it in the morning if we remembered, which I was hoping we wouldn’t.

“I wish I could help you understand how much I love you,” he murmured, removing his hand from my back to trace my jaw. “I can tell you that I want to marry you and raise a family with you but… I don’t think it’s enough.

My stomach immediately dropped. It fell so hard that I actually flinched from his hand, my face twisting into an even more obvious grimace. If my hope was for Spencer to sleep, I’d made a grave error. He immediately shot up onto his arm, cupping my face and inspecting my eyes for any persisting sign of pain.

“What’s wrong?” he pressed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between my stomach and eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing is wrong!” I squeaked, my hands flying to his shoulders to pull him back down. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Our eyes locked in a challenge; a silent back and forth of wills and pleas. And eventually, Spencer started to lower back on the pillow. He’d let me win this one.

“It is past your bedtime,” he said with only a whisper of defeat in his voice.

“It’s past every normal human being’s bedtime, Spencer,” I said before turning away from him in the hope that it would make that concern in his eyes hurt less. It didn’t.

“And you think I’m the old man,” he joked back, snuggling up behind me and sighing into my neck as his hand rested on my hip. “Goodnight, little girl.”

So soon after he spoke, he was already asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so simple for me. Even in his sleep, Spencer’s hands found their way to my stomach. His fingers spread over the expanse of skin like the scars didn’t exist at all. Like it was just as perfect a placement for him to hold onto me as it ever was before. Spencer had a tendency to hold me with so much love that I no longer felt capable of containing it.

It was... suffocating. It took my mind back to images of his blood soaked hands in much of the same position. His hands felt foreign again, and I felt even further away. Like Spencer wasn’t actually there, and neither was I. All that he was holding onto was memory instead of me.

He said he loved me, but he didn’t say why. The only answers my mind would consider were things that had already died months ago. Things that his hands and kisses couldn't fix.

I couldn’t ask him why. I was too afraid of the answer.

—————————————————

| Part 20 |

#h2m #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #smut

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi @seokjinssymphony @kpooplifeforever @explosiveranga & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up.

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end.

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous.

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed.

You were simply just having a bad day.

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent.

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits.

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe.

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!”

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful.

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder.

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated.

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring.

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing."

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you.

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat.

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you.

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane.

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy.

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane.

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!”

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR. Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water.

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life.

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call.

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away.

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved.

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day.

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun.

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated.

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things.

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water.

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided.

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land.

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you.

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped.

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime.

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point.

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag.

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering.

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response.

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up.

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in.

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet.

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last.

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside.

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.”

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well.

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

“Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected.

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

[Part 2/2] coming soon...

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

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El and “post institutional syndrome” (psych analysis)

Before I go in depth with this condition. I wanted to discuss the unique real life case of Genie (whose experiences most closely resemble El ‘s) . And , because of this , could possibly give us insight on how El’s past may affect her psychosocial development .

“Genie had spent almost her entire childhood locked in a bedroom, isolated and ab*sed by her father for the first 13 years of her life. The social worker soon discovered that the girl had been confined to a small room, and an investigation by authorities quickly revealed that the child had spent most of her life in this room. The windows were curtained and the door was kept closed.”

“At this time, she could only speak a few words -- including "stopit" and "nomore."

“While her circumstances until that point were undeniably tragic, they also presented an opportunity for psychologists, linguists, and other researchers to study psychosocial, emotional, and cognitive development in an individual who had suffered from severe social isolation and deprivation. In particular, the discovery of Genie presented an opportunity to study whether a child who was past the so-called "critical period" for language acquisition could learn to speak a first language.”

“The case was important, said psycholinguist and author Harlan Lee, because ‘our morality doesn’t allow us to conduct deprivation experiments with human beings; these unfortunate people are all we have to go on.’

* Brenner not only kept her in isolation via her room but even put her through severe deprivation via solitary confinement as punishment. Putting her in a completely barren dark room for hours.UN Special Rapporteur Juan E. Méndez warned ,”Considering the severe mental pain or suffering solitary confinement may cause, it can amount to t*rture or cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment when used as a punishment, indefinitely, or for a prolonged period, for persons with mental disabilities or juveniles.”

“After assessing Genie's emotional and cognitive abilities, Kent described her as ‘the most profoundly damaged child I've ever seen … Genie's life is a wasteland.’ She began to experience more developmental progress, but remained poor in areas such as language.Susan Curtiss worked with Genie to teach her English. Genie soon developed a rather large lexicon and was able to express herself. But despite extensive training, she remained unable to produce grammatical sentences. Here is a transcript of one of her reports of her time in the hands of her father:

Father hit arm. Big wood. Genie cry ... Not spit. Father. Hit face—spit ... Father hit big stick. Father angry. Father hit Genie big stick. Father take piece wood hit. Cry. Me cry.”

“According to Lenneberg, the critical period for language acquisition lasts until around age 12. After the onset of puberty (at 13), he argued, the organization of the brain becomes set and no longer able to learn and utilize language in a fully functional manner.The case of Genie confirms that there is a certain window of opportunity that sets the limit for when you can become relatively fluent in a language. Of course, if you already are fluent in another language, the brain is already primed for language acquisition . If you have no experience with grammar, however, Broca's (an area of the brain) remains relatively hard to change: you cannot learn grammatical language production later on in life. But the abilities to understand language and produce language in ways that do not rely on grammar largely make use of Wernicke's area in the temporal lope. This area is capable of expanding and rewiring throughout life—even after the teen years. The case of Genie confirms this. Grammar was beyond reach for her. But language comprehension and storytelling were not.”

So El struggling with grammar in some sentences but not in others and improving in grammar unlike Jennie- could possibly be because unlike Jeanie, El was 12 when rescued vs Jeanie who was 13?

“Researchers were also left to wonder whether Genie had suffered from cognitive deficits caused by her years of severe neglect or if she had been born with an ‘intellectual disability’. Most believed, the permanent mental impairments and ‘developmental delays’ Genie exhibited (upon being assessed ) were the result of the isolation and deprivation she was subjected to.”

For those confused about certain terms just used. “Developmental delays appear before 22 years of age. They are life-long disabilities that affect one or both physical and cognitive functioning. ‘Intellectual disability’ encompasses the “cognitive” part of this definition, that is, a disability that is broadly related to thought processes. People with intellectual disabilities are known for having below-average IQ/cognitive abilities . ID can be caused by a myriad of things- including physical and genetic factors, problems during pregnancy or at birth, health issues at an early age, exposure to environmental toxins, or non-physical causes such as lack of stimulation.”

*DISCLAIMER before we begin: I’m saying this now, cause I expect bad actors to try and cancel me. El , even if she has an intellectual disability- is still a human being with many aspirational character traits- that people can admire or aspire to have . She’s kind, selfless, brave, and resilient. People with ID can still function and have jobs, make decisions, and learn new skills too. And they have human emotions like everyone else. if you are “offended” that I say a character you like may have ID - and are pissy you related and empathized to a character that you would otherwise have ‘othered’ cause they have an intellectual disability. Me, an autistic person, (who the fandom has bullied for being autistic) is not the ableist one for simply saying she may have an Intellectual disability .Being angry by the very idea a character you like has a condition , and saying it’s “offensive”/”insulting to them” (is ableist). And in a sense dehumanizes these people who are greatly underestimated and mistreated by society already. you don’t have to agree of course- but don’t try to smear me for stating my opinion based on the psych papers I’ll be discussing. I love El, and have a cousin with ID, so no this isn’t me insulting El. The Duffers said they wanted to give a voice to those “othered” by society- and people who aren’t neurotypical could easily be on the list. The Duffers having us love, relate, and empathize with a character such as this wouldn’t be a bad thing- but good rep .So now I’ll continue with the evidence that alludes to El possibly having ID.

Post institutional syndrome

“In clinical and abnormal psychology, POST INSTITUTIONAL SYNDROME- refers to deficits or disabilities in social and life skills, which develop after a person has spent a long period living in remote institutions (such as orphanages). “

“Growing up in such an environment can change the brain for good.Institutionalization in early childhood can alter a child's brain and behavior in the long run.The ongoing nature of chronic neglect significantly impacts the brain in infancy and early childhood. It suggests that the specific ages of approximately 6−18 months old , may be especially sensitive to developing deficiencies in orphanage environments. “ (*Making El who was raised in such an environment since birth quite susceptible ).

“According to Perry (2002), neglect at this phase impedes formation of neurological pathways essential to communication in the brain. They found that early institutionalization changed both the structure and the function of the brain. Any time spent in an institution shrunk the volume of gray matter, or brain cell bodies, in the brain. Kids who stayed in the orphanages instead of going to foster care also had less white matter, or the fat-covered tracts between brain cell bodies, than kids who, at a young age, moved in with families.Staying in an orphanage instead of foster care also resulted in lower-quality brain activity as measured by EEG.”

“Neglect may be the most detrimental maltreatment type on brain development.A child’s neurocognitive and emotional development rapidly moves towards a downward spiral following extended time in an institution.Normal development may be disrupted by deprivation associated with neglect and can result in dysregulation of neural systems during vulnerable periods of brain development, leading to pronounced neurocognitive deficits due to maltreatment.There are many outcomes related to this disruption in brain development: delays in development of IQ , delays in language, cognitive delays that impact learning, and difficulty with behavioral inhibitions, social emotional functioning and well as impaired attachment (Wilkerson, 2009; Barkley, 1997).”

“Low-stimulation environments can lead to lower scores on intelligence and language tests. Neglect is the type of maltreatment most strongly associated with delays in expressive, receptive, and overall language development.interpersonal interaction is necessary for the acquisition of early language, and these interactions may be limited for children that have been in institutional settings or have experienced physical or emotional neglect.Speech and language delays along with social-emotional delays are very common as the child continues in the institutional environment.”

“Compared with youth that were not neglected, children demonstrated lower cognitive and language scores and more behavioral problems.Higher IQ could be predicted by language scores and an absence of externalizing behavior problems. When comparing the neglected children: shorter time spent in a stable environment, lower scores on language skills, and the presence of externalizing behavior problems predicted lower IQ.”

