#(which they also do sometimes but I think the casual use of 'dr' is cool)

[ryik-the-writer]

No one:

Me: You know who would have been better as Belle's infidelity partner than Will Scarlet? Jefferson.

Before I begin, THIS IS NOT A BELLE HATE POST! Yes, I am going to address IT, but I am not putting her down for this...and I'll tell you why.

So after that god-freaking-awful twist in 4x11 when Belle sends Rumple over the town line, both he and Belle are left shattered at their dubious betrayals, the latter of which so much so she sought additional comfort (again, not hate, just hear me out).

That love interest ... for whatever reason ... was Will Scarlet, a cameo from Once Upon a Time's short-lived spin-off OUAT in Wonderland, which had ended a few months prior.

I, along with a good chunk of the fanbase, thought it was a unique choice, and most likely a way to acknowledge the spin-off in canon.

Don't get me wrong, I like Will as a character in OUATIW, but he was just off to me in OUAT. Like he was just shoved in there without a real purpose. Even his scenes with Robin Hood felt forced to me.

And honestly, it seemed strange to me that Belle, the logical scholar and fruitful romantic, would break her wedding vows of all things even after what Rumple did.

BUT THEN AGAIN, I also don't think it's established how intensive wedding vows are in this universe. I mean, Snow technically cheated on David with Dr. Whale, and while it's addressed comedically, it's not really addressed as an issue in their marriage but they comfortably move on from none the less.

Of course, it's obviously just the show's weakest attempt at *drama* and a way to baffle the Rumbellers into stunned silence so they can focus on *other things* (I am NOT going THERE today.)

And I think I remember an article or something about Will's actor's Michael Socha, feeling underused and wanting out especially since he had a kid at home. While he has a few zingers between him and other characters like Rumple and Hook, he looks so awkward when he's on-screen with Belle, like even he doesn't know why he's there!

But for the sake of *drama* Belle needs some side yum. Cool. Girl's gotta work out her frustrations some way right? But WILL SCARLET?!

This Will Scarlet?

"I love you Anastasia Tremaine" Will Scarlet?

Who ripped his heart out because her betrayal was just too much?

For freaking sake, they had a TLK!!!

I will only, and I mean ONLY accept the following two theories as a reason why...this happened...

1. This takes place during Will and Anastasia's break.

It's established in the OUATIW that the events in the spinoff are happening sometime in either late-season 1 or early season 2's canon. I think. But maybe, just maybe, it was actually around season 4's timeline? The timeline is screwed to hell anyway so...

Ana's presence is established in OUAT after Will, who broke into the library and vandalized a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, is arrested and held indefinitely. And while Will looks distraught at the mention of his former love, but he's not devastated enough

The scene subsequently serves as a pointless but sweet way to introduce Belle and Will. I myself wrote a fic few years back as a way to fill in how that played out afterwards. But the actual writers just kind of tossed it in there.

And dropped it.

Yeah, WIll just kind of disappeared after season 4. Thanks for stopping by, I guess.

And btw, you cannot convince me that a guy who reacts like this after watching the love of his life get killed in front of him:

Like I kid you not, Will's screams and cries were stuck in my head after that episode. I gasped and covered my mouth. I remember feeling the same way when Graham died in OUAT because Emma's grief was just as raw as this. This is not the kind of grief you just up and move on with so casually. This sticks with you.

BACK TO JEFFERSON

Okay, I swear, I have a point.

Again, if Belle just *needed* a love interest during her break from Rumple, fine, but why not use the opportunity to do some freaking fan service after that Frozen mess?

Bring. Back. The. Hatter.

Why Jefferson?

He has an established relationship with Belle.

Even if the ugly truth is Jefferson had to know Belle was being held captive in the hospital asylum, Belle would still, begrudgingly, be grateful he freed her and reunited her with Rumplestiltskin. Maybe he tried apologizing with coffee, and...things happen.

Plus he has an established relationship with Rumplestiltskin PRIOR to Belle.

No. You cannot tell me these two:

...were just "business associates". No these two were hitting shroons in Wonderland every Tuesday at happy hour, do I make myself clear? It's obvious they weren't friends but they worked well together.

That scene in the shop would have been BANGER if Jefferson had been in Will's place. I mean the possibilities are endless with their establishment. They could have opened up an opportunity to explore more of Rumple's deals with Jefferson to find a way to the Land Without Magic, or even their shared connection with Regina, established, beloved connections in the series the audience would be comfortable with.

And honestly, I think Belle and Jefferson could have very nice chemistry too.

