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thankskenpenders · 5 months ago

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Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

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fawnnlvr · 19 days ago

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secret sides | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x purplehaired!reader (series)

summary: in which you further solidify spencer reid's notion that you are not as scary as you appear to be and he sees yet another side to your closed off nature.

wc: 2.2k

masterlist

author's note: long overdue. i have rewrote this more times than i can imagine and its still ehhh. but ima move on before i lose my mind becsuse this was fun writing in the beginning but i cannot wait to write smth else. took my almost 20 days to write another scenario... anyways, i enjoy ♥︎ warning: bau traumatic stuff.

"—Reid and [Surname], interview the child."

Morgan immediately raised a brow. It wasn't as if he was questioning your abilities or Hotch's decision, but he wasn't quite sure how a child who had undergone a traumatic event would react to your hardened stare. But, who was he to judge? He had a murder scene to go to with Prentiss.

This was your first case with the BAU. Spencer Reid knew there was a high probability he would be paired with you for the case, yet even as Hotch voiced that thought to life, the reality of the situation made him too aware of how he should have chosen a different colored vest.

"Partner." You nodded towards him.

He cleared his throat and sent a nod back, "Partner."

An officer assisted the two of you towards the door of the soft room in which the child of a crime currently resides in. Oliver Anderson. A witness to a horrible crime involving three murder victims, one being his grandfather which was his only guardian. He hasn't spoke to anybody, not the officers who found him and not the social worker who was currently trying to get him to engage with the toys thay surrounded them.

Entering the room filled with a variety of toys and a healthy amount of sunlight that brightened up the room within its emotional somber, you and Spencer slowly made your way to the child's view.

"Hi Oliver." The gentle tone of Spencer suprised you. It felt unguarded and tender. A soft expression appeared across his face as he inched closer towards the child, crouching down to get on the same level.

You hadn't heard Spencer talk in such a way. You supposed that people tended to adjust their voices when speaking to different age groups. This was especially the case when interviewing people who have experienced traumatic events. Developing a special cadence and tone that felt comforting and welcoming enough for one to be open was a hard thing to master, yet Spencer spoke as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Like second nature.

You hung back, letting your fellow agent take the lead. Perhaps out of consideration since the child was raised with a male figure his entire life, and Spencer would feel more comfortable. Or perhaps because it was nice to watch Spencer in a new light.

"I'm Doctor Spencer and that is Agent [Name]."

The child, averted his eyes from the adults' gaze and fidgeted with the loose threads of the couch.

"We came here to help you. Is it alright if we ask you some questions?"

Still no response. Spencer's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he peered over towards you. You stood quite guarded with your arms crossed, shifting your weight towards one side, and eyes squinted almost as if scrutinizing his performance on conducting the interview.

"Can you tell us what happened last night?" Spencer tried again and although he expected silence, Oliver communicated in a different way. He shook his head. "I know it is scary but I promise you, we are here to help you and we want to catch the bad guy who did this to your grandfather."

Oliver once again shook his head.

Then you stepped up. Took a spot right beside Spencer and right in front of the child. You crouched down, your heels making it easier to balance as you rested your hands on top on your knees that were pressed against your chest.

"Oliver, is someone asking you to keep last night a secret?" you questioned and you could visibly see the boy sort of flinch back.

Spencer and you locked eyes, a new piece of the puzzle unlocked. The doctor continued, "Are you able to tell us the secret?"

The six-year-old shook his head.

"Was the person who told you to keep this secret scary?" the young genius became taken aback when the child shook his head once again. He initially asked the question to keep the child engaged and comfort the initial predicated response, but this was a new puzzle piece.

"Oliver." your voice called out, a tad bit softer than usual though still using the same tone, "Did you know that there are special rules involving secrets? Like magic."

The child whose gaze was once on his lap, now moved towards your eyes, almost to see if you were lying. His eyebrows furrowed, almost questioning the validity of your statement

"Unspoken rules that were put in place to protect the secret keeper." you continued and Spencer had caught onto your idea. Oliver was still at a Santa–believing age and it would be at everybody's best interest to allow the child believe in something more magical. A sort of concept that could overrule the moral dilemmas of secrets.

Spencer knows that judging people based off of a short time of knowing the is wrong, but you were honestly the last person he would have expected to create a magical story to get information out of a child. Many would figure you would be the villain in that magical story but Spencer will digress because the little offensive demon on his shoulder telling him that, would come in the form of Morgan if he had caught wind of this interaction.

"Yes, rules put into place to protect children like you." Spencer quickly jumped to support your claim.

Oliver's light brown eyes flickers between you and Spencer. A frown was permanently embedded into his face since they arrived, but the once guilt-ridden eyes were now filled with hope.

"When the secret keeper is asked to keep a potentially harmful and dangerous secret that will make them feel unsafe, then the secret keeper is allowed to tell a trusted adult." you explained the rules and Oliver's eyes widened, almost as if this life changing rule had lifted this heavy rock of his drooping shoulders.

Spencer kept humming in agreement, an encouraging smile on his face as he visually let the child know that this was a safe place.

Spencer. You. Spencer. You. Spencer. Then his eyes finally stopped on you. His small hand raised to gesture you to come closer. The awkward position you were in had caused you to sort of waddle a few centimeters forward in heels before stretching your neck to meet the small voice of Oliver.

Spencer watched the entire interaction. Oliver cupped his small hands around his mouth, hovering by your dark purple hair that was tucked behind your ear. A few seconds passed by before you pulled back and cupped your own hands around your mouth to whisper into Oliver's ear.

This went on for the next two minutes and although Spencer knew it was childish, he felt like a kid being left out of elementary again. Well, in Spencer's case college. But, Oliver was finally opening up and it was all thanks to your genius thinking that led them to this discovery.

Then it happened. It was small but Spencer had caught it. The entire interaction, your face was faced towards Spencer who tried to profile what the child was whispering to your through your facial expression which proved to be almost futile due to your resting face that never seemed to move. But then it happened. Your lips tugged up and a small breath left your body, a sound in between a scoff and laugh.

Spencer had never wanted to know what someone had said other than this time. What could have possibly elicited such a joyous reaction from you?

You used your hand to move a strand of hair that was put out of place when Oliver touched your hair to ensure secrecy.

"Thank you for trusting me Oliver." you stated before standing up. Spencer followed your lead, brushing off his pants from when he accidently tipped over due to not being able to crouch down to the floor for too long without loosing his balance. Thankfully, you were in a secret magical meeting and too engrossed in listening for details to see him catch himself.

Oliver looked more light. He wasn't as stiff in movements, and even accepted the toy dinosaur Spencer handed him while you were straightening out your clothes.

"We'll see you later." Spencer gave him a boyish grin and held a low-five. The boy sort of pinched his eyebrows together as he hesitated to return the gesture. Spencer would take that as a win. He turned to you, "Ready to go?"

You nodded, "Goodbye Oliver."

The two of you left the room, leaving the social worker to play with the child until another gaurdian was able to take him in.

"What did he say to you?"

You disclosed all the 'secret' information Oliver had shared with you. What had happened last night and what he could remember about any strange people who he might have had contact with. The two of you immediately went to shade the information to Penelope and relay the information to the other members of the team who were currently out doing their own task.

When Hotch got the call, he ordered the two of you to stay at the field office to work out the geographical profile and to interview the next set of family members who would be coming in shortly.

The entire day was busy, from start to finish. Spencer really wondered how you kept your posture. Everytime he looked over, you were standing there in heels like a reminder for him to straighten our his back. After the interview, he did not get a chance to talk to you and began to regret it as he peered over to you working on phone calls while he worked the map. Almost as if the universe heard his thoughts, they were answered.

Coffee break was needed and important. While he poured himself another cup, you were going to the fridge to get yet another water. His dark brown sleepy eyes had to do a double take. This was his chance.

If you really counted all their conversations and interactions, it would be in total four. The three interacrions prior to the trip and the new addition from conducting a joint interview on a child. This would be the fifth.

"Hey." he greeted, trying to sound as casual as possible, "You know, Oliver seemed to have liked you a lot."

"Children seem to love me." your flat tone did not match the words that you spoke, yet it was the most believable phrase he had heard you speak all day. Who was he to deny your effect when he saw it first-hand.

"How did you know he was asked to keep it a secret?"

"I worked with children before and you would be suprised how many secrets adults had asked them to keep. Some being harmless and funny, while others being borderline dangerous or scary. I made up the system to teach them safety and who they can trust."

"That explains why Oliver seemed to trust you so well. In a lot of cultures, they say that children can sense the good and bad energy of people and are good judgement of characters." Spencer had this boyish grin as he explained the concept. Seeing the good in people is a sort of innocence that many children loose as they transition into the hardships adulthood and Spencer hoped Oliver wouldn't do the same.

"He told me my stern voice reminded him of his grandfather but you were a close second to tell his secrets to."

"Close second? We were the only two in the room!"

"Nonsense, Brenda, the social worker had been trying to built rapport with him for hours but he chose us." His eyes flickered over the windows of the room to see the woman playing with the dinosaurs and small volcano toy set. Hm, you had a point. That did make him feel somewhat better that he was chosen as second.

"I guess that is true. Was his comment the thing that made you laugh?"

