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q-gorgeous · 2 years ago

Text

Bleeding Colors

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 2175

Soulmate Au where after your soulmate dies, you can only see in black and white. As in you see normal colors until they die and then only in black and white for the rest of your life, so you only ever know if you had a soulmate once it's too late. Except Character A’s (up to you who you want it to be) soulmate is Danny. While Danny is in Phantom form, character A’s vision is in black and white, but returns to normal color when Danny is Fenton. Character A is going crazy trying to find their soulmate who keeps dying and getting resurrected. @ghostboidanny

heres an old work of mine that also helped inspire this new fic :D its a fic with the same concept. its titled Colors and so i thought id give this one a similar name jhugyf

soulmate au boogaloo

Dash walked back to the locker room with the rest of the guys after football practice was over. Coach was extra hard on them today and Dash could smell it.

He made his way to his locker and grabbed his body wash and shampoo and his bag with his regular clothes and a towel. It was one of those days where he absolutely needed a shower immediately after practice. There was no way he was going home smelling like this.

He found an empty shower stall and set his stuff down, pulling the curtain closed. He undressed and turned the water on. He was squeezing some shampoo into his hands when something started happening.

The color started bleeding out of everything. At first he thought it was the lighting, the lights went out, maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the color faded from every single thing in the room. In his panic, he slipped on the wet floor and dropped his bottle of shampoo.

“Haha.” He heard Keith laugh at him from another shower stall. “You know what they say, Dash. Don’t drop the soap.”

He could hear the guys laugh at him from their shower stalls. His curtain got pulled back and Kwan was standing there.

“You know what that means in our locker room.” Kwan looked at him with a serious expression on his face. “Time for the torture of a tickle fight.” He waggled his fingers in the air at Dash. After a moment, Kwan’s brows furrowed as he looked at him.

“Dash, are you okay?”

Dash made eye contact with Kwan and took a few deep breaths.

“The color drained out of my vision. It’s all gone. Everything is in black and white now.”

The laughter of the guys around him stopped and everyone was silent.

“Shit, man.” Keith said quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Everyone gave Dash their condolences and went back to their showers quietly. Kwan still stood by his open curtain.

“Will you be okay?” He asked.

Dash nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I ever got the chance to meet them. At least I’m not losing someone that I already knew. That would make it-”

Dash was startled into silence when he saw the color start to seep back into everything. He stared around him as everything went back to the way it had always been.

“It’s back. They didn’t die.”

Kwan sighed in relief and the other guys cheered.

Pulling the curtain closed again, Kwan walked away. Dash went back to his shower. He picked up the shampoo bottle off the ground and clicked the cap shut.

What happened? Was his soulmate sick? How did they die and come back to life?

Dash considered himself lucky. It would have sucked if he went his whole life without meeting his soulmate. He’s glad they’re okay. They still had a chance.

-----

Dash didn’t know what was going on. He felt like he was losing his goddamn mind.

It had been two months since the first time his soulmate died. And it had happened everyday since then. Often more than once a day! What the hell was going on?

At first he had asked around school. You haven’t died recently, have you? You haven’t been having a lot of near death experiences, right? But the more it kept happening, the more he realized that his soulmate wasn’t anyone that he knew. He didn’t know anyone that would have these serious health conditions that would cause them to be dying every single day.

That was how he got this idea.

He looked at where Fenton, Manson, and Foley sat on the other side of the cafeteria, eating their lunches. They knew people he didn’t. Maybe they would know something.

He walked over towards their table and stopped behind where Manson and Foley sat. Fenton looked up at him and Dash waited until the other two turned around to face him.

“What do you want, Dash?” Manson snapped, glaring up at him.

Dash swallowed. He’d never admit how much she actually intimidated him. He just had to push forward and get the information he was looking for.

“You guys seem like you’re into some freaky shit. Do you know any kids who keep getting raised from the dead?”

Fenton looked like Dash had grown a second head. Manson and Foley stared at him with similar expressions.

“No, Dash. We don’t know any zombies.” Manson said.

“Haha. I’m being serious. Are there any kids doing weird occult things, kids with health issues whose heart keeps stopping, are there any kids from Casper High who are in the hospital right now?”

“Why?” Fenton asked.

Dash pressed his lips together. Did he want to tell them that he was trying to figure out who his soulmate was? Did he want to give them that information?

He didn’t debate on it for long before he caved.

“I’m actually trying to find my soulmate.” He said honestly. “Everyday a couple times a day my vision goes black and white before it goes back to normal again. I don’t know if my soulmate has some serious health problems or if they’re into some really weird shit, but I want to try and find them before they inevitably end up croaking.”

The trio was silent for a few seconds before Foley bursted out laughing.

Dash flushed. “What? Wouldn’t you want to try to find your soulmate if it looked like they were going to die soon?”

“Shut up, Tucker!” Manson hissed at him. She turned to face him again. “Sorry, Dash but we don’t know anyone like that.”

Dash looked from Foley to Manson and then to Fenton. For some reason Fenton had turned as red as a tomato.

“Are you guys sure?” Dash asked.

Fenton nodded meekly. “Like Sam said, we don’t know any zombies.” He squeaked out.

Dash’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Thanks anyways.”

He started walking away from them. He could hear hushed whispers behind him but he didn’t pay them any mind.

Maybe his soulmate wasn’t even in Amity Park. If neither the geeks nor him and his friends knew a person like this from Casper High, maybe they just weren’t here.

It dawned on him that with how things seemed to be going with his soulmate's health, it was likely they’d never get to meet. Dash resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably be seeing in black and white for the rest of his life very soon.

——-

Dash was starting to notice something.

It seemed like every time his soulmate was having health issues, dying or whatever was happening, was correlated to when Fenton would leave their classroom. Somehow.

It couldn’t be Fenton. Fenton was as healthy as he could be. Sure, he could be healthier or more in shape, but he wasn’t sick or anything. No, something else was going on.

Maybe Fenton was secretly beating up his soulmate. Beating them to the point that they almost died. But how did they always come back to life? It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense.

But that was why Dash decided to follow Danny the next time he went to the bathroom. That would be his chance to see what was happening out here when his soulmate was always dying.

Danny ran out the door and Dash stood up and started following after him without so much of a thought to Lancer.

“Mr. Baxter, where are you going?” He asked.

“I, uh, also have to use the bathroom.”

Dash ran out before Lancer could protest and looked for Danny.

He saw him turn a corner down the hallway and Dash started running. He couldn’t let Danny out of his sight. He needed to know what the boy was doing every time he left the classroom. He needed to know if it was related to his soulmate or not.

Dash turned the corner that Danny went around just in time to see him go into a janitor’s closet. Why was he going in there? Did he and Sam meet to make out in there? Gross. Wait, if this was related to the whole soulmate thing it couldn’t be Sam. She was also healthy and didn’t look very close to dying all the time.

Dash reached the door and pulled it open just in time to hear Danny yell.

“Going ghost!”

Dash’s eyes opened wide as he stared at Danny. A white ring appeared around his waist and split into two. They traveled up and around him, disappearing as they went over his head and feet and there in front of Dash stood Phantom.

Danny Phantom.

As those rings had traveled along Danny’s body, the color faded from his view once more. Everything faded to black and white. Then Danny turned around and met Dash’s eyes, his own opening wide.

They were a bright, electric green. It was the only color left in the bleak, monotone world that had been replaced when Danny transformed.

Tucker’s laughter from the day he asked them if they knew anyone who was being raised from the dead replayed in his head. All he could do was stare.

“You? It’s you?”

“Dash-”

The building rumbled around them and Dash could hear someone scream from somewhere in the school. Danny’s face hardened.

“I have to go. We can talk later.”

Dash watched as he flew away, phasing through the ceiling and out of sight.

Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom. He was his soulmate.

-----

Dash laid in his bed in his room later that night. Danny had never come back to class that day. Dash couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding him.

He couldn’t blame him. If he was some nerd that found out the guy that bullied him at school everyday for years was his soulmate, he’d be pretty upset about it too. Danny probably thought that the world was playing some kind of cruel prank on him.

The colors in his vision had come and gone all day since Danny transformed. He must’ve been off fighting ghosts. Right now Dash was surrounded by the bleak grayness of his room. Danny must’ve been transformed right now. What was he doing? Was he fighting ghosts?

Dash was staring up at the ceiling when suddenly Phantom’s head was poking through the wall above his face.

“Ahh!” Dash shouted. He sat up suddenly as he tried to back away but he only accomplished knocking his and Danny’s foreheads together.

“Ow!” Danny shouted. He phased the rest of the way through the wall as he held one of his hands to his face. He floated upside down in the air as he rubbed his forehead.

“Sorry!” Dash said, rubbing his own forehead. That hurt. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be right there so suddenly.”

“Yeah I guess that’s my fault.” Danny turned himself right side up and sat cross legged in the air. “I probably should’ve sent you a text before just showing up.”

They sat and stared at each other. Danny said they would talk later, and now it was later, but what were they even going to talk about?

“So you’re my soulmate, huh?” Danny said.

Dash fidgeted on his bed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They sat in silence again. It made Dash twitchy and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what they were supposed to talk about.

“What now?” He blurted out. Danny gave him a quizzical look.

“It’s not like we have to suddenly be together just because we’re soulmates.” Danny said. “We can at least start with being nice to each other and see where it takes us.”

“Oh.” Dash nodded. That sounded manageable. “Okay.”

“Unless you want to be together?” Danny gave him a sly grin.

“What?” Dash squeaked out.

“Sam and Tucker told me that you’re like, Phantom’s biggest fan even though you never got the chance to see me in my ghost form before.”

How did they know that? He thought he was pretty chill about Phantom!

Danny waved off whatever expression Dash was making at him. “Relax, I’m just teasing you. Haha.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Anyways, if we’re gonna just start with being nice to each other, we could go to my house and play some video games?”

“Sure!” Dash stood up. “I’ll whip your ass at them though.”

“You better not, I won’t back down from a challenge.”

Now eye level with Danny, Dash stared at his eyes. They were still that electric green.

“What?” Danny asked.

“Your eyes.” Dash said in wonder. “They’re green. They’re the only color I can see right now.”

“Oh. That’s neat. They do say that eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“Yeah, the window to your soul telling me you’re not actually dead.”

Danny threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Ha! That was a good one. Now come on, if you beat me at Mario Kart I’ll let you stay for dinner. My mom’s making homemade mashed potatoes tonight.”

“You’re on.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight 2023 #swagger bishie #danny fenton #dash baxter #fanfiction #soulmate au

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chifuyuzu · 4 years ago

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leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.”

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

#tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #mikey imagines #🌧 — cloudwrites.#bro i love mikey sm please

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magnetic-rose · 4 years ago

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Why Spones is a top-tier ship

AKA “the inherent homoeroticism of annoying the shit out of your co-worker.”

Spock and McCoy have a complicated relationship. A lot of their bickering and ideological differences lead fans to believe that they hate each other, but that’s an over-simplification of the truth. The reality is that Spock and McCoy are extremely close friends who care about each other deeply. Though sometimes their bickering turns serious during stressful situations, for the most time they seem to enjoy the banter. A common mischaracterization of their relationship seems to put McCoy as the bully and Spock as the victim. In truth, there are many times where Spock will say something specifically to get a rise out of McCoy. They fight. That’s how they show affection, not disdain. In fact, one could argue that some of their bantering have a flirtatious tone to it.

Kirk: Mister Spock, regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I assume, felt nothing.

Spock: On the contrary Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me.

McCoy: ‘Tis a pity brief blindness didn’t increase your appreciation for beauty, Spock. (Operation -- Annihilate!)

Spock is a half-Vulcan, half-Human who has mostly chosen to follow his Vulcan heritage. As such, he is a being of almost pure logic. The truth about Vulcans are that they are secretly beings who feel things very deeply and intensely, and they feel the need to keep a tight lid on their emotions as to not succumb to them. McCoy, on the other hand, is a regular human. He’s a deeply emotional man who cares about others. One could argue that McCoy is almost too empathetic, as he lets his emotions rule him. Spock and McCoy are polar opposites; the brain and the heart, the logic and the emotion, the super-ego and the id.

Despite these differences, the two men are similar in a lot of ways. They’re both men of science, men of peace, and they both care very deeply for their Captain. They’re both self-sacrificing morons, to the chagrin of the other. Spock will prioritize McCoy’s life even when both of them know it’s not the logical choice to do so. Likewise, McCoy will take a hit for Spock even when they both know the Vulcan is stronger and better equipped to deal with pain than the doctor.

Spock: (In the middle of a blizzard) In this severe cold, we cannot survive much longer.

McCoy: Leave me here, Spock.

Spock: We go together or not at all.

McCoy: Don’t be a fool. My hands and face are frostbitten. I can’t feel my feet. Alone, you have a chance. Now do what I say. Go try to find Jim.

Spock: We go together! (All of Yesterdays)

In the episode, “The Empath,” Kirk, Spock and McCoy have to choose someone to be offered as sacrifice to be tortured by a group of aliens. Kirk obviously volunteers, but gets put to sleep by McCoy with a tranquilizer. Spock then states that he’ll offer himself up, as he has the higher chance of surviving the torture. McCoy then proceeds to sedate Spock as well, and sacrifices himself to be tortured by the aliens.

Spock: While the captain is asleep, I am in command. When the Vians return, I shall go with them.

McCoy: You mean, if I hadn't given him that shot

Spock: Precisely. The choice would have been the captain's. Now it is mine.

(McCoy turns away. Spock sits to carry on working. Gem puts her hand on Spock's shoulder, and smiles. McCoy comes up behind him and gives him an injection.)

Spock: Your action is highly unethical. My decision stands. (Spock falls asleep next to Kirk.)

McCoy: Not this time, Spock.

Underneath all the fighting and disagreements, there is a deep caring between Spock and McCoy that manifests itself into protectiveness towards each other. In “All of Yesterdays,” Spock is constantly showing concern for McCoy after he almost died of hypothermia. In aftermath of McCoy’s torture in “The Empath,” Spock is seen hovering over his body and caressing his face, worry written into his features. On the other hand, while McCoy constantly makes fun of Spock for his lack of emotions, he’s also highly aware of the Vulcan’s mental state and protective of it when others threaten to shatter his resilience.

McCoy: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him.

Philana: You must be joking, Doctor.

McCoy: You'll destroy him.

Parmen: We can't let him die laughing, can we?

McCoy: (Watching as Spock starts to cry) I beg you! (Plato’s Stepchildren)

The episode “Amok Time” also demonstrates McCoy’s perceptiveness of Spock and Spock’s true feelings of friendship towards McCoy. McCoy is in fact the first person to notice that something is wrong with Spock:

McCoy: Oh, captain. Got a minute? It's Spock. Have you noticed anything strange about him?

Kirk: No, nothing in particular. Why ?

McCoy: Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination, but he's become increasingly restive. If he were not a Vulcan, I'd almost say nervous. And for another thing, he's avoiding food. I checked and he hasn't eaten at all in three days.

Kirk: That just sounds like Mister Spock in one of his contemplative phases.

Kirk doesn’t notice anything wrong with Spock, and initially dismisses McCoy’s concern, but McCoy immediately picked up on Spock’s mental turmoil. Despite his cantankerousness, McCoy not only cares about Spock but goes out of his way to look out for his mental state. Part of it might be because he’s his doctor, but how many doctors go so far as to monitor someone’s eating habits because they notice that person’s suddenly being fidgety? On Spock’s end, when it comes time for him to beam down to Vulcan to complete his marriage ceremony, he specifically asks for McCoy to be there:

Spock: By tradition, the male is accompanied by his closest friends.

Kirk: Thank you, Mister Spock.

Spock: I also request McCoy accompany me.

McCoy: I shall be honoured, sir.

One episode I find extremely fascinating in terms of McCoy/Spock moments is “Mirror, Mirror.” In this famous episode, half of the Enterprise crew get transported into an alternate universe dubbed The Mirror Verse, in which evil versions of the characters exist and terrorize space as a fearsome military force. McCoy is part of the team that gets transported in the Mirror Verse, while Spock stays in their regular universe. Mirror Spock immediately realizes that half of the crew, including Kirk and McCoy, are acting strangely. When he corners Kirk to question him, he does so by threatening McCoy: “I shall not waste time with you. You’re too inflexible, too disciplined, once you’ve made up your mind. But Doctor McCoy has a plenitude of human weaknesses, sentimental, soft. You may not tell me what I want to know, but he will.” This Spock seems to have a intimate knowledge of McCoy’s mind. When the party decides to attack Mirror Spock, he fights all of them except for Uhura and McCoy, who he simply pushes out of harm’s way.

