#none of this makes sense without context but if you actually want to read love gene xx id recommend it only for the art and design rly

[floorpancakes]

ppl will be like omgggg lesbian yaoi when and not know about rei x kaoru

#oniisama e #if i wanted to be mean id bring up love gene xx but #altho it used to be my fav when i was a teenager i immediately went back and was like oh....oh no... #despite the frankly incredible concept of 'takarazuka yaoi but yuri au' the whole thing is laughably badly trans exclusionary #its like your series has school issue binders and pronouns in it but no trans people even within the confines of the new gender system??lol? #none of this makes sense without context but if you actually want to read love gene xx id recommend it only for the art and design rly #didnt age well bc it was one of those shortsighted 'what if gender but wacky!' shows that claims to tackle gender issues n wraps arnd to #being super incompetent #but it was camp! but thats besides the point i was meant to be talking about oniisama e lol #this isnt kaorei thank fuck although that ship is also plagued by ... societal norms #shudders

[tenpintsofsundrop]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can't live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven't watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there's no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it's not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to 'appeal' to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife' to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name'); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader's true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader's body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer's fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don't really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it's good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: okay, I do have to admit, the ending kind of sucks imo (like the last few paragraphs) because I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut where y/n is like if 'you want kids for real, then we can have kids', and then Spencer just goes nuts. because I did like the more cheesy/romantic love confession ending, and I was getting way too tired to write smut for this. idk if I should do that 'x amount of reblogs for part 2' thing or if I'm just happy with this being a standalone oneshot?? idk. if people ask for a part 2, then I will set a reblog goal for it. and I will work on a part 2 for it after Lesson Two is posted.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

[girls-alias]

Dean's Dream P2 Smut

Title: Dean's Dream P2 Smut

Words: 1749 [Bit long, my apologies]

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader.

TW: Smut Chapter.

Please don't read if you don't like smut. This is a smut-only chapter.

This chapter won't affect the storyline and so is skip-able.

Prompt:

Dean is captured by a Djinn and dreams of Y/N.

Part 1

Summary for context:

Dean was abducted by a Djinn and this is his dream. Y/N is his girlfriend and he woke up in her bed. He couldn't remember anything and thought she was a one-night stand. Once he saw her, the photo on her drawers of them kissing and her explaining they had already said I love you confused Dean but from her smile, and certainly from her kiss he knew he was home, where he was supposed to be. With her. They have a little free time before they have to go see Sam.

SMUT (Last Warning) Third person POV:

Dean dug his nails into her waist and she moaned softly into his mouth only cementing the fact that he wanted her. Her hand moved up and softly yanked at the hair on the back of his head, it was unexpected for him and yet found that he liked it. He instantly understood she liked it rough. He grinned against her lips before his tongue tried to grace her bottom lip but her mouth was already open, ready for him like she knew he would do it.

This only excited Dean more, he could sense this had been done many times before, none of which he could remember. She seemed to know his body better than anyone ever had, she knew exactly where to run her fingertips, where to squeeze and where to avoid. Dean found it extremely refreshing that someone was actually interested in pleasing him as well. It only made him want her more.

His hands slid down to her ass, and she seemed to take it as a queue to jump. He effortlessly caught her weight and held her close. The kiss deepened as their tongues danced and her soft moans from his rough touch turned him crazy. She moved her hand to Dean's cheek and his eyebrows twitched, this didn't feel like it was just sex, it was love.

Y/N pulled away slightly, her lips quickly finding his neck. "I'm not a big fa-" Dean couldn't finish his sentence as he sucked air through his teeth, eyes rolling back as his hands squeezed her ass tighter. He had never found much pleasure in neck kisses but she knew exactly where to attack, she found a spot no other girl had found, a spot that made his knees almost buckle. It fuelled his desire. He bit his bottom lip bringing an arm around her back to hold the back of her shoulder tightly. His erection got harder and harder as she continued to suck and nibble harshly on the spot which made him make noises he didn't know he could make.

Her back muscles moved against his touch, he loosened his grip figuring he was hurting her. She pulled away to smirk at him. Their breath was erratic from the passion and rising pulse they shared. He bit his bottom lip taking the time to look at her deeply, admiring her beauty. Her eyes were full of lust, pupils dilated clearly seeing what she wanted and ready to take it. She smiled a little brighter. "Are you going to stare at me all day or fuck my brains out?" She asked softly, almost whispering. He grinned causing her to giggle as he lowered them onto the bed, he hovered over her. She connected their lips, making out with as much passion as their bodies would allow. Dean placed a hand on her waist pushing her down into the bed trying to resist his urges to devour her. She didn't seem to hold back.

She pulled the string on her silk robe, the tie coming undone and her gown resting open. Dean's hands instantly moved the robe aside to grip her waist without fabric in the way. Her left hand moved to the waistband of his boxers. Dean's heart skipped as she started pushing them aside. Dean hesitated, he reluctantly disconnected their lips to look at her, lust in his eyes matching hers. "You sure?" He asked apprehensively, a part of him worried she would say no but she chuckled softly. She kissed him slowly but with just as much passion as before. He never experienced such a sweet kiss.

"You'd think after 2 years you'd stop asking and know by now that I have a higher sex drive than you," She expressed, her smile bright and lighting Dean's world a little brighter. He grinned, swooping down to connect their lips again. He helped her pull his boxers down and he was left bare. Her hand reached down, jerking his throbbing hard cock in her soft hands. Dean groaned, pulling his lips away to take a deep and shaky breath. His eyes were screwed shut as he resisted pushing his hips into her hand. She moaned, her hips rolling, feeling empty and needing him. Dean's breath was quick as she tristed her hand slightly, he gasped feeling pleasure he'd never come close to. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, eyes screwed shut, the pleasure riding his spine the way he needed her to ride him, relentlessly.

"I need you, Dean." She whispered seductively in his ear, he moaned at her saying his name. He felt as though now that he'd heard her say it that way no one else was allowed to say it. It was only her. He moved a hand from her waist to find where she needed him, as soon as his fingertips came in contact with her clit she gasped. She didn't seem to have noise control as her moans filled the room. Dean throbbed in her hand, the moans alone were enough to edge him. Dean connected his lips to the shoulder he had been resting on and bit down slightly using all of his willpower to resist her a little longer, his fingers moving down and instantly taking in how wet he had made her. He groaned knowing she was ready for him. She needed this just as much as he did.

"Fuck, you're so wet," He expressed through a groan. She yelped softly as he slid a finger inside her. His other hand on the back of her neck, holding his weight with his elbow and forearm, gripped tighter.

"Fuck my brains out baby," She moaned out breathlessly. He took no more convincing as he pulled his fingers out and sat up, he looked down at her as she moved her hand from around his cock. He took the time to admire her, he saw utter perfection. His mouth went dry as his breath remained quick and erratic. She bit her bottom lip knowing no matter how many times he saw her naked she would still feel the same as the first time, like her body was the only one he would ever need to see. He pulled her legs down slightly before he lined his cock to her entrance. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head anticipating him inside her.

"You're so fucking hot," He breathed out before pushing his hips into hers. His cock entered her fully. He gripped her hips harshly feeling immobilised by her inside. He locked his arms so he wouldn't fall. She moaned as he twitched inside her. She gripped at the bed sheets beneath her. "Fuck," He gasped before slowly pulling out and hesitating, he pushed deep inside her. She moaned loudly, already almost screaming. It spurred Dean on as he wanted to make her scream his name. The best prize in the world.

"Fuck Dean." She moaned, her back arching up from the bed, bringing his attention to her perfect breasts. He moved his left hand to kneed her right tit. She groaned in her throat, her head digging into the bed. He thrust into her a little faster, finding a pace that made her moan the most. He took a deep breath and tried resisting he didn't want to be too rough but he was unsure how long he could hold back. Amazing sensations vibrated their muscles with each thrust. She looked deep into Dean's eyes, a smirk raising half her lip. Dean was mesmerised but continued to thrust knowing if he stopped now it would only hurt him. "Fuck me like you mean it, Dean," She tempted. His breath hitched in his throat, he searched her expression for a hint of apprehension but she looked more sure of this than Dean was sure she was perfect. He nodded slightly, stopping only momentarily to adjust his position. He raised his hips and held her hips in both his hands. She gulped with anticipation as she knew what pleasure she was about to share with the love of her life.

He pulled his hips back, taking a second to breathe before thrusting into her deep and hard as he pulled her hips down to meet him. She moaned, a scream finally leaving her lips and he knew he would kill to hear it again. He did it again, the same pause, the same power. He groaned as he wanted nothing more than to go faster, his pleasure only building the more she moaned, she was getting close, he could feel it, he knew. "Faster, Dean. Fuck, please," She moaned between thrusts. He panted, his nails digging into her skin as he watched her tits bounce as he pulled her hips harshly into his. He continued, taking out the pause he was previously doing and pounded into her relentlessly. He groaned, his orgasm growing close as he watched her whimper and squirm, he caused this.

"Fuck, baby," He hissed as her walls squeezed his hard cock pounding into her, she giggled slightly as she bit her bottom lips. She found his eyes, he was lost in them, groaning as he breathed out knowing the eye contact only made his orgasm grow unbearably close. He thrust into her once again, harder than before. She screamed as her back rose from the bed momentarily.

"Fuck, Dean. I'm gonna cum," She screamed as he continued. His eyes screwed shut at her words, the tension inside him ready to release inside her.

"Fuck," He groaned. She screamed as she came. Her vagina tightened around his throbbing dick. "Fuck, I'm cumming," He exclaimed as he pulled her in even deeper. He felt the orgasms pressure release as he came inside her, he knew he had never cum so hard. She yelped, biting her lip as his cum shot hard inside her, hitting the spot that made her body weak. He groaned, his thrusts getting sloppier as his breath quickened, riding out their orgasms. His eyes finally opened but were clouded with darkness, the only noise in the room was their deep breathing. He pulled out slowly, admiring as she bit her lips, her eyebrows twitching as she found pleasure in that too. He moved to her side to lie down. He tried to catch his breath as she turned to her side, facing him. He lifted his arm to wrap it around her as she rested her head on his chest.

His mind is swimming.

MASTERLIST

Part 3

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean

[yanderehsr]

Hii! How r u? How was ur dai? About the oc thing...Could I prety please with cherry on top get a platonic platonic Furina, Ei, Nahidaand Venti with a reader that is like a elf? Idk, how to explain it, so I am gonna add a picture to how I wiev it:

Her name is Eclipsa and has white hair and pointy ears(ofc since she is an elf). And I dont mean like Santa's elfs, I mean the ones from greek and romanian mytology.

About the bakstory: Lets just say that she is the daughter of The Heavenly Principels(lets just call her THP bc I am lazy) (ik it sounds cringe but hear me out😭) and since THP was not all the lovey dovey tipe and probably VERY bad with children (maybe even hate them idk, I really cant see her motherly) she just decided to throe her to Tyvat into the care of the archons untill she was old enough (16 years old) to come to Celestia (bacically be mature since she doesnt want a cryng baby around). Eclipsa is growing, just like Klee slower (there is a theorh that says that Klee is 80 but is also 8 bc she is growing 10 times slower than normal) and everu 100 it adds 1 year rlto her age. Now, lets say that when she was 10(1000) she overheared somebody say that the archons dont actually like her (like parental figures ofc) and that they probably just cang get rid of her. She actually belivd them like a dumb child that she is and ran away (opened a portal to another world and dissapeared without anybody's knoladge). Now, lets just say for the sake of this au to make it more interesting (maybe more cringe but I am having fun ok?😭) that the disaster from Khaenri'ah happened bc the person occ heared it was a khaenriah'n and THP since finding this out was like "OH HELL NAHH" and this iz the reason they destroyd Khaenria'h. THP gave the archons untill Eclipsa was to turn 16 to find her. Well, now, at 15, she randomply (and awkwardly) came back. (Maybe she finally got into her head the ideea of checking Irmansole to see if the archons truly hated her and surprise surprise, ints not true). Now, imagine the characters meeting Occ in their nation. For Venti- at windrise, for Ei in the city (near the statue), for Nahida just at the spirit tree (maybe one of her little friends passed that message for her) and for Furina(back when she was still an archon) she was told from Neuvillette that he sensed Occ's presence(lets just say that higher ups are aware of Eclipsa's existance, including Furina. Perhaps she has read about Oc in one of the books she read to find a solution to Fontaine's profecy).