Their both worldly, and I can see these two sitting at a booth in Granny's forever as Jefferson told her her stories about his travels, maybe even a few tales about his deal and possible friendship with Rumplestiltskin. And maybe he helps her heal a bit.

That scene in 4x12 where Belle and Hook talk about Rumple really rubbed me the wrong way. What Rumple did to Belle and, yes, even Hook, was awful, but Hook never had to answer for his part in Rumple's decline. What did he think would happen if he threatened to blackmail him with Belle of all people?

Not to mention, Belle and Grace would have gotten along so well.

At this point in the series, Grace is a young teenager, and could possibly use a female presence. She like Henry, would probably understand that her father needs more companionship and would support their relationship. And it would be great foreshadowing to Belle's own relationship with her child later on. And Belle LOVES kids and could have formed a very promising bond with Grace. Regardless on how her relationship with Jefferson could have ended, Belle would have this girl over for sleepovers every week.

[phyrestartr]

Peak literature, two updates in a row 😭 I'm honestly very satisfied with the divine favor ending, it was so cute! It honestly exceeded my expectations, that's what I like about your writing, it's never predictable and it's very enjoyable! >⁠.⁠<

don't know if you get this question often but I hope it doesn't bother you, what do you do to get inspiration and write such great stories? All the concepts are so original fr

Btw, i have seen the anons have an icon, can i be this one? 🦪 :3

EDIT: O SHIT YES ALSO THAT ICON IS YOURS MY FRIEND!!

Eyyy tysm dude! Really appreciate it :'D honestly I'm really glad to hear that my works are a bit unpredictable loool IT'S A WARZONE IN MY MIND TO COME UP WITH CONCLUSIVE AND RATIONAL ENDINGS THAT ARE NOT TOO CLICHE--but I digress

I actually have never really gotten that question omg and it definitely doesn't bother me, no worries! I, too, like to know where ppl's inspo comes from so I gotchu B)

IT'S A GOOD Q THO LOL HMMM I know some of it must come from consuming so much anime/manga/TV/movies/books/TTRPGs/games/etc, and then gradually becoming pickier and pickier as I got older in regards to what media I like lol. I really like improv-ing and writing within a set world where there're established rules (which is why doing my own, original work can be tough sometimes). if I think a character concept or interaction is just absolutely PEAK, I glom onto it and think about it for 40 days and 40 nights frfr. That feeling of finding something that makes your brain light up with intrigue is like crack

I also think a lot of it comes from a desire to find ways to make things connect/work in-universe for whatever fandom I'm writing for, so I end up googling a lot and doing a lot of reading up on topics that I think I want to incorporate 🤔 I learn a lot about random things that I can add in and tie to future plot devices/elements/casual unimportant interactions or whatever, and the more i learn about random shite, the more I'm like "OOOH I can use that"

Ex: Divine Favour came about because I found out Sukuna was actually an entity from real af JP folklore (info here if you're curious), and I already had an interest in JP mythos/any mythology in general, so I did research on what yokai I wanted to go with for the reader (y'all ALMOST got a jorougumo instead of a kitsune LOL) and from there, I kind of just read a lot about that topic, and find out new things that I can connect back to JJK/ABO/whatever to make it feel more concrete and tethered and interesting to write/read. (I also did a lot of reading about EMPs caused by solar flares for Burning Bodies even tho that never got mentioned in the fic at all loool)

When it's NOT smth that I do a lot of reading for, I usually find inspo from people around me (mostly their careers/hobbies), and take inspo from my own life and hobbies and what not since I can write confidently about that (ex. acting, entertainment industry, PLANTS!!!!)

The smartest thing I've ever been taught in regards to art is that our own experiences is what makes our art just ours, if that makes sense. You could give 50 writers the same prompt, and the results would be different because of what they've all experienced in their lives that the others have not. It's really a cool way to view the expressions of others and to see how people differentiate and how they see the world and such :'D

SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG LOL I hope that kinda answers your Q!! the tl;dr is that i write about things i like and i draw inspo from my own life u7u

[aboutzatanna]

Still annoyed by how the latter half of JLD portrayed Zee as an incompetent leader who made some  outright dumbass decisions while in charge.   

As a palate cleanser, here are some tidbits from Justice League of America Vol 1  Annual #1 written by Paul Levitz and Len Wein and pencilled by Rick Hoberg and her decisions weren’t disastrous.

This was from the period where Zee was elected chairwoman of the League: 

Oh hey look, it’s Commissioner Gordon on the Watchtower, you don’t see that every day. What could he be there for?   

(This is from the period where Batman left the League to form the Outsiders but given that he formed the Outsiders to do *more* crime fighting, the fact that Gordon had to go to the League because he couldn’t get in touch with Batman is doubly ironic.)  