When Mirror Spock gets hurt as the crew is trying to escape back to their own universe, McCoy is suddenly unable to leave his side. Kirk allows him to stay to nurse Spock back to health, and McCoy risks almost staying in the Mirror Verse forever for him. When Mirror Spock awakes, he backs McCoy into a wall and initiates a forced mind meld onto the doctor. The next scene has Mirror Spock holding a disoriented McCoy up and bringing him back to his crew; he now understands what is happening and he wants his regular crew back, and thus he allows Kirk and company to make the switch back to their own universe.

Other Star Trek properties have gone more in depth on how a forced mind meld can be extremely traumatizing on the person receiving it. Star Trek: Enterprise has an entire story arc dedicated to the Vulcan T’Pol trying to heal from a forced mind meld. Unfortunately, because the nature of TOS episodes were episodic, we never got the chance to explore the emotional fallout of McCoy’s forced mind meld and how that might have affected his relationship with Spock. The franchise also never went in depth on Mirror McCoy outside of what Mirror Spock speaks of him, since Mirror McCoy died of xenopolycythemia in 2269.

Closing the list of evidence of Spock and McCoy’s affections towards each other are the Star Trek movies “The Wrath of Khan” and “The Search for Spock.” Towards the end of Wrath of Khan, Spock sacrifices himself to save The Enterprise in one of the franchises most heart-wrenching scenes. Moments before his sacrifice, he knocks McCoy unconscious, touches his face and whispers “remember.” What happened in this scene was that Spock, knowing he was about to die, transferred his Katra to McCoy. The katra being the Vulcan equivalent of a soul. This speaks to the amount of trust that Spock has in McCoy. For someone who keeps most of his emotions under a tight lid, it’s a huge gesture to entrust another with the essence of their entire being. The next movie, The Search for Spock, is a journey as the Enterprise crew fight to return to Vulcan so they can reunite Spock with his body. When they finally arrive, the Vulcans warn McCoy that the process is extremely dangerous and could even result in his death. McCoy calmly replies that he “chooses the danger.” He cannot fathom living his life without Spock.

McCoy: (Speaking to Spock) I'm going to tell you something that I... I never thought I'd hear myself say...But it seems I've missed you. I don't know if I could stand to lose you again.

So in conclusion, Spock and McCoy have a rich and complex relationship that is much more than simply just “they dislike each other because they bicker a lot.” Their bickering is more akin to that of an old married couple. There are plenty of examples not even included in this post of how deeply they care for each other. Despite their ideological differences, they balance each other out quite nicely. McCoy is finely attuned to Spock’s emotions, arguably better than anyone else on the ship. Spock in turn is protective and gentle with McCoy. Once you stop looking at their interactions solely on the surface level, you’ll be able to see the tenderness and years of love and friendship between them. This is why I think Spock/McCoy is one of the most underrated and misunderstood relationships of TOS. Don’t let the constant arguing fool you into believing these two dummies don’t adore each other.

Shout-out to Tempest for their extremely lengthy ship manifesto on Spones called “Spiced Peaches,” which goes even more in depth on why Spones is a great couple. Using their manifesto as a reference was key to remembering Spock/McCoy moments. Also shout-out to the site chakoteya for having full transcripts of TOS episodes, so I could easily find quotes for this. If you’ve come this far, thanks for reading!

#star trek #tos #leonard mccoy #spock #spones #this was... a lot

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impalementation · 4 years ago

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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 2

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

“Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

For all that I’ve just discussed all of the ways that the first three seasons subvert the romance of Angel, it’s also true that the writing still fundamentally takes him—and Buffy’s relationship with him—seriously. To some degree it has to. Because Buffy is the show’s emotional anchor, if the writing didn’t take her emotions seriously, the audience wouldn’t either. It needs to be sympathetic to her (regardless of whether it endorses her, per se), or else it would run the risk of losing all pathos. Making fun of Buffy and Angel makes for a great gag in “The Zeppo”, and fits with the general way that season three undermines the romanticism of them, but if that was the show’s attitude the whole way through, it would come off as simply meanspirited. It would seem like it was making fun of Buffy for being a stupid teenage girl in love, instead of sympathetically depicting the human experience of being caught up in big, tempestuous emotions.

But at the same time, if the writing were to only take romance seriously, that wouldn’t feel very true either. Or fit with the general Buffy ethos, which loves to flip between serious and silly moods in order to capture all sides of whatever it’s exploring. And therein is the magic of Spike’s addition to the chemistry of the show. Practically from his introduction, Spike parallels Buffy’s romantic storylines, except unlike Buffy, Spike is allowed to do the comic or morally incorrect thing. His status as a soulless vampire means that the show is free to use him to point out both the sillier and darker sides of romance, without tainting Buffy’s heroism or the seriousness of her emotions.

In “Becoming, Part 2” for example, Spike is free to explicitly say that he’s saving the world because he wants Dru back, and leaves Buffy to die once he’s gotten her. Whereas Buffy, despite also wanting the person she loves back, ultimately chooses to save the world rather than keep him. Spike allows the episode to show what Buffy’s, or anyone’s, romantic id might want, without Buffy herself going through with it. He also allows the episode to show the ridiculousness of the romantic id, by giving him comic moments like “Didn’t say I wouldn’t”, or “God, he’s going to kill her”, or beating Angel with a tire iron, or any of the times that Buffy makes fun of him (“The whole earth may be sucked into hell and you want my help ‘cause your girlfriend’s a big ho?”). All of which is in contrast to the tragic seriousness of Buffy’s heartbreak. Spike in season two is not a character without pathos; in fact, he has quite a lot of pathos that parallels Buffy’s--think of the tortured close-up on his face as Angel and Drusilla taunt him in “I Only Have Eyes For You.” But neither is he limited or defined by that pathos.

He plays a similar role in both “Lovers Walk” and “The Harsh Light of Day”. In “Lovers Walk” he’s devastated by the loss of Drusilla, as Buffy was devastated over Angel in “Anne”, yet the way they get out of their respective depressions is very different. Tonally, “Anne” plays Buffy’s misery extremely straight, and when Buffy decides to stop moping and become an agent in her own life again, her version of “agency” means getting in touch with her leadership and heroism. Whereas for Spike, agency means a love spell, or torturing Drusilla into liking him again. The romantic id tries to re-possess the object of its desire, whereas the ego or superego is able to set that desire aside, whether or not it wants to. More obviously, Spike in “Lovers Walk” parallels all of the other characters and their romantic situations. All of them are behaving somewhat selfishly or self-destructively in their love lives (Xander and Willow cheating, Buffy and Angel torturing themselves with friendship) but are in denial about the fact that they’re doing so. And then Spike blazes in with his version of love that is selfish, scary, grandiose, charming, pathetic, genuine, and absurd by turns—and suddenly, everyone’s romantic weaknesses are out in the open. It makes perfect sense that Spike finishes the episode gleeful and optimistic, because “Lovers Walk” as a whole represents a triumph of the romantic id over the romantic ego, if only temporarily. And it’s all handled with a brilliantly whiplash-y mix of comedy and tragedy because at the end of the day, the power of the romantic id really is ridiculous. The way that Spike turns on a dime between being scary and pathetic parallels the way it’s at once absurd, and kind of frightening, that your id would make you, say: cheat on your wonderful high school boyfriend, just to have a chance with your childhood crush.

Because Spike is often treated as the show’s romantic id, the writing’s relationship to his romanticism gets complicated. Like Angel, there is something romantic in his aesthetic and behavior, even if he doesn’t look like Angel’s conventional Byronic hero. He wears a long, dramatic coat, poses rebelliously with his cigarettes, and dotes on his paramour with the elaborate attentiveness of Gomez Addams. But unlike Angel, he is not just a romantic symbol or object, he is also a romantic subject. That is to say, Spike’s romantic storylines tend to emphasize his romantic desires, and use those desires as motivation. By contrast, Angel’s storylines don’t really have much to do with whether he’s “gotten” Buffy or not—instead they have to do with whether Buffy has gotten him. The fact that Buffy and Spike are both treated as romantic agents in this way is a key indication that the two characters are meant to parallel each other. Angel’s side of the Buffy/Angel romantic storyline has to do with whether he can control himself around Buffy, whereas Buffy’s has to do with whether he likes her or wants to be with her. Similarly, Spike’s romantic storylines hinge on the status of whether Drusilla or Buffy want him.

Not only is Spike a subject when it comes to romantic relationships, he’s also a subject when it comes to Romantic thinking. He is a character practically defined by his romanticism. He aspires to romantic things, and therefore can be used to poke at romantic outlooks. Despite his grand love for Drusilla for instance, she still cheats on him, and he still has to knock her out, do a love spell, or torture her to get her back. Or he’ll make grand pronouncements that are immediately followed by things like getting tasered by the Initiative or falling into an open grave. Because of this, Spike is able to parallel Buffy’s Romantic thinking as well, not just her romantic desires. Notice how in “The Freshman”, when Buffy is feeling out of touch with her Romantic Slayer self, that she has a scene where she’s treated like Spike--she delivers a dramatic threat and then falls through a ceiling. Or in “Some Assembly Required” when she obeys her id and hotly demands that Angel listen to her, she falls into an open grave. This kind of comedy has a lot in common with the deadpan Angel humor discussed in the last section, but notice that the target of that humor is Angel’s romantic objecthood rather than an outlook Angel has. Angel’s role, when it comes to romanticism, has to do with how Buffy and the audience sees him, whereas Spike’s role (at least in the early seasons) has to do with how Spike sees, period.

The show doesn’t just poke at Spike’s outlook though, it also uses him to poke at other people’s romanticism. In season two, for example, Spike is the one who gets impatient with Angel’s grandstanding, sarcastically explaining that “we do still kill people, you know” and “it’s a big rock.” In “Lovers Walk” he’s the one who cuts through Buffy and Angel’s drama, reducing it to “googly eyes” with a dismissive handwave (while also building it up in his projection-y “you’ll never be friends” speech). In “Something Blue” he points out that Willow is barely holding it together. In “Pangs” he’s the one who brings the debate over the Chumash nihilistically back down to earth, and in “The Yoko Factor” he schools Adam on Yoko not really splitting the Beatles apart. In other words, Spike attempts to see both the romance and the reality of things. He is the avatar of both, which I would argue makes complete sense, because in many ways romance and reality are really two sides of the same coin. Poetry and stories are fake and bigger than life, but you use them to tell truths. But being the id, his point of view can be hypocritical and biased as much as insightful, just like anyone’s gut reactions and poetic notions can be. After all, you can use poetry to tell lies, too.

Lastly, on a meta level, there is a tackiness to Spike that undermines his romantic qualities better than making him dangerous ever could. Spike likes Passions and Dawson’s Creek (in contrast to Angel reading La Nausée by firelight). He lives in a crypt, but the vibe is more “homeless” than “Dracula” (in contrast to Angel’s tastefully decorated apartment). Spike may act like a romantic, but what does it say about how romantic romanticism really is, that the romantic things he likes can be so unrefined? And with the chip, he’s rendered impotent and pathetic. To me, there’s no more perfect image of how the writing uses Spike than the image of him in his black coat, red shirt, and big, leather boots, blasted under the fluorescent light of his Initiative cell. Light that makes his aesthetic seem suddenly fake and silly and surreal. For all that the writing subverts Angel, he is still the kind of character who gets to disappear mysteriously into the shadows, because he is the romance that Buffy has been forced to abandon. Whereas Spike is left with no place to hide.

If Angel represented the idea of binaries, then Spike represents the lack of them. There is a reason that Spike invites so many queer readings. He is a vampire, but he loves. He is an object, but he’s a subject. He tells the truth, but he lies. He is a villain, but he is a hero. He is masculine, but he is feminine. He is insightful, but he’s a fool. He is pathetic, but he is sympathetic. He is on the outside of the Scoobies, but he is on the inside. These aspects of him are not split between different personas, but exist within him simultaneously. It is telling that the show introduces human, mythos-bending vampires like Spike and Dru in a season about disillusionment, and it is telling that Spike’s role in the show becomes ascendant in the seasons after Buffy leaves Angel and his split personality behind. As Buffy begins to reckon more deeply with her id, and her dualities, she will begin to reckon with Spike.

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

#romanticism series #buffy #spike #angel #s2 #s3 #s4 #gen #btvs

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backhurtyy · 3 years ago

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penny for your thoughts on stranger things season 4 (specifically volume 2)?

alright i wrote out an entire essay last night and tumblr deleted it, so i’m going to try this again and hope it actually works 😭

spoilers and rambling under the cut!

so for the most part i really enjoyed volume two. i loved the cinematography, particularly the part when nancy was shooting vecna and hop was fighting the demogorgon while the remix of running up that hill played. i also loved how it showed the three groups managing to come together, even as spread out as they all were. like! theres my bad ass crew of characters that i love so much, finding ways to win even from three different places!!! and of course we FINALLY got the jopper kiss…. i have been thinking about ‘use your imagination’ ‘who needs imagination?’ for two days straight. no one is doing it like them. just so many little interactions and moments that i loved— el and hopper reunion, lucas and max talking on their pads, lucas holding maxs body 😭, dustin and eddie’s relationship, eddie’s guitar solo, all the robin and steve bestie moments, the way the threads of the story all came together, the little jokes and beats of humor, el piggybacking and saving max… there was a lot i liked.

however. the things that i didn’t like were kind of big sticking points to me, and made it so that i didn’t enjoy it as much as i’d hoped to.

first of all, the episodes were simply too long. like for a complicated storyline, with so many moving parts, the episodes were just…. really dense. during episode nine i kept going ‘is it done yet? is it done yet? is it done yet?’ because i got overstimulated and tired. and i suppose i could have just paused it, but i find stopping in the middle of an episode very difficult. id have rather them be shorter episodes that i could pause at the end of and come back to when i was ready. and that’s kind of sad because like. i KNOW i missed things, but it’s such a big task to go back and rewatch it all that idk if i will anytime soon.

second of all…. eddie. stranger things has such a problem with introducing side characters just to kill then off, and eddie is just another in a long line (robin, murray, and erica being the main exceptions). which is interesting to me, because everyone was talking about how there was going to be this huge emotional character death this season, and like… i sobbed like a baby when he died, because i loved him, but it was almost expected. it would have been much more shocking and devastating if it was nancy or steve (who i thought was going to die). the fact that they did kill of eddie was also just so painful because 1) he was so loveable and i would have loved to see him grow and become part of the group, looking after the kids with nancy and steve and robin and jonathan, and also getting to have that sense of family when he’d only ever had his dad before. 2) the dialogue with dustin…. god that was heart wrenching. that was the one part of his death that i liked. i was sobbing i was shaking i was a fucking mess over it. 3) i can’t help but see eddie as a gay man— his entire story with being a freak, an outsider, unwelcome, and unknown by anyone but hated by everyone was very reminiscent of the gay experience to me. and so the fact that he died…. it was like okay yeah of course the queer coded side character died. of course he did.

and finally… will. i don’t even know where to start. they did him so dirty. this main character, around whom the entire over arching plot of the show has revolved, was treated like a side character. will, who has a connection to the upside down unlike anyone else, barely had any screen time that wasn’t him just setting up mike and el. literally without him there wouldn’t BE stranger things, and yet they just. tossed him aside. the only times he was around was when his own pain and suffering and feelings were used to deepen mike and el’s relationship— which had already had three prior seasons to develop!!! it just felt awful to have this character— who is clearly gay, clearly in love with his best friend, clearly already feeling like an outsider— tossed aside and disregarded. like not a single person except jonathan seemed to notice or care about him the entire season, and it’s like…. it’s just frustrating. like i wish they weren’t using his pain and love and feelings to elevate the heterosexual ship. idk.

so overall, it was good, but those are really big things that i didn’t like and so i don’t feel like i enjoyed it as much as i wanted to.

#hopefully this makes sense!!!#i know i didn’t touch on everything and this may not be clear but i’m so irritated that i had to rewrite it all 😭#answered #anonymous asks #stranger things spoilers #just in case!

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libermachinae · 5 years ago

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[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise 29. Prowl, in profile, looks to the right. Prowl: “I lost my best friend, Prime. Megatron stood at his side and only one of them walked away.” End ID.]