Also, I imagine ooc to look like this when she was little(I just love this fanart sm😭):

(One thing to note is that none of theres fanarts are mine, and idk who they are from to credit them. Also te line I made was bc there was some writting on that picture and I didnt want it to be out of the context:>)

About personalit I see her as somebody who is quite the drama queen and loves attention 24/7. She loves pulling pranks all the time and also like annoyng people, but in a joking way. Hoever I see her as somebody who has her moments of understanding and is quite the menance to societity(pretty mhch like how Klee is). About her powers, she is developing since young THP's powers but since she is not even 18, its definetly not as affective.

Anyways, I know it might be a weird request or cringe, and maybe I wrote too much, or gave too little information. Also, I am VERY sorry if you cant undrtstand this request, english is not my first language and I pretty much have dyslexia(not bad one tough, I am still working on correcting mynself :D) and I tried to make sure I made as little mistakes as posible but its hard to spot them when its a big paragraphe, uk? therfor you are always free to ignore thiz request, hopw you have a nice day and good luck writting so many requests. Also, congrats on 1k followrs!! :D

...Did I just read an entire fanfiction XD, I will gladly write this, and thanks for the congrats😆

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Furina: She knows almost nothing about her, Neuvillette doesn't seem to remember anything about her and there are no books about it, hell the only reason she knows about Eclipsa is because Focalors thought of it as important that she knew about The Heavenly Principles daughter if she was going to act as an archon.

Furina's first meeting with Eclipsa is when Neuvillette is showing her around, it was instant love... not the romantic kind, the platonic kind, Eclipsa looked like a doll, so perfect to dress up, so perfect to have around, Furina feels lonely and Eclipsa makes her feel whole again, so she takes what she wants.

Furina dislikes The Heavenly Principles, she would be happy if she was hated by them, her performance is over either way, the profecy is fullfilled, is it really so wrong of her to be selfish... you will see Furina run around Fontaine with Eclipse causing havoc, as long as she is with her she doesn't feel lonely, and now she never will

"Y-you aren't leaving me right, right... ANSWER ME PLEASE... I'm sorry for yelling, I just don't wanna lose a friend so dear, you can understand, right?"

Raiden Ei: The day Eclipsa dissapeared was the day her sister died... not only did she lose her very own sister, she also lost someone she practically viewed as a daughter, she had never felt such horrible pain before, so she shut herself away as to not feel it again.

So many years spent in isolation, all Ei could think about was her sister and Eclipsa, she swore if she could just get them back, she would protect them both with her life, she just wants things to go back to normal, like it used to be.

So many years had passed that Ei nearly didn't recognize Eclipsa, she had so many questions for her, but she didn't say a single one... screw The heavenly Principles, she was going to protect her as best she could, Eclipsa don't even get a chance to talk before she was shut inside the plane of Euthymia.

"So long, you have been away for 500 long years... but that's okay, you're here now, I'll make sure you not come to harm like what happened to Makoto"

Nahida: She doesn't have much knowledge of Eclipsa, she isn't recorded in the Irminsul, all the knowledge Nahida has of her is what her predecessor left for her she didn't forget, she is confused why Eclipsa isn't around... did she dissapear or worse, did she die?

Nahida is confussed when she feels Eclipsa's precence by the Irminsul, it feels familiar but she can't figure out why, of course like the curious 500 year old child she is, she went to figure out what caused such familiarity... Nahida knew who it was the second she laid eyes on her, this is who she is supposed to protect like the Greater Lord she once did.

Nahida asks a lot of questions, why is she here? Why was she gone? Eclipsa is now her favorite subject to learn about, Nahida takes up some kind of little sister role to stay close with her, she needs to know everything, feed her ever-growing curiosity, maybe one day she will introduce Eclipsa to the Wanderer... but that can be later, Nahida wants to be selfish for a bit longer.

"Curious, you being here fills me with a feeling like... like a hole, you fall down it everyday and it just feels so annoying, then suddenly someone has covered it up and I don't feel annoyance anymore... You need to stay with me for a bit longer, I need to figure out why"

Venti: He isn't all that interested in following The Heavenly Principles orders, but he still did as to not occur her wrath... he did not expect to take care of a child, he wasn't the best, he got constantly drunk, never took anything serious, except for protecting Eclipsa from any danger.

It was no surprise that Venti felt such fear and despair when Eclipsa dissapeared, he had lost yet another loved one... why does he still care, it always happens anyways, no relation lasts forever, no matter how much he tries to drown the memory of her in even more alcohol, it doesn't work

That's when Venti notices her precence, after 500 long painful years, is she finally back? Is this his second chance. He meets Eclipsa at windrise, she look just as well as when she dissapeared... He doesn't care what The Heavenly Principles thinks or wants, he will keep Ecilpsa safe and away from her, He will keep that smile on her no matter what.

"It sure has been a while hasn't it, soooo how have you been, hope you missed me for I have missed you"

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere female #yandere furina #yandere furina x reader #yandere raiden ei #yandere raiden ei x reader #yandere nahida #yandere nahida x reader #yandere venti #yandere venti x reader #platonic yandere #oc #oc x canon #oc x character event

[hopefull-mindset]

How do you feel about the difference in Nagito's confession in Japanese and English?

In Japanese he kinda pauses saying something along the lines of 'in love with y...' before going on about hope inside.

But in English it's straight to loving the hope in Hajime.

I was hoping I’d be able to talk about this! If anyone needs a further explanation on the translation error, I recommend reading this first. It’s my favorite explanation because it deconstructs the Japanese to English process thoroughly, and the ambiguity of the whole thing really explains why Hajime was so confused. I’ve seen doubt as to fan translations being right at all, so I hope this helps out.

Now there isn’t many new things to say about a game this old with a large fanbase like this, but with new fans means more information to be spread (and misinformation respectively), so I’d be happy to speak!

UMMM I have no idea if anything I said down below is even what you were asking me, maybe you were just asking me about the decision of changing it, which um I don’t blame the official translators for going straight into it because it’s a fairly ambiguous line and most japanese fans go straight into it too when they qoute it, but official translators are not credible for their care of finer details that could be clearly translated into English, so it’s whatever I guess. Japanese fans also shouldn’t be our guide to consuming media of their language since they’re also just people, and I think it’s probably just easier to quote it like that without it sounding confusing the way it does in text.

This has been practically common knowledge by now to know that it was an aborted love confession, meaning there isn’t much to be said on its own. With all that’s been spread about this, a common misunderstanding is with the use of “Aishiteru” (愛してる) being “more romantic” than any other form of “I like/love you” (Suki/Daisuki), which is not true. It’s much more intense than the other two because of it directly using “Ai” (愛) and in turn used less compared to them because of its intensity. In same line of thinking, usually it’s reserved for serious occasions like marriage, a loved one on their death bed, a final goodbye for someone you care for deeply, etc. but none of it makes it anymore romantic because all three can be used platonically. It’s solely dependent on the context it’s used for.

It’s just like how we use “I love you” in English and how many things it could mean at once, albeit we don’t have three separate ways to express it. Well there’s actually more ways to express love, but you only really need to know these three. I know a lot of sources tend to say “Aishiteru” (愛してる) is romantic, but that’s most likely because you’re looking at sources that are talking about it in a romantic context. It’s not platonic in the sense that you’d go up to your friend and say it, that sends a lot of mixed messages and real odd to attempt, but platonic in that someone you truly have a deep connection with, family member or otherwise.

On the contrary, it’s much more common to use Suki/Daisuki (好き / 大好き) in a love confession and everyday life. Usually you wouldn’t even use “Aishiteru” (愛してる) in your entire life, that isn’t uncommon. So typically the most you’ll see or hear “Aishiteru” (愛してる) used is in fictional japanese media or songs. Using it in a confession like Komaeda almost did is like… imagine going up to someone and telling them that you want to spend your entire life together, meet their parents, fully commit to each other, raise children (if that’s what you want), and die together before you’re even in the relationship or even had your first kiss yet. Like obviously you’re not saying all of that, you might not even mean that, but it’s implied with the intensity of it. It’s that extreme and would definitely confuse someone if you tried. It’s not exactly for someone you just started dating either.

Why does “Ai” (愛) make it so intense though? Compared to other ways of saying love like “Koi” (恋) for example (not gonna explain that one), it’s the purest, most heightened form of expressing love verbally in japanese culture because of the giving and profound nature of it. It’s loving in a way that encases a warm feeling all around you, so painfully genuine yet committed. Its something that’s formed over time with much care, and doesn’t ask for anything back. It’s that big to use, but siamotainously it’s awkward and a little embarrassing to use because it’s practically unsaid irl. There is a lot to personal reservations and such, but as a culture, japan is more reserved with their verbal expressions. This doesn’t speak for the entire country, but just in general actions speak louder than something as literal like “Aishiteru” (愛してる).

I had to go over that before I talked about Komaeda because I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding with what I’m about to say. Sorry to break the news to anymore who was star-eyed after learning what “Ai” (愛) meant in context, but the reason I went over that first with extensive context is because Komaeda is not at all liberated when he uses it. Not only does he use it here in the infamous error of all errors in sdr2, he uses it when he talks about hope, talent, and Junko. Shocking I know, but that’s why I had to go over that “Ai” (愛) is not just romantic love so this will be less awkward for all of us.

Ignoring the oddness of it and how dramatic this usage is, it’s incredibly in-character for Komaeda to use it like that considering his sincere and devoted nature when it comes to hope and talent. He says himself that what he feels is selfless, so that’s going to reflect in his speech, but he uses it so casually that it feels like a joke. It’s a quite poetic expression of love, even with all the cultural context, so it’s fitting. He’s pretty no filter with how he talks about it, but with anything else with Komaeda—it’s more complex than that. While being 100% honest with everything he says, his deep connection with hope and talent is borderline obsessive and that brings into question his relationship with love.

I have many thoughts on how his hope/despair stuff works, but let’s stay on topic this one time because a lot is intertwined. With his usage of “Ai” (愛) with reference of Junko, we should all know he doesn’t love her. He doesn’t love the embodiment of despair and despises it in the same breath he even expressed love for it at all. What he feels for Junko is obsession through and through, but what he feels is still genuine connection, it’s just absurdly twisted. It’s why he still uses it, even though at most what he feels for her is contempt. He “loves” it because it’ll be destroyed for what will truly shine in the end. The connection is deep enough for him to take her hand and finally become one with it.

Junko didn’t twist his concept of love completely, it was already a little off, she exploited the potential of it. I’ve mentioned this point before in my twitter thread, but when faced with the motivations in trials 1, 2, and 3 he cannot see past their motivations other than their “hopes”, rather than their actual reasons: various forms of love. My immediate thought while writing was, “was it not really absolute hope that he needed or wanted, but instead the selfless love people like Naegi or Hajime could wield for others?” I can’t tell you how correct that is, but it holds close to when he said what he wanted was somebody’s love before he died.