“The cognitive development of institutionalized children has been studied for more than 60 years. Between 1930 and 1950 a first wave of studies documented that children in institutions often showed a low IQ and severe language delays (Crissey, 1937; Durfee & Wolf, 1933), and children’s orphanages have been considered “natural experiments” on the necessary conditions for intellectual growth (MacLean, 2003).For example, Rutter (1998) found that the mean IQ of children leaving institutional care in Romania shortly after the fall of Ceausescu was about 50 (population mean = 100). Similar results were shown with Dennis in (1973) who addressed the question of how large the cognitive delay of children in orphanages was compared to children adopted into families. He studied children who were abandoned immediately after birth and were reared in children’s homes in Lebanon.Dennis found that at age 11, the average IQ of the adopted children was within the range of normally developing children, whereas the non-adopted 11 y old orphans still living in these institutions were diagnosed as Intellectually disabled.At his followup, when they were 16, these same girls at the Zouk institution had an average IQ going just above 50. While, In a meta-analysis of 75 studies, van IJzendoorn et al. (2008) found that children living in institutional care scored on average 20 points lower on intelligence tests than children who were raised in families.”

“These later studies also revealed that the percentage of time spent in institutional care was significantly and negatively correlated with full scale IQ, verbal, and memory scores. And that 12 years of institutional care, from birth to 12 years of age, showed placement into foster care did not increase iq points .The only cognitive improvement of placing these children in foster care at age 12 -was on working memory. While the only cognitive improvements of taking the children out of the institution by 8 years old was on processing speed. “

pics for proof if you don’t believe me-

* Meaning realistically El who was in such an environment (from birth to 12 years old) may learn new things after being placed in foster care (like with Hopper or the Byers)-but her Iq would never improve to the point of being neurotypical- she’d always have an intellectual disability.

Intellectual disability

“People with intellectual and learning Disabilities may have deficits in speech production . Impairment of speech production is among the most commonly reported difficulties in children, adolescents and adults with ID . The children, including some with mild and moderate intellectual disabilities may lack in phonological development in their speech. These children also exhibit many articulatory deficits, delays in expressive language and show significant limitations in grammar and syntax development compared to those their age (without an iD). They often speak in subdued tones or use explosive voice modulations .Some speak quietly, while in others vocal intensity varied from utterance to utterance. “

“Intellectual disability is identified as mild , moderate, severe or profound.”

So, if based on average of Iq of children raised in orphanages (from birth to 11,12, or 16 years old). El would have a mild intellectual disability (and an Iq possibly around 50).Of those affected with ID, about 85% fall into the "mild" category.

Mild intellectuality disability disorder symptoms:

-”being fully independent in self-care when they get older (brushing teeth, dressing themselves, cooking, taking public transport, etc)”

-having problems with reading and writing (having math/reading skills between a 3rd- 6th grade level).

-having an IQ range of 50 to 69

-social immaturity

“Iq below 70 isn’t the only marker for diagnosis. But, also issues in adaptive functioning are usually used for diagnosis. Three areas of adaptive functioning are considered:According to the DSM-5 (APA, 2013), the signs and symptoms of adaptive functioning deficits across 3 domains (conceptual ,social and practical) for a mild intellectual disability are:

Conceptual Domain

”Slow language development (children learn to talk later, if at all). Or problems learning to talk or trouble speaking clearly.”

”Difficulties in academic learning ( such as having math/reading skills between a 3rd- 6th grade level).”

* El can read but still struggles with proper grammar ( verbally and through her writing) .She’s even reading an english-learning book. Her unsteady handwriting/ lack of apostrophes hint she’s still learning to write (despite her reading abilities) . And at 14 she doesn’t know what a state is-specifically Illinois which she visited 6 months prior.

”Difficulty understanding academic and abstract concepts of time “

*She didn’t start learning how to tell time until 12, and only seemed to master it at 14.

“childish behavior inconsistent with the child’s age.”

*14 y old El and 5 y old Holly both having a thing for teddy bears, in s3/2.

”Problems with abstract thinking, short term memory, and cognitive flexibility”. (”Abstract reasoning tasks include the ability to understand subjects on a complex level through analysis and evaluation and the ability to apply knowledge in problem-solving.”)

(”Cognitive flexibility has been described as the mental ability to switch between thinking about two different concepts, and to think about multiple concepts simultaneously.”)

*This one is a bit iffy, cause there’s a few explanations to the s3 example. El and Mike lie to their friends about her curfew.Yet the next day she is confused and says Mike wouldn’t lie to her - cause “friends don’t lie” All despite the fact she and Mike lied to Dustin, Max, Will, and Lucas the day before. So either she doesn’t understand the concept of hypocrisy because she lacks cognitive flexibility (or just doesn’t care about the hypocrisy)- aka her and Mike can lie to their friends, but she’s upset when they lie to her, (and she’s fine if Mike lies to everyone but her) ? Personally,I think she doesn’t grasp the concept of hypocrisy yet. Or she didn’t even realize she was lying and believed Mike was right about her curfew. Or bad writing. But given the concept of lying being prevalent to the season- I lean to Mike accidentally lying to her about her curfew (and El thinking her curfew was 4:00) . Or (more likely) El lies and doesn’t have the cognitive flexibility/abstract reasoning to understand that being upset Mike lied to her but not upset Mike (and her) lied to their friends is hypocritical. She also lied to Mike and pretended she didn’t hear the confession at the cabin for 3 months. She ‘forgave’ Mike but she never noticed Mike didn’t even apologize for lying just being ‘jealous of Max’ (despite lying being the thing she was upset and dumped him over in the first place). Anyways back on topic-

Social Domain

“Receptive language that may be limited to comprehension of simple speech and gestures.These students struggle to differentiate concrete and abstract concepts. Figurative language (metaphors, similes, idiomatic expressions, etc.) is typically quite confusing to them.”

“trouble understanding social cues”

“Limitations in language and communication skills.More concrete and less complex spoken language (if used), compared with peers. Limited vocabulary and grammatical skills.”

Practical Domain:

“May function age-appropriately in personal care (brushing teeth, dressing, going to the restroom etc).”

Early signs and symptoms of intellectual disability:

El has most of the signs...

-”Have trouble speaking or experiencing delays in speech, trouble understanding social norms,Challenges with problem-solving and logical thinking, Behavioral problems like extreme temper tantrums (breaking windows, pushing max, throwing food on Hopper and the girls in the mall), Having difficulty understanding the results of his or her actions (for instance like not understanding why spying on an ex is wrong).”

“If your child has ID, they may experience some of the following behavioral issues:aggression, Dependency, lack of impulse control passivity, stubbornness,low tolerance for frustration ,difficulty paying attention (She’s exhibited all of these).”

Other traits of Post institutional children

“poor self concept” (One's self-concept is a collection of beliefs about oneself. Generally, self-concept embodies the answer to "Who am I?".)

“problems with coping and regulating emotions ,poor impulse control, and aggressiveness.”

“Studies have repeatedly shown that children with disrupted attachment who have experienced neglect have problems coping and managing emotions, “

“inappropriately demanding and clinging”

“indiscriminate friendliness”

“44% of institutionalized children showed high levels of indiscriminately sociable behavior as contrasted with 18% of children who had never been institutionalized.children who were indiscriminately sociable as 8-year olds were not indiscriminately sociable toward adults as 16-year olds; however, these children were indiscriminately sociable in their relationships with peers (those their own age). Thus, it is possible that indiscriminate sociability serves as a marker of later problems in social relationships, even though manifesting differently by the teen years.That friendliness was probably an important coping technique in their socially starved early lives. What's interesting is it just doesn't go away.Indiscriminate friendliness may also be tied to the amygdala. In a study using fMRI, Aviva Olsavsky, MD, at the University of California, Los Angeles, and colleagues found that when typical children (4-14 years old) viewed photos of their mothers versus photos of strangers, the amygdala showed distinctly different responses. In children who had been institutionalized, however, the amygdala responded similarly whether the children viewed mothers or strangers. That response was particularly notable among kids who exhibited more friendliness toward strangers. Attachment and behavior problems, indiscriminate friendliness, and lower IQ seem to go together in the same children.”

(We have to admit she attached herself rather quickly to Max, and Kali after only a few days, same goes for Mike and the boys she knew for only a week).

“cognitive delays, particularly speech and language deficits.” (we’ve covered that)

“quasi autism (is a term used to describe autistic-like difficulties and traits following very severe social deprivation in the first year of life.) About 10 % percent of the children adopted from Romanian orphanages after 6 months of age were diagnosed with autism sometime in childhood. And of those who stayed in the institution to age 11, 8.5% with an IQ >50 , fit the “quasi-autism” profile (meaning they fit some but not all autistic traits). The results showed children with ‘autistic features’ usually experienced longer durations of severe psychological privation, than other orphans.”

El does have a few traits that some people on the spectrum have.

-” Many children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) use echolalia, which means they repeat others' words or sentences. They might repeat the words of familiar people (parents, teachers, friends), or they might repeat sentences from their favorite video.”

(X)

-”Some children with ASD also have delayed speech and language skills.some children are even selectively mute. “

- ”Talk in a flat, robot-like tone” (obviously not all asd people. But I do think El’s voice in conversation can often be quite monotone).

- Many autistic girls on the spectrum also have disordered eating patterns . This can include simply eating the same foods over and over again (cough her eggo obsession). And although “disorder eating” and “eating dis*rders” are different.”Previous research has found that autism and eating disorders can occur together, as 20-30% of adults with eating dis*rders have autism (despite being only 2.2% of the US population).”

-“Has obsessive interests” (her whole room is covered in Mike related stuff like he’s her special interest- my gay ass has no idea if a whole room covered in bf related stuff is ‘straight little girl normal’ or a bit obsessive- but I lean to the latter, especially when compared to Max’s room XD)

-” difficulty understanding social cues .” (covered that)

- “And she is sensitive to certain noises (thunder etc)”

Alright, thanks for listening. Of course, this analysis is if the Duffers went the realistic route-which I do lean to them doing. One of the stephen King movies “dream catcher” was cited as inspiration for Stranger things . It even had a boy with ID who spoke in broken english, carried around stuffed animals, and had the superpower of being able to track people (just like El) . And he retained broken english/his interest in stuffed animals in adulthood.Of course her fitting the psych criteria I listed could have other explanations.El can most certainly learn and improve in academic skills, language, and social skills even with an Intellectual disability. But honestly, even if El had an Iq of 160 she would (at least initially) struggle tremendously given the lack of education and neglect/ab*se she’s dealt with.But, I’m excited to see El gain independence as she learns more about herself and the real world (and maybe heal from some of her tr*uma).