"Me? Laugh? That is a silly thing to imagine." you were genuinely confused and there was nothing silly about being accused of such a thing. When did you show joy within such tense situation?

"Well not really laugh but the corners of your lips turns upwards in about a twelve degree angle and the child seemed to smile as he pulled away from his little whispers. You also let out a small sound that is commonly associated with sounds of joy and pleasure—"

You raised a brow. Spencer went beat red as he realized what he had just insinuated.

"N-no no! Not like that. Like that sound when somebody makes a joke that was kind of funny but not so one lets out a mixture of a scoff and a small laugh." He then began to imitate the sound, but this was not a good look for him.

You blinked.

Oh he was back to when you barely spoke a word. He was so caught up on enjoying your work explanations that he didn't even think that he should continue to think before he spoke. All the progress on getting you to say more than a couple of words had went down the drain because of a stupid comment he made to—

"I do remember that." Thank God. "That was actually related to the grandfather comment. Apparently he thinks I talk like him and you dress like him."

"Oh." He knew he should have worn a different vest.

#fawnnlvr writes #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader fluff

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yanyandam · 3 months ago

Note

HII I've been reading some of your works and I really really like your writing! it flows so well, you get the characters personalities right and I just love everything. It's kind of a boring request but could you do Mikey, Baji, Smiley or Rindo x fem boxer reader? Maybe he helps her train, gives her advice, hypes her up before a fight, tends her injuries/bruises, picks her up after practice, stuff like that or anything else you come up with

YO YO YO sorry for the lonnng wait. TY FOR THE SUPPORT! NOT BORING AT ALL BTW I always loved this idea. Hope this fits...I wanted to do one shots but didn't have much time so just threw hcs for the whole crowd

BOXER GF! HCS- Mikey, Baji, Smiley and Rindou

-Mikey adores sparring with you, he calls it "bonding time". -Brags about you to literally everyone, even if they didn’t ask. Even at hot springs. “You see these abs? My girl PUNCHED them into me.” -Constantly makes sound effects and dumb poses while you’re doing serious training (which somehow hypes you up more) -Will pout if you’re too focused on boxing and not on him -You tape his fingers when he gets into useless fights like a kid, and he calls it “girlfriend blessings”.

-Overall, he thinks you’re the coolest, but don't expect him to often help you with anything

-----

The gym is empty except for the echo of punches hitting the heavy bag. Manjiro's lying on the floor beside you, half-asleep with an energy drink can balanced on his forehead. You’re in full training mode, sweat dripping, jaw clenched, laser-focused. He whines without opening his eyes, "you’ve been punching that bag for, like… hours.”

"It’s been twenty minutes," you mutter, throwing another combo. He bolts upright with a dramatic gasp. “That’s it. I challenge you. Loser makes dinner!”

You raise an eyebrow. “We don’t even live together. Besides, you can’t cook.”

“Exactly,” he grins, bouncing on his toes. “You better win.” you both end up wrestling more than sparring. He keeps slipping on the mat “accidentally” so she ends up straddling him in victory. “You win,” he sighs dreamily, arms around your waist. “You always do.”

-Baji always refers to you as "my undefeated queen" even if you’ve had some losses, in his mind, you never lose.-Thinks your punches are like poetry in motion, and internally cries when you land a perfect combo.-Tries to sneak peke j into the gym to “watch mama train.”-Gets way too into corner-manning during your matches and ends up yelling the wrong advice -Overall, also thinks you’re the coolest. Period.

---

Baji waits outside your boxing match with hidden nervous energy, pacing in circles with a box of handmade biscuits ("for post-fight protein," he insists). A tiny stray cat sits on his shoulder like a parrot. He named it “Coach.” As the bell rings, he clenches his fists like he's the one fighting. "You got this! Just like that!” You land a clean jab. He cheers. You take a hard hit to the ribs. He swears under his breath. After the win, you walk out sweaty and limping, and Baji runs up, dramatic as hell, draping his hoodie over your shoulders like you're royalty.

"Coach and I were sure you’d fuck them all up" he laughs. You pat his head and say, “I only won 'cause I could hear you screaming like a degenerate.” He straightens up with pride. “That's me.”

-Smiles ‘sweetly’ at any ‘fan’ who flirts with you, but Smiley is already planning how to ruin their life. -Loves watching you fight, not for the art, but for the violence. He’s like “Hit harder, babe.” -Trains with you but plays dirty every single time. Still loses on purpose sometimes because he loves the dominance. -Brings your flowers in your favorite color after every match. (There may or may not be blood on the stems.) -Says things like, “You looked so hot with your nose bleeding. Marry me.” With that unmoving smile; It’s lowkey creepy

-Overall thinks you’re the coolest only because you’re his gf, either he would’ve made fun of you for losing the most INSIGNIFICANT fight

---

Nahoya sits ringside during one of your underground fights, chin resting on his hand, smile sweet as syrup but with a glint of something sinister. Every time your opponent tries something dirty, his smile widens, more teeth showing. “You saw that elbow, didn’t you, love?” he calls out mid-round, like they’re discussing the weather. “Break their ribs. For me?” You don't respond. But your next punch does land right in the person’s gut. After the match, you walk past him, bloodied lip and all, giving him a look like don’t push it.

He falls into step beside you, slipping his hand into yours like nothing happened. “You’re breathtaking” he whispers.

"You're insane," you mutter.

"And you chose me," he replies with a smirk. "So what does that make you?" You punch him in the arm. He grins harder.

-Oh Rindou, he thinks you’re perfect. But his arrogance won’t let him admit you’re fine by yourself, he’s pretty sure you have a lot to learn ‘from him’

-Buys you expensive gym gear just to see your reaction when you go “Sweetie, I didn’t need this”. -Hosts post-fight parties in your honor, invites everyone you’ve ever beaten. He thinks it’s funny. -Challenges you to drinking contests after training. Loses every time and calls it “strategy”. If you don’t drink alcohol, it’ll be an energy drinks contest. -Lowkey gets jealous of your trainer and pretends to be your coach just to hang out more.

-----

You’re trying to focus on cardio at the gym with Rindou. He’s shirtless (no reason, just to show off), glasses on, casually lifting weights like he’s in a music video.

“You’re gonna distract me into breaking my ankle,” you call out, adjusting her wraps. “That’s your own willpower issue, not my fault I’m hot,” he smirks, sipping a cocktail out of a shaker bottle. You punch the bag once. Twice. He watches, then puts down his dumbbell. “You’re getting sloppy,” he says lazily.

She glares at him. “Come say that to my face.”

He grins, steps into the ring. "Hit me, champ."

Y’all spar, kind of. He blocks half-heartedly, dodges some, takes a hit to the chest and whistles. “Damn. That one shook my soul. You turn me on and beat me up. Can’t decide if I’m in heaven or not.”

They end up on the mat, him sprawled, her sitting on his chest. He raises an eyebrow. “Afterparty?”

“Only if you let me ride your stupid bike.”

“You had me at ‘stupid’.”

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 11 months ago

Note

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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keriarentikai · 2 months ago

Text

Fandom permission statements

Hello, I am here with yet another pitch for writers to add a permission statement to their AO3 bio! Posts about permission statements tend to circulate among the podfic community, which is really preaching to the choir, so I would really love it if some writer-types also reblog this. ❤️

(While permission statements can and do address multiple types of transformative work, this post very podfic-centric.)

What is a permission statement?

A permission statement tells people who create works based on fanfics (e.g. podfic, art, remixes) whether or not you're okay with people making stuff based on your writing and in what circumstances.

Even if you're not up for giving everyone permission for everything, having a statement we can read is SO appreciated!

What is blanket permission?

Blanket permission is a term podficcers use for permissions that let us create and post podfic without having to contact the author. We love this!

What other kinds of permission statements are there and why would I still want to use one?

If you don't want to give blanket permission, having a permission statement telling folks what you are and aren't okay with helps a lot!

If an author doesn't want to give blanket permission, a statement encouraging podfic but asking a podficcer to ask first still tells us you're interested and that we can expect to receive a friendly (even if not always a 'yes') response.

If you don't want podfic made of your work at all, then telling us this saves us time and saves you from getting repeated messages from different podficcers!

Do you have an example?

Sure do! Here's the statement I currently have in my AO3 profile:

I grant blanket permission for podfics, art and translations, and any other transformative work as long as it involves absolutely no monetary profit or monetary exchange of any kind, or contribution to or use of generative AI. Please link back to the original so I can be thrilled you did it!

Why consider blanket permission?

If you do want podfic made of your work, blanket permission makes it a whole lot more likely a podficcer will choose your work! Because:

Especially for events with quick turnaround times and that include recommendations made to other podficcers for projects, it's often the only way we can get permission in time

It means we can start working on a project as soon as we decide to, rather than having to wait to hear back

Some people are less comfortable reaching out to ask and so will be less willing to podfic works without blanket permission

It can also feel awkward to ask for permission and then not do the podfic for a while (or ever), which can be a mental barrier to reaching out

Blanket permission is so helpful that we even have a whole database of people who have blanket permission so we can find them more easily and an extension that highlights their names in green for 'full speed ahead!'

Podfic makes a writer's work more accessible to audiences that aren't always able to engage with written text, and I personally love it when someone cares about my writing to put in the effort to podfic it. So I want to encourage its creation as much as I can!