I’ve never stopped thinking about this line, so! What the fuck is up with Prowl and Bumblebee’s relationship? (Spoiler alert: I do not think Bee is another ex 😔)

They first met millions of years ago when Bumblebee went to Orion Pax for help regarding horrible dream he’d been having, and from there remained in each other’s orbits, though not really friends.

[ID: From Robots in Disguise #32. Prowl and Bumblebee stand with their backs to the reader, watching Metroplex lift off in city form while a battle rages in the sky around him. Bumblebee: “Nobody said war’s logical, bud.” Prowl: “That’s my point. We’re going to do stupid things until we die.” Bumblebee: “Primus, Prowl. Lighten up. We’re not like the Decepticons!” End ID.]

During the war, they got along fine, but in the one snapshot we see there’s not a lot of friendliness between them: Prowl is talking about the futility of their war and Bumblebee happens to be someone nearby. There’s a familiarity to the way they talk to each other (I doubt many people would bother or could get away with calling Prowl “bud”), but it’s more like coworkers who have been stepping on each other’s toes for a long time than real friends. The conversation begins and ends with Prowl’s internal monologue, while Bumblebee’s perspective is just a device used to draw out more of Prowl’s thoughts. Little is shown of their relationship because at this point, it just isn’t there.

[ID: Screenshot from The Transformers #21. Optimus stands with his back to the reader in the foreground, with Bumblebee and Prowl in the Background. Prowl’s caption: “That’s when Prime filled in the ‘Bee. He took it better than I expected. Smart questions. No whining. Focused the anger. He’s going to be a great leader one day. If he gets the chance.” End ID.]

(”the ‘Bee” lol Costa’s Prowl is a specimen) Half a million years later, they’re on Earth, Bumblebee has been elected and then demoted, and Optimus is leaving with most of the Autobots while assigning them to investigate the illegal weapons trade. Prowl has thoughts on Bumblebee’s leadership, which will be the ongoing theme of their relationship for the rest of the series. In typical Prowl fashion, he will never speak these particular thoughts aloud. (continues under the cut!)

[ID: Screenshots from Spotlight: Bumblebee. Panel 1: Bumblebee points offpanel with his cane and at himself with his thumb. Bumblebee: “No, wait, hang on, Prowl—I’m in charge here.” Panel 2: Prowl points a stern finger at Bumblebee, offpanel. Prowl: “What? Come on. This isn’t about being in charge, it’s about being right.” Panel 3: Prowl, flanked by two other Autobots, walks away from Bumblebee. Prowl: “’I’m in charge.’ Optimus Prime would never put up with that kind of procedural nonsense.” End ID.]

Spotlight: Bumblebee is basically a story about Bumblebee trying to impress Prowl. It opens by showing us how little respect Prowl holds for Bumblebee, ignoring his orders and taking bots he had already assigned to different tasks. We already know that Prowl is no Optimus fan, making the dig at Bumblebee extra cutting. It also doesn’t hurt that Bumblebee’s whole story so far has been about trying to live up to Optimus, Prowl’s words coming as long-anticipated confirmation that he has failed to do so.

[ID: Screenshot from Spotlight: Bumblebee. Prowl smiles. “Means the little guy’s got more spark than I gave him credit for, these last couple million years. Taking down five bad guys on his own— and blaming himself for not stopping a hundred more? And then coming home and taking control?” End ID.]

“That’s what Prime would do.”

Recklessly endangering himself for the sake of taking down a few “bad guys”? Yeah, that actually sounds exactly like Optimus.

Bumblebee proves himself taking command and earns a little respect from Prowl, even finding the confidence to bite back for Prowl’s “procedural nonsense” comment. It marks a big shift in their relationship, and by the time they’re back on Cybertron in time for Death of Optimus Prime, they’re working together by choice rather than decree. If we’re looking for a point where they become friends, I think this is it, a whole three years before the “best friend” panel above. All it took was a “couple million years” of just tolerating each other.

And this takes us into Phase 2!

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #1. Bumblebee waves a cellphone-like device in Prowl’s face. Prowl: “They’re not my friends.” Bumblebee: “Whatever they are—you keep them in line or I will. You understand?” End ID.]

And also into an ongoing conversation about friendship!

The pair is back on Cybertron following the events of Death of Optimus Prime and trying to figure out how to bring order to their home, and immediately disagree about the best way to do that. Bumblebee refers to the newly deputized Decepticon enforcers as Prowl’s “friends,” using the word to highlight the unprofessional, independent nature of what is essentially Prowl’s personal anti-neutral militia.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #1. Bumblebee: “Rodimus and his crew died. They were our friends—we can’t—can’t not eulogize them.” Prowl: “They were my comrades—dammit, my friends, too.” End ID.]

This leads into a conversation about the recently-departed Lost Light, for which Bumblebee thinks a memorial should be held. This time, when the word “friend” is used, it’s more sincere. Bumblebee also doesn’t say “my friends”—he extends an invitation that Prowl accepts, albeit clumsily.

Does he mean it, though? Prowl is not so socially bankrupt to not understand how friendships are supposed to look. Even if we dismiss his attitude to the Lost Light as general Prowlishness, this scene is followed by a conversation with Arcee in which he says he doesn’t trust anyone, which is a pretty major hurtle to get over. It’s not a stretch to assume Prowl is lying.

He never makes a move like that without a purpose, though. By referring to the Lost Light crew as his friends, he gets Bumblebee to relax and see things from his own perspective, giving him an opportunity to talk about the more pressing security issues they are facing. This, in fact, is Prowl’s go-to strategy: identify the person in power and get close to them, thereby giving him the ability to watch over how that power is wielded.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #1. Prowl speaks to Bumblebee over his shoulder. Prowl: “Look. every day, I watch the sun go down and wonder if we can make it another night without them. If I even want to.” Bumblebee: “Huh. I mean, yeah. Me, too.” Prowl: “I’m not emotionless, Bee. I care about Rodimus and Magnus and the rest as much as you do. But look at the situation logically.” End ID.]

That said, I don’t think Prowl is lying here. Despite how warped his worldview becomes, I do believe that at his core, Prowl wants what is best for Cybertronians (well, Autobots). Many of his darker plans were created with the intention to keep people alive, so regardless of his personal feelings to them, he is not “emotionless” and does feel something over their deaths.

[ID: First screenshot from Robots in Disguise #2. Bumblebee smirks at Prowl, holding up his electrocuting cane. Bumblebee: “Heh—same old Prowl. Wheeljack whipped it up the other day.” Prowl: I’ve got to have a talk with Wheeljack.” Second and third screenshots from Robots in Disguise #3. Panel 1: Bumblebee frowns at Prowl. “Enough! Prowl—shut up. Metalhawk has a point.” Panel 2: Prowl looks furious. Bumblebee is holding him back from lunging at someone off-panel. Prowl: “Bad move…” Bumblebee: “Down, Prowl.” End ID.]

I don’t have much to say about these scenes, except that I like them as an illustration of their dynamic in this part of the story. Cold, confrontational, and yet with a degree of familiarity I would’ve thought more fitting to a much older connection. I really can’t imagine the Prowl from half a million years ago, talking at Bumblebee about the folly of their commander, allowing himself to be held back and calmly talked down. Through their work together, something is developing that we might almost mistake for genuine friendship.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #4. Arcee: “Come on. I know you didn’t destroy it. You’re not that hard. But you are cold and calculating. Enough that even Bumblebee—even your only friend—thinks you might’ve.” Arcee: “Bee won’t say it. But you know that’s what he’s thinking.” Prowl: “It doesn’t bother me. Bee doubts everything. Even himself.” End ID.]

“Even Bee—even your only friend—thinks you might’ve.”

“Bee doubts everything. Even himself.”

The same phrase is used twice in the conversation to distinguish Bumblebee as an outlier (not the superpower kind, though maybe his ability to tolerate the Worst People should be considered). For Arcee, it’s in his proximity to Prowl. Prowl’s use of the phrase is a little more ambiguous, though. Is he saying that one should have faith in oneself if nothing else? It definitely fits in his worldview. Or is he saying Bumblebee is worthy of being trusted, believed in?

If so, what does that mean? Bumblebee would take Prowl’s endorsement as faith in his abilities as a leader, but we already know Prowl doesn’t view leadership that way. He needs to get an Autobot elected, and Bumblebee specifically, because he needs someone in power he can get close to and control. Bumblebee’s leadership, though perhaps not Bumblebee himself, offers Cybertron a path towards peace. So, actually, Arcee and Prowl mean the same thing: Bumblebee is special because he’s the person Prowl is closest to.

This is also the first indication we get that Bumblebee does not trust Prowl so fully as Prowl wants. As sneaky as Prowl is, it’s easy to forget sometimes that Bumblebee is his own agent with his own ability to measure the facts. He wants to trust Prowl, but that doesn’t blind him to Prowl’s reputation.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #5. Ironhide and Prowl cluster around Bumblebee, who looks contemplative. Prowl: “Think about what they’re say about you in the future, Bee! The Autobot that let the Decepticons go free?!” Ironhide: “He’s right—a little. Think about what the future can be. Cybertron’s our world,and tomorrow’s our day…” End ID.]

We get to see more of Bumblebee soon after, since Prowl gets cerebroshelled. Bomb-Prowl is much more ruthless than the genuine article, expressing little care for the lives of any Cybertronians, but nobody notices it around Prowl’s standard prickly persona. Bumblebee experiences growing unease with Bomb-Prowl’s methods, though interestingly does not dismiss him for it. Consider the above scene: a fight has just broken out. To resolve it, Ironhide, Starscream, and Ironhide recommend removing the Decepticons’ ID chips. Prowl is the sole voice of dissent, and Bumblebee chooses to ignore him while also maintaining their partnership.

Bumblebee can think for himself and say no to Prowl. This situation is not just Prowl manipulating and taking advantage of Bumblebee: the latter is fully capable of making his own decisions.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #11. Bumblebee stands on the left and Prowl on the right. Bumblebee: “Am I wearing blinders because you’re my friend? Are you even my friend?” End ID.]

When Omega Supreme is attacked, Bomb-Prowl accuses the Decepticons, opening himself up for scrutiny: Metalhawk accuses him of killing Ratbat. Bumblebee starts to express his doubts openly and he questions not only Prowl’s innocence, but their relationship altogether. (Also, though literally Bumblebee is asking, “Can I consider you, Prowl, a friend?” his question can also be read as, “Are you who you say you are?”)

Bumblebee’s question doesn’t imply he trusts Prowl. He doesn’t even trust himself: he’s wondering if their friendship has installed in him an implicit bias in Prowl’s favor. There is a possibility his feelings regarding Prowl are strong enough to warp his perception of reality, and he’s worried that he can’t see what's obvious to everyone else. In contrast to previous leaders Prowl has watched over, Bumblebee is aware of his ability and willingness to manipulate those around him. He’s not under any illusion that Prowl is honest with him all the time, but he also isn’t confident enough in himself to remove Prowl’s influence.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #11. Bumblebee: “Then I want to get back to finding Ironhide and the others, because he’s my friend and friends look out for each other.” End ID.]

There is also the matter that he does consider Prowl a friend. Not a good friend (as in caring, respectful, thoughtful), but nevertheless one he does not want to lose.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #14. Panel 1: Bumblebee shoves Metalhawk aside and reaches for Prowl, who is collapsing to the floor. Bumblebee: “Prowl—I—” Panel 2: Prowl lies on the floor. Prowl: “Bee… it wasn’t… wasn’t me… How could you not… see that?” End ID.]

I think the feeling is mutual. Prowl’s not angry at Bumblebee for falling for the Decepticons’ trap.

He’s hurt that his friend didn’t notice he was gone.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #16. Ironhide helps Prowl up. Prowl: “…I’m me.” Ironhide: “Got too much of an ego ta be anybody else.” Prowl: “I—I needed to hear—” Bumblebee (off-panel): “Later, Prowl…” End ID.]

Their relationship starts to go downhill from here. After breaking free from Devastator, Prowl actually tries to talk about his feelings, and Bumblebee dismisses him. To be fair, there are other things going on that need their attention, but Prowl is never given an opportunity to process what he has been through. Bumblebee, who excels at talking to people and helping them through their problems, never offers a space for Prowl to open up about his experience, and it’s the internalization of his trauma that leads to Prowl’s emotional degeneration through the rest of the series.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #18. Panel 1: Bumblebee hunches over his cane, struggling to stand. Bumblebee: “It’s *kaff*… Well, I don’t want to know *kaff kaff* what’s going on in his mind, but… Prowl didn’t do any of the *koff* terrible stuff.” Panel 2: Bumblebee stands in front of Prowl, facing the reader. Bumblebee: “He was *kaff* being controlled by Bombshell. I mean obviously he didn’t *koff* kill you guys—he didn’t blow up the Decepticon pen. He *kaff kaff* wasn’t running a secret war. He didn’t *koff* have Ratbat eliminated.” End ID.]

I don’t think Bumblebee is being intentionally malicious, though. Consider all the times Prowl has had to say outright that he feels things and has emotions: I think it’s more accurate to say Bumblebee didn’t believe him. The doubts he felt about Prowl were never with regard to his intentions, but rather the way he interacted with and understood the world around him. Bumblebee, going by the reputation Prowl made for himself, doesn’t believe Prowl processes events the same way he does, and as a result falsely assume that his mind control and forced combination will have no greater impact on Prowl.

And then even Bumblebee’s faith in Prowl’s intentions is shaken when Arcee reveals he did call for Ratbat’s assassination. Bumblebee is so betrayed he passes out.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #18. Panel 1: Ironhide grins to the side while Bumblebee holds a fist to his mouth, coughing. Ironhide: “Aw. An’ everything was goin’ so well…” Bumblebee: “Prowl. Why—what—*kof kofff* *koff kaf*” Panel 2: Bumblebee’s hand reaches up as he collapses. Bumblebee: “*kaf kaf* Nnnggggh…” End ID.]

The next time they interact is in Dark Cybertron. Getting close to the end, here!

[ID: First screenshot from More Than Meets the Eye #23. Bumblebee points his gun up to the off-panel Titan. Prowl stands beside him. Bumblebee: “What?!” Prowl: “You talked a good game with the Dinobots. But you need to act, too. When you were in charge of the city, you were paralyzed.” Second screenshot from Robots in Disguise #23. Panel 1: Prowl, yelling: “You’re hesitating again! Look at us! We’re teaming up with the enemy and letting Starscream do whatever he wants?!” Panel 2: Bumblebee, with a steadying hand out, stands in front of Soundwave. Bumblebee: “Prowl, shut up for once. All your attitude ever got us was… was the Constructicons.” Soundwave: “The Constructicons stand with you?” Bumblebee: “Long story, Soundwave. And this isn’t a team up. We just happen to have the same objective.” Panel 3: Prowl points at Soundwave. “Then do something! Don’t just let this—this—Decepticon control you!” End ID. Third screenshot from Robots in Disguise #23. Prowl holds up a struggling Arcee while yelling at Bumblebee. Prowl: “You let this happen, Bee! We attack now!” Bumblebee: “Prowl, get your priorities in order—” End ID.]

Evidence of Prowl’s trauma starts to become more visible. The comradery they shared before is gone; Prowl’s methodical approach to problems is gone. Instead, he is scared and impulsive, and he takes out his new anxieties on his “only friend” because Bee is the one thing he’s supposed to be able to control.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #26. Panel 1: Bumblebee and Prowl stand amidst flaming wreckage. Hound (off-panel): “Where’s Megatron?” Bumblebee: “He’s… I think he’s gone. He took the thumb and ran.” Prowl: “Dammit. You should have never done back for him, Bee.” Panel 2: Bumblebee grabs Prowl’s neck. Bumblebee: “Prowl, you smug piece of—” Prowl: “Uk!” Panel 3: Bumblebee releases Prowl. Bumblebee: “I’ve had enough of your self-righteous second-guessing…” End ID.”

But he can’t. Bumblebee has gotten used to ignoring Prowl or refuting him. Add to that Prowl’s heightened emotional state, and Bumblebee responds to his criticism with open aggression. Stuck in crisis mode like they are, there is no way for them to reset and calm down until the Titan is finally taken down and everything comes to a standstill for a moment.