Also, pretty cool how Gordon is known and respected even by the JLA.   

So Zee splits the team into groups and they go investigate the missing artists. Not everyone is too keen on her calling the shots though:  

Why Ollie? Why? Sadly, Ollie doesn’t do much in this annual besides whining and being a jerk.  

But turns out she was right and it turns out Destiny is pulling out nightmares from artists brain and materializing them in to the real world.   

Diana on the other hand, is more supportive Zee’s decisions:  

Oh hey look! It’s John Stewart!   

John teaming up with the League during the Satellite era was rare but always welcome. As a DCAU fan, he will always by *my* Green Lantern.      

After confirming Destiny’s involvement, Zatanna, Red Tornado and Elongated Man chase him into the Dreaming (a much less exciting place before Neil Gaiman joined DC):    

One of the main sub plots of the annual is Zee’s sometimes mentor/detective Ralph having a crisis of confidence:    

Zatanna summons the rest of the League and they head to confront Destiny at his HQ:  

Also shout out to penciller Rick Hoberg here; the League is flying or running towards their target but he gives each member a distinct pose that reflects their personality. Zatanna and the Hawks are soaring through the air while John and Red Tornado are darting through the air laser focused on their target while Firestorm’s pose falls somewhere in the middle.  (Also it’s funny how the Atom is on Firestorm’s shoulder seemingly rooting for him to go faster.)  Even the running poses are different from each other; Flash’s pose looks like a homage to his debut comic cover, Diana is more casual while Aquaman looks more determined whilst Ollie looks like he is oogling Dinah who seems to be doing her best to ignore him.   

The League takes the fight to Dr Destiny’s HQ but it doesn’t go as planned:  

He defeats the League in a way that makes me think the League all probably collectively agreed to never speak of again:  

 “So how did Destiny take down all of you again?”

“Yep, giant monster.” 

“Giant monster.”

“He had big fangs.”

“Don’t forget the horns.”

“And the spikes.”

“Practically untouchable.” 

“It was too powerful for us to even comprehend!”

(I’m also going to head canon this as Destiny having more power in the Dreaming.)

Unbeknownst to him however, Ralph has managed to free the original Jack Kirby Sandman, Garret Sanford.  Side note: He is the guy who passed the mantle to Hector Hall who was the Sandman who was being manipulated by Brute and Glob before being “freed” by Neil Gaiman’s Sandman.    

Destiny’s characterization here; his hatred for the League, unable to dream which in turn turned him into a withering husk because of it and usurping the power of Sandman has echoes of his story arc in Gaiman’s Sandman. The latter was more impactful but I wonder if he drew inspiration from this annual?   

Sandman calls in the cavalry in the form of Superman

and takes on Dr Destiny again and in probably one of the funniest moment of this annual:   

So how did they escape?  

Ralph: The MVP.   

Later, the League offers membership to Sandman who turns it down.  Also, turns out Superman’s dreams are special:   

So there you have it; Zee was a competent chairman, Ralph got his confidence back by being the MVP, John Stewart finally got some lime light  and Superman dreams about ~peace~.    

Honestly, wouldn’t mind a variation of this story but with the League meeting Morpheus.    

[thisintermezzo]

What are your favorite bits of localization in FF14? ☺️ I'm not sure if I'm asking for anything specific ... I just want to see you ramble I guess, haha! It would be a nice change from the usual "why did they leave this part out" lol. And there are valid instances where you have to question some loc choices, to be sure. But hearing that localization is your jam... I wanted to know what you love!

What a good question! I had to wait until I was on my computer to answer so I could type faster, hahaha.

I got into FFXIV specifically because of its localization, so I have a different relationship with it compared to other games I've played. I'm really interested in the nuances and challenges of game localization and had heard this one was competent, so I actually initially just bought myself the Encyclopedia Eorzea because I didn't want to play an MMO, lmao. TL;DR below!

I was really impressed with the consistency of the writing quality within the book and how clean and expansive everything was. I got super invested in the plot section of the book somewhere around the last "act" of the 1.0 story arc. (Louisoux was my original favorite FFXIV character, RIP king.) The first book covers the plot sections from the true beginning of the game (1.0) to the end of Heavensward.

I started playing because the format of the Encyclopedia Eorzea is an actual "real" encyclopedia, so it's written from the perspective of an in-world historian. It's not narrative, so I didn't get to see character dialogue, which I decided I had to know about. What do the characters talk like? How do they sound?

I watched some cutscenes (Heavensward onward only), and by then, Endwalker had a trailer out and the hype levels were high, so I decided to play the free trial and... well.