No matter what kind of permission you end up being comfortable with, I hope you will consider adding a statement to your AO3 profile, and thanks for reading this pitch!

More resources:

Fanworks permission statement builder by flamingwell Directory of creators with blanket permission (FPS list)

#fandom #fanfic #podfic #ao3 #archive of our own #why yes it is about to be Voiceteam time again!#I think this is like the third pitch post i've made #but I keep having NEW THOUGHTS #this time I really want to invite people in who aren't okay with blanket permission #that's okay!#there are lots of ways to do permission statements!#and 99% of them are still helpful!#also #so many exclamation points!#I can't help it!!!

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exceptional-z · 1 year ago

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zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

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winterbunz · 15 days ago

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@sir-kettle-of-countertop you ask and you shall receive!! I've been thinking about Wolke quite a bit, mostly in context of Kratzer, but you inspired me to think about this specific dynamic a little more.

Just a small naming update before I proceed: since I've been using Turmfalke and Kestrel interchangeably for her, Kestrel shall be the nickname for the unit in my main story. That should make things easier going forward when I inevitably end up making more of them :]

With that out of the way, onto the fun part! We will indeed see them interacting together... in fact, you may do so right HERE! 👇👇

(image transcript in description if hard to read)

Aren't they adorable? And, uh oh, who might that mysterious Eule be? More yapping below!!

Wolke can very much be considered part of the hospital staff at this point, since she's stationed there much more often than not. Aside from the practical benefits of having a much taller, combat-ready unit around, a predictable routine builds security - it's good for reducing stress in both the staff and anyone staying at the hospital for their recovery. Why change something that works?

Thanks to this, Wolke has gained a little bit of medical experience and formed bonds not only with the Eules, but also, if not more importantly, Kestrel. Kestrel very much appreciates that routine and Wolke herself, for her personality. She's easier to talk to than most Stars - still fairly reserved but more chatty and expressive, although she tends to have her head in the clouds... perhaps that explains the nickname. The influence the company of Eules has had on her also makes Kestrel feel a bit more comfortable around her, less nervous to give her specific orders which she has permission to do.

Wolke holds a lot of respect for Kestrel; she can understand the hardships of her job well through observation, admires her dedication, and is just simply grateful for everything she does for the Replikas in the facility especially. She even salutes Kestrel when accepting a given task or when they greet each other at the start of the shift. Kestrel never asked her to do this and she doesn't hold a military rank that would warrant that sort of formality... it's just one of the Star's mannerisms and it's kind of cute, actually.

That is to say, Kestrel is not exempt from Wolke's teasing and flirting. It's pure entertainment, making their medic all flustered, watching her face turn bright pink as she tries to hide it... if the Eules do it, why can't she? It's not her fault that some models aren't immune to a Star's killer smile-and-wink combo. She tries not to be too distracting - Kestrel already has her whole entourage taking care of that, it's quite enough for one easily-overwhelmed unit. However, she's more than eager to help fetch stuff from higher shelves for her... or pick her up so she can grab it herself. Perhaps someone else has given her a green light on that idea, someone who knows Kestrel better than anyone else...

And who could that be, you ask? A somewhat familiar face, which finally has a name and more solid features. Meet Kirsche, one of the facility's nurses and Kestrel's assistant, emotional support, maybe even her... girlfriend?? Replika yuri on MY blog? It's more likely than you think! Find out more in a dedicated post, coming to your Sektor's dashboard soon!!

Thank you so much to everyone who managed to get all the way down here and thank you once again Kettle for the idea to write about them, as well as pretty much inspiring me to draw this!!

#signalis #signalis oc #turmfalke signalis #star signalis #eule signalis #oc: kestrel #oc: wolke #oc: kirsche #michelle blorbos #michelle art #character yap #i promise i'm not delaying the eule post on purpose IT JUST HAPPENED AGAIN OKAY #they need to cook a little more. i'm halfway done with the art #this was just way too funny not to draw

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eunxhan · 10 months ago

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Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ Polyamory/harem relationship with head over heels bottom subs,, one is a cute shy guy who loves m reader so fucking much he doesn't mind getting cucked and stuff as long as it pleases reader,,another one is a hot sexy model who's very proud of his body, always taking care of himself so you'll praise him when you fuck him, taking care of his hair well so you can easily pull them,,, kinky sub who's into wild plays, totally devoted to reader and would do literally anything like damn.. Another cold aloof kind of man,, people are intimidated by him and he's all strong and one man army stuff.. Yet when it comes to reader he's just a mess like damn,, all these pretty, smart, strong subbies also has reader's personal brand on his skin,,, they're so head over heels they do anything for reader's acknowledgement,,,

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Oh my, It is lovely to see my sweets still active. I have been thinking about this entry the moment I came back in this platform. How I've missed all of you.. I did wrote them separately but I decided to write and post another where they all meet in the future. But anyways, what should we name these three?

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ Disclaimer — NSFW.

Reader ⨾ MALE. YOU/YOUR.

Words used ⨾ 1578

Links ⨾ My Navigation

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Let's say, you're an average guy with a typical 9 to 5 job. You couldn't care less about what anyone has to say or do to you, yet three men managed to catch your interest. One of them being Shy!sub. It's not like you guys have been together since childhood; you only met during middle school.

Shy!sub is incredibly shy and easily embarrassed. He tends to blush a lot, especially around you. Even the slightest touch or intimate gesture from you can make him flush red.

Shy!sub is used to your rantings while playing with him, and sometimes, you being a little shit happens to take your anger out on him during your calls. He never says or complains about it; he just listens or sometimes even apologizes to you.

Shy!sub enjoys playing video games with you, even if he's not very good at them and you call him out for jt. He just finds it relaxing and a great way to bond with you. He often cheers you on during your gaming sessions.

Not only does he enjoys gaming, Shy!sub has a secret love for romantic movies. He often watches them when you're not around, dreaming of the day you and him will have your own romantic story.

Shy!sub looks at you as if he's admiring a piece of art, even if you're just there yelling and getting mad about something ridiculous. You can tell that he wants something else. But if you call him out on something, Shy!sub hates confrontations and avoids them at all costs. He would rather keep the peace than engage in an argument, even if it means holding back his true feelings.

Shy!sub is the type of person who's too soft for people like you to handle. He does your chores because he knows you're exhausted from your job or school, and even cooks for you.

Shy!sub enjoys cooking for you, as he sees it as a way to show his love and care for you. He often tries out new recipes, hoping to impress you with his culinary skills. If you point something out or compliment his cooking, be ready to see him almost everyday in your kitchen.

He acts more like a boyfriend than a best friend. One call of his name, and he's dashing towards you like a loyal dog ready to do what you ask. With him basically living with you, Shy!sub can sleep easily. He is afraid of the dark and often sleeps with a nightlight on. He sometimes asks you to sleep with him when he's feeling particularly scared.

Shy!sub never admits this but he secretly loves it when you get angry, as it shows your passionate side. He often provokes you, hoping to see your fiery temper.

When both of you started to have some intimate moments, Shy!sub got even more embarrassed but he never stops trying to tease you with his every move. He basically lives with you now from how much time he spends with you. Everything escalated quickly when you got home and saw him wearing something he normally doesn't wear.

Shy!sub looks so damn adorable in his light bubblegum pink lingerie, but you decided to keep it in your pants and let him explain what he was doing. You could tell he was about to burst out crying when you walked in on him.

—

Shy!sub's eyes widened as he realized you had caught him in his new attire. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart raced, fearing the worst. The lingerie, a gift from a secret admirer, was supposed to be a surprise for You. But now, with you standing in the doorway, the moment had been ruined.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but admire the way the lingerie hugged Shy!sub's curves, accentuating his hourglass figure. The sight of Shy!sub in such a delicate and feminine ensemble stirred something deep within you—a desire he had never felt before. But he knew the time was not right to act on it.

"It's... it's for you," Shy!sub managed to stutter, his voice trembling. "I wanted to surprise you. I thought you'd like it."

"Wow, I've never thought I would see this coming from you. Someone who is known to be easily embarrassed over everything." You could see the vulnerability in Shy!sub's eyes as you reply to him. It was a rare sight, and it tugged at your heartstrings. You knew Shy!sub's affections ran deep, and you couldn't bear to see him so distressed. So, with a smile, you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Shy!sub's cheek.

"You look amazing," You said, his voice soft and reassuring. "And I appreciate the thought. But remember, you don't need to do anything to impress me. I love you just the way you are."

Shy!sub let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him. He leaned into your touch, grateful for your understanding. The moment, though awkward, had brought them closer. From that day on, You began to see Shy!sub in a whole new light. Your words and gentle touch calmed Shy!sub's nerves. The tension in the room shifted, and a new energy filled the space. Shy!sub's heart fluttered as your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing Shy!sub's soft skin.

Emboldened by your acceptance, Shy!sub leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a tentative move, a test to gauge your reaction. But you responded with a hunger that surprised them both. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing and exploring each other's mouths. Shy!sub's hands roamed your body, feeling the contours of your muscles through your shirt. Your hands slid down Shy!sub's back, cupping his rear and pulling him closer.