But if we’re talking academically-she doesn’t know basic geography or what a state is at 14.She’s still learning how to speak and write with correct grammar at 14.She only just mastered how to tell time at 14 . Does she even know how to add, subtract, multiple, and divide, let alone algebra (knowledge needed for highschool) ? Or basic science knowledge also needed ? No way would she’d be ready to go to highschool in s3 (like the others already attending, during the ending-time skip). If we were being realistic- she’d be held back a few years and or in remedial classes, or special school, etc. The kids in middle or highschool who don’t know her circumstances wouldn’t be understanding of why she has little knowledge of social norms, expressions, language issues,etc. El has only interacted with 4 kids her own age for 3 months (9 months with Mike) and was in a year of isolation with Hopper (being taught social norms via tv- which is not the best teacher) .This was hardly ‘typical socialization for a kid her age’. Unlike, the rest of the gang who interacts with many kids on a daily basis.How will she be in an environment with this many kids? I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sadly bullied.Regardless, I’m looking forward to El’s character arc of trying to assimilate to the ‘real world’ as she grows into her own person-most likely there’s some good in her journey and not just bullies along the way. :)

#el hopper #jane ives #stranger things

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theanxiousstudentblog · 3 years

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What I've learned from the first year of university: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Three years later than expected, I finished my first year of university. At first, admittedly, it didn't feel like much; I submitted my final assignment, logged off of my student account, and went to watch the new series of The Real Housewives. It wasn't until a few weeks had passed that I was finally hit with how much this milestone meant to me and all the emotions that came with finally getting through the first academic year as a university student. This may not seem like a big achievement to some (I remember how in sixth form we were always made to believe that the first year of university was a piece of cake and way easier than A-levels) but, for me, it has been a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs. These emotions and thoughts are what have inspired me to write this post, specifically the feeling that university can be very very different from what you expect.

How I got here.

When I was younger, one of my sole dreams was to go to university. This may have seemed odd to some as I suffered from extreme anxiety when I was younger and actually refused to go to school between the ages of 7 and 9. However, it was never the academic side of schooling that worried me but the social side and being away from my family. I loved learning and I knew that I wanted to take my academic career to the highest possible level I could. The idea that I could pick any subject that I was interested in and do a whole course solely centered on teaching me as much as I could absorb was infatuating to me. It was for this reason that I spent so much effort making sure that I achieved good grades, despite my time off. I had my sights set on a prestigious university in London and in 2018 I received an offer to study there. However, instead of feeling excited about my future, I was engulfed with a feeling of dread. Unfortunately, due to events in my private life, my anxiety which had previously been kept under control by CBT and medication began to skyrocket. I would later learn that I developed complex PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) during this time. For the sake of keeping this blog post to a somewhat reasonable length, I will keep this account brief by saying that these difficulties eventually led to me pulling out of the London university and I decided to go to a local uni closer to home after taking a year off for my mental health (for a more detailed account you can look at one of my previous IG posts published 24/05/20).

Expectations vs...

I was excited for what awaited me at my local university; it was close enough to see my family whenever I wanted but still gave me the independence that I felt I needed to grow. Moving day came and went and it seemed to be going pretty smoothly, albeit some hiccups that came with my anxiety. It is important to note that I gave the university's wellbeing service a heads-up about my conditions before moving in so, at first, I felt confident that if I had any issues they would be able to work through them with me. However, over the next couple of weeks, my anxiety grew and grew, finally reaching its peak when my housemate turned around to me and told me that I needed to shut it about my mental health issues and stop hanging out with her. This triggered a major episode in my PTSD and I suddenly felt like I was spiraling out of control. However, despite my attendance beginning to drop and the multiple times I was having to leave lectures early due to panic attacks, I still sustained a level of confidence that my university would be able to give me the reasonable adjustments that the wellbeing team had spoken to me about before starting the term. Sure, they hadn't got back to my emails with any tangible support in weeks, but they couldn't just leave me like this...could they? All throughout my schooling, I was made to believe that educational settings were environments where any appetite to learn was nurtured and fed; education meant an opportunity to achieve anything you worked hard enough for, despite your background, disability, or start in life. Wouldn't universities be the ultimate conceptualization of this meritocracy?

Reality

Unfortunately, this vision would be quickly shattered by the stark reality of my treatment by my head of department and the well-being team. I go into more detail about this treatment in the IG post mentioned previously, but in summary I was given two choices: I get my attendance back to 100% with no support/reasonable adjustments from the university, or I leave/defer until I was "better". There was no comprehension from the uni that this wouldn't have a definable recovery date; I've been dealing with long-term mental illness since I was a child and it is something I've learned to live with alongside the appropriate support. To wait until I was "better" would potentially mean waiting forever. On top of that, I went out of my way to prove to my department that I was keeping up with my work and had achieved top marks on the most recent assignment but little recognition was given to my current grades. From the weeks since I started at university I'd met multiple people who had little passion in their subject or who were just at university because they thought it was what they should do. No hate to these people (I think the pressure young people face to go to university is a whole 'nother issue in itself) but I couldn't help but compare myself to them. The university didn't care that they had a whole student population of disillusioned young people who were indifferent to their academic fields but drew the line at a motivated student who suffered from mental illness. It became clear this wasn't an environment for people like me who were simply viewed as a wrench in the works. In December 2019, I was given no other option but to drop out of my university.

Starting again and the lessons I have learned

What was the worst blow to my mental health? Being kicked out because of my mental health...Having to leave university was a massive blow to my self-esteem and I began to catastrophize what that meant for my future. Luckily I had my family for support and my mum pushed me to look into the Open University, an institution based on distance learning. I enrolled part-time for the start of February (unfortunately I had missed the cohort to start full-time) and decided to focus on my therapy. This actually worked out great for me as in 2020 I was diagnosed with PTSD and started EMDR so being a part-time student gave me enough space to process the emotions that came up in my treatment. The Open University has been so helpful in making sure my needs are met and I have been so grateful to finally find an inclusive learning environment. It is definitely not how I planned to be experiencing university and I still do feel some disappointment in not getting the full "student experience" but it has also taught me some valuable lessons and given me a new insight into how far our education system still needs to go. These are the things I have learned:

Education isn't about degrees or academic prestige. Education is about a person's desire to learn, whether that be through books or the sheer act of being. Everyone requires different conditions to which they need to learn and thrive, and unfortunately, many academic institutions tend to expect us all to be cut from the same cloth. Despite this, no one can take away your passion to learn, and as long as you're living, you are learning.

There can be no equality without equity. The truth is people enter schooling from all different backgrounds and circumstances and it is not enough for institutions to treat everyone the same. In terms of mental health, many people are quick to say they recognise that mental illness can be just as debilitating as physical illness however until they put the actions and policies into place to make environments more tolerant and accessible then their words mean nothing. This means taking the time to talk to individual students about what they require and realise that the most important thing that a university can do is create a place where EVERYONE can learn. Schooling creates the foundations on which the future of our society is built and the fact that inclusion is barely making it on the blueprint is scary to me.

COVID has shown that in this digital age, attendance ISN'T everything. If only I could go back to that final meeting with my head of department and tell him that in a few months time everyone's attendance would be at 0%! Seriously though, this is a wake-up call to how simple accessibility can be if you just invest in a good digital learning platform that allows for people who can't attend in person to still be included.

You can be an academic and still put your mental health first. Despite what my first university led me to believe, my time at the OU has shown me that you do not have to sacrifice one over another. In fact, it has shown me that my mental health recovery and student journey can work hand-in-hand, encouraging each other along.

But most importantly...

It has shown me that despite the pressure to make your university years fit into a nice, neat package of fun, good grades, and self-enlightenment, it most likely won't happen like that. That's okay, let it go and keep moving.

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summerstardust · 4 years

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Did You Miss Me? Part 4

Dhawan!Master x Reader - Previous Missy x Reader

Summary: The Reader finally copes with the loss of Missy, and now The Master, thanks to their TARDIS. Did You Miss Me? Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of character death and alcohol

Word Count: 3290

The Doctor had let you keep The Master's TARDIS, piloting it into your apartment, making it look like an ordinary old wardrobe in case of visitors. You requested that she land the TARDIS parallel to the wall that faced your bed, so the ship would always be watching over you. Surprisingly, given The Doctor’s recent reluctance to let you get close to the current regeneration of The Master, The Doctor understood how there was no place like home. Despite The Doctor seemingly understanding that you needed the comfort of The Master’s main possession, she and the fam tried to reach out and keep in touch with you an annoying amount of times, but you became very flaky in responding to them. You didn’t feel comfortable with them anymore. You decided to put yourself into your work and school, however, eventually making friends with some people there, but probably not to the extent The Doctor wished.

You understood that standing with The Master was questionable, but you knew, where The Doctor and the fam did not, that The Master would never force you to take part in his schemes. The last moment you were face to face with the fam and The Doctor was when they took you back to your apartment after the events of the Kassavin. You could see, then, that they were disapproving of your relationship with The Master. You would rather spend time with those who could at least try to understand your feelings for The Master and his feelings for you, instead of blindly following The Doctor’s view of him. SO you just decide to ignore their demeaning remark to The Master and your relationship with you.

You didn’t need The Master to tell you that he was acting out because of something. You assumed that it had to do with being left behind by The Doctor on that adventure where you were not present, causing Missy to regenerate into this new Master. But when he spoke of knowledge he had gathered on the subject of Gallifrey’s founding, you didn’t question his acts because you knew of his past and the trauma that was inflicted on him and even The Doctor by the elders of the planet. The Doctor didn’t inform the fam about her past, you could tell when you bring up something about Gallifrey or the Timelords or The Master, and they looked onward to you, confused but intrigued. It was difficult to not find The Doctor’s secret keeping annoying, only making your wish to stay away from that environment increase with each passing day.