ANYWAY, WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THE LOCALIZATION: HERE WE GOOOO

Mostly, I really like the direction they chose for the localization in-world -- using modes of speech fitting this type of fantasy setting, but also defining those modes of speech so that the characters all speak in their own ways.

Further, the localization team's stance on the localization is my preferred variety: they aim to provide the intended end experience. If your feelings as a player are supposed to be "wow, cool spell name!" when playing in Japanese, you should have the same experience playing in another language, even if this necessitates changing the name of something that may already be in English, etc.

They also separate things based on their... idk, in-game perspectives. Like, there's text that's canon to the game (signs your character can read, dialogue, etc. that's fully "in-world"), and then there's player interface text (menus, quest names) that you see, but the character doesn't, so they can have different localization styles for those things. I think it provides a lot of brightness and levity and helps to balance out how "heavy" the in-world text can feel in places without casual English.

I think it's all crafted with a lot of skill, charm, and honest interest, and so it's definitely one of my favorite game localizations, period.

Also, some of my favorite highly specific instances include quest names like "Quake Me Up Before You O'Ghomoro", but also heavy-hitter sections like Myst's last speech in the DRK quests and sooo many other beautifully-worded similar pieces. If I list them, this post will be like twenty more paragraphs. Sometimes I just want to say the quotes out loud so I can hear and feel the words, you know? Extremely good. I love words.)

[thelivingautomaton]

welcome back to "additional galaxy brain thoughts on the wheel of time". today i will be Considering(TM) book 3 and the first ten or so chapters of book 4, mostly repeating and building off of my livetweets. tl;dr: robert jordan is a genius and i am the chucklefuck going insane over The Narrative Of It All

now that we're making good headway into the books, i think it's interesting that rather than grouping thoughts/observations based on concrete material stuff (i.e. events, lore, characters), i feel like i can start grouping observations based on narrative themes and motifs that keep cropping up, so let's start by talking romance

okay so like. i do kind of get why people think the way robert jordan writes (or rather, doesn't write) romantic relationships is weird, and i DO kind of wish that he did a better job of like, threading the line between "i am going to leave explicit conversations and thoughts about romantic feelings unsaid and let the reader see what's going on through the actions of pov characters, knowing that they have to filter a character's thoughts and words through said character's inherently unreliable/biased perspective" and skipping straight to "these characters have now Realized their feelings and are just going to speak them out loud now even if it feels like there's been little to no buildup"

that being said. i think it's a fascinating way to actually depict romantic arcs, because to a certain extent it feels...true? like, sometimes people really do be completely oblivious about their own feelings for the longest time, and then all of a sudden they have some epiphany for no real reason and are like "oh shit i love this person!" or alternatively "oh shit i DON'T love this person!" also rj gave himself a built-in excuse by being able to handwave and go "idk, ta'veren!" which is honestly a little based of him

(i will probably talk more about this downthread but rand just casually warping the pattern as he's making his way to tear and the way that that manifests as like...townsfolk deciding en masse to marry each other, or defeating whitecloaks by making them look foolish without undue violence, or giving a starving town a bountiful harvest? makes me insane to think about from both a worldbuilding/narrative perspective -- literally what if you were a walking hurricane of Narrative pulling threads and lives after you in your wake, literally WHAT IF -- and also a character perspective, because it gives SO MUCH insight into rand as a person that THAT'S how his ta'veren magic manifests. anyways)

i think that of the various romantic entanglements that have really happened so far, this worked best for depicting perrin and faile BY FAR, which feels like maybe a hot take? but my GOD their relationship makes me feel crazy in the best way. i'm already a sucker for the slap-slap-kiss dynamic, but i also adore how faile initially sees perrin as a puzzle she wants to figure out and how she's so good at putting some pieces together (like that an aes sedai, a warder, and an ogier all together must be important, and mysteries like that will lead her either to the horn or just to being part of a big important story), and how she's the only person that really makes perrin lose his cool and speak without thinking (the scene where he and then moiraine accidentally blab everything about the dragon and the horn already being found was fucking hysterical).