The lingerie, once a source of embarrassment, now became a symbol of their growing desire. The soft fabric rubbed against your body, igniting a fire within you. Shy!sub could feel your arousal pressing against him, and it sent shivers down his spine. His mind were somewhere else as he softly groans in your ears, his mind tells him to beg you to do something more to him.

You both broke the kiss, panting and flushed. Your eyes were dark with desire, and Shy!sub's lips were swollen from your passionate embrace. The room was filled with a palpable tension, a promise of what was to come.

"Darling," Shy!sub whispered, his voice heavy with need. "I want you. I've always wanted you." he whined at the end. You didn't need to be told twice. You scooped Shy!sub into your arms and carried him to the bedroom, which made him more excited.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Confident!sub, a charming and flirtatious individual, utilizes his natural charisma and wit to captivate those around him. Easily drawing in his audience, he leaves them craving more of his company. His tactics to garner attention, however, are solely to attract the cameras. When it comes to you, his dearest, he's wholly devoted.

His sarcastic nature and high tolerance levels add an alluring challenge to his persona, making him even more magnetic. For you, though, his sarcasm serves as a playful means of aggravation.

Confident!sub is confident in his physicality, maintaining his desirable physique through rigorous workouts. Brands and designers clamor for him to be the face of their new products, well aware of his pickiness when it comes to endorsements.

In his pursuit of physical perfection, Confident!sub adheres to a strict regimen of body care. His routine, from head to toe, takes a full three hours, with shower time not even included. If you need the bathroom while he's in there, you'll have to resort to forceful measures.

During his photoshoots, Confident!sub teases you with his movements and poses. He'll gaze hungrily at you, performing his job with you as his little assistant, always present in the room. If you're absent, his temper flares. So, sad to say that you're always with him in and out.

A possessive streak emerges in Confident!sub when he spots you admiring other models. With him in the room, half-naked and expecting your adoration, he takes offense at your gaze wandering to less attractive individuals. If you curse at him for his tantrums, his anger intensifies, believing you should have been fixated on him.

Confident!sub is unfiltered in his communication, voicing his thoughts at any given moment. Be it day, night, place, or time, he'll share his uncensored musings. With a bored expression, he'll casually mention desires like you satisfying him behind a door post-shoot or gripping his hair. One time while you were having breakfast, he mumbled something about how he dreamed about you pounding him for a photoshoot.

Despite his outward confidence, Confident!sub harbors insecurities deep down. He worries that one day, his looks might fade, and he'll lose the adoration he currently enjoys. So with you having around him, he dares not to let you go. He hates it when you look at other models that he finds intimidating. Whenever you reassure him about his insecurities, expect not getting out of the bedroom for atleast two days.

Confident!sub hates being touched by strangers. He becomes uncomfortable and edgy when people he doesn't know try to touch him. He's only comfortable with you touching him. You should be lucky that someone like him allows you to touch him, his words not mine.

——

After a long and tiring photoshoot, Confident!sub was ready to unwind. With his manager having rented a hotel room for him, he of course invited you to join him, knowing full well what he had in mind. You, aware of Confident!sub's intentions, eagerly accepted the invitation.

In the privacy of the hotel room, Confident!sub wasted no time in expressing his desires. You pinned him against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that could not be satiated. With you, equally aroused, gripped Confident!sub's hair, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

Confident!sub's hands slid down to your body, undoing your pants with a swift motion. He wasted no time in freeing his own arousal, rubbing it against yours before he could let you rub against his entrance. With a swift thrust, you entered him, filling him with your length.

The room was filled with the sounds of him screaming your name and the wet sounds. Confident!sub's moans echoed off the walls, a testament to his pleasure. You, gripping onto Confident!sub's hair, praised him for his skill and good looks, encouraging him to continue his plea.

Confident!sub, driven by your words, moving his hips at the same pace as you with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Your hands gripped on his hips, pulling him closer with each thrust. Him, lost in a sea of pleasure, could only hold on for dear life, his moans mingling in the air.

As you both reached your climax, Confident!sub's moans grew louder, your thrusts becoming more erratic. Him, gripping onto you tightly, felt his own release building. With a final thrust, you both reached, your bodies trembling with the force releasing.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Intimidating!sub, a formidable figure with a history in the military, bears scars on both his face and body. His imposing physique and commanding posture are enough to convey his cold and strict demeanor, deterring others from approaching him. Even children and pets are frightened by his aura.

Despite his chilling exterior, Intimidating!sub has a soft spot for his beloved. At the mere sound of his name, spoken by you, his defenses crumble. He prefers to reserve his genuine smiles for private moments, sharing them only with you.

In terms of protection, Intimidating!sub is unparalleled. His presence alone is enough to deter potential aggressors, as if he were a guard dog watching over you. His menacing appearance suggests he'd defend you with ferocity, ready to "bite" anyone who dares to bother you.

In private, Intimidating!sub reveals a sensitive side. He cries during movies or deep conversations, seeking your comfort. With his head resting on your chest, he finds solace as he weeps, trying to express his feelings or explain the emotions triggered by a film. He's known to shed tears privately if his actions upset a child or pet.

Intimidating!sub is an intellectual powerhouse, capable of answering nearly any query and solving complex mathematical problems in a matter of seconds. He's like a human calculator, with an uncanny ability to memorize information. This makes outings with him effortless, as you need not consult your phone for calculations or searches.

Eager for your affection, Intimidating!sub leans on your shoulder, a subtle request for attention. He demands your love, regardless of your current engagements. If he's bold enough, he'll wake you to share a tender gaze.

Embarrassed by his nocturnal desires, Intimidating!sub awakens from wet dreams, seeking solace in the bathroom. If he gathers the courage, he'll attempt to rouse you, his eyes pleading softly.

——

After Intimidating!sub woke you from your slumber, you noticed the flush on his face, a testament to his embarrassment. A soft whimper escaped his lips, "Please help me with this..." Your eyes followed his gaze downward, where you found his hardened length, throbbing and grinding against the material of his pants.

The sight was too enticing to ignore, and as he offered you a small, tender peck on the cheek, you decided to give in to his desires. You guided his hand to release his length from its prison, letting it spring free. The tip glistened with pre-cum, a clear indication of his arousal.

Intimidating!sub's eyes locked onto yours, pleading for your touch. You obliged, wrapping your hand around his shaft and beginning to stroke him gently. His breathing hitched, his face contorting in pleasure. You teased him, speeding up and slowing down your strokes, drawing out his pleasure.

As you continued, Intimidating!sub's body grew more tense, his hips bucking involuntarily. You could sense his impending release, and you leaned in, taking his length into your mouth. The sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him sent him over the edge.

Intimidating!sub cried out your name, his body trembling as he came. You swallowed his release, showing no signs of discomfort. When you pulled away, he collapsed onto the bed, his body slick with sweat.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and lowered yourself onto his still-hard shaft. He gasped, his hands gripping your hips as you began to ride him. The intimacy of this moment, with the dominant figure now reduced to the bottom, was intoxicating.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

@𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑿𝑯𝑨𝑵. Do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and/or confirmation.

#Eun.writes #Eun.asks #male reader #yandere male #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #oc x reader #yandere character #original character #yandere x male darling #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #original character x reader

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vaguely-concerned · 9 months ago

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Eight Little Talons Reread Thoughts

Which, I’ll level with you folks, is mostly just me gushing about Teia and Viago and how much they should kiss because of who I am as a person, but maybe also some actual observations sprinkled in. This is still my favourite story in Tevinter Nights, I think, there’s so much Character Stuff in it. Let’s go!

Viago hated carriages—no amount of plush seating could make up for the inevitable ache of being knocked around like weighted dice. But decorum insisted, and he would not be outclassed by his fellow Talons.

Vs.

“You didn’t take a carriage.”

“My luggage did. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a country jaunt.” She nodded toward the thoroughbred Taslin strider grazing on the top of the hill. “Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.”

“You named your horse after an archdemon?”

“Don’t worry, Vi. I won’t let him nip you.

You know… Andarateia might gain some illusion of normalcy by standing next to the most paranoid wound-up-tight repressed man around to provide contrast, but I think it’s crucial we keep in mind that she is also nuts. Naming your horse after an archdemon IS an insane thing to do in the world of Thedas huh. I suppose she genuinely seems to think of Caterina Dellamorte as a warm maternal figure and is in love with a tetchy snake of a guy too, it does all start to add up when you look at it like that.

— Beneath the smooth samite, he felt like a sinewy ball of tension. Teia suspected contact of any kind made Viago uncomfortable. It would explain why he swathed himself in indigo from chin to toe and refused to remove his gloves during dinner.

He offers his arm to her and doesn’t pull away when they meet Caterina — only when Dante shows up. Interesting (and possibly part of why Caterina seems to consider the two of them a cleverly stabilizing package deal when they get along lol). I love the mix of playful seduction and genuine fond, intimate knowledge and interest Teia has for him all the way through too — speculating about his childhood, trying to divine his thoughts and intentions, testing to see how he reacts to different things. And it’s so sweet that she seems to regard him with this affectionate amusement and fascination (which he seems to be afraid means that she’s mocking him but is, I think, just another level of appreciation she has for him. Correctly. Because he’s one of the funniest people in Thedas both in concept and in practice. Accountant brained-ass noodle arm Vetinari homage poison specialist. Teia’s neurotic purse dog of a man. Sole royal bastard who willingly chose to have a boring Antivan day job (killing people) and makes spreadsheets about it.)