To really talk about that with more depth, I’d have to do a separate post about his view of people in general. If you’d like to see that, just let me know. I really would like to stay on topic, and you weren’t exactly asking about that.

Now don’t be weird guys, it doesn’t make his confession any less genuine just because his concept of love is kinda fucked due to only being able to feel it through his obsession with hope since all genuine connection is very limited (non-existent) for him, it just puts into more context as to why Hajime was confused. He’s said something similar about his feelings of hope as early as chapter 1.

Does this mean he really did just meant the hope that sleeps inside Hajime? Well obviously not, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about this. It also doesn’t mean that his love for Hajime is on the same obsessive level as Hope, talent, or freaking Junko for the matter. Junko was a whole other situation when his mental stability was at its worst. Here’s what actually happened: right when he admitted he wanted somebody’s love, he immediately backpedaled that claiming everything he said was just something he lied about because he started to see that Hajime might want to grow closer and forgive him, and then then started rambling about total bullshit about Hajime killing him and the potential hope in him, even though he just said that he didn’t get the same feeling from him as other ultimates.

Very funny Komaeda, though I don’t think he wasn’t being genuine there. Maybe he did think that regardless of the “both miserable bystanders” comment because he also thought he himself could be ultimate hope in chapter 5. I feel like we knew this part well enough, so I’ll talk about the confession finally. I don’t know what compelled him to try and confess like that, but maybe he was trying to be more honest after what he did to derail him and backtracked again? Who knows.

He was starting with an actual confession, but why did he backtrack the way he did? I have two potential answers. First answer was that he didn’t want to weigh Hajime down with the burden of his feelings, and made it sound like his typical Komaeda bullshit instead. Second answer is that Komaeda doesn’t know how to express his love for Hajime and derailed it to Hajime’s hope instead because that’s the only context he’s used “Ai” (愛) in and is used to that. Him using it here doesn’t make it less sincere in his almost-confession, it’s just… complex.

Maybe if this was his only hint of loving Hajime, his feelings for him would be more controversial as “canon”, thankfully it isn’t! Maybe both answers are right in their own right, it would definitely correlate with my own thoughts about his stupidly complicated justification’s for getting closer to Hajime and making excuses for him. If you haven’t read it, I said that while Komaeda was catching feelings for Hajime as an individual, he made excuses for himself that the reason he cared for him was because he was an ultimate (meaning someone who carried potential Hope), but the only reason he let himself be close to a “supposed ultimate” was because we felt that they were similar and that he had “an air unlike the others”. Which was probably why he was so confused as to why he still cared after finding out what he did in chapter 4 because his justification no longer worked.

Although we know that Komaeda absolutely does love Hajime, I am relieved that they used different expressions of love here (both Suki and Dasuki) to make sure we know he does love him. Can it be used platonically? Sure, but the context does not position it like that.

That’s my um opinion I guess?? Hope you got more than what you were expecting? I wonder why I keep making long posts when it’s not going to get that much attention…. I was originally going to say that what’s important about him using “Ai” (愛) is the genuine intent there and not the romantic implication of it since context matters more, and that hasn’t changed at all, but this turned into a completely different conversation. My bad.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #hajime hinata #komahina #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #hinata hajime #sdr2 meta #sdr2 analysis #why is it when Komaeda is faced with genuine love for someone #he just has no idea what to think of it?? #maybe part of the reason he never minded being alone before he died is because he always had hope to rely on to be his only true connection #okay i’m done

[rocknrollbabe14]

I Wanna Be Yours (Part Four)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Cursing, implied cheating (not actually happening), drinking, depressing behaviors, beginning of smut. If I left anything out, please let me know.

Read part one here, part two here, and part three here.

Over the next several days, you had a pep in your step. Work didn’t seem so stressful or over-barring, knowing Joe was coming in the next few days to see you. Even your co-workers questioned your mood change, asking what had changed in your life. Work was the same routine, just a different day. Joe texted you as you left, asking you to call him when you got home and settled in from work. You pulled into your driveway, shut your car off, and grabbed your purse before going to unlock the door. The house was quiet, reminding you that you were still alone—without him.

Your phone dinged a couple of times, but you assumed it was messages from Joe. Every now and then, when he was really excited to talk to you, it wasn’t unusual for him to send some back-to-back messages. Slipping off your heels, you rubbed your feet easily already feeling the blisters already coming on. You walked to your kitchen, pulling out a wine glass. Another ding from your phone. You ignored it, continuing to your fridge to grab the red wine you had bought two days ago at the grocery store.

Pouring your glass of wine, you heard your phone ding again. You rolled your eyes, a smile plastered across your lips as you finally decided to see what he was on about. 

-Hey. Y/Nickname. 

-You might want to see this. 

You scrolled down, your heart dropping into your stomach. You heard yourself audibly gasp. The hot tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, almost dropping your phone. Below the second message, there was a picture of Joe and another girl you didn’t recognize It wasn’t you—that was all you knew. Your friend also sent the context of the photo she had found. It had been submitted anonymously and the source had said it was recently in London. 

Part of you was instantly angry, feeling like you had been betrayed and lied to. The other part of you wanted to cry because you felt like he had been truthful and you were beginning to have feelings for him. You were stuck in limbo, caught between a rock and a hard place. Finally, the other shoe had fallen. You studied the picture, trying to make sense of it. But it didn’t make sense. 

All you wanted to do now was get drunk and forget tonight even happened. You knew drinking wasn’t the solution but it would be the bandaid for the situation. You threw your dress clothes off, leaving your bra and panties on before turning the lights off and getting in bed.

Your phone dinged.

You dreaded picking it up. 

-Hey, love. Want me to call now? Did you make it home safe? 

You sighed, tossing your phone back on the bed. You weren’t in the mood to talk to him. There was no way you wanted to deal with this right now. You couldn’t. Those hot tears that pooled in the corner of your eyes were finally sliding down your cheeks as you took another sip of wine. You lost track of time, lost deep in your own worry and thoughts before your phone dinging pulled you out. 

-Are you okay, love?

You ignored it, laying it back down. You finished off your glass of wine, already beginning to feel woozy. Most of the time, you didn’t drink a lot. Turning on your tv, you snuggled up into bed. You closed your eyes, trying to lull yourself to sleep. You wished you could go back and be in his arms again—when everything was fine. That wasn’t happening. As your phone rang out, your eyes shot open. You picked it up to see none other than Joe calling. 

You silenced it, immediately putting your phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode. You weren’t sure how many more times he called before you managed to slip into a deep sleep, forgetting today and the world. When you woke up, you felt like you were in a daze, thankful it was the weekend. Joe was supposed to come Monday and you had scheduled to take some personal time off after Monday. You groaned, feeling a headache from hell coming on as you leaned over and grabbed your phone, curious as to how many times he had called and texted.

-Tried to call, no answer. Is everything okay?

You had around six missed calls and a couple of text messages. 

-Sorry, guess you’re asleep. Hope you sleep well, love. Call me tomorrow?

“No chance.”, you mumbled, throwing your phone back into the bed.

Today seemed like a perfect day to day-drink.

Back in London, Joe was trying to distract himself from not talking to you. It had been several hours. Truthfully, he was worried about you. It was evening, almost time for bed. He ended up at a pub with Wesley, loud music blaring with a martini by his side on the bar counter. He sipped it lightly, continuing to look down at his phone for any hopes you would message him back. 

“Still no answer?”, Wesley asked, taking a seat beside him.

He had been up, working the crowd and trying to scope out if there were any beautiful women. He and a blonde had chatted it up, Wesley managing to get her number before he came back over to Joe and took a seat. 

“Nope.”, Joe sighed, taking another sip of his martini. 

“What’s wrong with her?”, Wesley questioned aloud, taking a drink of his beer the bartender had just sat down in front of him. 

Joe shrugged, letting out a long sigh. “No idea. I don’t think I’ve done anything.”

“I’m sure you haven’t.”, Wesley reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she just realized this is going to be too hard for her to handle.”

Joe eyed him, brown eyes burning into him. “Wow, thanks, Wes.”

Wesley shrugged. “I’m not trying to be mean, but it’s better she does this now rather than later. You’re already very attached. You don’t need to have your heart broken again.”

Joe glared at him, getting up from the bar. “I’m gonna try her again.”

He walked outside, the cool wind whipping against him, his peacoat blowing softly in the wind. He dialed your number, his heart racing. He hoped you’d answer and prove Wesley and himself wrong. His hands shook as he dialed the number, placing the phone up to his ear. It rang and ran for what felt like forever before kicking over to your voicemail.

“Hey, you’ve reached Y/N. I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a name, number, and a brief message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

The automated voice came on, telling him to leave a message.

“Hey, love. It’s Joe. I have tried calling several times and texting. I haven’t heard back from you. Kinda worried about you. Can you give me a callback? Thanks. Bye.”

He slid his phone back into his pocket, feeling defeated before walking back inside. He maneuvered his way through the crowd, making his way back to Wesley at the bar. 

“Any luck?”, Wesley asked as Joe took his seat back at the bar. 

“What do you think?”, Joe sighed, bitterly as he downed his martini and ordered another one.

Wesley’s eyes widened as he watched his best friend come undone in front of him. Joe hadn’t cared if a girl didn’t message him back or call him the morning after. He didn’t care until he met you. Joe looked down at his hands wrapped around the bottom of the glass. Wesley was trying to think, rack his brain on how to get Joe out of this funk. 

“She has a friend.”, Wesley perked up. 

Joe glared at him. “No thanks, Wes.”

Wesley sighed. “Okay, fine. What if we just hang out at my place?”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Wesley sighed again, rolling his eyes easily. “You don’t need to be alone.”

Joseph finally relented, agreeing. Wesley could only stand by painfully as his best friend downed five martinis. His eyes widened, knowing this was not like Joe to act like this. Wesley watched as he downed his fifth martini, grabbing Joe’s arm easily.

“You’re cut off.”, Wesley eyed him.

Joe rolled his brown eyes, hazy as he was drunk. “Oh fuck off, Wes.”

As Joe became drunker, his language became filthier. Wesley looked surprised, a bit taken aback by Joseph’s change in mood. But Wesley also knew usually whatever mood you were in when you got drunk was intensified as you became more intoxicated. Joe glared at him before looking back at the bar, obviously not in a good or clear headspace. 

“Joe.”

“What?”, Joe snapped.

“This isn’t like you, you’re drunk.”

Joe laughed bitterly. “What are you? My mum?”

“Well, she certainly wouldn’t like your behavior.”

Joe scoffed, rolling his eyes. Truth is, Joe felt like if he got drunk he’d have a better chance of not thinking about you. He wanted to be drunk—anything to get you off his mind for a little while. Everything was starting to blur, the bar and Wes even looking hazy. Wesley wasn’t going to let him make any bad decisions or at least, he’d try. Joe checked his phone, the screen was blurry but no message from you. No call from you. What the hell had he done to you to deserve this? To his knowledge, everything had been going great. 

“Let’s go, Joe.”, Wesley got up, paying the tab. 

Joe rolled his eyes and groaned as he stood up, almost falling over and clearly unsteady from how drunk he was. Wesley quietly apologized to the bartender and bystanders, ushering Joe away from the bar. 

“You know you’re a total buzzkill.”, Joe slurred as Wesley wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”, Wesley agreed, anything to get Joe calmed down. 

Wesley finally managed to maneuver and dodge his and Joe’s way out of the crowded pub. The night air hit him in the face, a relief compared to being in the hot, crowded pub and fighting with Joe. 

“I’m calling a cab.”, Wesley sighed as he whistled, immediately hailing a cab. 