With the lack of communication with the fam and The Doctor, and little involvement with people at your school and job, you and the TARDIS became very close. She would brighten up when you were near, the both of you grieving over the same individual. She was used to The Master’s changes and schemes that could get out of hand and leave her stranded, but she knew how you were not accustomed to this lifestyle. Missy, if she were to ever get lost, once she found her TARDIS she would always fly back to when she last saw you. From your perspective, it was always the same Missy, but to her, sometimes it was a couple of months since she last saw you, in extreme cases it would be years. When The Doctor has brought her back to Earth within the Vault, it had been almost fifty years since she last saw you.

The Master has obviously watched over you as O and during the 77 years stay on Earth, but unfortunately for him and his relationship with you he was more absentminded than Missy, resulting in him getting lost in his schemes and not landing back at the most available time. So it was now the TARDIS’s responsibility to look after you.

After a rough and stressful day at university, you went searching through the TARDIS, trying to find The Master’s bedroom. The TARDIS had led you to multiple doors, purposefully leading you to them, but also not letting you stay too long in the first few because there was still more to show you. The first was your private room from right after Missy told you who she really was, she gave you the opportunity to go to that room later whenever you felt overwhelmed and needed alone time. The second was the room you and Missy shared whenever you would stay in her TARDIS compared to your apartment at school or family home. The third room was the room you stayed in O’s Australian home, in the exact same state you left it in, messy bed and all.

The final room the TARDIS led you to was The Master’s, it was much larger than the previous rooms combined. It housed a cluttered desk, a large, four poster bed covered in purple and black blankets and pillows and purple curtains, and tall bookcases covering the walls. A ladder leading up to an open attic layer in the corner of the room caught your eye. Curiosity got the better of you, and an extra push from the TARDIS, caused you to climb the ladder. The room was dark, but clean and filled with large trunks neatly labeled in Gallifreyan. You tried to understand the circular writing, but to no avail. Some words were comprehensible, thanks to what the TARDIS had taught you, but not enough. So you decided to just open the trunk closest to the attic opening.

Inside, you found Missy’s old clothes. She rarely let you wear any of the items, only when she was protective of you or jealous of a stranger getting too close to you, or when the two of you were intimate, would she let you borrow one of her coats. With the latter circumstances she might have let you borrow one of her corsets. Generally, however, she preferred to see you wearing clothes that she commissioned for you, still allowing her to be possessive, but making you more comfortable in an outfit perfectly designed to your figure.You quickly shuffled off your top and replaced it with Missy’s purple coat, it was always your favorite. You dug through the trunk, moving away more clothing items until you found a couple of small, ornate boxes.

Inside the boxes, there were various items. It took you a moment to realize that these were all mementos of your time together. One of the boxes, larger than the others, was filled with multiple journals and bound photographs of the pair of you. You packed up the small boxes and carried them out to your room, still wrapped up in Missy’s coat.

You stacked up the journals in chronological order, the oldest on top, then removed the ties holding the photographs together. You noticed very quickly that all of the photos were taken on either your phone or one of your cameras. There was one outlier, however, which was a photo of you glaring at Missy who you remembered was trying to prove to you that her alien camera technology was better than your primitive human technology. You didn’t really respond to her taunting, you liked and were used to your human belongings, but were open to the new science you were being introduced to on a daily basis. But you grew shocked when you found photos that you had never seen before contained within the stacks Missy had collected. There were pictures of you asleep in your arms, or you when you were working on your homework or art, or even you doing everyday chores in your apartment. On the back of each photograph, you could read Missy’s elegant handwriting describing the photo and the date it was taken.

As you delved deeper into the contents of the boxes, rereading miscellaneous notes and letters from you and gifts you had given her, your home phone rang, but you let it go to voicemail, more consumed by Missy’s memories. You forgot about the answering machine message on your home phone until you heard it, it was Missy’s voice, “Why hello, lovely Human! You seem to be calling at an inconvenient time, turns out the owner of this home is in the middle of a very private act” she audibly gasped before laughing. You heard a younger version of yourself yelling at Missy to put the phone down. Missy only continued to laugh at the younger you’s shocked attitude before saying, “Do whatever it is you Humans do on this primitive device.” You don’t know why you never changed the outgoing message. The mementos the TARDIS let you see plus this moment of actually hearing Missy’s voice again broke you. You couldn’t hold back the tears streaming down your face, even with the reassuring beeps emanating from the TARDIS. The only thing that broke your concentration was the person calling you.

“Hi, Y/N.” It was Yaz. “I tried calling your mobile, but you didn’t answer. The Doctor said that this was your home number. I just wanted to check in and see how you were.” You weren’t going to respond, at least not yet. You would just say that you were busy with school work. Missy was the only important thing right now, especially when you had the opportunity to read her words and encounter her thoughts and beliefs again.

You opened the journal you had placed on the top of the stack, the first date recorded being the day your first met. She wrote of when she first saw you often, constantly referencing back to that moment well into the journal, always referencing how she knew she needed you from that date, how everything you did caught her eye. How quietly you entered the shop Missy was working at in an attempt to be seen as human, how you shyly searched the aisles, moving out of the way and turning your head down to stare at the floor whenever another person would pass you. She described you as young, you were. You were barely old enough to drink when you met Missy. But she could see something within you that was not present in other people your age she would come into contact with. She was the person who was attending the cash register when you finally retrieved all of the items you wished to buy. You recalled how flirty she was toward you, as you read how she loved seeing your cheeks grow warm and red as you would bashfully giggle and look toward your feet. You had left the shop with a hopeful Missy declaring that the two of you would see each other again. You were unaware, until you returned to your dorm room, of the note Missy had snuck into one of your shopping bags containing her number.

You hesitated when responding, no one had ever expressed any interest in you before and you were naive and unaware of how to go about this without seeming desperate or juvenile. You read Missy’s account, how hopeful she was, how she saw something special in you and she didn’t want to be disappointed. She wrote how anxious she became when you never contacted her, that was definitely something to learn. You had never really seen Missy as anxious, she hid it very well except when pressed.

You remember thinking that it would be better to confront Missy in person, rather than call her. So, despite not needing anything, you ventured out to the shop to look for her. You saw her eyes light up when she saw you, but she quickly put on a face of confidence. She asked what it was that you were intending on buying today, but you quickly told her that you weren’t here for anything to buy. Then you quietly asked if there was a time when she was free so the two of you could talk. Missy noted in her jornal that if anyone else was on the receiving end of your statement, they would have assumed that you were disappointed or annoyed or about to tell them off because of your tone. However, Missy was able to read you well, and knew that you were just shy.

Once her shift was over, she took you to a fancy restaurant, too fancy for the everyday clothes you were wearing. She paid for everything, not worried about the money. You looked around the restaurant occasionally, everyone appeared to be a powerful business person or politician, you couldn’t help but wonder why they were not glaring at you and Missy for your daily wear . WHen you turned back to Missy, she always wore a knowing smile that simultaneously scared you but drew you in. You wanted to know what she knew.

After your meal, Missy asked if you would like to come home with her. You were hesitant, having had a couple of glasses of wine already, but you eventually agreed. Her home was quaint, but incredibly elegant. More elegant, you assumed, than what a home owned by a shopkeep would have. She led you through her home, briefly stopping in her kitchen to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of wine similar in price to the one she ordered in the restaurant, she then showed you to her room. You stopped in the doorway, worried by what Missy wanted.

When she turned around, wondering why your footsteps stopped, she laughed when she saw your scared face. She stopped and sighed saying sweetly that the two of you would only do what you were comfortable with. She only led you here because her chairs and sofas were more for appearance rather than comfort and her bed was the only comfortable place in the home. On later occasions when you sat in those chairs, you agreed with her and said that she should think about comfortable furniture in the future. Which could explain O’s Australian home and then his console room and the abundance of sofas available. The night ended by you drunkenly falling asleep in her bed beside Missy’s adoring face. You awoke, however, alone, but to the smell of various breakfast food. Before you could get out of bed and meet her in the kitchen to help her with the food, Missy carried in a large tray containing various foods for the both of you. She forced you to eat and manage your hangover, even though you said that you were fine and she didn’t need to do this, but she insisted. After eating, Missy gathered up some clothes that were magically your size and allowed you to shower before she drove you to your school building. Before leaving the car, you made sure that you enjoyed your evening and that if she wanted it, you would like to continue seeing Missy. She smiled brightly before leaning in to place a sweet kiss to your lips before saying that she would love that and she would pick you up in a couple of days. Looking back on it, this moment felt so long ago, both you and The Master had changed so much since then, how the two of you grew together.

Going over these events and reading them through Missy’s words, you couldn’t help but see similarities between how she treated you and how The Master treated you. Eventually your mind wandered from Missy’s memories and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have mementos with her new regeneration. Would he push away your camera when you want a picture, or would he strut and pose like Missy did? From what you had read, Missy cared about you more than anyone else, but she was quite reserved emotionally and tried to stay stoic and and constantly expressing the essence of regalia to keep you in a constant state of flustered bashfulness. She loved seeing your blush. Would The Master? Would his new regeneration try to separate his feelings, or would he let you see all of him, even the broken parts. You were shocked when you read how long Missy would be away from you on some occasions and how you were so unaware of what Missy had been though. You remembered Missy just falling in your arms on some nights, and you figured that a failed adventure or scheme would explain that. You wondered how long it would take The Master to come back. You hoped that it would be no where near 77 years. You wish you had known of Missy’s collection, how intense her love was for you, and how much she did to protect you and keep you safe from her past. You might have acted differently around The Master, stronger and more forceful in protecting him, because he needed to be cared for too.

You hoped that The Master was safe. Despite fear present in The Master’s eyes before he was taken by the Kassavin, you believed that he was still alive. You had to believe that he was still alive. Other than the TARDIS, the thoughts of him being alive was all you had. You hated how short your time together was. Reminiscing on the few days of knowing O and this new incarnation of The Master, you knew that he not only loved you, but loved you deeply. You, as a Human, had very little understanding of the effects of regeneration, however, you imagined that a love carrying on through the change of every cell in a body was a big deal.