— “Not exactly welcoming, are they?” Teia whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

Viago’s grip tightened on the head of his walking stick.

I swear to god courtney woods is so fucking good at writing romantic and sexual tension. One sentence!!! She drops in a one-sentence detail and it says everything!!!! She has such a knack for consistently adding these details without getting overindulgent or spelling it out too much that I really admire, I tend a bit more towards indulging too much as a writer that way myself so her sense of where to show restraint has me in awe

— “Don’t ‘Nonna’ me, Andarateia Cantori,” Caterina snapped, although the heat in her voice had lowered to a simmer. “Not even my actual grandchildren call me that.”

“Well, considering who your grandchildren are,” Teia responded, “I’m not surprised.”

“How is Master Lucanis?” Viago asked.

Hell yeah Lucanis mention! Can’t wait to see how their dynamics will turn out in-game, we could be in for some truly spectacular and absurd workplace comedy nonsense if we’re lucky

— As always, Viago had with him his leather case of poisons and antidotes for toxins typically hidden in ingredients such as olives, truffles, pasta, lamb, cheese, cream, and alcohol. But he had not expected eggplant.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read, I love Viago so much he’s such a perfect weirdo. Reader, he had not expected eggplant.

— Taking a deep breath, Viago focused on tying his cravat—an ordinarily simple task except now Teia was running her hands across every surface in his room, and his fingers kept slipping on the final knot. “It would help if you removed the gloves,” Teia remarked. “Surely your own cravats haven’t been tampered with.”

Viago being just… seethingly horrifically despairingly horny every time Teia shows up is so amazing, and Teia clearly paying A Lot of attention to his hands and his reactions at all times… again, courtney woods s tier sexual tension provider.

— “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not until we boil some water.”

Viago raised a brow. “Eight people were poisoned in this room.”

“Then run your little tests to make sure it’s safe, but I refuse to look at another dead body until I’ve had my coffee.”

I must take care to repeat: teia is also fucking nuts (affectionate). It’s SO FUNNY that her slightly lighter and softer moral take on being a Crow means she does feel bad about the servants ending up in the crossfire, but she will also demand that viago make her coffee with their horrifically bloated corpses still strewn about the room fhdsjka.

— Teia had often imagined what it would be like to kiss Viago. She told herself it was only natural. He was handsome, in his own way, and wound up so tight that she likened him to a giant knot. He was a challenge to untie—to twist and pull and loosen until the tension gave way and he unraveled, laying bare all his secrets. But knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

I know I KNOW they have sex so weird and intimate and no one even takes their clothes off during it I know it in my heart

— “Do you not think you’re attractive?” Viago turned on her, his ears pink. “Ten people are dead.”

She didn’t back down. “And whoever’s responsible will pay, but that has no bearing on this conversation.”

“It could be me.”

Covering her mouth with both hands, Teia doubled over, laughter spilling from her lips. “It’s not you.”

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m more than capable of killing everyone here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re offended!”

“It is offensive,” Viago protested. “Professionally.”

Teia please tell me you love me not only for my body and fashion sense and numerous and fascinating neuroses but also my extensive knowledge of poisons and capacity to cause death

— Again, Viago felt like a lute string. With every challenge, Teia twisted the pegs, tuning him, until she found what she wanted. Which is what, exactly? he asked himself, not daring to listen to the number of answers that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

You know Viago I think we should let her try some scales here at least. See what happens. (There’s no explicit sex in this story but everything that’s going on is nevertheless so kinky fdsjak. I think Teia could convince Viago to show a flash of his naked wrist and have a reaction like a sheltered young Victorian gentleman seeing an exposed ankle and a playful wink for the first time)

— As if she could feel the sudden rush of shame within him, Teia brought her hands up to rest on Viago’s hips, holding him in place. His thumb stilled as he realized her breath was short. Her pupils dilated. Before he could stop himself, Viago nuzzled his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. Teia’s hands snaked up his chest to run through his hair. She tugged him forward. He braced himself on one arm, while the other curled around the small of her back.

This whole scene is unspeakably good of course but it’s always the detail of ‘his nose brushing her cheek’ that does me in the most. The longing!!! The yearning, the intimacy, the awkward perfect clumsy physical reality of it!!!! If he kissed her here the magical potion thing on her lips would have been immaterial, the results would have been the same without it!!!!!! The tug of war between longing and fear!

— oblique Zevran mention! <3 as the ultimate failson of house arainai, granted, but as I believe he might argue here: ‘ah, but you have heard of me, no? :>’. Babe I support you so much go out there and raise hell/kill whoever you want to I got your flower

— Big shoutout to the author for managing to pull off an entirely workable ‘And Then There Were None’ plot in the background here, even though the real meat and potatoes going on is the character and relationship development (and what meat and potatoes they are too)! It’s not an easy thing to do even in an abbreviated, more of a homage sort of form and balancing it with everything else going on is a feat

— Caterina 100% knows Teia is in Viago’s room when he’s supposed to be isolated and just doesn’t care lmao. (They act like such teenagers in that scene where she knocks on the door and they haven’t even kissed yet I’m dying). Caterina seems like a terrible person but it’s impossible to not feel for her a little, trying to keep Talons in line seems a lot like herding (very horny very carrying sharp objects) cats

— Standing outside her ex-lover’s room, Teia tried to quell the violent drumming within her. Normally, she didn’t need to come down from a physical encounter. Seduction—like any form of manipulation—was about control. She could enjoy herself, but Teia always made sure to hold the upper hand. Viago had shattered that control without so much as a kiss.

I feel like this is a sneaky common trait that actually is part of what makes them so compatible (and the playful negotiation of which must feature prominently in their sex life eventually lmao): they are both HUGE control freaks. (Indeed it might be hard to be a successful Talon without this trait.) Teia and Viago both strive for control of themselves and their surroundings so deeply, she’s just much more extroverted, psychologically minded and soft power focused going about it (not unlike Caterina, whose power is built more on fear than charm but works along the same lines), while he’s more coldly intellectual and uh materialist? I want to call it? about it. Which makes perfect sense considering their backstories! Teia came from nothing in a monetary sense but has found she excels at moving people, hearts and minds style — and she’s very good at it, she is everyone’s favorite — so that’s the source of power for her, and Viago is not very charismatic or interested in people naturally but grew up seeing how status, wealth and power have their own clinical gravity that can be used, and also that people can never be trusted to watch out for you in that system.

If Thedas has a Machiavelli-equivalent to ask whether it’s better for a ruler to be feared or loved they would both instantly give their answer with their whole chest and then squint at each other like ‘babe how do you live like this’ lol

(Also this line of thought has me wondering what the hell Caterina’s partner/spouse(s) would have been like — she must have at least two children to account for Illario and Lucanis, I wonder if she was ever married and what that looked like.)

— I really like the oppressiveness and claustrophobia you get from the descriptions Teia uses in Dante’s room — it feels so icky and sticky with history and sad and confining, and the way she keeps pushing herself through it anyway is weirdly melancholy to me.

— I also like how their flaws/traits that drive them apart at the crisis point have follow-up consequences outside of their relationship before they reconcile. Teia’s penchant for manipulation and pushing on people indirectly causes the death of someone she once cared about (I mean, fuck that guy, not crying any tears for Dante or his broken bottle, but like in the overarching principle of the thing lol). When she goes too far with it or gets careless, she renders other people vulnerable and helpless in ways she doesn’t anticipate. (Rightfully or not this seems to be part of what scares Viago so much about it, he has this fear of being dissected for whatever she finds interesting and then abandoned when she’s tired of it, the whole underlying being a footnote in her life when she could clearly be something uh a lot more in his anxiety.) Meanwhile Viago’s insistence on self-reliance and reluctance to engage in human contact leaves him easily isolated and nearly results in his death. (And even when Teia saves him he has a hard time giving her full credit in favour of his many neurotic coping mechanisms lmao disaster man.) But when the two of them work it out to understand each other better and come together as a partnership, they’re such a force to be reckoned with that it brute forces the resolution and return to stability near the end. (Well. A significantly reduced version of stability to be fair but y’know better late than never.)

— Also: delicious detail that she is actually the closest you might get to a self-made woman/Talon, and he is definitely at least not in a position to fully dodge the nepo baby allegations — he wants so bitterly to be entirely independent and self-sufficient and not reliant on anyone, and yet it’s his connections inherent to his birth that have helped him get here, while she wants so desperately to have people to rely on because she comes from nothing and has known what it is to be that alone and unprotected. He knows protection and gifts — and love — can easily be taken away and used to control you/render you helpless in your vulnerability from how his father treated his mother, and she knows you have to try to hold on to something in other people or it’s just you and the dirt and you die. Which is what they’re really talking about in that scene where they argue, and it’s why they’re both right and wrong at the same time and it’s so tasty. It’s really Teia asking ‘Will you ever trust anyone? (will you ever trust me, or will you put up this wall every time no matter what I say or do?)’ and Viago going ‘Will you never take precautions to protect yourself against this hurt? (will I have to be the bearer of bad news about how the world really is every time?)’ and neither of them realize that’s what they’re taling about and it’s why it all explodes so badly. (I mean. Factually both came to the wrong conclusion about who the murderer was for fairly good reasons, so there’s also that haha.)