“We could walk to your flat.”, Joe argued, speech slurred.

“Nope, mate. You’re way too drunk and I can’t carry you.”

The taxi pulled over, Wesley ushering Joe in first in hopes the paparazzi or gossip pages didn’t catch him completely wasted. Wesley looked around quickly, not noticing anything off-kilter as he pushed Joe inside. 

“Not so rough.”, Joe whined, looking completely offended.

Wesley sighed, getting into the cab and closing the door. Joe closed his eyes, leaning back against the seat. Wesley, once again, apologized for Joe’s drunken behavior as he told the cab driver his address. The short ride back to his flat seemed to take forever, Wesley counting down the minutes and hoping Joe didn’t spill his guts everywhere. How embarrassing would that be? They finally pulled up to the curb near his flat, Wesley getting out first before trying to help a drunken Joe back into his apartment. 

It wasn’t an easy task to get your drunk best mate out of the taxi. 

“Use your legs.”, Wesley spat. 

“Can’t—”, Joe argued back. 

“Ugh, you’re making this really hard.”

“So are you!”

Wesley groaned, knowing he had a long night ahead of him. Noticing his watch, it was one in the morning. Most bars didn’t open until eleven in Soho or London. Wesley finally managed to drag Joe out of the taxi, throwing his arm around his shoulder.

“Try and help me get into my apartment?”

Joe scoffed. “Fine.”

Wesley sighed as they entered the apartment building, somehow making it to the elevator and up to Wesley’s floor. Wesley struggled to hold Joe up and pull his keys out of his pocket, but somehow he managed to make it work. Wesley was relieved as the door opened to his apartment, getting Joe inside and to the couch, finally letting him slump over like a rag doll.

“Wes.”

“Yes, Joe?”

“Do you think—she hates—hates me?”

“I don’t know, Joe. But you need to sleep. You’re wasted and you’re going to be so hung over in the morning.”

Joe groaned, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call her again.”, he slurred.

“No—no more calling her. Sleep.”, Wesley ordered, taking his phone out of his hands. 

“It’s not your choice.”, Joe argued, glaring at Wesley as he tried to raise himself off the couch but to no avail.

Wesley laid his phone on the counter before digging through the fridge to find a bottle of water. “Tonight, it is.”

“What do you have against—her?”

Wesley groaned as he turned his attention to his cabinet, hunting for some ibuprofen or Tylenol, knowing Joe would need it for the hell of the headache he was going to have.

“I don’t have anything against her—I don’t know her.”

“You’re so negative about us.”, Joe slurred as he took his jacket off. 

Wesley continued to search through the bottles in his cabinet. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes—you are.”

He wasn’t sure how much more of a love-sick Joe he could handle. Part of him debated messaging or calling you himself, telling you what a wreck his best friend was in and it was all because of you. Part of Wesley was angry at you.

“Not negative, just honest.”

Wesley finally found his bottle of Tylenol, closing his cabinet. 

“You don’t like her and haven’t—even met her.”, Joe hiccuped easily, laying back on Wesley’s couch.

Grabbing the bottle of water and two Tylenol, he came over to the living room, standing over Joe.

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”, Wesley sighed. “She’s American. She doesn’t live in the same country and isn’t used to our lifestyle. Plus, you’re famous. How do you know she doesn’t have an ulterior motive? You don’t exactly have a great track record since becoming famous overnight, you know.”

Joe groaned as Wesley handed him the water and Tylenol, instructing him to take them. 

“She didn’t even know—I was famous when she met me.”

“She can pretend.”

“She wasn’t pretending, Wes. She actually cared about—getting to know me.”, Joe slurred as he sat up, popping the Tylenol in his mouth and chasing it down with some water before setting the bottle back on the coffee table and sinking back down into Wesley’s couch. 

Wesley finally nodded his head. “Okay, so maybe she wasn’t pretending. But you and I both know that your life has changed a lot since you became famous. You have no privacy. You’re not a normal British bloak anymore.”

Joe looked at him. “What’s your point?”

“I’m just saying, be careful. It’s not promising she’s already ignoring you.”

“I feel like I fucked up somehow.”, Joe groaned.

“When are you supposed to leave on your flight?”

“Monday.”

“That’s two days away.”

Joe nodded. “I know.”

“Are you still going to go? Even if she doesn’t talk to you?”

“I don’t know. It might be—the only chance I have.”

Wesley sighed, nodding. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”

Joe nodded. “Fine.”

His eyes were starting to get heavy, exhausted from the day and drinking so much. It was finally catching up with him. Wesley went into his room, opened his closet door, and got one of the few extra blankets he had. Walking back into the living room, he threw it over Joe easily and turned off the lights before locking the door. He wasn’t sure how this situation would pan out. It was hard to understand or relate to, but he was doing his best to at least try and understand where Joe was coming from. 

But was it necessary to be hung up on one girl? Joe could have any girl he wanted. There were girls hitting up his celebrity dating profile left and right—but he chose to ignore them. He only wanted you. He was focused on you, or at least that’s what you had thought. Wesley didn’t get it, but he was trying to understand. 

The next morning Wesley was awakened to a horrid sound—his best friend puking his guts out before groaning in agony. Wesley sighed, half annoyed as he got out of bed, rolling his eyes at Joe for how dumb he had been. However, he was a love-sick fool. Maybe he’d cut him a little slack. Wesley opened the door to find Joe hung over the commode, pale as a ghost and tears running down his face.

“How long have you been awake?”, Wesley groaned, rubbing his own eyes. 

“Just like ten minutes.”, Joe breathed, chest heaving. 

“Woke up sick, hm?”, Wesley teased, crossing his arms.

Joe shot him a death glare. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well if it isn’t the consequences of our own actions?”

“Shut up Wes.”

Wesley couldn’t help but chuckle lightly as he gave Joe a cold washcloth. There had been many occasions where Wesley had to bail Joe out, but there was an equal number where Joe had done the same for him. Wesley wasn’t trying to be an asshole, he was just trying to look out for him. Joe was one of his best mates—if not his best mate and he didn’t want to see Joe get hurt again. 

“I’ll leave you alone. Want a pillow and blanket too?”, Wesley asked cheekily. 

“I’m sure I’ll be camping out in here.”, Joe groaned, leaning his head against the cabinet of the vanity and sink. 

“Be back. More Tylenol?”

“Not sure I’ll be able to keep it down.”, Joe sighed, feeling another wave of nausea hit him. 

“We can try.”

Joe spent the entire day on the bathroom floor, taking a short nap between his spells. He was miserable, groaning. 

Wesley went in the bathroom to check on him periodically, finding him laying on the pillow and covered up with the blanket he had provided him, his hand over his face and groaning in agony. 

“Wes—I fucked up.”

“You could say that again.”

“No—I mean, yes I shouldn’t have drank. But I’ve got to catch that plane Monday.”

“Um….”

“I know, I know. You think it’s stupid.”

“Joe….”

“Please, Wes. Just let me figure this out.”

“She hasn’t messaged you back.”, Wesley blurted out. 

Joe looked at him, mouth agape. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of his sails. Wesley sighed as he put his hand over his face, hating to be the one to break the news. Truth was, Wesley had checked his phone all day—every hour to see if there was any correspondence from you. There were no calls or text messages and he knew something was clearly wrong. You were ghosting Joe and he wasn’t thrilled about it. So, as his best mate, he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He had texted you, but Joe didn’t know. 

-Hey, I know you don’t know me but I’m Joe’s best friend, Wesley. I usually wouldn’t poke my nose where it doesn’t belong but he’s a wreck without you. I’m not sure what he has done and neither is he. Could you just tell him what he did wrong? Thanks. X

Unfortunately, there was no answer. Wesley felt like had tried and done his best but there was nothing more he could do. 

“What do I do, Wes?”

“What do you feel is right?”, Wesley asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of his bathroom.

“I need to see her. I could set things straight in person.”

“What time does your plane leave?”

“Six thirty in the morning.”

“Is your stuff packed?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, but it’s at my house.”

“Give me your house keys and I’ll go get it.”, Wesley sighed, outstretching his hand.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. You’re my best mate—and I may think this is a little crazy, but you really care for this girl, don’t you?”

“I do.”, Joe admitted. “I want to fix my mistakes.”

Wesley nodded, telling Joe he’d be back in twenty minutes give or take, leaving him alone in the bathroom floor. 

The next morning Joe and Wesley both groaned as the sound of their alarms went off—five-thirty came early. Joe rushed, throwing slacks and a button-up on before sliding his black peacoat on. Wesley kept it casual, yawning as they got into his car to head to the airport. Joe remembered taking you to the airport, the waves of memories hitting him like a ton of bricks. 

“You’ll call when you land?”, Wesley asked, eyes on him.

“Yes, but then I’m surprising her at work.”, Joe grabbed his suitcase, closed the back door, and prepared to close the front. 

“Okay, just let me know everything’s good.”

“I will. See ya later, Wes.”

“Later, Joe.”

Wesley watched as Joe closed the passenger door, making his way into the airport. Wesley hoped Joe knew what he was doing. It was all in his hands now. Deep down inside, Joe hoped the same. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Joe felt extremely tired and jet lagged as the announcement came that they would be landing soon. He had a nap, but still felt so rough. But you were worth it—you were worth everything to him already. After landing and signing for his rental car, he took a deep breath. He felt anxious, nervous, and like he was out of his element. He wasn’t used to having to chase anyone—not in the last little bit. He was having girls throw themselves at him. 

He wasn’t a pompous asshole who thought he deserved that. His heart began to beat faster as he walked around the airport, heading for baggage claim. He got his suitcase, holding his ticket, and could visibly see his hands shaking. He was nervous—he felt like the room was hot, his body was on fire, and could feel his blood pressure was through the roof. After loading his luggage in the rental car, he turned on some air to temporarily cool himself down—even if it was still winter here in the States as well. 

He looked up directions to the doctor’s office you worked at, you had told him before. But he made a stop at the local floral shop, the florist shocked and amused to hear a British guy. He got it often, smiling and laughing it off. His hands were nervously shoved in his pockets. The florist asked him if it was for someone special and he nodded, telling her a little bit about you. He took the arrangement and went back to the car, taking a deep breath. Was he really about to see you even after days of no communication?

Starting the car, he closed his eyes for a brief moment before following the GPS. He watched as the time decreased, closer to reaching you. One more right turn and he would be there—he’d get to see you gain. Suddenly, he felt his palms become sweaty feeling like they’d slip on the steering wheel. He pulled into the parking lot, feeling very uneasy. 

“You can do this.”, he breathed, closing his eyes. “You can do this, Joe.”

He opened the car door, shutting and locking it behind him after he grabbed your flower arrangement. He cleared his throat and opened the door to the doctor’s office. Even if he didn’t feel confident, he was trying his best to be. His heart skipped a beat as he saw you looking down, working on the computer. You didn’t even notice him which wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it would give him time to speak before you shot him down. He walked up to the window, clearing his throat one more time. 

You didn’t look up as you slid the window open. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Y/N.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, looking up at him. There he was in the flesh. There was no running now, no avoiding the situation. 

“Joe?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d come and see you love.”

“Why are you here at my job? I’m working.”, you hissed.

“I couldn’t wait to see you. Can we talk?”

You scoffed, looking back at your computer and ignoring him, hoping he’d take the hint. “Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about.”

Joe was taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

Your voice became lower. “You know what you did.”, you hissed, trying not to draw attention to you both.

“I’m sorry? I don’t recall. I’d like to know what I did to deserve the silent treatment for days.”

His response was slightly cheeky. 

“Look, can we not do this at my job? I get off in an hour. Can you wait until I’m off?”, you sighed, hand over your face.