You removed your mind from your sadness over him and brought yourself back to reading Missy’s journals. You were currently reading about how she loved to watch you sleep, cradled in her arms and pressed flush against her body. She said that in those moments time stopped, the outside world didn’t exist. It was the two of you in a cocoon of love, acceptance and big fluffy blankets. Your moment with O in his Australian home popped into your mind when you read that, despite you wanting to focus on Missy. This would explain why you saw his eyes lite up so brightly when you asked him to stay with you that night. You wished that The Master had listened to you to take a break when looking for The Doctor, then the two of you could have had a moment alone. If all you did was take a nap together, at least the both of you would have some time alone away from the stress The Doctor placed on your relationship.

But you became distracted when you heard a loud bang come from outside your bedroom window. You quickly rushed over to see what could have made the noise, but from where you were there was nothing below your apartment window that could have been the source of the sound. You returned to where you were sitting on your bed. You continued to search through Missy’s old journal and the photographs, reminiscing on the positive moments you had with her.

You ended up falling asleep whilst reading Missy’s journal, still wrapped in her purple coat, having reached her accounts of the events that occurred after Missy revealed who she truly was to you. You slept soundly that night, which had been an unusual occurrence since you lost The Master again. But finding these artifacts of your time with the love of your life calmed your mind. You now had something to remember her by, along with The Master’s TARDIS, these items were a comfort to have in this time of grieving. However, in your heavy sleep, you were left unaware of the shadowy figure watching you from the balcony outside your window.

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #the master #the master imagine #the master x reader #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #missy #missy imagine #missy x reader #fanfiction #request #personal post

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mc-critical · 3 years

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Asking because I’ve seen you say it on here: What is it that you disliked about Mahifiruze and Aysë as characters (writing or otherwise?)

It's not a problem of sympathy alone, because while these characters have quite a few offputting qualities and have certainly done some heinous deeds, it would be unfair to judge them only by that. There are way worse people in the franchise, which turn me off way more, after all. (*cough* MCK Turhan *cough*) Sympathy-wise, I'm overally ambivalent towards both Ayşe and Mahfiruze and if we only take that into account, I can take or leave them. It's their writing, however, where things take a different turn. Almost everything went wrong there.

The critical problem I find with both of the characters is that they're engrained in one and the same character archetype the writers refuse to get them out of. That brings harm not only to their characterization and the way they're built up, but also to the sympathy we're supposed to feel for them, because, more often than not, it didn't have a ground to stand on. It's true that archetypes often risk to make a character bland and one-dimensional, but the way they went with it is strange and unfortunate, because this all could've been averted quickly.

Magnificent Century's character core is mostly built on archetypes of a soapy drama and Magnificent Century: Kösem seemed to be following that trend. I understand that choice, in a way, because well, it could've just been easier for them, they could've thought they would win their former MC audience once again, playing it "familiar" and "safe". Thing is, the whole franchise overally does pretty well with archetypes: they either subvert them, deconstruct them or break them entirely later, either (in the case of MCK where we saw many previously established MC archetypes) use them with some core conceptual changes and a different theme in mind, which, as far as writing goes, worked very well with many characters. (see: Dervish - Ibrahim; Dilruba - Mihrimah; Atike - Mihrimah; Davud - Rustem, etc.) The thing is though, the writers didn't give Ayşe and Mahfiruze any of that and their archetypes felt like they only were in the beggining line, going almost nowhere beyond that and making the characters feel very often as cardboard cutouts as a result. They're going with archetypes, but they somehow give only a single fraction of these archetypes to figures that play a relatively big role in the story.

Comparisons to other usages of the character archetype of Mahfiruze and Ayşe's help even less, because everything now not only turned out to be a bad concept, but and a shaky, underdeveloped attempt at something done way better before. Mahfiruze and Ayşe both fit in Mahidevran's early season 1 archetype - the rejected, jealous woman, previously valued and loved by the Sultan, which loses everything quickly, planning and ready to do anything to take the rival down, including petty sneers, irrational decisions and will for murder. But even at its worst, Mahidevran's characterization was balanced overall, having moments where we could sympathize or condemn her respectively and had character fleshing out come to the surface as often as the reducement to this one sole archetype, which was lacking severely in Ayşe and Mahfiruze. I'll talk about the similarities they share with Mahidevran only briefly when I analyze them, because I'm admittedly very biased when it comes to this (especially with the double standarts I encounter with the YT comments, where the same people judge Mahidevran and Ayşe by the exact same metric and yet, they love one and can trash the other all day, eh.) and I don't want that to take over the topic at hand so much.

Mahfiruze has the problems I listed above to a much lesser extent than Ayşe, but that doesn't mean they're not present at all. She has a very familiar character role and personality - she is a mother to the eldest heir of the throne and gives jabs and insults to her rival. And.. that's all there is. It's undeniable than Dilara Aksuek's Mahfiruze definetly had a tough act to follow, since the former Mahfiruz screamed potential and promise the latter character was expected to fulfill, but they did the barest possible minimum. (and I don't think Dilara's a bad actress by any means: she acted amazingly in the show Istambullu Gelin as Ipek, an arguably similar and much better written character.) It definitely felt as more of a regression than a progression, because Mahfiruze had no fleshing out or development at all. Her meanness to Kösem seemed central to her character, she barely had any interactions with the rest of the cast and what is worse, used her as a plot device for a plot-line with Ahmet's enemies and then when her role was fulfilled, they.. killed her off just like that without any warning or elaboration. She was the very definition of a one-dimensional obstacle to Kösem that seemed to exist only for the sake to be an obstacle to Kösem. It was as if she didn't matter. And when she did, it was only as a narrative instrument to stir the conflict between Kösem and Osman (which I find very interesting, but I feel it would've been way more impactful if Mahfiruze wasn't only... this.) It was as if the writers ran out of stuff to do with her, which is a very lazy copout for me, because she could've had interesting storylines, if only they just wished to "shake up" the traits of her archetype for a bit.

Ayşe's character is where this repetitive problem shines through the brightest. We can argue that the love triangle plot and Farya's Mary Sue stance ruined it all for her from the get go, but for me, the foundation of her character is what truly did. Ayşe wasn't used simply as a plot device as much, she wasn't even underutilized at all, she was put into an archetype which undermines how different she is as a character in practice and the greatly dissimilar circumstances she's under. They tried to fit Mahidevran's S01 archetype in an environment it would never do in the first place. It not only becomes a stagnant, more over exaggerated repetition of a concept and forces unnecessary drama to prop another character up, it way too often puts a sole angle of Ayşe's character into focus, making Farya the center of her writing. Not to mention that for long, we didn't have a cohesive reason to root for her, her early love for Murat being the thing that was the least fleshed out about her and could make her too obsessive and yandere at times. Her interactions are criminally underdeveloped, as well, and unlike Mahfiruze, that could honestly be cut shorter except for Osman, they were something Ayşe desperately needed. We got only hints of her relationship with Kösem, Silahtar and Gevherhan and that was far from enough. Most of her scenes were either with her maid or Farya. Her alliances with Gülbahar and Sinan respectively were... fine interarion-wise, to be honest, but writing-wise, they only enforced the fairly consistent endorsement of the soapy aspect of her character beyond any measure.

Now, I can't doubt the development in her later episodes, where the writing admittedly improved. I'll always love her scene before the death of Gevherhan and her message to Murat, because that's the Ayşe I wish I saw more often. The self-awareness she gained of how Murat screwed her over was amazing and something I wish happened more gradually and over the span of more episodes. But it was all somehow "too little, too late" for me and it didn't completely save her messy writing. And it's a crime, because Ayşe played a much bigger role than Mahfiruze in the narrative, she was basically a main character and she got robbed of a good, organic fleshing out and arc.

Ayşe was the most egregious example of the severe flawed writing of repetitive archetypes and catch me forever mad about it, because she could've been much more. It's a mistake that had no business being there at all. And it was anyway.

#magnificent century #magnificent century kosem #magnificent century kösem #ayse sultan #mahfiruze sultan #ask #stuffandthangs

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (10)

Chapter 10: A Home Away | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Cal Kestis x Fem! OC

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

11 of ?

The maintenance droids only needed an hour to prepare a dorm for Irele within the command ship. Not that she would need a personal room in every ship she boards, but it would help if she did in the near future. The human guards did not need to wait for Irele to come to, they barged into the cell, pulled the poor girl by the arm to stand her up and then drag her out of the prison block while she could barely use her own two feet.

Irele’s eyes have not adjusted to the changing tones and gradients of lights of each part of the ship she passes through. She thought she said the question “Where are we going?” when the guards only heard an incoherent groaning at the throat.

The way from the prison block to her new chambers was a ten-minute walk, if one marched faster it would have been lesser. Upon reaching their destination, only one escorted her into her room and sat her down on the bed—to which she immediately fell limp and ended up lying down instead. While she was out cold, a nanny droid entered her bedroom to tend to whatever it can in the quarters; it took its time, in fact, until the girl came to. The droid’s sensors picked up the spike from Irele’s heart rate from slow to normal, it briskly turned around.

“It is fortunate that you’ve come to, milady. The serum from the probe has completely worn off. Should you feel slight nausea, do not be alarmed for it is normal as well. I can administer some painkillers to you with your choice of pill or syrup.”

The droid is programmed to speak in Basic and had a rather lulling, female voice—perhaps the most appropriate if you are to manufacture and program a droid for nursing.

“Milady? What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you?”

“You are here as a ward under the strict order of Master Vader. I am HY-L33, Nanny Droid,” it brought its head into a bow, “At your service, Milady Irele.”

“Why call me Milady when I’m kept hostage here?” she sits up and examines the room.

“Oh, you are mistaken, Milady. You are Lord Vader’s ward,” HY-L33 corrects. “And I have been tasked to take care of your basic needs and whims, if need be.”

“What I need is to go home! I don’t like being holed up in anywhere!”

The nurse droid lowered its head slowly, it stayed like so for a moment; with a rather sympathetic voice, HY-L33 responds, “I’m sorry, but I am incapable of fulfilling that whim, milady. I would suggest that you make yourself comfortable in this new one.”

Irele sighed, knowing that she’s talking to a wall here. She gave herself time to calm down and breathe. She passed her hands across her face and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be lashing out to you…” Irele inhaled. “What are you called again?”

“HY-L33, madam.”

Irele quietly parroted the name, “That’s a mouthful. How about I call you Haylee, is that alright?”

“If it proves to be more convenient for you, milady. Although personally, I do adore the name you’ve given me.”