— I wonder if we’ll see Bolivar or the heirs to the houses left Talon-less in the game itself. I’m guessing they probably won’t have big roles, at least, but you know just as background flavour, especially since Crow!Rook is already within the de Riva uh household as it were. I think Viago is still sensibly mid-table at Fifth Talon in Veilguard and Teia remains Seventh? So at least they’re not messing around with that rank order during the occupation

— In semi-not teia and viago news (I am a character first writer and reader I canot change this), it’s neat to see it outlined just how much the Talons really are just merchant princes with some more added knives and cultural weight behind them. They are at the end of the day running businesses, no matter the mystique ™ you wrap it in. (Which I think Viago would be the first to tell you and Teia might try to argue against at least a little haha. Being a Talon is what you make of it you live your truth girl kill awful men you’ll never run out of contracts!!)

— Can’t believe the Crows have self-congratulatory ‘top 10 murders in history!’ classes as part of the training. Do you think Zev sat through those. Probably, if Teia did, right. Now there were some entertaining hours around the campfire during the Blight I’m sure

— Viago understanding but not accepting Teia’s offer to help him with an alibi and at first angling it as being out of hesitancy to accept help/rely on someone, and then later unveiling the added element that he knows Teia respects and loves Caterina and doesn’t want her to have to lie to her for him… Viago is nothing so simple as secretly nice deep down but he IS horrifically in love with and desperate to be kind to specifically Teia and it gets to me okay

— I’d forgotten that DA’s passionate love affair with toxic yuri and some recreational bury your gays extended to Guili and Lera in this fdskjah. Would it really be Thedas without it I suppose (considering the genre of the short story it’s fine with me in this case, though, everyone’s dropping like flies in this even the straight people that’s just equality)

— Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. What Teia had elicited in him was akin to an internal natural disaster.

I simply love him so so much. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. He failed to account for the eggplant. He’s so annoyed at being poisoned and dying horribly and it literally never occurs to him that anyone would help him until he wakes up in Teia’s lap. He organizes all his poisons by puns. He uses his potentially last breath to argue with Teia about his precise state of dress or undress. Have we finally found him, the perfect man?

(Also between Reyes and Viago Courtney Woods does such a good line in guys who’d really rather be emotionless machines of practical violence and monetary gain but find themselves down so horrifically catastrophically bad that it cracks them open to reveal a soul they aren’t all that happy to discover they have lol)

— When Viago woke, it felt like someone had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with sludge. But it wasn’t all bad—someone who smelled like coffee and cinnamon was playing with his hair. . . . Her fingers resumed stroking his hair. It felt better than the water. It felt better than anything.

Unspeakable. Don’t look at me.

— Viago reaching out and touching Teia’s cheek with his bare hands without a thought and all his tenderness and reverence for her laid bare in turn is something that can actually be so personal and it only took very nearly dying to get there (also… he’s presumably still half-naked through all of this while cradled in her lap. Amazing.). Can’t believe bare hands to cheek feels like third base with these two. And his fucking THOUGHTS through all of this… Don’t cry, he doesn’t deserve your tears, no one does (I don’t, I don’t want to be something that causes you pain) AOUGH

— Vaguely related: the implication in how that part is built is that he’s reaching out specifically to gently dry away her tears, right. Double AOUGHHHHHH not only does he manage to not be selfish or unfair in asking her not to cry he does that instead… there’s hope for you yet messere de riva

— Teia with the red-hot poker standing guard over Viago while he ‘looks like a king in judgement’ and does the Poirot in the library exposition is everything and so hot what the fuck. She a snacc she attacc but most importantly… she protecc, she’s so fucking cool lol. they’re both really smart, but she’s clearly the brawn as well as the social skills (hey manipulation is such an ugly word!) and he’s the logistics and realpolitik on two long thin nerdy legs, absolute power couple. She’s the gaslight he’s the girlboss together may they gatekeep this invading army out of antiva

— You guys… this might come as a surprise I have tried to keep it on the down low but. I really do love the world of Thedas so very much. I love the people and the places and the history and the stupidness and the brilliance so much. We must save the world because everyone I love lives here. Let this be a secret between just you and me we can’t let people know we sit/have emotions etc.

— A servant approached to take the cage in Viago’s hand.

“Careful,” Viago warned. “He bites.”

“I can’t believe you’re keeping that snake,” Teia said, shaking her head. “It almost killed you.”

“Which is more than any man can say. He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat.”

“But did you have to name it Emil?” Teia asked, making a face.

“An homage. You’re always telling me to recognize my fellow Talons.”

Andarateia ‘names her horse after an archdemon’ Cantori x Viago ‘keeps the deadly adder that nearly killed him as a pet and names it after the last guy who failed to murder him’ de Riva. Freak well and truly matched. Soulmates, no notes, I’ll do borderline anything for these two to make it, goodnight.

#dragon age #dragon age meta #tevinter nights #viago de riva #andarateia cantori #teia x viago #I have gone and been extremely me about this again and I could apologize but you know and I know... I'm going to do it again #so I won't insult you thus by even pretending I'm sorry and have learned my lesson lol

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writersrkive · 6 months ago

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hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Navigation Criminal Minds masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am… Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

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pressureplus · 11 months ago

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Hey!!

Love you writing, and say your ask box was open!

Was wondering if you could do headcannons for Seb with a partner(who’s also an experiment) who’s extremely scared of physical contact, basically helping them recover and learn to find comfort with each other?

Just thought it was a cute idea and would love to see some headcannons for it!!

keep up the awesome work!!

Hi! Thank you, we have a lot of fun writing things for you all, and we adore this fish as much as everyone here💕 I LOVE these kind of Headcannons, comfort is one of my personal favorite kinds of things to write for! Hope you like it! 💕💕💕

(Also, I didn't know if you wanted romantic or not, so I pinpointed where the platonic stuff stops and the romance begins for y'all)

Sebastian Solace x Experiment Reader Headcannons

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, Mentions of Violence, Injury, Blood, Trauma, and Touch Related Issues

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

• You only really met because you needed his help

• Had you not found yourself wounded, hungry, and on the brink of death, you'd never have trusted any creature that could take Pandemonium in a fight

• But, as you may have guessed, the stars aligned in your favor and you gained a friend

• The things that had made you the thing you are today gave you a less than ideal relationship with the idea of being touched

• Your old cell, a less so opinion of being in confined, cornering spaces

• Sebastian had been pissed when you writhed and shrieked and fought him when he was trying to tend your wounds

• Almost gave up on you immediately and turned you out, grabbing you by the shoulders and nearly heaving you back into the vent you'd drug yourself through in the first place

• It was the fear in your eyes that changed his mind, something that was familiar to him in a way that ran deep

• it was his own looking back at him

• You had to tend all your own injuries, but he did make a point to slide you the med kits instead of wrestling you or throwing them

• Was surprised when you pulled through, honestly, and even more surprised when you returned that night after your first outing in weeks to sleep in the space he'd give you to recover in

• By this point, he'd grown fond of having the company, finding his own comfort in the familiarity and shared experiences you two had

• The Expendables don't understand what it's like to be in this place the way it was, they don't understand getting experimented on like this, being conditioned a certain unnatural way, being mistreated and seen like monsters

• The researchers and scientists and actually valued UrbanShade Personnel could never understand either, finding some sort of honor or privelege in getting to aid such a massive, self-justified name like the one this god forsaken company holds over its own head

• Not even the other creatures here could relate to him, unable to speak, many of them truly mindless and animalistic- if not those things than things people were afraid to disrespect for fear it would lash out, a luxury that Sebastian and Yourself never got to know on account of the fact they all knew you to be prisoners and knew you to be weak to one thing or another

• Painter was close, but never human. The only one willing to speak to him like a person... Still yet unable to connect with for not knowing what it is to have been human and to have it taken

• But you understand him.

• You two were treated alike, coming from similar backgrounds, coming from places that would never prepare you for this

• You both need that connection, and he knows that when you pull yourself into his shop. The same way you know this when he slides your food forward for you to have in the evenings

• Touch isn't natural to you anymore, nor is it to him, so no matter how much you both want it, you stay distant

• Your voice suffices for a long while, finding the bond you grow to share in old stories from the world that was taken from you and in time spent helping him run his shop and in dreams to feel the sunlight on your new scales

• This new skin has never known sunlight, but it is starting to know kindness, isn't it?

• "Would it be too far for me to hold your hand? Would it be strange?"

• The first hurdle you have to jump on your recovery is still at distance, hesitantly and awkwardly pushing your hand against his own, sitting stiffly on opposite ends of a desk and refusing to look at one another

• It's not comfortable, but it gets the job done, right? A good step in the right direction!

• God the road to recovery is long =_=

• The first time it happens on its own seems to surprise you both, it's a hand on your back when he leans around you to grab for some of the data on the table in front of you for sorting

• Both of you were a little stiff about it, but it was quick and had a purpose, so it wasn't torture

• A neutral experience, but not bad!