[ID: Screenshot from More Than Meets the Eye #27. Prowl leans close to Bumblebee, gesturing to his head. The Constructicons linger in the background. Bumblebee: “Oh, good. I was hoping your friends would could out of hiding.” Prowl: “They weren’t—I mean, they’re not—They just shared my memories. The Decepticons exploited my—my—my head!” End ID.]

And with this, we cycle back to their first conversation in Robots in Disguise. Before, Bumblebee used the word “friends” to criticize Prowl’s Decepticon enforcers and the freedom they were granted to terrorize the neutrals. Prowl, known to circumvent the chain of command, decided to forgo it almost entirely in that case, creating a violent, lawless group that did not fit into the military structure the Autobots still relied on.

Now, he uses “friend” to refer to the enthusiasm the Constructicons have for Prowl. Prowl’s deceit has been brought into the open, legitimizing Bumblebee’s fears and forcing him to question all over again his role as a leader. The doubts he had in himself and Prowl are tied together, so that even with the knowledge that everything that happened to Prowl was out of his control, he still feels threatened by the Decepticon presence Prowl now carries with him.

And even though he’s met with this kind of hostility, Prowl still comes back to Bumblebee to continue work as his advisor. He’s got a group of bots literally right there who trust him and support him without reservation, but he chooses Bumblebee because he still believes in their power to do right by Cybertron.

[ID: Screenshot from More Than Meets the Eye #27. Prowl stands on the left, Bumblebee on the right. Prowl: “Bee—we stopped his plan, but Shockwave is still out there.” Bumblebee: I know, and you’re totally right, and anything less than a perfect attack plan and we’re sunk—so I need you to come up with one. In the meantime—mingle. There has to be somebody you want to say ‘hi’ to.” Prowl: “Actually…” End ID.]

This is the last time they talk to each other. Prowl reminds him of the impending danger, Bumblebee is grateful for his expertise, and then he encourages Prowl to go relax. There’s something to be said for the fact that upon leaving Bumblebee’s side, Prowl immediately seeks out his ex, but I think it’s mainly just that he’s lonely rather than anything nefarious. He’s lonely, and despite their distrust and criticism and generally poor treatment of each other, Bumblebee is someone who accepts his company, a rare thing that’s he’s going to lose very soon.

When I first read the words “best friend,” I assumed Prowl was lying. I also assumed, even if that was true, it would not hold in the reverse. I think I’ve changed my mind on both counts. Prowl didn’t pursue Bumblebee with genuine intentions, but they both ended up getting something out of it. It’s not a healthy relationship, but at a tumultuous time in their lives it might literally be the best they can do and in their own ways, they trust they’re going to look out for each other.

[ID: Screenshot from Robots in Disguise #18. Bumblebee, with his cane, leans on Prowl as they leave the ruins of Iacon. Their plating bears obvious damage, and ash and dust float through the air around them. End ID.]

#maccadam #transformers #prowl #bumblebee #idw #meta #thoughts #i gotta rewrite sparklight #next project after solenoid and fault lines

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etherrealoblivion · 5 years ago

Text

A Broken System

MASTERLIST

Summary: At her birthday celebration, Y/N is out on the town enjoying herself when she runs into a cute FBI agent who she’d love to take home and do terrible things to. Normally, someone meeting an FBI agent at a bar wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There’s just one, miniscule, microscopic, meager, problem... Y/N is only twenty.

tags: Large Age Difference, power imbalance, choking, Dom/sub, safe sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, cliffhanger.

A/N: this just made so much more sense in third person. i tried replacing it with second person, but trust me it did not work. hope you enjoy! gif by @toyboxboy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

Spencer Reid never really thought he was attractive.

Probably had something to do with his perpetually messy hair, gangly stature, and his tendency to ramble on and on and on and. . .

Yeah. Like that.

Another factor definitely was the fact that he was in his 30’s and had never really had a stable relationship. Sure, he’d had relationships with a few women. Well, two women. The first being a girl he’d met in college with whom he had a brief fling. Spencer didn’t really count it as a stable relationship due to the fact they barely even kissed. And the other woman, the only woman he’d ever really loved, died tragically several years ago.

Maeve.

Maeve was the real reason Spencer didn’t like going to bars with Morgan or being set up on dates by Penelope. She was the reason that Spencer wasn’t interested in anyone anymore. Who could possibly compare to Maeve?

Damn it. That was the other reason he wasn’t looking to date. He knew how the mind worked and there was no doubt that if any new person came into his life, she’d be unconsciously compared to Maeve. He couldn’t put anyone through that.

So, Spencer Reid stayed single. Which, for him, was relatively easy. Whenever someone started to get a little too close with him, he’d blabber and spout facts until they ran off. Morgan would ask what happened and Reid would just put on a slight frown, mumbling how she had to go.

The charade got more effortless the more they went out. Morgan, almost always going home on the arm of some woman and Spencer content to get a cab back to his own place, have a quick efficient orgasm, and fall asleep.

He had a system. And no one was going to break it.

Y/N hated the summertime.

Well, she didn’t usually. Anywhere else on the planet it would be mildly enjoyable. The beach, ice cream, staying up all night. All that fun crap. In Washington D.C, however, summer was hell.

But! When one was accepted into Georgetown and their parents offered to pay FULL tuition plus housing, how can one say no?

Seriously, she wanted to know.

After two whole years in this armpit of a town, Y/N had finally gotten used to the sweltering heat that plagued the city during the summer. Whatever. She just stayed in the comfortable A.C. all day anyway.

But, the summer before her third year was almost over, and the only thing she could think about now was graduating with a major in Journalism. She didn’t really like most of the courses, but it’s what she needed to do to become a full-time editor.

Living in a rent-free apartment was heaven. No roommates meant no worrying about, well, anything. The only problem was, her parents could hold it over her head every time they called. Which is why she never answered their calls.

Today, however, answering was unavoidable.

Because not only was it the day before her first class, today was her twentieth birthday.

Y/N was in the middle of getting dressed to go out with her friends when her phone vibrated from the kitchen table.

“Hello?”

She tried so hard to suppress the cringe at her mom’s voice.

“Sweetie! How are you? Are you eating?”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh boy. Strong start, mom.

“You look skinny in the pictures on Facebook!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be late.

Surprisingly, it only took five minutes to push her mom off the phone, insisting that her friends were on their way and she had to keep getting ready.

A sharp rap on the door saved her.

“Come on!! It’s almost ten!” Y/N’s friend, Mina, said, annoyed. “All the old people leave the bars at ten and if we don’t get there soon, the bouncers won’t let us in!”

Y/N didn’t really understand the logic there. Hot girls always got into bars. Especially late at night. How were there not more crimes committed in clubs? Maybe she’d find out in her first class tomorrow.

“Hey!” Mina snapped her out of it, “Come on! Let’s go.”

They arrived outside a dinky little club a few minutes later. It had taken Y/N a while to get accustomed to how close everything was together in this town. Before college, she had been a small-town girl. Promise ring and everything. That, uh. That didn’t last long.

Before they got in line, Mina took a long satin sash out of her purse and secured it across Y/N’s torso.

“What the hell’s this?”

The sash was white with large pink flowy letters that poignantly spelled out: Birthday Bitch.

“It’s a sash.”

Three of Mina’s friends strode up, quickly exchanging hugs and wishing Y/N a happy birthday.

“I see that it’s a sash, but why am I wearing it?”

Mina confidently strode up to the bouncer, Y/N at her side, fake ID at the ready. Technically, it was the right birthdate, the year was just a little off.

“Go through. Happy Birthday,” the guy said, barely sparing the ID a glance, more focused on the huge sash. It made sense. She didn’t look her age. No one would think she was only in college by taking a glance at her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Look,” Mina pulled her aside just before they entered, “this makes every single guy in there want to buy you a drink. So, go enjoy a free Shirley Temple, on me.”

Y/N scoffed and entered the club, immediately overwhelmed by the booming of the music.

Jesus Christ. How did people not die from this? It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Sure, she’d been in a bar before. But not a real, proper club. She was pretty sure she saw some people wearing neon. Oh my god, there was a DJ.

Suppressing a laugh, she headed to the bar. At least there was a bar. There were so many people gathered around though that she couldn’t get much access to the one bartender on staff.

Luckily, he spotted her sash that seemed to shine under the blacklights.

“Hey, make some room for the birthday girl!”

And the crowd parted like the red sea, every man’s head turned towards her, and she cautiously approached the bartender who gave her a quick wink.

“Scotch. Neat.”

A dark man with a silver nose ring slid onto the stool next to her.

“It’s on me,” he addressed the bartender, staring at her the whole time. “So. Birthday girl. How old are you turning?”

She smiled softly. The sash was working great, but now she had to come up with a way to answer his question without explicitly lying.

“Who wants to know?”

Maybe flirting would be distracting enough.

He smiled, glancing down for a moment, then holding out his hand. Ha. Men.

“I’m Jon.”

Ugh. She hated handshakes. But for this man, she might be able to make an exception.

“Y/N.”

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart she could take the handshake back. Y/N should have known better than to talk to a guy at a club. They were all sleazebags. But! She did manage to get a couple of drinks out of it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said after his fifth time mentioning Outback Steakhouse.

But before she could leave the bar discreetly, a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought we were talking?”

Y/N may have been a small-town girl, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his shoulders and driving her knee up into his crotch, stomping off toward the exit.

Only when she got outside did she realize how fast her heart was beating. She leaned over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

A soft hand on her shoulder made her snap around, grab the hand and twist it around the stranger’s back, shoving him up against the alley wall.

“I’m sorry!” the man squawked shrilly. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t Jon.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, not releasing him yet.

“I saw you lean over. I just wanted to see if you were ok!”

She finally drank in the man’s appearance. He was wearing a soft purple sweater vest over a grey button-down, slacks, and worn black converse on his feet.

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she released him and took a step back.

The man rubbed his elbow softly, glancing at her chest. Before she could tell him off for staring at her rack, he pointed to the sash.

“Is it your birthday?”

She looked down. Oh, he’d been looking at the sash of course. Then why did she feel … disappointed?

“Oh, yeah. Some guy bought me a drink and got a little, er, touchy.”

Suddenly, the man’s face went dark.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

He started to walk back into the club but she stopped him, reaching out and gently grabbing his arm.

“Hey! It’s fine. I kicked him in the crotch.”

The man’s eyes switched from anger to surprise in a flash. He flustered for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the alley.

Y/N now took a closer look at his face. He had deep, wise brown eyes, a small five-o-clock shadow gracing his jaw, and very full lips, the latter of which he was biting profusely. Aw. He was nervous. But why?

Maybe because he was in an alley with a random girl who had just been groped at a club and he didn’t know what to do.

She chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“Um. I didn’t get your name?”

He smiled brightly, thankful for the change in topic.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I’m Spencer!”

And Y/N braced herself for the telltale outstretching of the hand.

But none came. He simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and the other waving at her, a dopey smile on his face.

Her face lit up.

“You didn’t try to shake my hand,” she muttered, awed.

The man, Spencer, got an embarrassed look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I, uh. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But, really, everyone should be! The amount of germs passed in a handshake is staggering. They really should be abolished altogether.”

“Right! People should just bow their heads or, or, wave!” she said excitedly, gesturing to his hand. “I mean a handshake is like a hug with a part of you that comes in contact with everything! Might as well go up to someone and start making out with them.”

As she spoke, his face lit up in wonder.

“Right? It’s crazy! But the thing is, some people actually do that! I was in that club for fifteen minutes and I swear I saw three couples leave together that definitely didn’t go in together.”

“I know!” she said, starting to pace in the cramped alley. “I mean, who goes home with someone that you just met! They could be a serial killer for all you know!”

She looked at Spencer and was delighted to see a joyful expression on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry for blabbering,” she waved, chuckling slightly.

Spencer smiled even wider.

“Don’t be sorry! Usually, I’m the one who has to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“Blabbering,” he said sheepishly, hands back in his pockets. When he was talking, they had been moving about wildly. It was kind of endearing.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, considering. “Blabbering is underrated. One could argue it’s the best way to learn useless information.”

“Well, I’d agree but no information is really useless.”

Y/N held up a finger.

“‘Information is useless if it is not applied to something important or if you will forget it before you have a chance to apply it.’”

Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Timothy Harris?”

She nodded. “The 4-Hour Workweek. Outdated, but still applies.”

When she noticed his expression, it nearly knocked her breath away. He was looking at her like no one ever had before. Like he’d just realized the most important thing in the universe.

Before her cowardice could catch up, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His face went blank, shocked by the sudden approach. He nearly gasped when she spoke.

“It’s totally ridiculous to go home with someone you just met, right?”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Totally.”

“Why were you out tonight in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like the club-going type.”

He smiled softly.

“I, uh, just got a promotion last week. My friend Morgan wanted to take me out to celebrate. It was either this or karaoke.”

She chuckled softly, their faces so close he must have felt her breath.

“I don’t know, I’d have liked to see your rendition of Bad Romance. Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a whole Lady Gaga vibe?”

“You should see my Beyonce.” And he did a little mime of the Single Ladies dance, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. Without thinking — probably due to the trace amounts of alcohol in her system, not enough to be drunk, but enough to be tipsy — she reached up her arms around his shoulders, clasping them together behind his neck like a teen slow-dancing at prom.

Spencer seemed startled by the sudden physical contact. He froze, hands unmoving at his sides.

Y/N pulled her arms back, stepping away from him, discouraged and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she said, collecting herself and walking back towards the club door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait!” he called before she could reenter the club. A tiny part of her let out a breath in relief. She turned around to see him with a hand outstretched toward her, frozen with the uncertainty of what to do next.

He recovered quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks in the lamplight of the alley.

“If you’re leaving, would you, um. Could I walk you home?”

She had no idea what possessed her in that moment but just as he spoke, she walked up to Spencer, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.

To her surprise, he responded immediately, running his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him, eagerly returning the kiss.

His lips were so warm. He tasted very faintly of alcohol and maybe a breath mint? Y/N let herself fall into the sensation.

Suddenly, her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley, Spencer’s hands lighting a trail of fire down her body. He hesitated, pulling back briefly to make sure she was ok.

A glint in her eye, she yanked him back down, tongues clashing together in a blaze of glory. He hiked her leg up around his hips, pressing them closer together. Y/N could feel the hardness in his pants pressing into her stomach, sending a wave of heat down to her core.

She pulled back. If they went any further, she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave the alley.

Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face but it was no use. She beamed at Spencer, linking her arm through his elbow.

“Lead the way. Wait, that doesn’t make sense, you’re taking me home. I’ll lead the way!”

And so they walked, arm in arm down the busy D.C. streets, silently enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived outside her apartment fifteen minutes later, Y/N clumsily unlocking the door, nervous from the thought of what was about to happen. They hadn’t explicitly said anything in particular. Was he going to come in? Would she invite him?

Spencer, it seemed, was also daunted, standing awkwardly on the threshold of her place, hands buried in his pockets.

An idea sprung into Y/N’s brain.

She approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck again only this time, his hands rested lightly on her waist.

“Still think going home with a stranger is a bad idea?”

Spencer chuckled softly, stroking the exposed skin of her waist from where her top had ridden up.

“I’m still debating it.”

“Oh?”

He slid his hand around the sash, fingers hovering above her chest.

“I never asked, how old did you turn?”

She smiled. For some reason, she felt she could trust this man. The worst that could happen was he calls the cops on her for having a fake ID. She could deal with that. Destroy the evidence, bat her eyes. Easy. Besides, he looked barely of age himself. She quickly wondered what he did for a living? He did say he got a promotion.

It would be easiest to just tell him the truth.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

He chuckled lowly in her ear, moving his lips gently across her neck.

“I can handle it.”

She gasped at the sensation, legs clamping together.

“Officially, it’s my twenty-third. At least, that’s what it says on my ID. One of them.”

Spencer froze, waiting for her to go on.

Y/N quickly backtracked.

“It’s okay! I’m twenty! Not a minor, no worries.”

But Spencer pulled away, an extremely worried look on his face despite her assurance.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re underage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Come on, by one year. What, you never had a fake ID?”

“No!” he said shrilly, running a hand through his hair.

“Spencer, it’s ok! It’s not like I’m gonna get caught. I look much older and when are there cops at a place like that?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded wallet. Snapping it open, Y/N’s jaw dropped at the FBI badge with his picture in the corner.

She floundered for a moment, unable to truly comprehend what was happening.

“You’re . . .”

“Yep,” he said shortly, pocketing the badge.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too,” he said, sighing. “I should arrest you.”