Irele hummed as she managed a small smile, she hinted the chirp from the droid’s voice, relieved that she found some company out of the droid in this inorganic, cold room, she walked around to get a better feel of it now that the serum from the interrogation droid has worn off.

“Say, Haylee, do you know where we are?”

“We are aboard the command ship Anathema, the ship is within the Ulgoro system, and we are passing by the orbit of the planet Yelen.”

“How far are we from Tatooine?”

Haylee ran a quick scan from her processors, “We are approximately twenty-five parsecs away from the said Outer Rim planet.”

Irele breathed deeply, her heart sank, “That’s so far away…”

The droid’s photoreceptors picked up Irele’s increased heart rate and temperature. The girl was manifesting signs of anxiety: shivering hands, failing voice, and cold sweat.

“You are suffering from homesickness. Unfortunately, I do not have the appropriate medication for that, milady. Neither can I administer any medication for you. This is absolutely natural as you have been extracted from your real home to your current location.”

Irele took the deepest sigh and made a mantra.

Don’t lash out on the droid, you just screamed at it ten minutes ago.

She told this to herself mentally until she’s calmed herself down.

“Yeah, I am homesick. I left my family behind and…” she trailed off, realizing that the last people she was with were her friends. “My friends. They must be all worried sick about me.”

“You will be well taken care of here, Lady Irele.”

“Heh,” the girl huffed. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Irele.”

“As you wish… Mistress Irele.”

“Droids, gotta love ‘em…” she mumbled very quietly, knowing how acute droids’ hearing could be—depending on the model, that is.

–

Fortunately enough, Irele is indeed being taken care of.

Ever since she was moved to her own chambers in the Star Destroyer Anathema, she was thoroughly pampered—more or less—than anyone else in the ship, aside from Darth Vader. Never has she ever been well-fed in sixteen years! The serving portions were generous and they were quite tasty, but she had her moments where the food somewhat reminded her of home.

A uniformed officer enters Vader’s quarters to report of Irele’s adjustment to the new environment. Most of the officers feared that they’re speaking like a broken record, reporting the same thing to Vader every week—they had probably imagined it vexed him to be hearing the same thing over and over; it did them little comfort when adding their own personal observations of her such as asking for seconds with her food and interacting with the nanny droid, since she’s still shy and cautious from everyone else on board.Additionally, she was not yet allowed to wander off alone beyond her room. So, by all means, she is pretty much a hostage still—a rather pampered one, at the very least.

“Has she stopped her erratic behavior?”

“Fortunately so, Lord Vader, she has. Perhaps about a week and a half since her extraction, she had become somewhat… docile.”

Vader paused. He had presumed it was the effects of the interrogator droid’s syringe, but surely during the time the nanny droid was tending to the girl, the substance has flushed out since. Realizing that he truly knows nothing of what kind of person Irele is—compared from his earliest reference of her—he sighs with a quiet frustration under his mask.

“Very well. We are right on schedule. Carry on, captain.”

“Yes sir,” the captain bowed and dismissed himself militarily. His true posture showed when he rejoined his companion who had been waiting for him by the door. He hissed, “I didn’t conscript myself to the Imperial Fleet to be a babysitter!”

“Be more frustrated when Lord Vader does appoint you the official babysitter of the girl.”

“She’s quite a handful, don’t you think so?”

“Temperamental, to say the least,”

Only Vader and the droid, HY-L33, know what’s in store for Irele. Very soon, the plans for her life under the Empire’s wing—unknowingly under her brother’s care, or the walking shell of him perhaps—will be put into play.

For many weeks, HY-L33 patiently watched over Irele—especially in the medical aspect—and a mandate was programmed into her that once a diagnosis of the teenager would show optimum by the end of three weeks since her extraction from Tatooine, Irele would be considered physically eligible and be subjected to training. Eventually, HY-L33 was the only companion she has ever had in this ship since day one; so in exchange for medical knowledge and advice from HY-L33, Irele repays it with stories from her homeworld of Tatooine, but knowing that the droid is under Imperial property, she was cautious of what she ought to say, and rather told her adventures she had done on her own or with a friend instead of her family life.

“It seems as though your rigorous lifestyle has contributed to your increased stamina throughout your developmental stage.” HYL-33 commented once while listening to Irele recall one job she did where she would deliver goods door-to-door across the town of Mos Espa.

“Yeah well, I had to work. Because if I didn’t work, that just meant, I’ll be sleeping hungry—or if I’m lucky, with a half-full stomach.”

HY-L33, being the medical nanny droid that she is, went on to lecture Irele that it was ill-advised to sleep on an empty stomach for it will cause ulcers. The girl politely listened and heeded the advice, until she calmed down the droid that she had been fine for the rest of the time she was growing up.

She had only been staying for a week and a half. HY-L33’s sensors indicate a lesser trace of homesickness and anxiety within Irele, her body mass index has not changed drastically at all since her food intake was increased rather than imposing an eating strike—a few of HY-L33’s references cite that most human teenagers are more rebellious, especially when it comes to being fed after being thrown into a stressful situation. However, this was not the case with Irele, which made the nurse droid’s circuits cooler.

Eventually, the three weeks were over. Irele noticed HY-L33 seeming to be in full preparation. She did not mind this, but kept a close eye, until she could find the right timing to ask. After lunch, Irele went to the bath by rote, and quickly dressed herself in a dark gray shirt, black pants, and low boots.

Irele could truly sense something different in their routine.

“Haylee?”

“Yes, Miss Irele?”

“Is there something new added into the routine?”

“Yes, Miss Irele, we are about to perform a full health assessment on you. Please follow me and I will escort you to the medical ward.”

This was the first time Irele had been outside of her bedroom. For three weeks, she had been holed up in that metal room with no one and nothing else but HY-L33—to which she had grown fond of anyway—and then she finally comes out for a medical check-up.

Along the way, she could not look into the eyes of the crew, although she perfectly blended in with her gray and black clothes. She was nervous and afraid of what they’re thinking of her—because she felt like she knows what they’re saying about her, it’s a feeling that she can’t explain but it still manifests in her. Eager to avoid the stares and attention, Irele walked directly behind HY-L33 until they got to the said medical ward.

When they got there, the interior of the medical ward was a little bit brighter than most of the rooms in the ship. The walls were still metal, of course, but it was a cooler shade of gray which somewhat eased the people who are admitted and confined here—instead of the intimidating dark grays and blacks on other parts of the ship. At the center of operations was a 2-1B surgical droid stationed by a medical bed; it was approached by HY-L33 and Irele, when the droid’s photoreceptors saw the girl’s face, a deep male tone started speaking in a monotonous, continuous fashion.

“Irele Skywalker, human female, age is sixteen standard years, height stands at five feet and three inches…”

“Okay, okay, I think we got enough of my vitals already!” Irele interrupted.

“Were you briefed of your purpose here?”

Irele made a side-eyed glance at HY-L33, who didn’t move at all, “I was only told I was getting a check-up.”

“Correct.”

The surgical droid cleared out what HY-L33 failed to when they were still in the bedroom. It started with the physical examination—taking down her age, height, and weight, until it pored into analyzing the fluid levels and vitals of her organs to see if they were normal. It was all strange for little Irele, but she held up and did as she was told. She wasn’t getting hurt by the droids anyway, save the one pinprick that they had to do in order to conduct a blood test.

From Vader’s chamber, he was receiving real-time transmissions of the medical ward’s database. Whatever diagnosis the droids encode into the database under Irele’s profile, Vader saw it all firsthand—every revision, every new entry, every number.

Midichlorian count: 20,598.

Seeing this number and then recalling his impression on Irele baffled Darth Vader.

This child has lived sixteen years in a backwater planet, with a high midichlorian count… and yet her sensitivity is dormant.

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lynny246 · 3 years

Photo

Gods, this took 3 years to do. I started this OC when Season 3 of BNHA began in, like, 2018. I ended up constantly tweaking her and forgot to touch her in 2019. Then came 2021, where season 5 is about to go down and wreck me so without further ado, here is Rune Byougen!

(Credit to Sakimii of DeviantArt for the background)

Character Information

Name: Rune Byougen

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (Episode 4/Chapter 3 & 4)

Birthday: October 30

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Occupation: Student

Height: 5’8

Weight: 135 lbs

Ethnicity: Afro-Asian

School: U.A. High School

Year: First year

Hero Name: The Placebo Hero: Bacteriune

Appearance

Hair Color: Dark Blue

Hair Type: Shoulder length hair on the right and short hair on the left. Hair on the left is put in a ponytail

Distinguishing Features: Surgery scar between clavicles

Eye Color: Purple

Skin Color: Bronze

Background

Born with sickle cell anemia, Rune’s adolescence has been defined by consistent hospital stays and minimal experiences. Despite this, she remained optimistic for her future; this is due in part to the constant support from her parents, Takao (who also has sickle cell anemia) and Camilla (a pro-Hero in America known as Wyvern).

During her pre-teen years, her condition would worsen; prompting a great deal of surgeries. It had become so dour that Rune considered giving up after finding out she would be missing her final year in junior high so she could remain in the hospital. During this depression, her father made it a point to emphasize the strength of perseverance and hope for a better future. Through his corny speeches, Rune found some solace and promised to keep fighting for her family.

The age of 12 would mark an important new chapter for Rune: her condition improved greatly which allowed her live independently with minor treatment, her quirk would finally manifest, she could resume schooling, and she had a clear goal for her life, choosing to find better treatment for those dealing with sickle cell anemia. Unfortunately, the biggest change in her life would be the death of her father at the end of the year. After reaching the average life expectancy, Takao had succumb to the illness after being rushed to the hospital after a stroke.

Unable to process the grief, Rune grew to resent her father; seeing his sudden death as not living by the values he set for her during her tribulations. Optimism gave way to pessimism as Rune became more jaded about her circumstances, her future, and her understanding of the world. For the first time in her life, she saw physical limitations that couldn’t be overcome with willpower, she saw a society that had largely forgotten non-quirk related illness and death.

From that day forward, she choose a new path: Uncover all the mysteries medical science had to offer to overcome her limits. On that day, Rune vowed not to succumb to illness or weakness. To see that vow through, she needed to find a way to overcome the natural weakness she was born with. To do this, she would need authority in different fields and money. She would need to be a hero.