• After this, it eases into being natural

• Brushing hands, correcting a strand of hair for him, patting you on the shoulder- even playful little hip bumps when you two get comfortable enough

• Like ice, the wall between you melts away as you fall into rhythm with your shared life

• It starts to feel nice when he gives you attention like that

• Those big clawed hands stop being scary, and you can no longer imagine why you were very frightened when he reaches forward to boop your nose and call you a stupid little idiot for dropping something

• Is never going to be completely nice to you, did you forget the man you decided to marry harass is mean?

• If you don't feel anything for him further than things that are platonic this is where your life together mellows and settles, into a comfortable spot where you two take care of each other and support one another, everything one another has

• If you feel more?

• It's laughing and joking, and all at once you break through the surface tension in ways you never thought you were ever going to have again

• You share a kiss.

• It's hard to tell who leaned in first, but before you can even think about it, your lips are warm and your mind is buzzing

• It's slow and steady and light, hands coming up to cup your face so softly and gently

• Any place your hands rest on him, he leans into, purring and kissing at you as long as he can get away with

• His fins? Fluttering. His tail? Wagging. . . His heart is damn near stopped with how many skips it's taking

• Heart may as well be playing hopscotch, you better pull away before he hits the ground

• After this, you get to enjoy time cuddling and kissing and basking in what it feels like to be loved again

• He could never be more content than he is to be pressed against you

• Even in the bodies you're stuck in now, he could never be happier than this ❤️

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

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Can we get the rest of the HH characters for the pet names headcanons please?

Pet names with various HH characters part 2

going to go ahead and write the rest of the characters i usually do for HH since this is such a short post in general- so no 3 parter here! characters: lucifer, adam, lute, carmilla, rosie, velvette, vox, emily, cherri bomb notes: reader is gn so any gendered petnames will be changed if possible, they pronouns is used for all characters but thats just because i copy pasted stuff and didnt feel like editing LMAO, very short post CWs: none

LUCIFER

What you call them: Any version of the Pie names and hes all yours. Honeypie, Sweetiepie, Apple Pie, and so on! He cringes a little at cutie patootie and shnookums but he still accepts it

What they call you: Hon, Honey, Dear, but sometimes he likes to lean into some of the more casual ones! Sunshine, or a shortened version of your name, and so on!

ADAM

What you call them: Likes being called Handsome, Hunk is another one though its said more jokingly, Baby is another common one

What they call you: Babe is his default! However every now and then he drops in a more... vulgar... one, however for the most part its only used in the bedroom or when the two of you are alone

LUTE

What you call them: For a while she's only going to let you call her by her name, or some of the more common/tame names... Baby, Hon, things you hear fairly often... she seems to like Hon more

What they call you: She tends to just call you by your name. Its going to take her a while to choose a name for you, it takes some time for her to open up to a lot of stuff actually...

EMILY

What you call them: She likes almost anything you want to call her so long as its not dirty or a little mean, she really likes Sunshine though

What they call you: Shes going to call you nearly everything under the sun until she finds something that feels right coming out of her mouth that you also like! Lovely and Sweetheart/pea are common!

ROSIE

What you call them: Sweetie, Lovey, Pumpkin seem to be ones she really enjoys!

What they call you: Darling, Dearest... and albeit in a teasing way, she sometimes calls you princess/prince

VOX

What you call them: Lovely, Lover, Lovey tend to get a good reaction of him so you usually use those when referring to him

What they call you: He says your name a lot of the time, however sometimes he calls you babe and sweetheart.... do you think sometimes he calls you his steady because the was used in the 50s...

VELVETTE

What you call them: A shortened version of her name, you sometimes call her Sweet Cakes as a reference to... well, velvet cakes... always gets a side eye from her but its normally lighthearted

What they call you: Babe/Babes, and Baby are the main ones that she calls you but sometimes she calls you Boo though its not used often

CARMILLA

What you call them: she trends to prefer her name as well, however she does enjoy when you call her Love or Dear

What they call you: Amor/Mi Amor is her main go to when using terms of endearment for you, she rarely ever uses anything else. its typically either that or your name outright

CHERRI BOMB

What you call them: You sometimes jokingly call her Firestarter or Firebug/fly, you sometimes also call her Firecracker, things like that that kind of relate the explosions- fire stuff! she likes them!

What they call you: Babe, Boo, Lovebug, to name a few however Babe is the most common!

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stylo-90 · 4 months ago

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a guide to buying writing pencils as a gift

this is a guide to buying wooden writing pencils for someone in your life. why? just because! they're a nice little gift and way cheaper than most stuff you might be interested in buying. definitely cheaper than other fancy stationery like fountain pens. and they made John Steinbeck very excited...

Just the pure luxury of long beautiful pencils charges me with energy and invention.

- John Steinbeck

1. Vibe Management

Picture the recipient. Who are you buying these pencils for? Are we going for more of a classic Americana, 'analog living', rustic kind of vibe? Or is this person more of a stationery geek? Someone who's more artsy or more businesslike? We are focusing on writing pencils here but they have different qualities, hard and soft, subtle and dramatic, thick lacquer or thin paint. This is an analog object and the sensory qualities are important.

2. American or Japanese (or Other)

The two main countries you may be interested in are the USA and Japan. If you're an American looking to deliver some #2 nostalgia with the eraser on the end, or chasing the Steinbeck thing, you can't go wrong with an American manufacturer like Palomino (CA), Musgrave (Shelbyville, TN), or General's (Jersey City, NJ). But if your recipient is more into high-quality stationery goods of all kinds, they are probably already a fan of Japanese stationery, which is a much more discerning market than the USA when it comes to quality products. Manufacturers to check out here are Tombow and Mitsubishi Pencil (uni).

Bonus: Indian pencils. The pencil scene is big among Indian schoolgoers, and so they have a variety of different brands of pencil. The black and red Nataraj is the primary-school classic, but don't sleep on the internet fave Apsara. (Both are manufactured by the same company, Hindustan Pencils)

Ah, but aren't there different hardnesses of pencils? Nothing wrong with a classic HB/#2, but you'll find that many prefer a slightly softer and darker lead for writing - more like a B or 2B. The H end of the spectrum is harder and lighter leads more suitable for drafting than writing. An F is a nice middle ground (just a bit harder than HB). Japanese pencils also tend slightly softer and darker than American pencils of the same grade. Softer = smoother, harder = scratchier (generally speaking.

Personally I can't use leads softer than B because the dust triggers my asthma. Hadn't thought of that, huh?

3. Just Give Me the Recommendations Already!

The pencils everybody* has heard of:

Tombow Mono 100 and Mitsubishi Hi-Uni are historically the 'premium' Japanese pencils. Thick lacquer, carefully selected graphite. A single pencil will be in the $2.50-3.00 range, and a dozen will be $22-23. I recommend these in HB or (for Tombow) F.

In the Japanese 'good but not premium' category, I highly recommend the Tombow 2558 in HB, which has been called the greatest yellow pencil ever made, with one of the best erasers. The Mitsubishi 9850 is similarly a beautiful and high-quality pencil that isn't expensive. We're talking like $1.40 a pencil.

Going to American pencils, the Blackwing 602s are world-famous (among pencil people). People say the current Palomino-made ones are inferior to the Eberhard Faber ones that John Steinbeck used, but how would they know? I would stick with the 602's but go with the Naturals if you want more firm lead, or Pearls for softer lead (not for me). These will be $30 for a dozen - I guess you pay for the name, and you can't get them as singles, unless you happen to see one at your local stationery shop. But they are, indeed, very good.

Musgrave Tennessee Reds are one-of-a-kind, made from fragrant Tennessee red cedar, and with a smooth dark lead. Highly recommend, and only $14 for a dozen. But for a more affordable alternative, the Harvest 320s are $8.50 for a dozen and I think they're beautiful, with gold foil lettering and a crisp hexagonal body design with thin lacquer -rare among pencils nowadays.

There are also a bunch of specialized pencils for a variety of purposes - ones for test scoring, doing crosswords or marking up sheet music, songwriting... JetPens sells pencil samplers, while you can get variety packs from Musgrave and Blackwing. I wish I could recommend General's pencils but I haven't tried any that made an impression.

Here are the two pencil sharpeners I own and recommend:

Mitsubishi Uni KH-20 - a desktop crank sharpener that turns out a nice long point, $32

KUM No. 400-5L Stenographer's Long Point - like the name says, a tiny handheld sharpener with a long point, and dirt-cheap

For erasers, either use the one on the end of your pencil, or (since many fancy pencils don't come with erasers) take your pick. Most vinyl/plastic erasers are more than good enough, and easily better than a typical end-of-pencil eraser. Personally a simple Pentel Hi-Polymer has always served me well.

The only other accessory you might want is a pencil cap/point protector - an underrated way to keep your pencil sharp when you leave your pencil around or want to take it somewhere. EDC pencil? You better believe it! You might not give this as a gift, but I find it increases the 'usability' of a pencil in day-to-day. I like this Kutsuwa aluminum one.

Since we're gift-giving, you may be interested to know what some nice gift boxes might look like:

Musgrave has several fun variety packs, including one that looks like a pencil. They also have a $75 box made of fragrant Tennessee red cedar for their red cedar pencils, if you're like... rich. And have exquisite taste in woods.