Y/N took a step back, incredulous.

“Arrest me?”

“You have a fake ID. You’re clearly drunk.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Great idea, Spencer. Book me. Take me down to the FBI and tell them exactly what happened to lead to you finding out I’m only twenty. I’m sure they’ll need very specific details.”

A look of realization flitted across Spencer’s face and he buried his head in his hands, groaning.

“How old are you anyway?!” she demanded, upset at him for being upset.

“Thirty-four!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Oh shit.

This was bad.

He was fourteen years older than her, in the FBI, and probably was seconds away from arresting her.

“There’s no way you’re thirty-four. I mean, look at you!”

He rolled his eyes, snorting, and beginning to pace the small hallway.

“This is exactly what I get. I meet a girl I really like for the first time in years and she’s decades younger than me. And a criminal!”

“Hey!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Not decades. I’m not a criminal. And how the hell do you think I feel? I’m out trying to have fun on my birthday, some guy gropes me leading me to run into the perfect man, take him back to my apartment thinking I’m gonna get lucky only to find out he’s a cop who’s gonna arrest me. Best birthday ever.”

Spencer eyed her carefully.

“Get lucky?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Even though it was pretty obvious, something about it not being said added to the excitement.

“Did you really . . . I mean were you…. Um.” Spencer seemed to lose all authoritative tone suddenly, stammering nervously. It was such a 180, it shocked Y/N.

“Was I going to let you fuck me?”

He cringed at the bluntness but nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, Spencer. I was.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I still would. But I understand if I’m more than you can handle,” she said coyly, trying to keep a straight face. “Just please don’t arrest me, Sir.”

His expression darkened at her words. Something deep and lustful behind it. Feeling bold, she went with it.

“Or is it Agent?” she cocked her head, holding a finger to her lips in thought. “How do I address you properly, sir?”

A small groan left Spencer’s mouth and he stepped forward, brushing a hand over her hair.

“We shouldn’t do this, Y/N…”

Slowly, she backed up into her apartment, pulling him with her.

“We shouldn’t.” She gently led him to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, him towering over her. “To be fair, you’re the one with handcuffs.”

He groaned again, wiping a hand down his face.

“This is a bad idea.”

But he crouched down in front of her, pressing his forehead to her exposed knee, breathing deeply.

“Spencer,” it was barely a whisper but he met her eyes instantly. She smiled gently, reaching out to him and coaxing him up from the floor so he was hovering above her, mouths inches apart. “Listen, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I want this.”

She leaned back, pulling him with her so he was lying atop her, an obvious bulge pressing against her through their clothing.

“I want this, Spencer.”

Y/N hoped that he knew he could leave if he wanted. She didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Despite the age difference, she seemed to be the one more in control.

Spencer lowered his head, sighing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, lightly thrusting against her, a moan escaping her mouth at the contact.

That seemed to be the last straw.

He sat up, ripping his sweater vest off along with his button-down, quickly moving back over her, lips latching to her neck and chest.

Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to stand it if he’d left. But from the way he was touching her, hands moving up and down her sides, gently pulling her skirt down, looking up at her every now and then to make sure it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere.

She just spurred him on, stripping off her top and bra, now only wearing her panties.

Spencer groaned at the sight, a hand reaching up, hovering over her breast. She arched her back up into his hand, letting out a gasp as he started to fondle her.

God, his hands were huge. And nimble. Oh, so nimble.

She reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it across the room, pushing his pants down faster than possible.

He groaned again, a magical sound, reaching a hand down to stroke her through her panties, coaxing a gasp from her beautiful lips.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled down her panties and buried his head between her legs.

Y/N gasped, hand flying to the back of his head, edging him on.

He slipped two fingers into her, his tongue flicking against her clit wildly, making her writhe and moan on the bed, gasping his name.

“Spencer, Spencer.” It took all the resolve she had to pull his head away from her. “I need you to fuck me.”

Spencer looked at her, trying to read her expression.

“Y/N . . . are you sure?”

Rather than answer, she yanked him up, crashing their mouths together, one hand quickly pushing down his boxers, his erection springing free.

Good god.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to fit that inside her?

She looked up at him, impressed, only to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” she said, kicking off the panties pooled around her ankles, laid bare underneath the stranger on top of her. “This night gets better by the second.”

His size was a little daunting, but the thought of him slowly filling her up, probably not being able to fit all the way in, only added to her desire.

He dipped his head down, stealing a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Do you have . . ?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.”

He reached over, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. It looked extremely tight on him. Y/N unconsciously licked her lips. Spencer chuckled.

“Maybe next time. I need to be inside you.”

And with that, he flung her legs around his hips, positioning his cock at her entrance, slowly running it up and down, moistening the condom with her juices.

God. The feeling of him being so close and yet so far was almost enough to push her over the edge right there. He had been a god with his tongue and she was desperate for more friction.

Reaching down, she lightly circled her clit, moaning at the instant pleasure.

Before she could enjoy it much, hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her on the bed, Spencer staring at her with a dark look.

“If you wanna touch yourself, you have to ask permission. Understood?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Words escaped her so she settled for a small nod.

“Use your words.”

His tone was so commanding the word left her mouth the moment he finished speaking.

“Yes.”

He lightly placed his hand around her neck, not applying any pressure, just hovering.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. She wondered if it was possible to come just from being talked to.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, he slid inside her, slowly filling her up with his length, moaning roughly at the sensation.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, watching as Spencer’s face tightened, jawline even sharper, and a dark look in his eye. He carefully applied a bit more pressure to her throat, quickly releasing his hand afterward.

They were both still as she adjusted to the size of him inside her.

“Is this ok?” his voice sounded so different than it had a moment ago. He had shifted back to the geeky guy she’d met in the alley.

She nodded gently at him, running a hand over his cheek in a way that was surely far too personal for a one night stand.

“My safeword is apple.”

He froze for a moment, shocked. Apparently she was kinkier than he’d expected.

Tired of not being fucked by this man, she dug her heels into his back, directing him to move.

He did without hesitation, groaning at the sensation of slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

The feeling overwhelmed both of them, a litany of curses and moans falling from their mouths. Spencer’s hand moved back to her throat, squeezing much harder now that he knew what to listen for if she wanted to stop.

The sound of her moaning was enough to make him come right there and then. That, with the feeling of her around him and the fact that his hand was around her throat, totally in control.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Oh my god, where was this coming from? Her nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of marks.

“You like feeling me fuck you?” he wrapped a hand around her leg, pulling it higher to try to hit the magical spot inside of her. “You like when I wrap my hand around your pretty little neck? Showing you how in control I am of you.”

She nodded ecstatically, legs tightening around him. She was definitely close to coming.

“What were you thinking? Going to a bar when you’re underage. Then leading a stranger to your home, intending to let him fuck you silly. Finding out I’m ages older than you and still practically begging me to bend you over and pound you till you can’t see straight. Is the age difference what gets you off, Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she let out a raucous moan, no doubt waking up the other tenants of the building.

Spencer smiled, drilling harder and tightening his grip on her throat.

“Oh, you like it when I say your name? You like when I shove my big cock in you and moan your name in your ear?”

She practically screamed as his hand started to circle her clit, the stimulation practically knocking the air out of her.

He was hitting her g-spot with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close. She just needed….

“You gonna come for me, Y/N?” he punctuated it with a particularly hard thrust, feeling her begin to clench around him, orgasm washing over her.

Her walls tightening around his cock was enough to send him barreling over the edge, grunting as he thrust in her four more times before feeling his balls tighten up and spill his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his forearms to stay above her, both of them completely out of breath.

Slowly, he pulled out with a sigh, discarding the condom in the trash by her bed.

Y/N was seeing stars. This man had just given her her first penetrative orgasm. And, possibly the best sex she’d ever had.

‘Fuck’, was right.

Spencer flopped down next to her, still naked, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.

It was strange. Even though they’d just had some of the best sex Y/N had ever had, she didn’t even know this man. And yet, somehow, she felt like she did. Did that happen a lot once you had sex with someone?

Her eyes refocused from where they’d been staring off into space to see a concerned Spencer looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

He studied her for another moment before speaking.

“You were biting your lip.”

A blush crept up her cheek.

“Yeah sorry. Helps me think.”

He let out a sharp breath, a sort of soft laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he retrieved his underwear, slipping them back on and starting to button up his shirt.

Oh. Was he going to leave? Of course he was! That’s all this was, anyway. A one night stand. You had sex. That was the point.

Then why did it feel like hell?

“You okay?”

Her thoughts had drifted into space again. Spencer had laid back down, now on his side facing her, holding her hand, looking at her intensely. His gaze was practically burning.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don’t normally do . . . that.”

She chuckled. It was rather obvious he wasn’t the hookup type. Despite the dirty things that had come from his mouth.

“Me either.”

He softly stroked her cheek.

“Are you going to stay?” she blurted.

His face fell.

“Oh, no I wasn’t going to impose if you-”

“NO! I mean,” she took a breath. “I want you to . . . I mean, if you want . . . I'd . . . I’d like you to stay. If you want?”

God. She sounded like a teenager asking their crush to prom. This was no stuttering sophomore she could kick in the crotch if he said no. He was a man. Although, he did tend to stutter. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

He lit up, a wide smile brightening his features and he began to stroke her hand.

“I’d like that too.”

Wondering if it was possible for cheeks to sprain from smiling, she pulled up the covers, cuddling up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ugh. The stupid alarm. She had been right in the middle of a wonderful dream involving Spencer’s hands and her bruised throat.

What time was it anyway?

The red clock radio proudly displayed: 7:00.

Right, it was the first day of classes. Maybe she’d just ditch and stay in with Spencer. He had been so warm she was sure he had a sun where a heart should be. College didn’t matter anyway, right? Ugh.

A shiver ran through her. She reached out for Spencer, only to find the cold other half of the bed.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the empty spot.

Had he really walked out on her in the middle of the night? No…. No? Fuck. How could she be so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to-

Oh, he’d left a note.

In a fast yet tidy scrawl, Spencer had left the following message on a little notecard.

Good morning! I am truly sorry to walk out like this, but I have a class at 7:30 and I have to stop by my place and get ready. I’ll be back at the bar tonight, 10:30. I’d love to see you there.

-Spencer. X

Her heart melted into an ocean at the sentiment behind each individual letter. The man she’d just had a dirty one night stand with wanted to see her again.

Wait, he’d said a class? He hadn’t told her he was a student! To be fair, neither had she. That’s another thing they had in common apparently. It made sense why he didn’t tell her. A lot of people were ashamed of going back to college later in life. She thought that was ridiculous. Good for him.

Maybe she could look him up in the student registry. Actually, he may not even go to Georgetown. There were plenty of colleges nearby. She couldn’t have looked him up anyway. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was probably a good thing he left, because she, too, had a class at 7:30.

It only took her twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk the very short distance to campus.

She arrived in the lecture hall with exactly one minute to spare, finding a seat next to a brightly dressed redhead holding a fuzzy pen.

“Hi! I’m Allie.”

“Y/N,” she said, suppressing the cringe as Allie reached out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you! What’s your major?”

Oh god. The inevitable college question.

“Journalism. You?”

“English,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Super boring I know, but it lets me take fun classes like this one. Why are you taking this class?”

“Oh, um. It looked fun, I guess. My dad was a lawyer and he kind of piqued my interest in the criminal justice system.”

Allie sighed.

“Thank god. You know half the girls are here just because the Professor is a hottie,” she said with air quotes, rolling her eyes again.

“Really?” Y/N asked, glancing around at the seats noticing the vast majority of the population were women. “Wait, I thought Ms. Merklins was the teacher? Did something change?”

“You didn’t get the email? It just went out the other day, Ms. Merklins had to retire. Something about a club foot. Anyway, the new teacher is supposedly super overqualified. Plus, he’s cute.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. I talked to this one girl in the hall, she actually said she’d sleep with him! Can you imagine?”

Y/N laughed.

“Nooooo. I cannot and I don’t want to. I’m just here to learn, I promise.”

“Same here. Although, if I start getting C’s, all bets are off.”

Y/N laughed and politely chatted with Allie while they waited.

The Professor’s office door swung open and Y/N reached into her bag to get her laptop.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello,” the class echoed.

“Welcome to Criminology. I am Professor Reid and I-.”

Y/N looked up over her screen as he stopped talking, making sudden eye-contact with the Professor.

She froze in her seat, blood running cold.

No way. No fucking way.

Spencer?

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #smut

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writing-reaper · 5 years ago

Note

(tw: su!c!de) hello! I’m very sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and if it does please ignore my request, but i was hoping you could write for any/all slender bros finding out their s/o attempted by them celebrating a couple years clean? 💕 :)

ABSOLUTELY! This is my first request so I hope you enjoy! And a note to everyone, I’m sort of trigger numb because I’ve either read these things or have experienced them. ANYWAY! Enjoy!

(TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of Su!c!ide and drug use)

For this I’m going to say they’ve been dating for a little over a year

Slenderman

Two years clean is a huge accomplishment for s/o. After almost having a fatal overdose, everything almost seemed to fall into place.

You met the one and only Slenderman on a midnight stroll through the woods, blindly reading. It was only a week after you had been admitted from the hospital, but just a month later you were dating.

Slender finds you dressed up, putting on chapstick (or lipstick) in your bathroom.

He asks what you’re doing, clearly confused (he had a gift in his hands cause he wanted to surprise you.)

You then have the uncomfortable conversation about you and you’re best friends attempted suicide and how you were going out to dinner with her to celebrate 2 years clean.

Slender had this distraught aura around him when his s/o explained why her/him and her/his friend were trying to overdose.

S/o was very surprised to see him look so upset.

You were quick to assure him that you never were going to overdose again.

When Slender asked if you still had those feelings- the desire to die, you hesitate.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t. But I can say they’ve been coming less than they used to.”

Cue a long rant about you not telling him and him begging you to talk to him when you’re upset or having those thoughts.

The rant ends with him asking to go with you, this was a celebration after all.

Slender prioritizes the people that make him happy, and you are number one.

And that gift turned into two the next day.

Trenderman

S/o tried to jump off a building 2 years ago, but was stopped by officials and admitted to the hospital for help.

S/o had worked for Trender long before her/his suicide attempt— when she/he first turned 18.

It came as a huge shock to Trender when he found out.

They were out with some models and Trender (he was there because he appreciates his employees, and his 1 year strong s/o was there) when one stood up and made a toast to his s/o.

“To s/o, who sits with us today, two years clean and making the most of her/his life.”

Cue Trender’s shock.

It wasn’t till after the dinner Trender had demanded an explanation. 7 years of knowing each other and the way he heard of it was through someone else.

Though Trender was grateful to now know.

You left him in the dark until you arrived back to his studio apartment, just trying to find out how to explain it.

When you found the words, you gave him a long explanation that ended up making you cry. You thought you could handle explaining it, but when you saw he was upset, you started feeling selfish.

When Trender’s s/o started crying he was quick to calm you down, telling you that he wasn’t mad and had no reason to be mad. He just wished that you had told him and that he hadn’t heard it second hand.

Trender held off on working that night to take care of you and explain that he would always be there for you.

Splendorman

Splendor was an online dating app gone right.

In the beginning, the relationship was just to start out simple, in fact s/o originally got into the relationship just to be in one after the suicide attempt.

Unfortunately, that’s when things got serious and s/o felt guilty.

It was only two months later when her college professor messaged her/him to congratulate her on 2 years sober.

That’s right, alcohol and drugs was her/his trial.

Unfortunately, s/o left her laptop open when she heard the oven go off (she and Splendor were making cookies) and he saw the email.

Though Splendor didn’t want to invade his s/o’s privacy, he caught the key words: bars, drugs, medication, alcohol, and dead.

He was shy about asking his s/o about it, worried she’d/he’d be upset that he invaded their privacy, but when he saw s/o flinch, he knew it was related to him/her.

You gave him a weak smile and before you realized it, you were crying. There were sloppy apologies, mentions of guilt, and a bunch of whimpers and sobs.

Splendor was confused— well, more shocked. You had always seemed so cheery and down to earth- the playful type who liked making stupid faces and calling themselves ugly when they made those faces in a picture (of course Splendor didn’t like that, but he always found himself laughing anyway, because you were adorable to him).

“Please s/o, calm down and then we’ll try to explain this a little better.”

It was a silent ten minutes of eating cookies and watching AFV before s/o abruptly turned off the tv to explain.