Hero work could finance her research, the potential fame would make it easier to join medical projects and resources for research, and hero work could give her access to underground and taboo information not legally accessible. With her family moving to Japan to live with her paternal grandparents, the option of attending U.A. becomes obvious. She spoke with her mother about her desire to become a hero. Camilla, a well-known hero throughout the United States, used her connections to get her admitted with a recommendation. After training her quirk for a year, Rune is prepared to enter U.A. where her next chapter begins...

Personality

A box of intriguing mysteries or a miserable pile of secrets, whichever you choose, Rune qualifies. At first glance, Rune is a calm and ever-curious mind that operates with cordiality. Once the layers are peeled, that cordial and inviting exterior disappears, leaving a more cunning and antagonistic yet dignified and relax individual. At her best, she can be seen as a calming, loyal yet malignant girl who is hard to understand yet fun to be around. At her worst, Rune is a manipulative and inimical girl hiding behind pleasantries. A girl who seeks to unravel all those around her as a hobby

Likes: Herbology, Grimoires, Tarot Cards, Card Games, Botany, Medieval History, Camping, Anarchy

Dislikes: The cold, Paranormal romance novels, Crystal balls, Cosmetology

Habits: Biting her nails, Staring at people

Fears: Relapsing, Abandonment, Porcelain dolls, Limitations

Quirk and Abilities

Quirk: Pathogen

This quirk allows the user to control and manipulate bacteria and pathogens found throughout different environments and bodies. Using neuro-parasitology, the user’s dead skin cells are consumed by the microorganisms, giving the user full control of all bacteria and pathogens for approximately an hour

Quirk Advantages:

Due to bacteria being on every natural surface imaginable, there is no limit to the range of the user

In addition, when the quirk is active, the amount of bacteria present on the body can form a light layer of protection on the body without the bacteria hardening into a solid structure

In warm conditions or against heat-based quirks, the bacteria can be more effective and multiply quickly

Quirk Drawbacks:

Quirk overuse can result in the user losing control of the bacteria and pathogens. When it under direct control, those organisms can become very ensnared with the user’s skin cells and seek to consume them en masse. If not careful, the bacteria can attempt to consume so much of the cells, that the epidermis can be damaged, leaving wounds equitable to first degree burns

This quirk is at a natural disadvantage in colder environments as common bacteria thrives primarily in warmer environments. Extreme weather (hot or freezing) is disadvantageous as well

Overexertion can result in a minor case of chronic inflammation which includes fever, rashes, infection, abdominal pain, and chest pains

Fighting Style: Wyvern-style Martial Arts Created and used solely by her mother, it is a personalized form of martial arts that emphasizes brute force over speed by transferring all the power and force to a specific limbs. When utilized correctly, a simple kick can break a concrete wall. However, the style sacrifices speed, accuracy, and leaves other limbs defenseless. It also requires very specific stances to work properly. The style originated from Camilla who uses it to dispatch larger villains and wrestle Wai, a family friend that lost her humanity and became a large wyvern due to her quirk

Weapons/Items: Vials of poison and medication Most of the poisons are meant to hinder movement, allowing her to fight with minimal opposition. This is beneficial for using wyvern-style martial arts without issue. The medication is penicillin and various antibiotics Rune has created to combat her drawbacks.

Stats:

(Ultra Archive)

Power: 4/5

Speed: 2/5

Technique: 4/5

Intelligence: 5/5

Cooperativeness: 3/5

(Ultra Analysis)

Power: 5/6

Speed: 3/6

Technique: 6/6

Intelligence: 6/6

Machiavellian: 6/6

Relationships

Family:

Camilla Byougen - Mother Takao Byougen - Father (Deceased) In the past, the relationship between the Byougen family could only be described as loving and tight. Despite her work, Camilla was dedicated and active in the family, enjoying doting on her husband and daughter. Takao was no exception, spending much his days looking after Rune and Camilla as a stay-at-home-dad. Rune admired her parent’s strength of character and they served as emotional crutch to a child that didn’t have much in terms of socialization. Times have changed. Rune has come to loathe the type of person her father was, deeming him a hypocrite. However, her relationship with her mother is stronger than ever. The two look after each other and are quite open with one another. If not for the age disparity, one could mistake the mother-daughter duo as sisters

Wai - Godmother Despite being a late addition to the family, Wai and Rune’s relationship is solid. Wai may have lost much of her mental capacities after fully becoming a wyvern, however, she still remembers the love and loyalty she had for Camilla and that has transferred fully to her daughter. The two are very protective of one another and enjoy training together. Since Camilla is needed to communicate verbally with Wai, the two don’t have many secrets or intense conversations, but that doesn’t stop the two from greatly enjoying conversation and each other's company

Kirika Byougen - Paternal Grandmother Fuga Byougen - Paternal Grandfather This familial dynamic is a tad bit complicated. Although there is clear love between them, there is also veiled hostility laced in every interaction. While a mystery to Camilla, Rune has concluded that the negative interactions stem from Fuga and Kirika being upset with Takao for abandoning his home and former life to chase after Camilla. While her grandparents are trying to overcome that distaste for Camilla and Rune so they can fully embrace the family Takao made, they are hindered by the grief of his death and past pains of his abandonment. Despite this, interactions between Rune and her grandparents are amicable. That is until Rune begins to read their motives and taunt them.

Friends:

Bakugou Katsuki - Close friend & most proficient teammate Tooru Hagakure - Close friend Kyouka Jiro Reiko Yanagi Midoriya Izuku - Test Subject

Rivals:

Fumikage Tokoyami - Friendly rival Tenya Iida - Antagonistic

Enemies:

Toga Himiko

Trivia

Rune’s faovrite food is mitarashi dango

Rune was born in California

Rune prefers hiding her quirk simply to mess with her opponents, tricking them into believing her quirk is simply super strength

Rune is a Wiccan

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

In the Grocery Store on Valentine’s Day

Summary: Tommy and Charlie try to get through a shopping trip without a tantrum. That doesn’t go so well. But things unexpectedly change when they run into Alfie Solomons

Tommy did not like going to the grocery store. As someone who was indifferent to food and crowds, it wasn’t a fun trip for him. Usually, Grace went. Then, after her death, the nanny went. But Tommy let Ally take the weekend off because her boyfriend surprised her with a short Valentine’s trip. And Tommy wasn’t a monster so he couldn’t tell her she couldn’t have the time off.

Unfortunately, it meant that he would have to endure the task of taking his toddler to the grocery store. As if shopping weren’t difficult enough, Charlie had been fussy all day and didn’t show any signs of stopping.

It frustrated Tommy because he knew his son much preferred Ally’s company. The young woman was always around, unlike Tommy who was always working. Why should his son be comfortable around him? Frustration led to guilt which led to grief.

Overall, both Shelby boys were in a bad mood throughout the entire store. Charlie whined from his seat in the carriage and Tommy did his best to speed through the process. He didn’t know that Ally took her time, letting Charlie take in the environment, letting the little boy hold the items and place them in the cart. She made it into a little learning game. But Tommy was oblivious to this routine and how upset Charlie was that they weren’t doing it Ally’s way. He figured the faster they got to the check-out line, the better.

Of course, once they were there, Charlie lost his cool because everything about the trip was wrong, in his little toddler brain. The child began to cry and scream until he was red-faced.

Tommy hated the looks he got from the people around him. Some looked sympathetic and the rest looked annoyed. He didn’t want sympathy and he didn’t want people looking at him like he was a bad father. Disgruntled, Tommy picked Charlie up and tried to soothe him, resting him against his shoulder while patting his back.

A few moments after picking him up, Charlie began to settle down. Tommy was a little surprised. Once his son was wound up, it was near impossible to get him to calm down that quickly. Then, Charlie began to giggle.

Curious, Tommy turned around and saw a man in line behind him. “Alfie?” He raised an eyebrow. The Jewish man with tattoos crawling up his arms, a full beard, and a good amount of gold always on his person, was a business associate. The two had butted heads several times before but their alliance was mutually beneficial.

“Oh, Tommy, mate, I didn’t know that were you.” Alfie looked thrown off guard. Damned if he ever thought he’d see Tommy Shelby carrying his kid in the grocery store. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d seen the man when he wasn’t wearing a three-piece suit. But there he was in jeans and a t-shirt.

Charlie giggled and reached out toward Alfie’s beard. The man smiled. “Sorry, playing a bit of peek-a-boo to help calm him down.” He explained.

Tommy was astounded and as such, couldn’t exactly find the words. “Uh…thank you.”

“No worries.” Alfie shrugged. He was considerably calmer when they weren’t in the middle of negotiating. “How old did’ya say he was now?” Tommy had mentioned his son before in passing. Probably when Grace was pregnant or had just given birth.

“Ten months.” He answered.

“Right…well, looks like you don’t he?”

No, Tommy thought, Charlie looked like Grace. But he was trying to dig for his wallet and couldn’t answer his associate.

“Here, mate, let me take him.” Alfie offered.

He hesitated but noticed the growing line behind him. “Erm, alright, sure.” He handed Charlie over so he could find his wallet and pay.

The boy seemed entranced by Alfie’s beard, it reminded him of his uncle’s mustache.

Tommy couldn’t help but overhear as he paid.

“What’d you think then, yeah? Oh, you like me beard?” Alfie chuckled as Charlie patted his cheeks. “Your dad don’t have one, do he? Yeah, I’m a bit more like a bear huh?” He teased. Charlie squealed and babbled on happily. “Oh is that right? Yeah, mate, yeah, I hear ya.” Alfie laughed and shook his head.

Tommy finished paying and cleared his throat. “Thank you. Would’ve been a nightmare to go through this without you to distract him.”

Alfie returned Charlie to Tommy’s arms. “Don’t mention it.”

In a moment of vulnerability, Tommy sighed. “He’s never happy with me.”

“Aw, now I’m sure that ain’t true.” Alfie shook his head and finished placing his shopping on the belt. “You two are going through a tough time, yeah, so there’ll be some adjustment time.”

Tommy wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man so comforting. For a while, he assumed Alfie was always a smartass. Clever, but a smartass. Handsome too.

Wait.

Tommy swallowed. “Well, thank you again.” He mumbled, suddenly on edge because of his wild thought.