AND THEN PERRIN GOING IN TO TEL'ARAN'RHIOD TO RESCUE HER???? and swearing that after this he'll only call her faile like she wants??? freeing her first as his wolf-self (which, also: insane concept, love it, thank you rj) but then finding a door and chains he can't break as a wolf, so he has to manifest himself as a man and a blacksmith and use the hammer? AND THEN WAKING UP AFTER BEING MAULED BY DREAM BIRDS WITH FAILE LEANING OVER HIM AND HE JUST WHISPERS "my falcon"????????? FUCKING. AUGH

so like, it WAS a jarring surprise in a way at the start of book 4 that suddenly perrin and faile were definitively In An Established Relationship, but then i thought about it for 3 seconds and was like, okay actually maybe they didn't need to have an explicit "i have feelings for you" scene. maybe "my falcon" WAS that scene. your honor i love them

by contrast a lot of the other romantic relationships have had a lot less focus or screen time that ISN'T just "uh oh, suddenly i realize i have feelings for this person but can't act on them for xyz reason", i.e. nynaeve/lan, rand/elayne, and rand/min (ESPECIALLY rand/min, although conceptually i'm kind of obsessed with Guy Who Is The Narrative's Biggest Chewtoy falling in love with Girl Who Sees The Narrative Most Unambiguously But Cannot Affect It) which is why i think they fall a little more flat for me, at least currently

that being said, i can largely get behind rand/elayne based on their first meeting in the palace garden (oh to be a farmboy with a concussion and have your wounds delicately bandaged by the daughter-heir with her own richly-woven kerchief!) and the scene where they tell each other that they're "very fond" of the other, which was SO cute and dorky

it's funny in a way because i almost feel like the romantic scenes between two characters in love are more of an afterthought than scenes where characters who are friends talk ABOUT their romantic feelings for others and how to go about dealing with them, because THOSE scenes really shine with how much light they shed on the non-romantic interpersonal connections

specifically thinking here of the one-two combo of moiraine briefly making a comment to the girls about her own romantic prospects (or lack thereof) followed by nynaeve bringing egwene and elayne wine so the three of them can talk about rand and what to do with elayne's feelings, egwene's lack thereof, and how to deal with berelain

(sidenote: you truly have to hand it to berelain for the hustle and the chutzpah to just directly walk into the dragon reborn's chambers, hair done face beat tits out, and ask if he's DTF)

anyway i love those kinds of scenes because they just feel so NORMAL, you know? like, the girls are, politically and magically speaking, three of the most important people on the god damn continent. but they're also teen girls! (except nynaeve who's like, 24, but you know what i'm getting at) they're gonna have normal girl talk! it's gonna be filtered through their extreme circumstances but they're gonna have normal-ass wants and feelings and desires!

also sorry but it will never not be funny to have a compare-and-contrast switch of povs in the middle of a chapter, like egwene leaving rand thinking "aw, i know he was lying when he said he also didn't love me, at least he's not taking it too hard!" and immediately going to rand thinking "i....don't think egwene believed me about me loving her like a sister"

when's mat gonna fall in love huh. like on the one hand i think it'd be neat to represent the full spectrum from "immediate established relationship" (perrin and faile) to "relationship that takes time to figure out" (rand and elayne/min) to "no relationship, just vibes" (mat) but on the other hand it would be SO FUNNY.

actually this kind of dovetails nicely into my next group of thoughts, which is mat cauthon: the rogue of all time

i'm dedicating an entire bullet list to him because book 3 is the first we get with his pov and his real character (without an evil dagger eating his soul) and good fucking GOD

this man really woke up from his magic coma, ate the equivalent of 4 full meals, walked outside, challenged TWO skilled swordsmen to a fight, WITH HIS QUARTERSTAFF, purely for shits and giggles. AND THEN HE WINS. and then has to prop himself up on his quarterstaff so he doesn't immediately fall over. THE SCENE OF ALL TIME

(sidenote: i am continually surprised by how much i like galad and gawyn. i think there's something interesting to be said about how they serve as parallels/foils to rand, but also, i would like to see more of them, and i would like to see more of the goofy-ass sibling dynamics between gawyn, galad, and elayne. thank u)

and like, he literally just DOESN'T STOP being The Most Guile Hero Rogue Ever. getting his hands on the amyrlin seat's "i can do what i want" permit! breaking in to the palace in caemlyn so he can actually literally give elayne's letter to morgase with his own hands like he promised! (sidenote, i have a lot of percolating thoughts about mat's luck and love him testing things to see how it works, like figuring out that it works best when it's random -- my additional takes are that it also only works for things he outright says or promises he'll do, a la "making a wager", and that it works better the more the odds are against him. fucking immaculate concept, thank you for this rj.) blowing a hole in the side of the impenetrable fort with fireworks he's been carrying around for half the book!

but i also think he's such an interesting counterpart to rand and perrin because (like lanfear points out in her dialogue with him) he's the only one of the three ta'veren who DOESN'T have to be tempted to glory, who DOES want to be more than a farmer/shepherd/blacksmith