It was still a little messy, sprinkled with sniffles and whimpers. After was a bunch of apologies and quick explanation of how you loved him so much and didn’t mean to use him.

Splendor calmed you down once more and gave you a long, silent hug. He knew that sometimes all you needed was a warm embrace.

It was a long night of cuddling and Splendor “forgiving you” (he felt he didn’t need to, he only said it to calm you down. He understood that that’s why most people went into relationships and he was more than guilty himself.)

After a session at the college campus, you two spent the rest of the day together, baking and visiting the pasta and his brothers.

Offenderman

In this case, s/o had actually searched out the man who takes and kills women and men alike. Discovering their relationship was an accident.

2 years later without the desire to die, s/o sat down with Offender to tell him about his/her attempt to be murdered.

Offender was surprised to say the least, he thought she had just been looking for a hookup, but Offender also wasn’t unfamiliar with the craving of death. (In my vision of their world, Offender is, like in a few peoples worlds, a heartbroken psychopath.)

Offender didn’t make a huge deal out of it. In fact, he said told you that he was proud of you and happy that even after you came to him for him to kill you, you stayed with him (especially now that you don’t want to die.).

Despite not being upset about not knowing, he did want to know why.

It took a minute to explain why you came to him seeking death, but Offender nodded along and gave you a hug.

After your explanation, he asked if you still felt that way sometimes.

When he received a nod he let you know that he was there for you.

“I’m not great with emotions, but if you ever need me, I’m here for you.”

Your day went as usual, except that you took you out for dinner.

You knew he didn’t have to do anything special for you though, him just being there with you was more than enough.

(Sorry if that doesn’t count as attempted suicide, but he is a serial rapist so I figured it’d at least make sense.)

ANYWAY! I hope you enjoyed and to anyone reading: feel free to send me a request! This was fun to write and I’d like to write more!

#slenderman x reader #slenderbrothers x reader #slender brothers #offenderman x reader #trenderman x reader #splendorman x reader #splendorman #trenderman #offenderman #slenderman #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader

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surlifen · 4 years ago

Text

i dont waste energy hating closed species And You Can Too!

alright you asked for it

Claim 1: “Closed species limit creativity in the art community by locking off certain concepts.”

No, they don’t. If you believe that, then you also must believe that copyrighting in general-- or just generally the fact that making a design exactly like someone else’s is viewed as kind of wack-- are stifling creativity. Why? It’s easy to accidentally make a concept that is similar to someone else’s, because there are literally just not that many Things That Exist. There will ALWAYS be repeats. Generally, if a design coincidentally looks like another, there will be a mixture of backlash from people who believe it was an intentional ripoff, and total acceptance from people who understand that it was an accident. Ultimately, the correct way to live is to understand that 1) these coincidences can happen and should not be punished, but 2) intentionally ripping off someone else’s work is wrong. It isn’t black and white, you must process 2 or more concepts at once.

Species owners understand this. I have never seen a species owner come after someone for accidentally making something similar or inspired. This is a myth. Species owners are busy as fuck, generally Normal People, and simply do not have the time or energy or desire to moderate things outside their community. Please talk to literally any of them for more than two minutes and you will discover this. Every species owner I have met is friendly and kind and I’ll go into detail on exactly how bullshit this stereotype of them chasing people down for similarities is later.

So, given that some randos will get upset and harass people over harmless inspiration/coincidence but most will not in ALL cases of accidental over-similarity: this is NOT a species-specific problem and happens just as often--if not MORE often, because of how much people fucking despise closed species-- with non-closed-species characters.

Secondly, species owners do not create a closed species with the goal of closing off a concept from use. They do it to create a community they can manage and share a concept they have created.

Take the world of Nephfei, created by the artist Queijac. The closed species of Nephfei are called Spinxyn, and they are very much sphinxes. They are not a brand-new concept Jac is claiming to have come up with, they are intentional and very direct references to sphinxes. What sets them apart is their species LORE, WORLD, and COMMUNITY.

[image ID: a screenshot of the Spinxyn species guide on deviantart, created by queijac. Text reads “IMPORTANT NOTE: Spinxyn are a species OF sphinx. Yes, they are sphinx, and yes of course anyone can make sphinx characters and designs using similar appearances! I claim no ownership over design aspects! Spinxyn as a CS community, however, which offers social art related activities, world building, themed events, etc., to use the characters in, simply relates to my own PERSONAL WORK and how i want to enrich peoples experiences with it! Please understand this, thank you!!!”]

This species is not closed so that Jac can copyright the idea of a sphinx. It is closed so that Jac has some control over the world and lore they have created. Were anyone able to create a Spinxyn without an approval process, not only would the community become too large to manage too quickly, but all sorts of Spinxyn with aspects that don’t fit the lore would pop up.

[Image ID: screenshot of a message from Queijac in the nephfei official public Discord server. Text reads: “theres just a total disconnect that 99% of ppl making closed species are making. a Group...... its about.... the community....... and building the community around One concept that someone makes and puts rules in place for so that they can actually. U kno. MANAGE THINGS... and make a cohesive group experience....... the reason CS have so much popularity is because they come with a community, not because theyre 100% unique never before seen or heard of concepts”]

Jac explicitly acknowledges that sphinxes do not belong to them and even says that borrowing some spinxyn-specific appearance details is okay!!! The ONLY thing off-limits here is a WORLD, COMMUNITY, and LORE.

Except it isn’t. Because Nephfei also hosts not one, not two, but THREE open species of intelligent beings, plus NINE official species of non-intelligent animals, so that anyone can participate.

Claim 2: Species owners harass and police people who make similar concepts.

I touched on this already re:species owners are busy as fuck & Jac openly encouraging people to make sphinx characters and even borrow spinxyn-specific traits, but this note from ground-lion/seel, the creator of Chimereons, really does it for me.

[Image ID: a DeviantArt note from ground-lion to me. Text reads “hello, thank you for showing me this! we don't actively do anything to police offbrands, since it causes more trouble than i think it's worth. i like to avoid drama wherever possible, and it seems like most people who participate in offbrands are just looking to press people's buttons so we can't/won't do anything to these people, i think it is best to just try and ignore it and move on.”]

Here you have the owner of one of the arguably most shit on and hated species saying outright “we don’t bother doing anything about intentional ripoffs”. For context, this WAS 100% intentional, I had noted ground-lion about a user I saw posting adoptables that were LABELED “offbrand chimereons” (so if anyone was hArAsSiNg PeOpLe oVeR SiMiLaR cOnCePtS here, it was me, calling attention to intentional and stated copying).

Sidenote: I think it’s shitty to intentionally steal a concept. Ground-lion has also said there is no issue with making anthropomorphic chameleon characters, just that chimereons were inspired by a set of traits, a word, lore, a desire to create a community, and their own personal stylization of anthro chameleons. It’s fine to take inspiration from how someone else stylizes an animal, but the degree to which people do it-- just outright copying every aspect of Seel’s work-- rubs me the wrong way. Not enough to say anything because that is only my personal opinion and because I do not have time for that shit.

The Dainty mod team + owner (Pajuxi-Adopts) also have a section stating that to make a design no longer a Dainty, all that’s needed are the following changes:

[image ID: screenshot of Dainty species ToS. Text reads “ Visual edits must be made for discontinuation, here is our standard discontinuation options: - remove the stockings completely and give them fur like an actual satyr - keep the stockings and give them human legs - make them an anthro - keep the stockings but they MUST start at least a quarter to halfway up the bottom portion of the deer leg with a clear divide between the stocking and leg with fur poking out underneath - you are free to suggest your own edits as well! “]

This may be speaking specifically about discontinuing a former Dainty due to the context we found it in, but this means that a design is not considered a dainty if, for example, its stockings show fur underneath and are not part of the body. That’s it. That’s all they ask. Pajuxi is not saying “this is my closed species of SATYRS WITH SOCKS and if you DARE make a satyr with socks i will COME FOR YOU!!!”, they clearly state that satyrs with socks are an acceptable Not A Dainty. I personally think the lore behind the stockings being physically part of the body and all the specific rules they entail is interesting and original and I do not think it’s such a wild ask to say “hey, please respect this and if you see it, don’t rip it off on purpose. You can take inspiration in all these valid ways but I want to have some control over the concept I came up with”.

Claim 3: Species owners are rich elitists making small artists suffer.

Species owners are small, independent artists. Artists being hated the instant they get even moderate success (that’s still usually BARELY A LIVING WAGE) is its own huge discussion and internalized issues + capitalist brainwashing you all have to deal with on your own damn time, but I want to emphasize that someone making a living or even comfortable wage from their art is Good, Actually, and is something we should all be happy to see and want to see more of.

Furthermore, no one is being taken advantage of. CS characters are a luxury item. You do not NEED one. If you absolutely will die without a sock deer, make one where the sock isn’t part of their body. If you will die without a chimereon, make an anthro chameleon and use your own ideas. If you will die without a sphinx character, I’m overjoyed to inform you that fucking nobody ever asked you not to make one. CS involvement is voluntary. If you don’t like them, don’t participate in them, but keep in mind that someone saying “hey, please don’t blatantly copy this design concept I spent time creating” is The Same Thing as someone asking you not to copy their individual character designs. You could live without stealing character designs. You can live without making something exactly like an existing CS.

Claim 4: CS put concepts behind a paywall and make them inaccessible.

Again, these are a luxury item. Most closed species MYO slots cost $10-$45. That is not a ridiculous amount to aspire to. Closed species owners WANT people to participate in their species, so there are a ton of ways.

- Chimereons hold First-Time Owner flatsale slot raffles every single month to ensure people who are new to the community have a greater chance of nabbing a slot than existing participants - Dainties have an art prompt every month, which rewards every participant regardless of skill level one prompt point (the art can be visual or written). Six prompt points can be used to buy an MYO slot for free. If you desperately need a dainty and are flat broke, you can get a free one by writing 150 words a month for six months or doing one drawing each month. Skill level doesn’t matter, ALL participants get a point if they follow the rules. - I joined a raffle for a free pre-made Spinxyn. I did not win the raffle. Jac randomly decided to give out 7 MYO slots too, one of which I won. I entered a raffle that DID NOT HAVE MYO SLOTS AS A PRIZE and got one for free anyway. CS owners want people to participate, I promise. - Dainties just had a 24-hour turn-in event (that they warned about a month in advance so folks could prepare designs), meaning every single person who submits a design in that 24hr time frame gets a slot. Normally slot sales are limited in number and sell out in seconds. - Jac sporadically draws quicker, messier Spinxyn designs which always cost $5 and raffle-flatsales them on Discord. $5 is not a gatekeepy price. - Tomoyokis recently had a free-for-all event where everyone could claim either a free common slot or a $10 uncommon slot. These are just specific examples I remember of easier or free ways to get CS. Non-specifically:

- art = reward systems are common, so again, just writing or drawing enough can equal a free MYO slot or entry into a raffle for a pre-made design - many many species that are relatively new have FREE turn-in events or giveaways to build a community - free FTO slot raffles - paid but discounted FTO slot raffles - random free design giveaways - trading art for a CS character or MYO slot (I’ve gotten a dainty and two dainty MYO slots this way, and I realize not everyone’s art gets accepted, which is why this is a whole list of ways that don’t require artistic skill whatsoever)

So getting your hands on one isn’t the worst thing in the world. You might need a little luck (as in, you have a completely fair chance that is equal to everyone else’s) or a little dedication (6 months of wanting one, or having to have a design ready within a limited time for a free turn-in event).

Also, there’s a reason CS prices cannot change much: this causes issues with the value of all existing CS characters. Dainties will ALWAYS be $35. The MYO slot price will NEVER increase. If it did, all previous dainties would be worth less, or would have to have their worth increased, which is logistics hell. Inflation doesn’t affect CS the same way it does everything else.

Claim 5: ok but legally nothing is stopping me from making one lmaoo

That is true. It’s also true that there’s not really any effective laws in place to protect artists when they say “Hey, please don’t quote retweet my art on Twitter” or “Hey, please don’t repost my art even with credit”. Sometimes, we just respect artists and do what they ask because we are Nice Fucking People, but apparently, species owners are a whole different thing, evil, and do not deserve the same basic respect.

IN CONCLUSION

Talk to a CS owner. They’re reasonable and kind people. There’s an exception to every rule, of course, but what I’ve found overwhelmingly is that they’re literally just people like you and I who were excited to make something cool and share it with people. The emphasis is HUGELY on community. I used to dislike the idea of CS too, but since participating in them and talking a ton with the owners (who are super down-to-earth and active in their servers-- Jac helped me with a confusing horse video game and gave me a Free Horse in there), I’ve realized that the caricature of CS owners as greedy and bitchy, laying claim to basic concepts like A Cat With Wings, is just bullshit. The stereotype that CS community members are an angry mob who will roast you over a fire if you draw a chameleon on two legs is bullshit. The idea that CS are impossible to get, are for the bourgeoisie, and cost thousands of dollars is bullshit (I bet you’re thinking about scarfoxes right now. Hot take: I think it’s great that an artist is selling their intellectual property for that much. I think we all should be able to. I think if someone chooses to spend that much on a design they think would make them happy, that is literally not a fucking problem, and since it was their choice and their money no one is being taken advantage of unfairly. Let people buy the shit they want to buy, I promise you will fucking survive).

I like CS, I think they are neat, I wish people would give the owners a break. They are just independent artists like me. They get lied about and stereotyped over this stupid drama bullshit and they’re so tired and saddened when the subject comes up. They literally do not police anyone-- they don’t have the time or the desire, and it wouldn’t work anyway.

I won’t post CS content here anymore. But I like participating voluntarily in these communities. I don’t understand why that’s something YOU get to have a problem with.

Stay out of my inbox. Thanks.

#long post #LONG LONG POST #seriously im not inviting argument so please please do not slide into my inbox or replies #anon ASKED; i am ANSWERING. the dialogue ENDS here.#not art #also this isnt meant as a like. Woke Post to Blow Up #it's my personal explanation and thoughts #so only read it if you want to.

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writinglizards · 4 years ago

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I’m Kinda Helpless (and I Need You)

Summary: It's not anyone else's fault he fell in love with a witcher who decided he wants nothing to do with him. They're here to have fun. He can pretend to do that, for a little while.

Jaskier, at a New Year's party, gets a terrifying call from a certain witcher.

Read on Ao3

"Come on, Jask," Priscilla's saying, tugging him out of the kitchen and away from the alcohol table, "we brought you here to enjoy yourself, not drink yourself stupid. You could do that at home."

"This is only my fourth drink, Pri," he whines, spinning the mostly empty wine glass in his hands absently as Priscilla continues to lead him through the densely packed crowd to where Essi's chatting with..."Valdo," Jaskier hisses.

"Jaskier," Valdo returns, smile bright. Jaskier scowls harder and both Essi and Priscilla roll their eyes.

"Play nice, boys," Essi chastises before catching her girlfriend around the waist and reeling her in to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Just like college," Pri laughs, looping the arm not wound around Essi around Jaskier's neck and dragging him in with her. Valdo watches with an indulgent smile and Jaskier finds he doesn't even hate him, much. It's frustrating.

He forces a smile and tries not to let his sour mood drag the rest of them down with him. It's not anyone else's fault he fell in love with a witcher who decided he wants nothing to do with him. They're here to have fun. He can pretend to do that, for a little while.

They chat for a little before Essi gets dragged off by another acquaintance, Priscilla following, and then it's just Jaskier and Valdo.

"Heard you've had a rough go of it, lately," Valdo says as they stand shoulder to shoulder, staring out across the room. Jaskier doesn't know most of the people here; a few years ago that would have been exciting, now he wishes he'd stayed home, just a little. He lifts his shoulder in a one-sided shrug, sips from his wine glass. There's no point lying to Valdo.

"I'm...sorry for that, Julian, truly. You deserve someone who loves you, who makes you happy." His fingers tighten on the stem of the glass.

"And who's that, hm? You?" He can't help but say, words sharp like a knife. Valdo winces.

"Once upon a time, maybe," he sighs. It's quiet for a beat, "I still want the best for you, though." Jaskier lets out a gust of breath. He may not love the man anymore, may have never loved him, really, but--

"I know," he says, bumps their shoulders together gently, "thank you, Valdo."

"Anytime, Julian." It's soft and subdued, private and just for them. "Come find me before the countdown, yeah? For...old time's sake." It sounds like a resounding bad idea, but...

"I'll think about it," Jaskier says softly.