“Okay.”, he agreed.

“Okay. Now, please move away from my window in case patients come in.”

He did as you asked, feeling wilted. The hour and ten minutes he had to wait felt like an eternity. You came out of the office, locking the door behind you. He finally got a good look at you in your plum button-up and black pencil skirt that hugged your thighs just right. You had black tights on and heels, carrying your purse on your shoulder with your winter coat on. He felt his throat become dry as he swallowed harshly. 

“Can I at least have a hug?”, he asked, lowly just in the tone that usually drove you crazy. 

“Joe.”, you groaned. “Look, I’m really not sure why you came all the way out here.”

His face fell. “To see you? We’ve talked about it ever since you left London.”, he laughed, confused.

You sighed. “That was before—”

“Before what? What have I done? Can we at least sit down and talk about it? I’ve flown all the way over here. Can you at least give me that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, we can at my house. But you’re not staying.”

He agreed—he would agree to whatever you wanted to just get a chance to explain himself. You told him to follow you to your house, not even accepting his flowers. He pulled in behind you, shutting the car off as you grabbed your purse and house keys, the wind picking up speed and a chill. He got out, carrying your flowers, and attempted to help you unlock your door but you brushed him off, finally getting it unlocked. Walking inside, he was met with the scent of coconut, one of your many scent diffusers.

You slid your coat and heels off, instantly feeling relief. It was good to be home, but your mind instantly reminded you that you would have to deal with your problem at hand. He wished things could be different as he followed you into your dimly lit kitchen before you flipped on the lights. You opened your fridge, immediately heading for the wine. Joe sat your flowers down on your island, shoving his hands in his pockets nervously. 

“Look, Joe. It’s really admirable that you came all the way out here but I think you need to catch the first plane back to London.”

You could see the glisten in Joe’s brown eyes. “What’s going on? Just days ago, we were fine and you were excited to see me.”

You rolled your eyes as you popped the cork on your wine bottle, pouring some out into a glass. “You know exactly what you did. How long did you possibly think that you could date multiple girls and they wouldn’t find out?”

There was fire in your voice as you spat the last words of your sentence. 

Joe looked taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

You scoffed. “Please don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb—”

“Please just save the bullshit, it’s exhausting.”, you groaned as you took a sip of wine. “Explain this.”, you slid your phone across your marble countertop. 

“May I?”, he asked, asking for permission to look at your phone.

“Go ahead. Please look at the picture and explain it to me. Make it make sense, Joe.”, you crossed your arms and leaned back against your fridge, taking another sip of your wine. 

He wore a surprised expression on his face as he finally noticed what made you so upset. 

“That’s not a recent picture. That’s me and one of my friends who just so happens to be a girl.”, he laughed lightly, trying to clear the air. 

“Do you just like lying?”, you laughed bitterly before taking another sip of wine. “Bet you still have a celebrity dating profile, don’t you?”

“Y/N—”

“And you thought that bringing me these ugly, stupid flowers and flying all the way from London would make me forget this shit and just spread my legs the first chance I get for you—”

You were cut off by him pushing you against your fridge, a small gasp escaping you as his body was flush against yours. He was kissing you, his tongue tracing your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You gave in, feeling his tongue entangle yours. His hands found your hips as your hands brushed down his chest. 

“I—only—fucking want you.”, Joe growled out, feral causing a knot in your lower stomach. 

He went back to kissing you, your hands finding their way around his neck. 

“You—mean—it?”, you asked between kisses.

“Mhmmm, I’m all yours, love. Promise…”

His hands moved from your waist to your shirt, beginning to unbutton your plum button-up. You sighed into his kisses with relief as he popped each button. He hummed as your black bra came into view, causing a smirk to spread across your lips. 

“That’s sexy.”, he hummed between slow, passionate kisses.

“Mhm, you think so?”

He nodded. “Want—you—out of this skirt so bad.”

“What are you—waiting for?”, you teased back, breaking the kiss and looking into his brown eyes with want and need. 

His hands brushed your bare waist, causing chill bumps to cascade down your skin. He picked you up in one swift motion, causing you to giggle and gasp before you both started kissing again—more slow and sensual than before. You had missed this, there was no denying it. You couldn’t help but run your hands through his curls, causing him to moan into your mouth. He bumped into your wall accidentally as he carried you upstairs to your bedroom, turning one of your pictures uneven and causing you both to break your kiss and laugh before he took his free hand to open the door. 

He decided not to mention the empty wine bottle and glass on your dresser as he leaned over your bed and laid you down gently, breaking the kiss again. You sighed softly, looking up at him with longing eyes. It was driving him crazy. You let him take your unbuttoned shirt and toss it in the floor, just leaving you in your black bra and black pencil skirt with your black tights. He placed small kisses on the exposed part of your belly before his hands trailed over to the side zipper. 

“Never got to see this look in London...”, he smirked, chuckling softly.

It was hard to explain but you felt safe and secure with him. Everything felt right.

You smirked. “Didn’t want to bore you with my business attire.”

“It’s really sexy—this skirt hugs your waist just right.” 

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, love.”, he smirked as he grabbed the waist of your skirt, you lifted your hips up to help him get it off. 

You hummed with satisfaction as he tossed your skirt in the floor, it joining the same place as your button-up. He took a minute to admire your half naked body before reaching for the hem of your black tights. 

“I freeze in the office, okay?”, you looked up at him. 

“No, it’s fine, love. It’s really sexy. Boudoir vibes.”, he chuckled as he tugged your tights gently down your legs gently as he leaned up to share a kiss with you. 

Breaking the kiss, you lifted your hips up as he pulled them gently down and off your legs. He was taking extra time, being gentle as he took your right foot out of the bottom of your tights, admiring your toes.

“Red this time?”

“Uh, yeah—got a pedicure once I got home.”, you smirked.

“Sexy, love that color on you.”, he breathed as he leaned down to kiss you. 

You felt the chills cascade up your body, a sigh escaping you. 

“Wanna fuck you so bad—”, he moaned. 

“Do it—please fucking do it.”, you begged. 

"Accusing me of wanting another girl? I'm gonna make a mess of you."

"Promise?", you looked up at him.

"Oh, I promise.", he laughed before leaning down to kiss you. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson #joseph x reader #eddie imagines #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie x reader

[thereisnolumos]

Correcting all the atrocities against Russian language in Grishaverse

I think that I might’ve already wrote on this topic here before, but I can’t seem to find it and I’m continuously bitter with the way my language has been expropriated and twisted in the girishaverse series, so, without further ado, 10 things that infuriated me (and the ones I remembered now, for there are surely more) as a Russian speaking person:

1. The first being the Grisha itself. It’s a male name. A shortened version of the name Grigoriy, to be exact. To call an entire group of people like that is… try switching it to “Johnny” every time you read it and you’ll understand the pain. She could’ve at least try and justify it with some “first ever” character with such powers named Grigoriy, so that’s why they’re called that… but no

2. All the names. Listen, if you’re using Russian names while writing in English (or any other language that doesn’t differentiate between genders) you have two ways:

eradicate the switch completely, giving everyone the male version (i.e. default bcs that’s the world we live in), or

FUCKING STICK TO THE RULES OF THE LANGUAGE YOU’RE GOT THEM FROM. The female Russian last names will always have a vowel in the end. So, it’s Aleksander Morozov and Baghra Morozova (I’m dying to know what name she thought that one is a short version of, for it just doesn’t exist). It’s Alina Starkova. Genya Safina (which should be Evgeniya, bcs Genya is a short version). Zoya Nazelenskaya (her name looks to me as of Polish and/or Ukrainian origins, correct me of I’m wrong. I’m only going off from the Russian language rules), etc.

3. It’s Fyodor, not Fedyor. And it’s Kaminskyi or Kaminskyy, there is an extra sound in the end, not just -y. Actually, for this last name use the name of the President of Ukraine as a guide, their names would be of the same origin, same as Zoya’s last name.

4. You cannot use just any word as a name in Russian language. I know that it’s sort of a thing in modern English language, but it’s not a case here. So, if I recall, there was a character with the name “Privyet” in the books. Which means “hi” in Russian. Don’t do things like that. Please. I beg of you. Fun fact, we have Vera, Nadezhda and Lubov (Faith, Hope and Love respectively) as real FEMALE ONLY names, but no such thing as just taking a word like say “Otvaga - Bravery” and making it a name. Nope.

5. Don’t even get me started on the idiocy that “otkazat’sya” is. It’s. A. Fucking. Verb. Means “to refuse” in a slightly different context that “otkazat’”. There isn’t a single version of the reality where it would’ve made sense to call a group of people by verb. None. If she wanted it to mean “the abandoned” as in “the power abandoned them”, she should’ve called them “otvergnutyye” or “ostavlennyye”. If the meaning is more towards “they refused that power”, then it should be smth like “otkazavshiesya”.

6. They have stressed the wrong syllable in the “merzost’” on the show. Supposed to be the first one. Not sure whether or not she meant to use the word “filth” in regards to the forbidden magic, or if, once again, she just liked the sound of this word.

7. “Kefta” should’ve just been “kaftan”

8. I actually hate that she couldn’t just stick to the names that would’ve been found in Russian empire during the time she drew inspiration from. What is Baghra and Malyen???? Where’d she get them??? I can stretch Baghra as being a very strange short version of the name Agrafena (veeeeery old Russian name, which suits her long life), but it’s a big stretch to say the least. Malyen just doesn’t exist. Mal doesn’t exist as a name (it’s a old version of the word “small” though)

9. What is the word “Tsarina” everyone seems to use in fanfiction where Alina and Aleksander rule over Ravka? There is no such word. There are:

Tsar - the male ruler

Tsaritsa - female ruler and/or wife of a Tsar

Tsarevich - son of Tsar and Tsaritsa

Tsarevna - daughter of Tsar and Tsaritsa

No Tsarina.

10. David’s last name is extremely strange. I assume he’s not of Ravkan origins, from his first name, but Kostyk - is a friendly short version of a name Konstantin. I’m debated over the fact whether or not this form of this name has even been in use before Soviet Union actually. I’ve met people with the last name like Kostyukevich and Konstantinov though (there are many last names that originated from first names in Russian language many, many years ago. But there are rules for the ways they were formed)

Feel free to add all the ways Leigh Bardugo butchered other languages and cultures in this series

#grishaverse #russian language #slavic languages #shadow and bone #aleksander morozov #alina starkova #genya safina #baghra morozova #malyen oretsev #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone series #incorrect shadow and bone

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

What’s your opinion on cross guild? I’m sending this on anon because I kinda hate them while everybody loves them. I think it’s because Buggy is my favourite character and I just can’t see it as anything other than abuse😭 Do you think their dynamic will change? Is my opinion based on unconditional clown love?

i think the fanon toxic polycule concept is kinda funny? like, the idea of buggy continuing to fail upward in life into a triad with two very powerful people who started out hating him? hysterical. does it have a strong basis in canon? no. just about every buggy ship has to be taken with a grain of “let’s ignore the reality of the situation here” salt. my own buggy ship is not immune to this! but cross guild… really needs that seasoning.

in canon it’s more a hostage situation than a relationship—albeit a pretty slapstick hostage situation, as despite their best efforts mihawk and crocodile cannot control buggy or his followers at all, and the injuries buggy takes are treated pretty lightly by the narrative.

in that context, it makes sense that sexual interpretations of cross guild would have strong vibes of either bdsm or ipv. i’m not surprised it’s upsetting for you.

in the end, it’s something i could be convinced to read a mundane au about, where dynamics are always softened to better fit the setting, but that’s about it for me re: the trio. i don’t expect their dynamic to change much, even if buggy manages to rope them into going along with his one piece questing, and i don’t much care.

now, the pairs within the trio?

crocodile and buggy is just “give me my money” -> flight response -> threats of violence -> fawn response -> actual violence -> desperate fawn response. good god. i get why it brings out certain impulses in certain readers—buggy begs to lick the man’s boots, ffs—but it does not really do anything for me, and i don’t expect that to change. crocodile wants money and power, which buggy respects because same, but as he has less of both he can’t really offer crocodile much of anything, and crocodile seems very aware and disdainful of that.

buggy and mihawk is theoretically very fun for the same reason luffy interacting with either of them is fun: they all have a connection to shanks that makes their interactions with anyone else who knows shanks so weird. they cannot be normal about that guy. in practice, none of that has shown up, we’ve just seen mihawk offended by buggy’s personality/reputation/aesthetic and buggy flinching away from his glares. (i can’t imagine mihawk punching someone, so i suspect all of buggy’s injuries came from crocodile… probably because the only way mihawk could actually hurt buggy would be with lethal force.) i’m hopeful, as has been indicated in previous mihawk posts, that we’ll get something more here eventually.

mihawk and crocodile legitimately made me go oh, hm in that first cross guild chapter. crocodile calls this guy up out of nowhere to say, “hey, i notice your job security kinda sucks right now, want to join my company? we have a lot in common… we both hate other people…” is there a history between these two, or did crocodile just get good vibes off him the one time they both bothered to show up for a warlord meeting? i want to know more. if these two ever get rid of buggy, would they actually be any good at managing baroque works 2: crossy guild? idk. i suspect without a scapegoat to redirect their anger onto they’d start having unavoidable personality conflicts, regardless of their managerial competencies, but even that could be fun to watch fall apart.