...i was about to add "who ISN'T running from his role in the narrative" except then i realized: that's actually not true at all, mat is 100% running from his role in the narrative just like rand and perrin, he's just doing it in a different way (i.e. embracing his weird ta'veren magic but running from the deeper implications of why he has that magic and what he should bend it towards beyond just "fuck bitches get money")

...which then dovetails nicely into my next thoughts, Dear God The Narrative Of It All

THE NARRATIVE OF IT ALL!!! the boys each dealing with the inner conflict between refusing their role, embracing it for the wrong/selfish reasons, and fulfilling it because it's their duty and nobody else can do it and it has to be done! MY GODDDDDDDDDD

i think this manifests in the most interesting way with the bubble of evil scene at the start of book 4, specifically how what manifests for the three boys is a personification/symbolic representation of each of their respective conflicts: perrin versus the axe, mat versus the cards (i.e. his luck), and rand versus his reflections

and each of those fights has some specific details that make it really clear imo that what they're fighting is themselves, or a subconscious part of themselves. the axe tries to kill faile as well as perrin, and perrin thinks that if his own axe harms her he might actually die. mat sees the faces of nobility on the cards (the amyrlin seat, queen morgase) because he's the one who's most averse to nobility, or those in power more generally (i.e. aes sedai). rand SPECIFICALLY has to defeat his reflections by absorbing them into himself, and SPECIFICALLY thinks that if he's defeated, the reflections will fight each other until there's just one that has his face and his life and his memories...just like how his life is already being coopted and warped by the image/role that others see him as (i.e. the dragon reborn). robert jordan you are making me SICK (compliment)

also, literally every comment someone makes about how they're all changing, or specifically how rand just wants to be rand al'thor the shepherd, makes me want to scream cry and throw up. IT'S SO MUCH. my current favorite crackpot theory is that when all is said and done and the last battle is won, one of the boys, probably rand, is gonna wind up just walking off into the sunset as an anonymous traveling bard/gleeman.

like i know rand is supposed to shed his blood fighting the dark one and everyone is pretty sure he's gonna die horribly from Channeler Madness if not during the last battle, but come on. for my own sanity if nothing else i have to believe he'll get to the end alive, SOMEHOW. and like, i think it would be really beautiful if after suffering as the dragon and as a tool of the pattern, he's able to just...travel, and be free, and tell stories instead of being part of one. and he even liked playing the flute for his supper! just let me have this, PLEASE

the other big thing that has me going "oh my god the narrative of it all" is the way that dreams and the dream world are becoming bigger parts of the story, vis a vis perrin's wolf dreams and egwene using the stone ring to go into tel'aran'rhiod, as well as the sheer amount of space dedicated just to lanfear fucking with all of their dreams for no apparent reason other than being dramatic and evil. insane concepts, i love it all, i love SYMBOLISM

i had some other thoughts (mostly about the structures of books 2 and 3 being super similar but book 3 allowing the main characters to exert more agency and get pushed around by the plot less) but i think those i covered pretty well in my twitter thread. anyway i just got to the exposition dump about the redstone doorway that can answer three questions and am now eagerly awaiting the time when everyone insisting they can't or shouldn't go inside gets forced to go inside regardless and shit immediately goes fucking crazy, because it's gotta happen, right? <3

[saline-coelacanth]

Do you have any Oliver in dragon rising headcanon manly fluff?

Oh boy I'm probably gonna have fun with these

So some time after Crystalized but before DR, Oliver decided to start training to become an actual ninja. By the time DR comes around, he's still in training but is more experienced than Arin or Sora so I could see him trying to help them out when they're struggling

As a side note: Oliver doesn't know how to use spinjitzu. He's tried multiple times but just can't figure it out. The other ninja would tease him about it because they've seen him use spinjitzu before when he was the Golden Master but now, for some reason he can't do it

Maybe Oliver gets a little jealous of Arin for being able to teach himself spinjitzu but he never really shows it

Speaking of Arin, I like to think that he made a pie for Oliver as an apology for freaking out when they first met. Oliver immediately forgives Arin and tells him that he's his new favorite person

Also I think it would be fun if Arin decided to teach Oliver how to bake only to find out that Oliver might possibly be the worst chef/baker in the world. He tried to make a pie and it came out as a puddle of goop. Oliver still enjoyed it though

Sometimes Oliver will just say the craziest things about stuff that happened in the past and the others, mainly Sora, would just be super confused

He'll say stuff like "I've literally fought God before. He beat me, but now I'm best friends with his grandson, so who's the real loser?" and Sora will give him the most confused face ever and Oliver realizes, "Oh yeah, that's not a normal thing for most people..."