Valdo makes a satisfied noise and bumps their shoulders together again, gently, before he's stepping away, "Well, better make the rounds. See you in a bit, maybe," and then he's gone too, leaving Jaskier standing at the edge of the party.

He stays there only a moment. It's...a lot. The press of bodies, people chatting, the low thrum of music. This kind of thing used to be his scene, where he thrived. Now he just...he just wants Geralt and that hurts, Geralt wanted him gone, said "if life could give me one blessing" and well. Jaskier's trying, he really is it's just...hard.

He slips out the back door and onto the terrace off the back of the house. It's just for some air, he tells himself, he's not...not running away. He just needs a minute to breathe.

From here he can see the street through the cute little metal gate, the pass of cars and the occasional pedestrian. It's a rich side of town, one he rarely visits any longer. He doesn't even know the host, a friend of Priscilla's, someone she works with. He feels out of place. This is a far cry from the dingy diners, the 24-hour gas stations he's used to frequenting at this point. Or well. Had frequented, he guesses. He hasn't been much of anywhere since...before.

He leans against the little railing and tugs out his phone to check the time and then just...stares. He hadn't been able to bring himself to change his lock screen yet, a photo of the two of them, squeezed into a booth at some little coffee shop whose name he can't remember. Jaskier's smiling, bright and electric and Geralt's...not, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners, just a little, and he looks...he looks...

His chest heaves a nearly sobbing breath as he lets the screen go dark. He's maybe had a few too many drinks, but he's not going to cry about it, about him. It doesn't matter how happy he looks in the photos on Jaskier's phone. Geralt doesn't want anything to do with him, not anymore.

He's still wallowing in self-pity when his phone rings, vibrating intensely in his hand. No caller ID pops up, but Jaskier answers anyway. It's just as likely to be Essi calling from someone else's phone because hers has died as it is to be Geralt calling from a new burner phone. Except--

"Jaskier?"

His voice is rough and beautiful and tight with pain and Jaskier's heart stutters. His throat works, but no sound comes out.

"Jaskier, please, I--"

"Geralt," he forces out, his own voice hoarse. "Geralt, what--"

"Please," he continues, steamrolling right over Jaskier's quiet protest, "I need you to know I...fuck," it's a tiny noise of pain. Jaskier's chest clenches, "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of it." His voice is faint.

"Geralt, where are you, what's wrong?"

"I'm...fine." It's not reassuring.

"Geralt, where are you," he's starting to panic, a little, "I'll call Yen, I'm sure she'll--"

Geralt laughs, sharp and sardonic, a noise that cuts off quickly on a wheeze. "Yen's the last person I'd call, Jask." The diminutive does something painful to him. He can feel the tears slipping down his cheeks as he rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand, frustrated.

"Still. Where are you?"

"Do you remember that diner on third street?" Geralt asks, voice a little hazy, a little too soft as Jaskier pushes back through the house. He needs to find Essi or Pricilla, someone who can drive him--"the one where...ah...where you order the--the milkshakes?"

"I do," he says. He can't find his friends, but he catches Valdo's eye across the room and something in his expression must be especially concerning because Valdo's already bowing out of the conversation and making his way over.

"I'm...I left Roach there," he says just as Valdo approaches, mouths "what's wrong" at him.

"Okay, and where are you?" Jaskier asks, holding a single finger up to Valdo who nods.

"I--" a harsh, painful breath, "--was checking out the warehouse two streets over. Bruxa nest."

"Okay. Okay, just--Valdo, do you have your car?" Valdo blinks at him, a little wide-eyed. Geralt makes a strangled noise on the other end of the line.

"Jaskier, you've had too much to drive," he says, which means he does.

Jaskier makes an ungodly sound at the same time Geralt asks "Jask, where are you?"

"Will you drive me, then?" Valdo's had...maybe half a glass all night--he's still carrying around the rum and coke he had when they'd talked earlier, untouched.

Valdo gives him a hard look, and Jaskier thinks maybe he won't before, "Yeah. Let me grab my coat, I'll meet you out front in a minute."

"Thank you, Val," he says, nearly choking on the wave of emotion that hits him, the gratitude he feels for this man he used to love. "Geralt, we'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"Mm," the mumbled little response over the line isn't reassuring.

"How close to the warehouse are you still, love?" The endearment slips out without a thought, and Geralt sucks in a sharp breath. Jaskier winces hard.

"'M...down the street." He's quiet for a long moment where Jaskier worries he's passed out on him. "Sorry to ruin your night out."

"Geralt, you're not ruining anything for me." He shifts from foot to foot on the stoop out front, waiting for Valdo to emerge. "How bad is it?" Geralt's silent for too long. "Geralt?"

"Uh," Jaskier can tell from the tone he's making a face, "few busted ribs. I'm..." a soft sigh, "losing a lot of blood." His voice is faint, still.

"How much is a lot, Geralt?" Valdo steps out the door and ushers Jaskier over to his car.

"Where are we going?" he asks as he slips into the driver's seat, Jaskier already fumbling for his seatbelt.

"It's...I may not..."

"Geralt."

"It's not your fault, Jask." A feeling like ice washes through him.

"Are you out of swallow or what?" he asks, trying not to snap at him. Valdo's sitting patiently while he waits for directions, only the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel giving away his nerves.

"It's...I didn't bring it." Jaskier makes another ugly noise.

"The diner on third street," he tells Valdo who nods and shifts the car into gear, backing up. "it is in your car, yes?" he asks Geralt.

"...Yeah," he breathes. Jaskier just listens to the slow rasp of Geralt's breathing, eyes closed. He doesn't ask why Geralt didn't bring any with him, doesn't want to hear the answer, probably. "It's not your fault," Geralt repeats softly, and Jaskier can't help the little hiccuping sob, even as he presses a fist to his mouth to stifle it. Valdo stares out of the corner of his eye but doesn't say anything, which he's thankful for.

"If you die, I'll never forgive you, witcher." Geralt gives a huff over the phone, something like a laugh. "Don't hang up, okay?"

"Okay," he says. They lapse into silence, Jaskier occasionally giving updates on where they're at in relation to the diner, Geralt making vague noises of acknowledgment. When they hit the parking lot of the diner, Jaskier's out the door before Valdo's even parked. Roach is a few stalls away and Jaskier jogs over, fumbling his spare key Geralt hadn't taken back out of his pocket and unlocking it diving into the passenger seat, phone still pressed to his ear.

"I'm with Roach, Geralt, we're maybe five minutes away, okay?" Geralt doesn't respond, and something tightens in Jaskier's chest. With shaking fingers he digs through the floorboard and finds the little pouch of potions tucked in next to the steel sword and his sharpening kit in the foot of the passenger seat. He pulls the whole little bag out and locks the car door before slamming it closed behind him, a little too hard.

He slides back into the passenger seat of Valdo's car a few moments later, the pouch in his lap.

"Where to?"

"Try Fletcher. He's down by the warehouses." Valdo nods and backs out of the stall again. "Geralt?"

There's a rough noise over the line, but no indication Geralt's conscious. Fuck.

They turn onto Fletcher and Valdo drives slowly. It's dark and most people are either at home or at New Year’s parties, not hanging around the industrial district, so it's easy to spot the figure slumped over against a brick wall, pale hair hiding his face.

"Valdo--" he starts, but he's already seen him, and he hits the breaks. Jaskier's out of the car like a shot, potion bag tucked under his arm. He nearly trips over the sidewalk, barely catching himself at the last moment as he stumbles to a stop, hitting his knees beside Geralt hard.

"Geralt, love," he breathes, but it doesn't matter that his heart is pouring out his mouth--Geralt's out cold, phone cradled in his lap but not hung up, just like Jaskier asked. "Fuck."

He can see he's torn up--there's blood all over his armor and pooling on the sidewalk beneath him. He's got a hand pressed loosely over his side and his breathing's shallow. Jaskier fumbles a bottle of swallow out of the pouch and uncorks it.

"Please don't be too late," he whispers, careful fingers tipping Geralt's head up and coaxing his jaw open so he can pour the contents down his throat. Geralt sputters, but swallows, throat working, and Jaskier sits nearly in his lap, face cradled in his hands and fingers brushing his pulse point. Slowly, Jaskier watches as the wound on his side clots and knits together, feels the way his pulse, slow as always, strengthens ever so slightly, and Jaskier sighs, tips forward to press his forehead to Geralt's bloody shoulder as the adrenaline leaves him all at once. He'll be fine.

He sits there for a long moment, just letting the panic fizzle out. The footsteps behind him tell him Valdo's finally parked the car.

"Is he--"

"He'll be fine," Jaskier says, pulling back to stare at Geralt's prone form. His breathing is strengthening, the ribs beginning to knit back together now that the source of the blood loss has been dealt with. "Thank you, Val."

"Should we, uh, move him or something?" Valdo asks, the same moment Geralt groans and blinks open his eyes. "Oh, I'll...um. I'll wait in the car if...if you need me." He ducks his head and retreats to where he parked on the sidewalk a few paces away, giving them some privacy.

"You're here." Geralt's voice, usually gravel rough, is somehow deeper, more jagged, with the remnants of the potion.

"Did you think I wouldn't be?" Jaskier asks. He realizes he's still kneeling over Geralt, palms cupping his jaw and throat. Geralt's eyes flutter closed again, tired.

"I don't deserve it."

Jaskier's chest aches, sharp and painful. "Maybe not," he whispers, "but here I am." Geralt's breath stutters and he rotates out of Jaskier's grip to cough, a deep, rattling sound that makes Jaskier wince.

"I'm sorry I ruined your date," Geralt grinds out when his breathing settles, collapsing back against the wall again. Jaskier frowns.

"Why would I--?"

Geralt doesn't let him finish, "He looks...good. For you. I'm. I hope he makes you happy, Jask." Geralt's expression is guarded and it's...that's not...

"Geralt," Jaskier says slowly, "That's Valdo Marx. We're not dating. You did not interrupt a date. I was at a party."

"You're not...?" he starts, brows pinched, and Jaskier wants to hit something.

"Geralt. I'm--I'm not dating anyone. I. I can't." No one could ever make me as happy as you, he thinks but doesn't say.

Geralt makes a soft, unhappy sound, "Why?" At some point, his hands have landed on Jaskier's waist. Now he rubs gentle thumbs against the swell of Jaskier's hip bones in a movement that is more distracting than it has any right to be.

"Because I love you, you dolt," Jaskier chokes out, unable to hold down the swell of emotion at the confusion on Geralt's face, "and I know you said you didn't want to see me again and I--"

"Jask," Geralt stops him, a hand rising to cup his cheek, "you shouldn't."

"I know. I know, and I do anyway and I. I'm sorry, but--"

"I shouldn't have pushed you away," Geralt says, eyes bright with something Jaskier can't name. There's a thundering sound of cheers, distant this deep into the industrial part of the city. Midnight. New Years. "I love you, Jask, I'm sorry."

He tips forward to kiss him, and Geralt surges up to meet him, hands tangling in his hair. It's like breathing fresh air for the first time in years, like the first trip out of the city looking for a forktail, like every time Jaskier's patched him up, every time they've gotten coffee together at three am, every time Geralt's bought him a meal at a diner after midnight. The kiss breaks, but they don't move away, foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," Geralt repeats, eyes closed.

"So am I," Jaskier whispers back, "I've been a right bastard myself, on occasion.” Geralt huffs a laugh, something soft and intimate. Jaskier cards his fingers through his hair, gentle.

"Stay with me?" He asks, and that's--

"Yeah," Jaskier says, presses another kiss to his mouth, slow and sweet, "let me go tell Valdo I'm walking you to your car and he can go. Then you can take me home and we'll crash at my place, okay?"

"Okay," Geralt breathes, reluctantly letting go so Jaskier can stand. He stares at him a moment, bloody and bruised and so very, very beautiful, and then he's pulling himself away, back to Valdo and his car.

"He's okay?" Valdo asks, rolling his window down when Jaskier gets close.

"Yeah, I'm--"

"Are you okay?" he continues, gaze intense and--

"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah, we're okay. I'm. He makes me happy, Val." Valdo's expression softens, something relieved in his eyes.

"Good. I'm glad, Julian. Does he need a ride back to his car?" Jaskier turns to follow Valdo's gaze, sees how Geralt fidgets at the edge of the sidewalk, impatient.

"No. We'll walk back. Thanks for the ride. I'm. Really very thankful."

"I know." His smile is radiant. "Don't be a stranger, Julian." Jaskier makes a face, which only makes Valdo smile wider. "See you around."

The car pulls away when Jaskier steps back onto the sidewalk. Geralt winds his arms around Jaskier's waist when he gets close enough, pulls him into another slow, thorough kiss that sets his nerves alight. They break reluctantly, Jaskier's hand on Geralt's face.

"Come on, love, let’s get you home."

It's been weeks since Jaskier's been this close to Geralt, weeks since they talked, since they touched.

"You're here," Geralt rumbles, a quiet sound, "I'm already home." And that's--Jaskier has to clear his throat not to cry.

"Happy New Year, Geralt." Geralt’s expression is soft, fond as they start the walk back to Roach. He slips his hand into Jaskier's, threads their fingers together and brings the back of his hand to his lips in a gentle kiss.

"Yes," he says, "it is."

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: teen #this is just an excuse for hurt/comfort and soft things

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echoalyssa · 5 years ago

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It Gets Worse When You’re Gone - Harry Osborn

It’s bad all the time but it’s worse when you’re not with him. Something about your presence, your hands carting through his hair and the softness of your voice made the monster crawling beneath his skin recede. At least for a little while.

Harry forces himself to work, keep up appearances with the press, prove that he could still run the company. He works hard, much too hard. Too hard than he should be whether or not he had a monster beneath his skin.

You’re alone in bed, the bright red light of your alarm clock blinks the numbers ‘12;39’ at you. You can’t sleep, because of the worry clouding your brain. You couldn’t sleep until Harry was safely tucked up against you in bed. The covers are wrapped around you tightly, but it’s not the same as Harry’s arms around you.

The front door creaks open at 12:52, you hear the less than quiet shuffle and the thud of Harry’s leather briefcase hitting the floor. He curses quietly, voice shaky, and you hear the thump thump of his Burberry Broughs being tossed into the corner.

You would pick them up in the morning, place them neatly on the shoe rack. As well as his breifcase, and probably the clothes he would struggle to pull off his frame.

The bedroom door opens now, the hinges squeaking in protest. You should really oil them someday. You can barely make out your boyfriends frame in the darkness, but from what you can tell his shoulders are slumped and he’s shaking. More than normal.

You sit up in the bed but leave the light on. “Hare,”

He steps forward then, walking around the bed. He comes to a stop between your legs. You wrap your arms around his torso and press your face into him.

He stands there limply, before a shaking hand reaches up to touch your hair.

What shocks you the most is the drop of moisture that you feel land on your forehead. For all the time you had known Harry you had never seen him cry, not when his father died, when he learned about the disease, never.

“D-don’t want- want to lose you,” he whispers, the words are quiet but they feel so loud in the quiet room.

You pull the man infront of you into the bed, helping him shrug his button down off in the process. He lies next to you, one hand pressed into the mattress, shaking violently. It’s worse tonight.

“I’m yours, Harry.” You whisper, carting a hand through the hair plastered to his forehead.

“It’s- not f-fair to make you- make you see me... see me like this. Ask y-you to stay,” The words catch in his throat and you brush the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone, catching a stray tear. He presses his face into your hand now, not wanting you to see him cry.

“It’ll be alright Harry,” you whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head against your palm, so many things he wants to tell you before he dies, so many things her wants to do with you. Except he can’t because his hands barely work anymore, and his mouth is calmed shut trying to stop the whimpers of pain that wrath his entire body.

It’s worse when he’s not with you, in the loneliness of his office, trying to stay strong. He used to be able to forget the monster within when he was with you, but now it was consuming him, trying to drag him under the water and never let him return. And he was fighting, fighting for you except he was just so tired.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes, knowing that you can’t let them fall. That you need to stay strong for Harry. Somehow you know what he’s thinking and you can’t help imagining the life the two of you could have had.

The first ever incident where you had truly realized how much the disease had affected Harry was when he had made dinner for you a few weeks ago. He’d set out the plates, silverware, and glasses. You remember him going to pour you your wine and his hands had shook ever so slightly but it was when he went to pour his own that the tremble in his fingers had made the bottle tumble from his grasp, it shattered against the ground the red liquid staining the floor.