#asked and answered #i think you may be viewing the ship from a very canon-centric perspective (where it is just threats & violence &c.) #while others who like the ship are enjoying the vibes of slimy casino owner + goth swordsman + clown pirate in a tangled antagonistic mess #…and of course there’s the fans who LIKE to see buggy hurt. i’m sure they’re having a great time with this ship. #anyway i understand being annoyed by its prevalence in that light… #but that’s what tag filtering is for! cultivate your fandom experience to your liking! #one piece #once again i feel bad tagging for a ship on a vaguely critical post but tags are for filtering *out* as well as filtering in #so i gotta #cross guild #buggy #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #*ppl being mean to buggy

[copperbadge]

Okay, it may be obvious by now that I'm ALREADY doing a re-read of your Askazer-Shivadlakia books (I really want it to be Ashkazer because it's how my brain first read it, but alas....)

On to Infinite Jes--when I read it the first time, I saw Noah calling Jes "Boss" because they work together. Now I realize it is, or could be, a gender-neutral word for parent.

If they didn't work together, would this still be what Noah called Jes?

As a parent myself, I think "boss" is a pretty reductive word, so I'm curious about what it means to Noah and Jes.

LOL, hey, I've re-read them a handful of times, no reason anyone else shouldn't. :D

Essentially I think of Boss as a term of endearment -- you might say "she's my boss" or "he's the boss" but you don't generally call someone just "boss" to their face, unless you have some other kind of relationship to them as well. It's a very casual thing to do, at least to my mind.

I have the process of all this written out somewhere but I think it's in bits and pieces scattered across last March or April. To summarize, I did a survey where I asked, essentially, if you're a nonbinary parent or the child of one, what parental term do you use? and I got a lot of specific terms, but also general discussion -- for example, some kids use the term of the parent's assigned-gender-at-birth, and others use a term that most fits the parent's "role" (ie, a nonbinary person who leans more masculine might be "dad" regardless of their gender identity/AGAB). Above a certain age it seems like most kids use the parent's name, but it's by no means universal.

None of the specific terms resonated for me with Jes and Noah's relationship. Some I didn't like the sound of, others just didn't feel quite accurate, especially for use by a child on the cusp of adulthood. Noah's old enough not to use a gendered term, but "parent" in direct address felt too formal, and something like "rent" or "renny" felt disrespectful in this context (to be clear I think these are fine objectively, and I'm not here to say what you should or shouldn't call a parent, but for this specific relationship it felt wrong). I felt weird making up a gender-neutral Shivadh term for parent, since then I'd have to do at least a brief exposition dump about what the term was and what it meant.

The only thing that did resonate was the idea of Jes and Noah figuring out a term together. Jes has always given Noah a lot of well-supported autonomy, so it made sense that once he was old enough, he'd have a full vote in what he was going to call them. Boss was convenient as it was evident Noah was eventually going to be working with them on the podcast, and it was catchier to my ear (and thus Noah's) than some other terms.

Within their relationship, it acknowledges that Jes has the ultimate authority as parent, but also that they aren't actually in an employer-employee situation, that there's a deeper bond between them and a more comprehensive expectation of care from Jes. It says "I know the buck stops with you, but you have a duty to look out for me and treat me like a person."

For another kind of parent-child relationship I would probably choose something different, but Boss feels to me like it suits them in the way they have of like -- obviously being a loving family, but also being very Shivadh in their trolling of each other. I think even if they didn't work together, they'd probably both find "boss" pretty apt.

But also, you know, I really think it does depend on the parent and child, so I could see how you wouldn't want your kid to call you that, which is perfectly legit. Boss is definitely not some platonic ideal, it's just what Noah and Jes cobbled together without much in the way of a handbook for this kind of thing.

Anyway if you use any term for anything long enough it starts to sound natural to your ear, and that idea is doing quite a bit of heavy lifting for "boss" -- by the time I was done with the book it sounded as natural to me as "mom" or "dad". So it could be I'm just more acclimated to it. :D

#shivadhverse #nonbinary parenting #connected-dots

[utilitycaster]

I keep thinking abt your "'must a story have conflict?' Yes actually hope this helps" posts in the context of laudna and imogen because like. Their shippers keep saying like. "You just don't UNDERSTAND the beauty of their Perfect Relationship, the bond that Traumatized People have that makes them In Tune, so sad how you will never understand love or being with another etcetera etcetera" and it's like. what the hell are you talkinf about (they're usually the kind of ppl with weird and bad narrative ideas re: their traumas so uwu sad everyone is against them). Don't we want this relationship to be healthy and beneficial to both of them? Don't get me wrong, I love Toxic Girl Yuri fucked up tragic relationships as much as anyone else but shippers pretty clearly aren't angling for that kind of story, and neither would the trajectory of the campaign support it. The onscreen dynamic isn't even spicy enough to HAVE toxic codependency it's just. There.

what's funny is that actually my favorite era of their relationship was the "we transcend labels, you and I" thing Laudna said to Imogen. Partly bc personal aro feelings but also because THAT felt like genuine no expectations support to fall back on. The idea that they could just Be and always be It wasn't ASKING for the kind of dynamicism of a romantic relationship such and such, but now with the girlfriends thing, it feels like now there should be WAY more than what's been happening. Does any of this make sense?

Hey anon,

So I largely agree (will cover the one point of not entire agreement below). I do want to note that if you're the person who's sent me other questions recently on this topic please feel free to DM me! I think it's valid to want to voice those frustrations, and I get not wanting to do so publicly (though I think the harassment on Tumblr at least has largely died down) but also to be completely honest I have been fully in a Nein and Candela headspace with a handful of exceptions mostly relating to wiki stuff so I've been answering these anons but I'll admit it's not where my thoughts have been re: CR stuff for the past few weeks.

Anyway, I can understand the desire for a QPR or simply close friends for Imogen and Laudna! I am not aro myself, and I do enjoy a good romantic plot, but I'd rather have a well-executed story with no romance than a good story slightly marred by poorly done romance. However, it's actually really interesting to me (in a good/neutral way) that you recall it as "we transcend labels" because the actual quote (3x49, 4:52:57) is "We transcend words, you and I" and I could not stand that because my frustration has again always been that they spend a lot of time talking, and absolutely none of it communicating; they have never transcended words, they have simply not fucking used them well. More generously, I think a relationship in which a couple is on such a wavelength that they do have a sense of how the other feels without needing to talk (or read minds, in this situation) can be aspirational in real life, though again, I don't think that's actually what's going on here; but even if it were, that is not remotely interesting to watch. I truly do not give a shit in the end if relationships on the shows I watch are healthy or unhealthy provided the narrative knows what it's fucking doing and I think people who are obsessed with unproblematic wholesomeness are frankly suspect, but man, either be toxic codependent yuri or be two people trying to understand each other, instead of two people who seem to only occasionally remember that they are important to each other, and never seem to remember why.

But yes, the fact that virtually nothing has changed despite a relationship upgrade, especially in light of the relationship losing my interest as a platonic thing 30 or 40 episodes prior to them becoming a romantic couple is now thrown into more stark relief because you'd think something would change. Like, that's the thing. There was no romance; there was no plot. While I think the people who insisted from the start that CLEARLY they were already dating are the kind of people who would unironically ship my mop and broom solely on the basis of them leaning against each other next to my garbage can, at least if they had already been dating from the start a lack of forward momentum could be somewhat forgiven. I say somewhat, because Veth and Yeza were married from before the campaign or, for a platonic option, the twins were...twins from before the campaign, and both those relationships were still infinitely more complex and ever-changing and thoughtful over the course of their respective campaigns than whatever Imogen and Laudna were doing; it still, to be clear, would have been dishwater dull. But it would have been forgivably so; I would have simply politely lost interest episode 5 or whenever and moved on without saying much, whereas now there's a series of increasingly lowered bars in their wake.

So anyway, yeah. It sure is There.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #the lack of premise #i should go back and tag old asks with that...another day

[qvincvnx]

do you have a post about b a b e l? I haven't read it yet but would loooove to hear why you personally dislike it

legend thank you. some spoilers below.

good things about babel

(sort of a good thing): interesting magic worldbuilding conceit. the idea is that lexical gaps across translation power magic, and that as europe gets semantically linguistically closer, magic is fading - time to for the institution to exploit east asian languages! this concept conceptually fucks. however every single thing about the execution was awful that this actually pisses me off more, because i want to read the book that actually does this and now i never can because this came out first.

bad things about babel, in approximately ascending order of how agonizing they make the experience of reading it

literally the basic execution. the prose is clumsy; it's historical fiction that's trying to be historical-voiced and the character voices are completely indistinguishable from 1. one another 2. your average twitter user. this is incredibly embarrassing for the author but it doesn't even seem to be something on her radar to be embarrassed about; this is the first thing i noticed as off and the thing that kept me closest to DNFing throughout. if she would like to teach intro colonialist theory seminars with modern jargon and terms then the author could have done that as an academic. it would have been really lovely to have something of a window into how this issue was being discussed at the time! what frameworks contemporary colonized and colonial people used to understand their own resistance to british rule... but absolutely no research on this was done (if it was, none of it was in the text)

apes the craft of more effectively written books without understanding what made them effective, which is just genuinely agonizing to read. particularly notable here are its attempted utilization of footnotes but it is not jsmn. yk. there's a chapter that's just one sentence, with a footnote that takes up the whole page with a bunch of diagrams, and then the next chapter repeats the previous sentence with a comma and goes on into the prose... you didn't have to do that... (this one is admittedly kind of BEC-y) (also the copyediting was not great throughout i found a number of problems. that is not really the author's fault but it felt like the book was trying to literally precisely gaslight me about what good prose looks like)

ahistorical in the extreme. again, i cannot express this effectively but it really demonstrates a lack of basic effort and care throughout. as this reviewer notes regarding oysters, the author seems incapable or unwilling to imagine how people might have thought or felt about something if it's different from how she feels about it. the author's note devotes like 7x as much page time apologizing for slightly altering how long it takes to get from oxford to london as it does for CHANGING THE CORONATION DATE OF QUEEN VICTORIA in a book that's in large part about the expansion and impacts of GLOBAL COLONIAL EXPLOITATION. one of these things impacts the part of the world she can clearly imagine - her oxford, where they serve oysters - and the other one has massive global implications.

NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS WHO ARE TRANSLATORS CARE ENOUGH ABOUT LANGUAGE TO DELIGHT IN LANGUAGE. all of the discussion of translation is pretty rote, but also like... my friends who are into language and i joke, we play with sounds and words and cross-language puns. none of the characters seemed to actually enjoy their academic passion. stressed me out on their behalves (also no one, like, studies, but this is typical of the genre)

this isn't really a full point but it annoyed me SO badly it's going in here. MC describes a later-revealed-to-be-bad female character as something like 'giving feminists a bad name'. A) it is set in the like 1830s and the word feminist makes no sense in context B) yOU WROTE HER ACTING LIKE THAT, SHE IS NOT AN INDEPENDENT PERSON WITH FREE WILL. YOU MADE HER DO THAT. basically you can clearly see the author's strings moving the characters around, the author tries SO hard to make sure you like and dislike all the correct characters that it is like can you please just let them move around and act like human beings.

by extension - incredibly flat characterization. the characters move to the beat of the plot, rather than seeming internally consistent. the MC's father is villainous in a very specific way - condescending white man's burden pushing for economic/cultural influence and assimilation of talented ~colonials into the imperial core - right up until the MC needs a justified reason to murder him, at which point he is magically revealed to have been a virulently racist war hawk trying to spur on the deaths of thousands. like, sure, okay, racist one way will be racist another, you could do this effectively - but again, you can see the author's hand in these matters and the timing of these revelations, and she is clumsy with her dolls.

i am not an expert in these matters personally but i definitely did find it ironic that babel's thesis is "empires are bad!" and then it immediately undercuts itself discussing china like "unless they are empires run by poc, then the protagonists should root for them" like skill issue all empires are bad definitionally. thanks.

i was thoroughly underwhelmed by its attempt to engage in class politics. really embarrassing.

it's dark academia with no homoeroticism in sight

#hopefully this made sense. the last bad point is half a joke (it should be lower on the list it's just a better punchline) but it is true. #idk how to tag this for people who don't want to see this without it going in the tag. i'm sorry. #i'm sure i'm forgetting things these are just the instances i screenshotted and which therefore stuck to my brain better.

[sinsandsuccubus]

Light of Love - Jack Harlow

Context: He was better.

Genre: angst ➤ fluff

Word Count: 1k

Pairings: Jack Harlow X Fem!Reader, Urban Wyatt X Ex!Reader

Warnings: suggestive, light talk of sex

A/N: the people have spoken! And by popular demand, Jack and the reader get together. Here’s their story!

This is a Part 2 to Over the Love, please read that part before reading this one, as it’ll make more sense.

-

Masterlist ☽☾

                                          ☽ ☾

One year.

It took you one year to recover from the damage Urban had done. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought you’d love again. The idea of being with someone else made you nauseous; not only because the thought of it being a joke was on the table, but because it wouldn’t be Urban.

As much as you wanted to let go of Urban, you couldn’t. At least, immediately. It took time. Time for you to heal, time to you to learn how to live without him, time for you to discover yourself and your life, without him in it.

It was hard. All the memories, the clothes he had at your home, the lingering smell of his cologne.

It took you 4 months to unblock all of your friends, the one who initially started the bet forever blocked, they wouldn’t have the chance to ask for forgiveness nor see your success. Everyone else apologized with full hearts, crying out to you in desperation and sadness.

Truthfully, it was disgusting. Disgusting that they even called themselves your “friends”. But, you forgave them.

However, you’d never forget.

                                          ☽ ☾

It took another year to realize that you were in love with Jack. It finally occurring to you after he left your apartment after a movie marathon. You wondered how he’d feel sleeping in your bed, cuddling you close, and kissing along your skin. You wondered what it would feel like to have him inside of you, to fuck you, make love to you. You wondered what it would be like to have the Jack Harlow. The Jackman you knew and loved.

So when he came back over at your request that same night and fucked you like never before, you confessed.

It took 3 months of dates, trips, and movie nights for him to call you his. And another 3 months for it to be announced to the public.

Some people called you a “homie hopper”, others said that you “were in it for the money”. Sometimes it got to your head, but most of the time it didn’t, because you knew your place and where you stood. You loved Jack.

And he felt the same.

                                          ☽ ☾

Of course, with Jack came Urban; they were like two peas in a pod. And when Urban found out that you had gone for his best friend, he was beyond furious. He accused you of being a slut, a whore, and all the names out the book. However, Jack took none of that and put Urban in his place for his ignorance and stupidity.

“She’s a fucking whore.”

“And you’re a fucking dickhead for doing what you did to her. She wasn’t a “whore” when she was fucking you and “keeping your bed warm”, now was she?”

Needless to say, it took time to amend the friendship they had.

You didn’t want to pride yourself on being the girl who broke up two brothers-from-other-mothers. At least, that’s what the media and your conscience pinned you to be.

But when Urban posted a statement on Twitter about his ordeals and how his “fans” should stay in their place, you actually believed he had a good heart.

And when he apologized to you after you’d finally worked up the courage to come on tour with Jack, you knew he had a heart.

Sure, he had smashed yours completely, and sure Jack had put it back together, however, there was nothing like closure.

It also made you feel good that you lived rent-free in his mind alongside the guilt he felt.

Good. As he should.

                                          ☽ ☾

The moonlight seeped in through the drapes of your hotel room, reflecting off the sweat from the activity you and Jack had engaged in a few moments prior. Paris was beautiful, but you already had something else in mind that was also beautiful.

“If you keep staring, I’m gonna think there’s something wrong with my face” Jack grumbled out in his sleep, slightly wiping the remains from his eyes. You chuckled at his comment, resting your head on the hand you had propped up by your arm.

“You’re just so beautiful babe.”

“I literally just blew your back out and am covered in sweat and you think I’m beautiful?”

“Says the same person who thought I was beautiful when I was covered in mud from that horse back riding trip we went on.”

“To be fair, we hadn’t known it was going to rain that hard, and at that time. And besides, it wasn’t the fact that you were covered in mud, it was the fact that I pictured you covered in something else outside the mud.”

“Ohmygod Jack!” You spoke as you slapped your hand across his chest, willing him to open his eyes fully and flip the two of you over, pinning you under him.

“You’re gonna be screaming that in a few.”

“Jackman Thomas Harlow!”

“Damn, why you gotta pull out my government name and shit, that’s not polite.” He spoke, offense in his tone. You laughed at him, pulling him down for a serious kiss. He swiped his tongue alongside yours, sucking onto it as the kiss got more intense. You pulled away breathless, his forehead resting on yours, noses rubbing against one another.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you more Jack.”

“Impossible!”

“Don’t start this again! I am not arguing with you!”

“Well, let me show you.” He spoke seductively, laying marks upon your skin.

Yeah, you were in love again. But this time, better.

-

Tags ♡︎

@heavyhitterheaux

@babyharleezy

#urbany wyatt x reader #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow #urban wyatt #bf! jack harlow #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concept

[chainofclovers]

Do you personally think tedbecca will become canon

Short answer is I dunno but I decided to write a lot of S3 speculation under the cut. I don't have any spoilers for how the show ends, nor do I want any, but I've watched a lot of interviews and read a lot of reviews and what I type will be informed by the not-spoilery-but-suggestive-about-the-overall-arc vibes of those.

Will Ted/Rebecca become a canonical romance? I'm not sure! For basically all of the things I have predictions and/or feelings about for s3 (Ted/Rebecca relationship, Nate's arc, whether Ted stays in London or returns to Kansas in the medium term or "forever"...), I have a suspicious lack of gut feelings...or rather, all my feelings are like a swinging pendulum of deep convictions and I can easily feel convinced of one outcome then another within the span of a few minutes.

Since you're anonymous I have no idea how much press you've listened to, what fandom spaces you're a part of, whether you're a T/R shipper or not, whether I'm friends with you or not, etc. So I'm going to write this without worrying about offending you and just go for it from the heart, haha.

The press has been a little bit of a rollercoaster for me, especially in terms of Hannah Waddingham's remarks about why she sees more longevity in relationships that aren't just the typical romantic/sexual route, and some of the other writer-actors' (Jason, Brendan, Brett) statements about audience expectation and their awareness of fandom preferences vs. the intentions of the story they're telling. I've actually loved a lot of what they've said, and I've been really frustrated by some people in the fandom calling Hannah an idiot for being tired of all the romance questions or for daring to call those expectations social conditioning when to me they very much are social conditioning. (Even if romance can also be a deep and beautiful thing! I don't feel like she's saying romance is lame! She's saying it's frustrating to zoom in on this one thing and value it above all others! And as a result of her saying that people have said awful things about her personal life and intelligence and that's absolutely uncool!)

I think it's completely possible that these interviews are at least in part about setting realistic expectations that a canonical romantic and sexual relationship between T/R isn't something we are gonna see on our TVs. I don't think these answers are coyness or lies. Really grappling with that possibility has bummed me out a bit more than I expected it to, honestly. I think a T/R romance would be super beautiful and wonderful and would make perfect sense within the larger story being told here.

That being said, I also think it's true that none of the press we've seen so far has explicitly spoiled any endings of this show. I don't feel like the interviewees are being coy and winking to fans, but I also think they've all carefully prepared ways of speaking about this show because they know the barrage of questions they'll face and they want to protect their story. When reporters directly ask if the relationship will be canon, they speak to expectations and societal structures and the soulmate connection between these characters without revealing any plot points. When the writers or actors have gotten more opinionated about the possibility of romance, it's often in the context of questions about fandom expectations or what is "expected" or "unexpected" about the story, and I think it's completely fair and understandable to express genuine frustration for the obsessive, repeat nature of those types of questions when there are so many other things these people would probably love to discuss about their writing and acting choices. They're all smart people who are extremely close to each other and have spent years constructing this story, and I can see myself responding to the repetition and surface-level stuff in a similar manner.

We know there's gonna be a huge component of Ted deciding what his commitment to AFC Richmond is and how his relationship with his son and his feelings about the family he's left behind impact that decision. We know they're setting up storylines in which other characters are learning how to coach, learning how to balance the emotional side and the tactical side. We know this is a story that simultaneously grapples with "leaving well"/letting go/why quitting isn't always bad AND with the complications of space AND with why burying or running away from your emotions while they fester inside you for 30 years is, um, bad. We know the writers have not deviated from their original plans for any of these characters even as they've rewritten and redefined certain things about this season. And we know the writers and actors all agree that Ted and Rebecca are divinely connected even if they've said many kinda contradictory things about what form that takes.

Even knowing all that, I think it's still possible that T/R will be a factor in s3 in a romantic and sexual sense. I have basically prepared myself to not see it on screen, but every time I watch the actual show I'm watching a show that sets up delicate, beautiful connecting points for these characters with intention and purpose. Which is awesome no matter what. If they don't go the romantic route onscreen, I think we'll still be watching a meaningful relationship that is full of possibilities (especially since s3 canon will end in, like, spring 2022, not spring 2058 or something). Some of the choices they've made are things that I'd probably only write if I was setting up a canonical romance, but if a romance doesn't happen within the show I don't think that means those choices were inconsequential or, worse, designed specifically to torment and make fun of fans. This is a show that is loving towards its audience but removed from its audience.