Meanwhile, Blackwing likes to do the limited edition thing, and has "volumes" honoring this or that famous person. These are just their standard leads with fancy art on the pencil lacquer, don't buy the hype. (Unless you want to, I mean. I have a pentagonal Blackwing Vol. 10001 that I bought as a loosey at a local stationery shop and I really enjoy it.) Even if you just buy a normal pack of 602's, they are 'fancy' enough that your recipient should appreciate it, if they are the type of person you would buy pencils in the first place.

"but tumblr user stylo-90, how do I choose?"

whichever one looks prettiest to you! don't think too hard about it. (i understand the irony of saying this now)

#pencil #stationery #pencils #writeblr

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

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I have really mixed feelings about the small proportion of F/F fiction (original or fanfic), because yeah sure, people have their desires, they should write what they want, I get it. It all works out when I hear it from person to person. But somehow the logic only ever applies in one direction? "There are more male protagonists because men only care about male characters! Women also mostly care about male characters, because that's the majority of characters they get!" And then somehow we also yet kvetch when men write female characters (because it's incorrectly or something, nevermind if women are writing male characters correctly). Why don't we expect gay men to feel compelled only by femslash for the same reasons (but gender swapped) as the lesbian slashers/fujoshi? All of those very rational justifications are applied selectively, "for me for not for thee," and it all only leads to "idk I just don't wanna write femslash", for Reasons. Do we get to call them microaggressions yet?

No, you don't get to call other people's fantasy life a microaggression.

That is indeed "for me but not for thee" in the sense that you get to want what you want but other people aren't supposed to follow their id.

Do you also police gay men who spend too much time on drag and obsessing over female divas? That's an actual real world behavior that's somewhat equivalent. It frequently goes unchallenged, at least by progressives, because men are allowed to do whatever they want with chick stuff, while women are "stealing" if they dare to stray into dude stuff.

(God, I've seen so much more policing of drag kings being ~problematic~ for acting out stereotypical gender than policing of drag queens for the same. It's nuts!)

Fujoshi are often queer, but it's absurd to think we're mostly lesbians. We tend to be bi or asexual women with gender stuff going on, though there is a mix of everybody, including lesbians. There are also a lot of AFAB non-women who get lumped in with us. On the rare occasions I find a man willing to admit to being a similar demographic, he usually does like gender play in his hobbies and entertainment. It's just that men face even more pressure than women do to fit into tidy categories. Bi women get told we're whores. Bi men are told they don't exist.

Yes, I know plenty of lesbians who write more m/m than f/f, but in the big picture of all of AO3 or all of fanfic or all of media, they aren't the demographic driving these numbers. They're vastly outnumbered by the bi women, the asexual women, and the straight and gnc women.

The men we should be looking at as an equivalent aren't cis gay men but bicurious soy boys and the like.

Do most of us fujoshi object to equivalent men doing an equivalent thing? I've seen it sometimes, and I agree it's hypocritical. I'd like us to afford men the same ability to play and take on identities in their art. I remember enjoying Ranma fandom back in the day and reading quite a lot of f/f that was probably by men. It had some of that same sense of distance and fantasy that I so enjoy in m/m aimed at fujoshi. (I do consume some by-cis-gay, for-cis-gay content, both m/m and f/f, but it's often too literal and too bound up in specific named identities for my taste.)

On average, the people I see complaining most about men producing f/f material are the same people who think that because I have a clit, I should center my life around women exclusively. In other words, people spouting radfem ideology, perhaps on purpose or perhaps without realizing.

I do agree that some of the ways of expressing a lack of desire to write femslash can get pretty douchey. I want us to move away from some of the less accurate ones like "There are no compelling female characters" because of this.

But the reason for all these jerkass explanations is that women and people perceived as women who like m/m are constantly asked to explain ourselves. These aren't usually microaggressions: they're openly hostile. People get defensive and try to answer with important-sounding reasons about identity and pain because society at large won't accept "I like this" as the true explanation.

Pleasure is never enough of a reason for a woman to do something.

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snakesartblog · 6 months ago

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I spent a day or two digging through BKMN for analysis, and I’ve got some interesting stuff to share!

CWs: referenced sexual assault, murder, pregnancy

I'm writing this so that anyone could read it and have some understanding of it, even if they haven't read BKMN. This isn’t a formal essay and there isn’t one specific point that I’m getting at, but I’d argue that the central theme of the story is desire vs coercion.

WEGG

Wegg is the protagonist of BKMN and the symbolism around his storyline isn’t particularly subtle. It’s about finding acceptance as a man, especially following loss of bodily autonomy in sexual assault (unfortunately tends to be viewed as feminine). Following debatably consensual sex with the Swans, Wegg is cursed to die every month, a pretty clear parallel to menstruation, and then he “gives birth” to Calum. The connections from the assault to these things, very dysphoria-inducing for many transmascs, and his need to find meaning and masculinity of his own, I think exemplify the central theme of the book.

His desire for masculinity and acceptance are very present through the entire book. Even his mannerisms and speech seem very intentionally masculinized, especially in contrast with mild-mannered Neighbor. I’d be surprised if this wasn’t purposeful on his part! In a symbolic sense, he finds acceptance and recognition with Neighbor, another trans person, when he explains his need to die each month and Neighbor takes it in stride. Despite the loss of autonomy he experienced and how it continues to affect him, he finds a place for himself among other trans people. Moreover, he’s homeless - lacking acceptance and community - until he moves in with Neighbor, and when he says that he doesn’t typically eat enough, from then on we see Neighbor cook or buy him food constantly. The symbolism here is pretty strong I think! Wegg feels that he is only accepted or loved when performing a femininity that he hates (as victim/messiah for the Swans and also demonstrated in the flashbacks to his past) until he finds others like him.

NEIGHBOR

Neighbor is a super interesting way to write a trans character and weave transness into their storyline, in my opinion. It’s established from the first few pages of the book that he kills people, but specifically people who he perceives as harmful to others. Despite filling a classic “violent cis man” niche, a serial killer, he’s aware of his situation and power differentials around him and directs his necessary killing towards at least a less harmful route. Even the very first person we see Neighbor kill, in the opening of the book, is heavily implied to be the target because he committed sexual assault against his partner. He also doesn’t kill out of a desire to do so, and the moment Wegg offers his own blood, giving Neighbor a way out from the murders, Neighbor jumps at the opportunity. Compare this with Rarold, who I’d argue is a foil to Neighbor. They’re both relative outsiders in the community, they both butt heads with Tillman in one way or another, and they both kill people - but Rarold kills only because he wants to, he has no need to do so like Neighbor, and he is exclusively seen targeting young women. Rarold represents the sexist violence typically found in the stories of real-life serial killers, and in doing so makes it clear that Neighbor is not that kind of person.

Neighbor’s position in the town is also interesting, especially in comparison to Wegg’s. Neighbor is a member of the Baths community, arguably due to the services he provides for its members, but he’s still an outsider; no one knows him that well, he has no friends until he meets Wegg, and Tillman gets a bad vibe from him. In the context of this narrative about transmasculinity, there’s a lot there - Neighbor passes as a man thanks to his deal with Trudy, and he pays dearly for it with the murders he enacts. He asks Tillman not to disclose his first name, a name he never uses, to anyone following their trip to the Trudy temple “for safety purposes,” a mirror to the way any stealth trans person might talk about a legal name they never changed. Neighbor is accepted as a man in this pillar of the community, traditionally masculine provider role that he’s built for himself, but he’s still an outsider, and knows that he would risk losing the support of those around him were he open about his transness. To maintain his personal safety he trades openness regarding his identity, close relationships with those around him, and his conception of his own morality (he says multiple times that he doesn’t consider himself a good person due to the murders he has to commit). Even so, despite his lack of close ties to the cisgender people in the community and his idea of himself as a bad person, he tries to direct his killing to reduce the harm he’s doing, he helps Tillman find Trudy, houses Wegg, and does chores for, like, half the town of Baths. Despite his position, he clearly cares about the people around him and wants to be a positive influence.

As a note, there’s a bit of Biblical symbolism connected to Neighbor, but it’s not consistent. I couldn’t find a properly reliable source for it, but the internet says that the name Adie was originally a diminutive of Adam. He built his own body, making him his own God, and was cast out from Eden (became an outsider in the community) in the process. His original body was also burned on a cross following his deal with Trudy!

THE GODS

I think the conflict of the story is most concisely exemplified in the conflict between Trudy and Calum. Trudy represents desire itself, as the book very explicitly tells us. She’s the snake in Eden of Neighbor’s symbolism, and her devotees follow her very willingly. Trudy’s religion is decidedly voluntary, she grants her followers’ desires and only takes what they’re willing to give. She requires Neighbor kill people because it’s within his capacity, but Tillman isn’t required to harm others at all - dealing with Trudy is morally neutral and never seems to be forced. Calum, on the other hand, was forced onto Wegg, and represents a loss of autonomy for the power of others. The followers of the two gods are juxtaposed, especially in the ways Wegg and Tillman are treated as new followers of Calum and Trudy respectively. The fight scene between the two gods in the climax of the book is symbolic of the central themes of desire and consent.

#be kind my neighbor #bkmn #bkmn wegg #bkmn neighbor #adie neighbor #bkmn rarold #bkmn trudy #bkmn calum

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