“I’ll see you around. Oh and Shelby, Happy Valentine’s day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy hadn’t an inkling that just six years later, he would wake up in bed with Alfie. The two married and deeply in love.

Charlie came charging into the room. “Daddy, papa!” He leaped onto the bed. “I made Valentine’s.” The almost seven-year-old dished out construction paper hearts.

Tommy yawned and sat up. Alfie was already awake and taking a bit of quiet time to read the news on his phone.

“Oh well, those are very nicely made.” Alfie put his phone aside. “Look at that, perfect penmanship, exquisite use of colors, and oh my look at that. Look at that picture, now that, right, should be hanging in a museum.”

Charlie laughed and pressed his heels together. He adored Alfie but also loved Tommy. The two had bonded despite the unfortunate circumstances after they lost Grace. It was sad that Charlie didn’t remember anything of his mother, but they kept photographs of her around just so he knew.

Tommy smiled as he read the card.

Daddy, I love you very much. Love, Charlie.

“Thank you, Charlie, it’s lovely.” He kissed his son’s forehead.

Cyril came trotting in and rested his chin on the edge of the bed. Alfie smiled. “Looks like someone’s ready for breakfast. Right, let’s make a Valentine’s breakfast.” He got up and threw Charlie onto his shoulders. The boy shrieked with laughter.

Tommy gathered the Valentine’s and got up to stick them to the ‘fridge. He couldn’t believe they were there. Married to Alfie Solomons, raising Charlie together, having Cyril around. But he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434

Masterlist

#alfie solomons #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x alfie solomons #alfie solomons x tommy shelby #charlie shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby one shot #peaky blinders one shot #one shot #valentines day #happy valentines day #valentines one shot #alfie solomons one shot #tommy x alfie

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like-rain-or-confetti · 5 years

Text

Request: Sound (Deaf!Reader x Alec Volturi)

Being deaf was hard, you had been since birth and never experienced sound but what actually made it difficult was the others around you. It was like the world was wired to go left whilst you were wired to go right. Communication was hell. You weren't the best lip reader, learning sign language was a saving grace. However, you learned young that you weren't like the other kids. They would all move their mouths in excited conversation- all in sync but you would have no clue what they said whilst your friends did. Whilst watching everyone act like fish sounds amusing, it was horrible because whilst everyone made an effort to communicate, you wanted the simple way of doing things that your peers had the ability to do. No signing, just talking...whatever that was like.

You got used to it getting older, people made less effort than they did when you were young. You knew you weren't the only one that happened to. It was considered ordinary to see these different requirements and unless there is no other choice, people usually just dusted you under the rug. You get slowly iced out from the world yet still forced to do your part in the endless cycle of society.

Ironically, being around vampires was just as isolating, you had no idea what they were saying and they had no idea how to talk to you. None of them had learned sign language. It didn't bother you on a personal level, you expected it by this point in life. The Cullen's were lovely people. You knew they felt bad as they always looked apologetic and it was clear in their body language they were trying their best. You welcomed it and were pleasant about it but it wasn't enough. You still felt lonely, it was like a curse. You were forced to watch the world go by and have no clue what was actually happening. It saddened you that hearing aids didn't work for you. It was a major blow to your motivation but you picked yourself up and carried on.

You weren't told you were going to Italy, you were just handed the ticket, just like you weren't told you'd be seeing Edward in a castle. You couldn't piece together why you were there though. Then you had company of two in familiar men and then a girl around your age. All three not looking even remotely friendly. Alice linked her arm with yours, giving you a reassuring nod, tugging you forward. After an elevator ride and more walking, you were in a large marble room with even more unfamiliar vampires. Just like routine, they started talking...and you had no clue what they were saying. Eventually you tuned it out looking at the floor, waiting to be tugged away to leave. You weren't aware of Caius yelling at you for insolence and ignoring him and Aro. You continued to stare down at the floor, kicking your heel along the floor every so often. Caius was about to stand up when Edward finally got the opportunity to tell them that you weren't being rude but that you couldn't hear them. Aro was intrigued as Edward continued to explain you were deaf.

You looked up when Alice gently tapped your wrist pointing at your hand before pointing to Aro's outstretched hand looking at him pointedly. You were clearly very confused, thinking he wanted a handshake but instead he held your hand, his head bent slightly. You looked at Alice and Edward in panic but they only nodded at you. It wasn't as comforting as intended. Aro broke away and after a few moments your gaze once again met the floor. "Fascinating! Yet sad. To see how they live, in silence. It's a form of beauty but so unfortunate." Aro paused. "As well as lonely." Alec suddenly seemed interested. Perhaps you had even a slight idea how he and his sister felt when they were human. Alec concentrated on your face and his thoughts were confirmed. You looked distant and just as Aro had put it- you looked sad.

When the Cullen’s left, Alec soon felt the urge to know more about you and headed to find Aro. Aro was surprised to see Alec, without his sister, at the door of his study. This meant the matter was likely very personal. “Alec?” Aro tilted his head. “Master, that human, the one that is deaf. Did you see the nature of their condition?” “Yes, they live in a completely silent world. Have never experienced sound since birth. Why do you ask?” Alec faltered slightly, less confident about his reasoning. Aro reached out his hand. “Perhaps, you could show me?” Slowly, Alec complied and as soon as they touched, a rush of thoughts come to Aro’s mind, a life of replay. He then understood Alec’s curiosity. Not only had he not been around such a condition, he also felt some what attached by the possibility of a companion who understood the isolation he went through himself. Aro’s eyes flickered back up to Alec’s. “If this is the path you wish to take, i will grant it but I’d like to offer some advice.” Alec’s expression didn’t change as Aro explained, instead it felt like Aro had given him a key.

Following Bella after camping wasn’t fun. You hated camping, even more so when crazy violent vampires show up to pick a fight. You didn’t know why Bella made herself bleed with the rock but you were glad it worked. Everyone grew nervous as the wolves left with an injured Jacob and that was when you were beginning to stress too much. Carlisle noticed and hurriedly took your hand, palm upwards and began to trace letters on your palm. V-O-L-T-U-R-I. You jumped as Rosalie pulled you to Bella’s side just as Carlisle moved to Esme’s. Sure enough, a few moments later they appeared. They looked just as menacing as the first time you met months back. You were careful to keep your eyes on the guards and not the body fueled fire. That wasn’t a pleasant sight. Then the guards gaze was directed to another dark haired girl- wait who was that girl? You had never seen her before. No one told you who she was. You grew agitated again, finding it difficult to hide on your expression. You looked away sharply when the tallest guard and possibly the tallest of everyone moved towards the girl. You squeezed your eyes shut.

When your eyes opened, the smallest man moved in to your line of sight but kept his distance. Your eyes widened as his hands moved in very…particular and recognised movements. You quickly raised your own hands. -You sign?- He paused. -I am learning.- You smiled. -What is your name?- You were eager to know his name. He was the first person to actually talk to you. He suddenly looked uncertain and it occurred to you that he might not know how to sign his name. You mimed writing on your palm, offering your hand quickly after. He seemed to catch on and trailed his finger along your hand. -A. L. E. C.- You looked up with a grin and nodded frantically. You couldn’t get enough of the interaction, it was the most communication you had in months. No one had learned sign language for you. Alec moved again. -I would like if you came to Italy with me. Would you do that?- You knew this probably wasn’t the best decision. They were strangers after all. Not to mention the abundance of other reasons why you shouldn’t, under any circumstances, do it. Yet you wanted to. He offered company, communication where the Cullen’s didn’t. You didn’t know why he had begun learning sign language but you couldn’t ignore this interaction.

You nodded. You nodded before you even realised that you had. You quickly signed your agreement and Alec held out his hand for you to take. Immediately Edward protested and so did the others when realising what was happening. Alice flinched. She was met with a vision of you.

You had been changed, you looked very happy with the Volturi. The environment was new all over again but not for the reasons Alice had originally thought. She could hear music playing, the piano to be exact. She followed you as you investigated and found Chelsea playing the piano, Afton sitting beside her as he watched. Alice looked at you, thinking maybe you heard it playing but something about your expression told you that had to be wrong. You slowly crouched down, fingers pressing against the floor boards. Alice did so too, grasping your shoulder as she did. She felt a vibration in the floor, following the melody of the piano. Chelsea and Afton looked down at you in confusion, Chelsea stopped playing and your eyes snapped up to meet them. Afton nudged his mate, urging her to keep playing. She continued and your eyes darted straight to the floor again. You slowly rose to a stand, eyes on the piano, the source of the vibrations. Slowly you reached out. “Can you hear it?” Chelsea asked but you didn’t respond, you didn’t seem to hear her. You bent over the piano, pressing your ear against it, hands pressed on each side. You gasped. Alice could no longer feel it since she let go of you but the vibrations were so much stronger. So much so that your next action made all three, Alice, Chelsea and Afton jump in shock. With your nails you tapped in time, in rhythm with the song. Chelsea stopped playing in her shock and you leaned back. A soft smile growing on Afton’s face. You were in complete awe. She snapped out of it and immediately urged her family to let you go, surprising the Volturi. “Trust me, let them go.”

Many months passed and the Cullen’s heard you were changed. Yourself and Alec becoming much more than friends. The Volturi believed you to be gifted. Your body and the venom working together to find some kind of evolutionary resolve to your hearing loss. Whilst you still couldn’t hear, you were hypersensitive to the vibrations each sound made. You were no longer in silence nor vulnerable, you could feel people coming from any direction. It was funny, it was discovered one day when you felt vibrations, following them to find Afton and Chelsea at the piano- the source. Alec would never forget the day you pressed yourself against him, ear to his chest, as Afton and Chelsea followed you telling him that he’d never believe what Chelsea was about to say. First, he had to talk. When he did, you squeezed him tighter, grinning but also ready to spill tears that could never fall. When they explained, Alec immediately pushed you back, signing quickly, asking you what it was like. You looked thoroughly overwhelmed and even more so trying to find the right word to describe it. You could have said terrifying, or strange but instead you chose a different word. A word you never thought you’d get to use. You quickly signed back. -Loud!- It was the most wonderful thing in the world, no one could ever, change your mind on that.

#request #twilight #deaf!reader #volturi #the volturi #alec volturi #one shot #oneshot

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