I think Oliver would enjoy watching Sora work on her mechs because it would remind him of when he was little and he'd watch Nya working on mechs and other vehicles

I like the idea of Oliver and Wyldfyre talking about dragons and then Oliver casually mentions the fact that he can turn into a dragon which makes Wyldfyre freak out and want to see him turn into a dragon because that sounds super cool. But then Oliver has to explain that he can't really do it on command and Wyldfyre gets disappointed

While looking around the monastery, either one of the ninja or maybe Arin or Sora end up finding Tofu who's a little worn out at this point and when Oliver sees him he immediately gets emotional and starts hugging him. Zane would offer to clean him and Oliver would go into overprotective mode for a little bit until they finally convince him to let them wash the dang stuffed animal

Also should have mentioned this part sooner, but as of now I've been thinking about having the others find Oliver in the Underworld, though this might change when part 2 comes out. When they find him, Oliver is basically living his best life among the skulkin because they aren't really afraid of him and they don't know that he was the Crystal King so that doesn't affect their opinion on him. Though part of him wanted to stay there, he does go with the ninja and ends up happier being reunited with his family

So yeah those are just ideas that have been lingering in my head. Hopefully when part 2 comes out I can do a lot more stuff with this au, but it's been fun thinking about these fun little interactions and stuff

[thealmightyemprex]

Giant Monster November :Konga

This month w shall look at various examples of Giant Monsters in media ,and for our first look at an British explotation take on King Kong

In this 1961 film scientist  Dr. Charles Decker (Michael Gough) uses a size changing serum on a chimp named Konga (Paul Stockman ) to study him....Also to murder people who annoy him.....As one does

This film is really goofy.NOw you might be saying "Its a monster movie of course it is" and I'll be frank that annoys me.There isan art to the monster movie as there is with any genre ,you have your genuinely great movies :King Kong 1933,Godzilla 1954 ,Mothra ,The Host etc....Konga is not in that line up.In fact ....I think it barely counts as a monster movie ,its more of a throwback to old Gorilla on the loose movie ,and Konga only becomes a full giant in the last 15 minutes.

Now you might be under the impression I dont like this movie...That is not true at all ,I LOVE this movie.Oh it is not on par with say King Kong but I would throw this more into the cheesy goodness camp

So we gotta start with what doesnt work before we get to wahta does.The main thing that doesnt work is Konga himself.First off he starts off as a real chimp....But once he gets the serum he becomes a guy in a gorilla suit which makes no sense . Its not even a Gorilla suit made for the film ,the borrowed it from a professional ape actor (Which was a real thing in old movies and I miss them )and its pretty shabby looking .Also the rampage near the end of the film maybe one of the tamest rampages I have ever seen in a giant monster movie,once he destroys the lab and grabs Michael Gough (Who is our Fay Wray from King Kong equivalent which I love ) he just wanders around London not breaking anything or killing anyone,he is just on a little stroll,which is just hilarious .Thanbkfully,I kind of love the silly elements they enhance the film for me.ITs an example of why bad practical effects are supperior to bad CG ,cause they look so charming ,there is something magical about a guy in a standard Gorilla costume strolling along holding what looks to be a Barby doll while Michael Gough is sometimes shown or dubbed in screaming "Kongaaaaa" that is magical .ALso the crowd acting at the climax is hilarious

As for the genuinely good the best part of the film is legendary character actor Michael Gough hamming giving it his all as murderous mad scientist . It's so interesting he is most recognized now as lovable Alfred Pennyworth from the Batman films ,when he was so good at playing nasty villains ,and this might be my favorite villain role of his .He can be the charismatic scientist but also is a total manipulative sociopath ,murdering anyone who gets in his way while also being very sleazy to a student who is half his age .He murders a cat early in the film ,and thats when ya know he is a bad dude . I also love how petty his murdering is ,he has Konga kill a guy ,just cause the guy is doing the same work he is but is like"Cool dude,but I'd rather work alone" .I also love his assistant Margaret played by Margo Johns ,who is in love with this guy despite the fact he is bonkers ,and is so far into being his accomplice in the vain hope that he will marry her .I love how casual their scenes are even when she is scolding him for killing people ,it feels more like she is miffed he is sneaking cigarettes when he promised he would quite smoking ....Cept here we replace smoking with murder,I love it . I also like that there is NO hero ,yeah we have a few cops but they dont do anything ,we are just stuck with this dysfunctional pair of mad scientist and thier killer gorilla .There is also a legit good scene involving the family of one of the victims I liked .I also appreciate the film did attempt to show pathos at the finale ,as I do feel bad for Konga ,as a good monster movie knows monsters are tragic ,I somehow felt genuinely sad....But then giggled at the absurdity ,it was a new experience for me .Also spoiler (Not that it matters your gonna either watch this or you arent )but Michael Goughs death scene made me laugh hard