One of the first posts I made about this show was a straightbaiting joke. That seems extra funny now, knowing what I know. As a queer woman who has mostly been involved in fandoms as a femslash shipper up to this point, I can say that a lot of the shipping culture around this show and around M/F ships in general makes me really uncomfortable. I watch the joy of the show drain away from people as they focus deeper and deeper on "Tedbecca" (even to the point of ridiculing people for shipping other stuff or not understanding why it could be a fun exercise to write fic about people who will never be together in canon...which...what? the queer history of fandom didn't happen for canon-or-bust to be such a prevailing attitude!). I even feel some of that drain myself, being in an interesting place as an enthusiastic multi-shipper who just so happens to love T/R (and want to see it happen in canon) to the point of modding a whole discord about it. I love T/R and I love that it feels like a thing that is real and true in the text, and that is something I've rarely gotten to be invested in textually speaking as a queer woman accustomed to living off little subtextual crumbs. This show makes me feel both privileged and desperate.

The whole T/R thing, and the literal years of suspense it's implanted in my brain, has been a really fascinating journey for me. I can honestly say I've never had a suspended state of suspense and wonder about a single topic for this long before. I've waited for other things for this long, but they've all been matters in my personal life that I had some level of control over. Even things like election cycles take less time than this. I think the healthiest thing to do in this situation is to protect each of our viewing experiences and to respect that we're watching the creation of artists who are brilliant and lovely and fallible. To take what serves us from the text and continue to play with it all in our own spaces.

Watching 3x1 was a fuckin' delight of an experience that reminded me why I love this show and why I'm willing to experience the lows and highs of disappointments and joys in a way that just feels a lot more raw than basically any viewing experience or fandom experience I've ever had in the past with anything.

THAT WAS PROBABLY SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR. YOU ASKED A YES/NO QUESTION AND GOT A DIARY ENTRY. BUT I'M NOT ACTUALLY SORRY BECAUSE YOU ARE AN ANON AND IT FELT NICE TO GET THIS OUT. 😂

#ted lasso #hot dork club #meta by me #ted lasso s3 speculation #ted x rebecca #about me #personal #(but fine to reblog if for some reason you want to haha) #fandom things #queer things #oh wait i guess i should tag this as #tedbecca #ope!

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

I love Dream but he can be dark, he can be cruel and he's done some very unforgiveable and monstrous things. He is not your average good guy or heroic character. Yes sometimes he can be the most kindest, empathic and wonderful conceptual being but he can be the opposite and it makes sense since Dream is made up of every wonderful, fantastical, magical thought, imagination and dreams but he's also made up of the disturbing, the vile and the monstrous.

Yes, exactly! Honestly, even without delving deeper into potential motivations or biases that he might have been written to have, his basic, on-the-page actions are pretty extreme! Banishing your girlfriend to 10,000 years of torture in hell for saying "no" is incredibly dark! The fact that Desire is able to casually toss the insult "Killed any girlfriends lately?" might also be a hint that Nada isn't the only one. Also his best human friend started the transatlantic slave trade, and the woman who, per Lucien, broke his heart like no other is a brutal murder-loving witch who is also probably transphobic. Something about "you reflect the company you keep" there...

Really, it's weird to see people get all defensive of Morpheus when he makes other notorious "problematic fandom boyfriends" like Anakin Skywalker, Kylo Ren, or pre-character-development MCU Loki seem like tame, sane options! Sure, those guys could kill you, but none of them seem able or keen on ruining your after-life as well!

And as for what you say about how he embodies the collective thought... I suspect that The Sandman Companion's darker and less charitable claims about Morpheus having racist and sexist tendencies were *intended* as a reflection of that. After all, if general culture nowadays has a racism and misogyny problem, then a being made of the collective subconscious thoughts of a culture might also have a racism and misogyny problem. I haven't read the excerpts from the Companion in full context yet (haven't yet reached that chapter in my own copy) BUT the Companion's analysis does appear to fumble in that it flips the script: rather than Morpheus reflecting society's biases, instead society's biases are the result of Morpheus' anger towards Nada warping all of reality to permanently curse all people "like Nada" to have terrible fates. So rather than him reflecting reality's issues, he CAUSED them to exist! That makes him WAY worse!

I'm hoping to examine the evidence for this further once I get to that part of The Sandman Companion, because yeah, that's some "yikes" writing if it's supported by the actual text.

So yes, Morpheus is canonically an incredibly dark character, and the intent of his writing may paint an even worse picture still. He can be good and caring and loving when he wants to be, but to ignore that he's just straight up evil sometimes would be to ignore canon.

EDIT: Also, I feel the need to point out that a lot of this is about BOOK Dream! The show already appears to be attempting to stop any "Dream is racist" issues by having his sister, niece, and nephew all now be black, and changing his trusted confidant Lucien from being a white man to being Lucienne, a black woman. While the show isn't free of its own possible moments of accidental anti-black writing, it definitely seems to be making a concentrated effort to avoid interpretation of Dream himself as prejudiced in the same way that the books might suggest.

#the sandman meta #the sandman #dream of the endless #character analysis #asks answered #anon #original post

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

Those were the two points that made me come to terms with the open ending you wrote. And it's glorious and painful both, at once. Your art moved me in a way no other story had done so far, it reached into my psyche and pulled a cord that is still taut and the snap it caused reverberated in me. You and me thinking about how love is always going to be complicated for them, about why an open ending left me in such an emotional place, about god and divinity and my own relationship to those concepts. Which talking about it would be another wall of text, so I'm gonna wrap it up. Thank you, thank you thank you so much sincerely. You gifted me a story that shook me, that has a personal meaning. And made me look at a couple issues about myself that I keep working on, topics of love, god, truth, the alchemy that is being loved by someone special and the possibility that letting go is the end of the road sometimes. But theirs is an open ending, as such I'll have to work hard to make my brain picture what could happen. To find the possibility under that bell curve that makes the most sense to who they are. I'm so sorry for clogging your ask box this way 😭 I could have written this dumb essay on ao3, but for some reason I do feel that reaching out through Tumblr is almost like knocking on the actual door of your house and drop by to say 'hello your art has touched me deeply, thank you' I sincerely hope none of the various parts of this ask are lost by Tumblr's system (it has happened to me sometimes) and lastly, your story moved me in a way that's made decide to try my hand at writing for them. Maybe I'll write my personal end to your story, if only for myself. I'm sure I will be bad at it, but they have taken hold of my brain and won't let go until I puke out whatever they want me to. Thanks for your story and your vision for it, you are insanely talented, this fandom is lucky to have you. If you want to publish all parts of my ask publicly it's ok, and if not that's ok too

This ask is in regards to my Avatrice Wings of desire AU (becasue i'm structuring this ask weirdly)

First off, thank you!! It took me a while to respond to this simply because I was figuring out just how exactly to respond. It'll probably be a bit unorthodox but I'm going to respond to your penultimate ask and paste your other ones in if anybody else wants to read through them and get a little context. 

To be frank, I’m pleased my fic gave you such a visceral reaction. I knew people were going to have mixed feelings over it, but I never intended for the ending to be easy, though I’d like to think it's not such a devastating open ending, but fairly hopeful. It’s so interesting to see people connect with my writing on a personal level (I also had a relationship that ended weirdly. The feelings were there but the circumstances were, quite frankly, dog shit. It didn’t work out, and you're right: those partings are always worse). 

Also, don’t apologise for sending me such a long ask! It was all so fascinating and really made me think. I had to read your comments a few times over to really appreciate the beautiful points you were making :) very interesting stuff.

In regards to this ask (which is long and wouldn't fit into one screen shot):

I’m so so so pleased because it seems like you’ve really grasped and understood the version of Ava and Beatrice I was angling for. This ask specifically… i think you really nailed what i was going for, and nailed Ava and Bea’s characterisations in general. This line particularly:

 “Ava did exactly what she was going to do. Keep trying to outrun her pain, with or without Bea. And Bea would stay behind because she's her own person, the person Ava helped to develop, and thanks to her she has the strength to say I cannot follow this time.”

And to answer this ask! All is not lost, an epilogue is still on the cards!

And in regards to your own endeavours, the first step to writing is just banging something out on a page and pushing through the discomfort of trying something new. I salute you on your journey :)

Thank you so much for such a thought out response to my work. It means so so much to me that I've written something that warrants this kind of response, truly I'm profoundly touched.

I really really appreciate people who not only comment on ao3, but also take the time to send me such thoughtful asks here on tumblr (you're right, it does sort of feel like knocking at my front door hehe)

Thank you, friend <3 I’m honoured that my work has touched you like this :’)

#I'll answer your ask about my playlist seperately! #thank you again <3 i teared up a bit reading all of your messages #warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #wings of desire au #warrior nun fanfic #misiek asks

[blackquillchillin]

Posting separately because apparently the OP blocked me, or maybe tumblr is just being a butt, not sure. couldn't reblog it, even from my mutuals. (love you @sparkyblizz) Regardless, I have Simon knowledge! basically the original post was just asking why Simon is so freaking British and aura isn't, that's so weird lol, (I'm paraphrasing and it is a very funny oddity of ace attorney) But I have an actual answer!

basically, its because Simon was a pain in the ass to localize.

more under the link cause this is a long one.

In the original Japanese version, He spoke using a specific dialect, that had a bunch of cultural connotations. It was older, came across as rough, and would have given the player extra context on the character.

He also leaned into the tropes of being a Ronin, which is a specific archetype of Samurai that would have been clear to the original audience. I'm not clear on all of the details, I'm not part of the culture and don't know the short hand or the history involved, but I do know a Ronin is a Samurai without a master, and one who had lost their master, for example, when said master died, would be a Ronin. Its a subset of Samurai with very specific expectations, and the rough way of speaking is in line with that. Its also a tad old fashioned, no one meets Samurai just walking around these days.

All of this is great characterization and sets up the audience for better understanding of certain plot points.

But none of it reads to an American audience.

None of our dialects have the same cultural short hand-because we don't have the same tropes and expectations. We also don't tend to know the nuances of Japanese history, if an American knows what a Ronin is, it'll be in a vague, "oh that's a Samurai thing" (example, me.) and that will lead into American assumptions on what it is, but missing a bunch of context, because again, we have different tropes.

So. How do you localize a man whos entire being is tied into cultural expectations and short hand?

You change some things. They wanted to emphasize his ties to this master-follower relationship, they make him a generic Samurai, because that's understood in a culture that doesn't really have that dynamic, and so understands it from other media brought over. They make him aggressively British, because to the new targeted audience, that makes him someone deserving of respect, (Americans have some weird assumptions about posh British people, myself included) and they lean into Victorian British specifically, because again-Simon is old Fashioned. They also make him rude as hell, because the dialect has using now doesn't read as rude unless you make it rude. (I image he was probably still pretty rude in the Japanese version, but it would have been imbedded in how he spoke, and I have no idea how different that looks)

So we end up with a Simon who looks very different, but reads as close as possible to the original intent, because of the Audience he's played to.

As for why Aura isn't British as hell-simple. She didn't need to be. I don't know what they were going for exactly in the beginning, but I do know that the American version of a futuristic science lady who looks the part and is pissed off about this screwy justice system doesn't have to rely on the same short hand. there are already tropes in America she can utilize, and making her aggressively British, like Simon, would have changed an American viewers assumptions in a way they likely didn't want or need.

and, In case you are wondering, I do have a source for these localization struggles! There's a great interview on it you can read here! It starts with a bunch of trivia, but gets more into detail further down.

TL;DR, Simon is the way he is because the way he was wouldn't make sense, a problem Aura didn't have.

#simon blackquill #ace attorney #aura blackquill #aa5 #gyakuten saiban #aa5 spoilers #aa:dd #localization #oddities of game design #simonsays #I think its very intresting u know