He’d swept out of the house immediately with little more than apology thrown in your direction, determined to keep you from seeing his facade crumble. You’d cleaned up after him and when he returned you had pulled him int bed, determined to make him see how much you loved him.

You brush a hand across his cheek again, dry now. His chest rises and falls slowly, signaling his descent into sleep. It’s then that you decide that Harry will not die. He won’t.

~~~

Harry goes into work later the next morning and you have to help him get dressed. You urge him to stay home, to rest and take it east, tell him that you’ll cover for him. That it’s okay to miss one day. He refuses and you don’t miss him tossing a handful of pills into his mouth.

You go into work at Oscorp an hour later, the Manila file folder with everything you knew about the disease tucked into your bag. Thanks to your position with Harry, you had your own private lab, meaning you could do your research without worry of anyone finding out.

~~~

You’re buried deep in your work when you phone buzzes violently on your desk next to you. You glance at the caller ID, seeing your boyfriends name. You jab at the green answer button immediately.

“Y/N!” Harry cries into the phone, agony laces his voice.

You’re bolting out of your lab and into the elevator before you can blink. “I’m coming Har!”

You find him curled up in a dark corner of his office, shaking and scooting back in an attempt to escape the monster, except he can’t because it’s inside of him. You rush towards him and he falls into your body without any protest. “It- it hurts. It a-always hurts.”

He whimpers, looking like a small child in your arms instead of a fully grown billionaire. His eyes are wide and his fingers are scrabbling at his sides. You intertwine your fingers together with difficulty and brush your lips against his knuckles.

“W-want to-to...”

“I know” you breathe out, lips pressed into his skin. “I’ll marry you one day Hare, we’ll have a future. I promise I’m gonna fix you.”

You weren’t going to tell him that you had been searching for a cure since you had first found out about it. But Harry needed hope, and you could use his brain.

“I hope so,” he chokes out, teeth gritted. “Want to... to marry you.”

#harry osborn #harry x reader #harry osbone oneshot #harry osborn imagine #oscorp #green goblin #marvel #harold osborn

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soukokuwu · 5 years ago

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angsty angst with atsushi discovering his s/o’s dead body 🥴

NO GOODBYES. genre; pairing; word count. angst; atsushi x pm!reader; 1,750 words warnings. death, mentions of abuse, gaslighting, toxic relationship synopsis. the one thing you did right, and it came a little too late. author notes. hi there (sorry for the super long wait too), but i combined it with this as requested by another(?) anony, i hope you like this! let me know what y’all think <3

What you tolerate, you encourage.

What you permit, you promote.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been so caught up in who you used to be, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. Perhaps if he hadn’t been in love with the idea of who you could be, then he would have had the strength to let you go. But love makes people stupid sometimes.

And Atsushi is no exception.

No matter how many times Kunikida or the others tried to interfere, to warn him that you were no good, Atsushi wouldn’t listen. Why? Because he’s inherently kind, and sometimes to a fault. This time, it would be considered a fault. The weretiger is so blinded by you that he believes everything you do is out of love; because you can’t bear losing him. He uses love to justify your actions.

But nobody questioned this: Atsushi doesn’t understand what love is.

At least, not fully, and not yet. Especially when he acts as stubborn as a mule when it comes to you. Whatever heinous thing you did to him, he makes an excuse for it, hides it from everyone he works with every single day. And the worst part is, everyone in the agency can tell why.

A young boy, growing up in an orphanage with an abusive headmaster and nearly killed what, how many times? Once? Twice? A young boy, who grew up scared yet with a heart of gold. Starving, but wouldn’t steal. Lost, yet wouldn’t ask for help. He has never known proper care, proper love. So how could he be so sure you really loved him as he claimed you did?

The ones who could think more objectively — Dazai, Ranpo — they knew. Kunikida still let his personal feelings get in the way, he and the others didn’t give you the time of day. But back to the other two, they knew the answer. Why does Atsushi make up so many excuses for you time and time again? Why does he firmly believe that your feelings for him are true?

Because once upon a time, you really did love him.

In the beginning, before things took a wrong turn. Before his passiveness led to you taking advantage of him. Who was at fault? Maybe if he wasn’t so meek you wouldn’t have had that much control over him. But then again, you could’ve been a good person with a decent moral compass and not sucked him dry. Although, no one is surprised you behaved that way.

You are a member of the Port Mafia after all.

Atsushi remembers every single horrible thing you did. He’s blinded by love to stay with you, yes. But he isn’t totally lacking in common sense. He knows the things you do are wrong. He just hopes that each time you do it, there is a good enough reason behind your motivations. Besides, they always say it’s the thought that counts, right? And he thinks no differently.

One can only learn so much apart from experience.

He thinks back to everything now, while he slugs forward, slowly walking back to the dorms. He thinks about everything his coworkers have confronted him with. Atsushi doesn’t know what he plans on doing with the information, but with everyone pressuring him to at least reconsider the relationship, maybe he should think on it.

The first thing they told him: he is way too lenient with you. More often than not, they pointed out your jealousy to be irrational and unfounded. You’ve been with the Port Mafia longer than Atsushi’s been with the ADA, so you know of the existence of Yosano and Naomi, and now you’re aware that Kyouka’s part of them too. And somehow, without rhyme or reason, you always accuse Atsushi of having the hots for one of them. On occasion it’s Yosano, sometimes Naomi, but mostly Kyouka, which the weretiger is frankly very appalled by. Taking the age difference and her age itself, she has always been more of a sister to him, of course he’d take care of her.

But you didn’t buy that. You always manage to hang it over his head, always needs him to assure you countless times over and over again that he loves you and only you. Even then you doubted his words.

His colleagues’ take on this? It’ll never end. It’s an endless cycle. Because he let it go on for far too long. And now it’s too hard to pry that habit away from you.

Two. Ranpo was kind enough to put his two cents in the situation when bribed with snacks. He knows how abusive you are — you’re just lucky that Atsushi has the healing powers of the tiger, lucky that no bruises every stay on his skin for all to see. But Ranpo knows, and Dazai, because it’s just like that. They just do. And nobody else in the office doubts their word. Atsushi doesn’t fight back against you, because he knows he’s that much stronger than you. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you if he even grips your hands.

And it’s exactly because he doesn’t resist that he ends up getting hurt instead. Most of the times he just blames himself though — why did he have to go and do that? He knows that will make you mad, why did he still do it? He’s the utter failure here. He should be punished. And there you have it, he takes whatever you throw at him (pots, pans, coat rack, everything, basically); gets blue and black, sometimes gashes and cuts that all heal almost instantly anyway. Funny thing is, he hates it, because he thinks it’s some sort of cheat code, that he isn’t properly punished.

“How can anything like that be healthy?” Tanizaki’s words ring in his head.

Three. When asked why he’s even with you in the first place — he hesitates. Why is it that “I love her” doesn’t come to his mind straight away? Everyone knows he’s in denial and always has been. They all know that he’s hoping for the old you to come back. The one he blames himself for coaxing out of you in the first place when in reality it isn’t on him in the slightest.

That was the last straw — that was what made him storm out of the office. Because he knows that no reason he gives now will satisfy them enough to get them off his back. And perhaps… it is for good reason. Because honest to god? He’s tired. Tired of feeling wronged every time you accuse him of having an affair when he barely bats an eye in any of their direction (not since the last time you threatened to hurt them if he even dared to talk to them). Tired of being beaten up for something he never did, when it should be your colleagues who should be taking the heat of your anger. They were the ones who made you mad, not him. And he’s tired of constantly having to dread going to work because he has to make up a thousand more excuses for you, to defend you when he knows very well you wouldn’t do the same courtesy to him.

The ring of his cellphone makes him sigh. That’s probably you again, checking up on him to make sure he’s not up to no good.

Atsushi breathes in, throwing his head back, eyes closed as the faint light of the setting sun hits his face. His fingers fumble in his pocket for his phone, and he answers it. Another deep breath.

“Look, I don’t think—”

“Weretiger?”

His eyes snap open and he checks the caller ID. Unknown. He hears a familiar voice on the other end, it’s the one who’s always with that devil incarnate, the one they called the rabid dog. What’s her name?

“It’s Higuchi.”

Oh, right.

What do they want with him now? To surrender himself, maybe? But like hell you’d let that happen.

But what the blonde says next makes the whole world around him cease to exist. Every complicated feeling, any positivity, they’re all gone and he feels like he’s in a void. Black; everything is black. His fingers are twitching, palms shaking as Higuchi finishes what she says, but she doesn’t hang up without telling him one more important thing:

“It’s all your fault!”

Not an hour later and he’s kneeling down next to your bullet-riddled body, fingers ghosting over your now blue, chapped lips. The blood pooled on the concrete stains his pants, but he doesn’t care. Because despite wanting to break up with you, he didn’t want you to die.

And especially not for him.

You did a lot of wrong in the relationship. Abusing, gaslighting, and many more. The other detectives always put it upon themselves to show Atsushi who you really are, and how unhealthy every aspect of your relationship is. They always argued about which facet of your relationship is the worst. But now, they all know they’ve come to the same conclusion. No discussion needed.

It’s in how the black circles under his eyes have grown darker. It’s in how he’s so dejected, so forlorn every single day — at least before he could still deceive himself that you were there at the end of the day to possibly make him feel better. It’s in how he’s tried too hard before, and now not trying at all.

The conclusion? The worst thing you’ve done to him? Ironically, laughably, is to have loved him right just before you ceased to see the light. Sacrificing yourself just because you didn’t want to give his location away to the enemy, even if you knew Atsushi had a high chance of surviving? Honestly, the only thing you did that everyone else agreed was done out of actual love.

But you left behind a weretiger that now blames himself for your death. Whenever anyone asked he’d say that he killed you.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Atsushi used to be able to see beauty in the world; he practices it by striving to always see the good in you, in what you could be. Even if it is partial deception on his own end. But now… now he barely sees any good in any thing. Self-pity is a dangerous thing.

And somehow, by loving him right in the last moments of your life, you’ve sentenced him to an eternity of being a prisoner to his misery.

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

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curious-menace · 4 years ago

Note

The rogue gallery members general reaction to encountering the batman who laughs and his creepy ass Robin's.

ok id like to preface this by saying that red death batman straight up crucified riddler and decapitated scarecrow and the batman who laughs is MUCH worse than red death batman.

i want to enjoy the dark knights metal but it is needlessly fuckin complicated with all this multiverse oververse omniverse shit. maybe i just don't have the galaxy brain necessary to get it so i apologize if this is all wrong

(also i know its canon that the batman who laughs has no rogues gallery left, either because he killed them or joker killed them before he turned but hey ho hypotheticals it is)

also no one talk to me about kiss fan lookin riddler from this verse. im not ready.

Penguin

i think his first reaction was to laugh. Batman’s finally gone and he took joker with him. I mean he literally calls him "bat gimp". I seriously doubt he anticipated the fallout of batman becoming some sort of hideous joker hybrid. he still chuckled when he started seeing the news. someone calling themselves “the batman who laughs” and “the darkest knight” then he sees the robins, he even recognises damien and it makes him a little sick. he books the next flight out of goodwin before things get too hot.

shame goodwin was burned to the ground to stop anyone leaving gotham.

with everyone inside.

Twoface

i dont think its an exaggeration to say he was absolutly fuckin horrified. it's rare that harvey and two face agree on something, but this bastard has to go. the murder and mayhem he could tolerate, hell even killing the other rogues, some of them needed to be stopped. but having to look at this creature and know it was once bruce? harvey knows better than anyone its a fate worse than death to be trapped in your own mind with someone else running the show. they do their best to stop the darkest knight, bring all the hired guns they can to the fight but it wasnt enough. Harvey dies, but at least he went out trying to do the right thing.

Poison Ivy

She sensed him coming, her flowers screaming at her to save herself. part of me wants to hope she took one look at that abomination and noped the fuck out of there to slaughter swamp or something. but we know ivy, she stands her ground like a tree planted by a river. she looks people like batman and joker right in the eye and down the barrel of a gun and says “no, you move” Shes not a good person, but in this verse she might as well be the hero of the story, maybe the only meta human in gotham who stood a chance against him. The batman who laughs was scared of her and thats why she had to die. if she’d just minded her own business she might still be here but no. She dares the batman who laughs to come for her, she’s going to take him out. for what he did to her plants, to gotham, to HER home and HER friends. unfortunately for her ivy was one of the first on his kill list. She doesn't go down without a fight. ironically it was her human qualities, the human drive to help people that got her killed. she heard one of the robins crying and went to investigate. the batman who laughs doesn't care about those robins, he’s got a basement full of jokerized kids to throw at people. 1 to trick her and a few more to hold her down while he doused the lot of them with weedkiller and gasoline then poof.

i doubt the botanical gardens will ever be the same.

Scarecrow

part of me wants to say he’s loving this. He’s enjoying all the suffering and sadness and fear as the batman who laughs murders everyone and everything from the dandelions upwards . but he cant, not just because he’s not the one causing it. this is fear without meaning or purpose, this is killing hope so thoroughly that there is nothing left for people to fear, not even death. he’s not so foolish as to think he wont also be on the batman who laughs chopping block. so he makes himself scarce, works on a toxin that might be able to stop him or even slow him down so someone has a shot at it. Jon knows hes going to die, its only a matter of time before that thing calling itself the darkest knight sends one of his minions to his doorstep. He’s been working on something to try and help the rabid robins. he has a small soft spot in his cold obsidian heart for kids and looking at these creatures makes him physically ill.

he thinks hes made a breakthrough, thinks he’s finally got a formula that will effect batman and the joker and hopefully, whatever abomination they’ve become . he decides theres no time like the present to try it out when word of the other rouges deaths reach him. he’s the last one left and thats....well its scary. His surprise attack works, the robins go down without a fight, screaming and scratching at their faces, their throats and each other. regrettable but if he stops the darkest knight now, maybe jon can help them. Just when he thinks he’s got him, scarecrow goes down. so close, he falls at the finishing line, his toxin having as much effect as a gentle summers breeze. Much like the original scarecrow , the batman who laughs likes using guns. For jon however? he makes an exception. poor scarecrow gets eviscerated by his own scythe, pilfered from arkham asylum by the batman who laughs. gotta love the classics, right?

Riddler

Riddler was second on his kill list. only because the batman who laughs knew how much it would annoy riddler not to be at the top. He’s another rogue who stood a chance of stopping him if he really tried. sadly edward is nowhere near as altruistic as harvey, and could never be as strong as ivy. He likes to think his escape is for everyone's benefit. live to fight another day and all that. He learned from harvey and pamelas mistakes, took one look at this new batman and his creepy kids and said “fuck that noise” and tried to run. except he didn't really try. god if he’d only gotten out of the city, he would have been the only rogue that survived. the batman who laughs looks at him like a pathetic insect, unworthy of notice. he’d have killed riddler eventually, maybe put him in a riddle with no answer or a trap with no escape for extra irony points but he wasn't about to stop the little green cockroach from skittling away. but of course, riddlers ego got in the way; he just HAD to try and best this new batman, no matter how much he scared the shit out of riddler he just HAD to try. and of course, pride comes before downfall.

The batman who laughs helpfully provided riddler with some rope to help break his fall.

Harley Quinn

some part of her was happy to have joker back. he was different, scarier but she was used to the abuse. what she wasn't used to were all the kids. she recognised damian wayne but didn't quite put the pieces together to realise it was bruce under there. she thought maybe he was just a random casualty . she tried hard to look after the kids but they act like animals rather than humans, there was nothing she could do.As time went on she found it harder and harder to sit at the right hand of this clown prince of horrors. harley has always been along for the ride, but how are you supposed make the whole world laugh if everyone in it is dead? i dont know what happens to harley in this world. either she leaves and much like joker, the batman who laughs fails to notice, shes killed by him because he was bored or she does when the world is destroyed by barbatos. either way, no happy endings here.

Thanks for this incredibly depressing ask Ghostly T-T

im kidding, im kidding it was fun! it makes me wish i knew what the everloving FUCK was going on with this verse so i could enjoy it properly. the only comic store i know of has been closed since like march of last year and i don't know what im looking for on amazon to actually order them. i have 1 issue of nth metal but it was interesting enough that i want the collection.

if anyone knows what the collection is actually called hmu bc i wanna buy it.

yes i could read it online but i like owning the hard copies.

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙🧡💛💚❤️

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