You guys are gonna think I am insane....But I love this movie.It isnt good ,but its a legit fun watch and Michael Gough is legitimately amazing ,so if you wanna watch a fun monster flick this is a good one

@ariel-seagull-wings @amalthea9 @princesssarisa @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @angelixgutz @filmcityworld1

[mydearestkippy]

13 March 2023 - 6w5d

Dearest Kippy,

I remember when your papa and I first found out that I was pregnant with you, 2.5 weeks ago. The date was 24 February 2023, and we had just gotten home late on a Friday night, after 3 hours of bible seminar with Han Hui. It had been an incredibly exhausting week at work, and my period was due the next day. Though I was saving my one pee stick to be used after I had clearly missed my period (so, not until 2-3 days later), something in me (perhaps the Holy Spirit) prompted me to do the pee test there and then. And so I did. I wasn’t expecting much, because I had all the symptoms of someone whose period was gonna come (pimples, cramps, etc).

I peed on the stick, and when the pee stick showed a clear positive within a minute, I was in a daze. I called your papa into the toilet and we rejoiced. It all sounds so factual and calm as I am typing this now, but trust me that when it happened there were squeals and shouts between your papa and I! I can’t exactly remember what we both said but your papa was, as always, cool as a cucumber. He did already suspect that I was pregnant because he had realised how much more hair I was dropping than usual (and he had looked it up to confirm that pregnant women drop more hair haha). 

Still in a bit of a frenzy I went to shower. When I was done and drying myself, I burst out into tears - of joy-  because I couldn’t believe how incredibly blessed we were to have conceived you. All those months and years of admiring and playing with other people’s babies, casually browsing and discussing names of my future children, feeling like I want kids but I am just not ready or would never be, journeying with my best friends / sisters in Christ through their pregnancies and childbirth and seeing their kids grow up slowly - culminated into this very moment where I can say, here I am, it is my turn now. To be a mother. I am going to have a child - to have and to hold for the rest of my life;  a child who will be dependent on me and his/her father to be his/her whole world. So much to take in. But more importantly, how God provides, and in such impeccable timing too (we only started trying for you this month, and we conceived you immediately!)

Fast forward a little to 9 March, which is just 5 days ago- we went to the gynaecologist (Dr Choo Wan Ling who came recommended by a dear friend of your mommy’s), and we saw you for the first time:

There you are, all 0.38cm of you - that little white blob in the black cavity of mommy’s womb, flanked by the two +. And as I was seeing you for the first time, I was also able to hear your heartbeat. B-bop, b-bop, b-bop...I wanted to cry when I heard each unmistakable throb, capturing the life that God was giving to you.

At 6 weeks, you were the size of a grain of rice. You were (are) so tiny but you are already so perfect. Mommy is so excited for you to grow steadily and exponentially over the next few weeks. Come week 7 you’d be a peanut, week 8 a blueberry, week 9 an almond, week 10 1 grape, and week 11 a perfect plum. 

As for symptoms, thank you for being good and not giving mommy too much trouble. Apart from some slight cramping (more so in the first few weeks - which I had mistaken for period cramps) which is normal as the uterus is expanding to make way for you, and intense fatigue (mommy can’t survive without getting at least 8-10 hours of sleep every day) due to the body needing lots more energy to form the placenta, the worst I’ve experienced is bloatedness, which sometimes causes mommy to retch. 

Bloatedness is caused by increased levels of progesterone during the first trimester. Progesterone relaxes the smooth muscle tissue throughout my body, including the tissue in my digestive tract- which slows down digestion and ensures that nutrients I consume have plenty of time to enter into my bloodstream and reach you. Unfortunately, slower digestion results in more wind and discomfort in the gut, which causes the bloatedness. Mommy thinks the bloatedness shows quite clearly now, in the form of a stomach bump under tighter fitting skirts. 

Well, I think those symptoms aren’t too bad at all, but let’s see how it goes. Mommy has been taking folic acid (a tablet a day). Folic acid is important in red blood cell formation and for healthy cell growth and function. The nutrient is crucial during early pregnancy to reduce the risk of birth defects of the brain and spine. Mommy will also start taking calcium tablets- this will ensure your teeth and bones will be strong next time, and that mommy will also not suffer from bone loss (osteoporosis) during old age. Mommy is looking forward to receiving a healthy and perfect you into the world on or before 2 November 2023.

Right now mommy won’t be sharing this good news of your existence with my friends officially yet (although a few people, like mommy’s parents, already know), until the first trimester has passed (in another 6 weeks). Meanwhile though, mommy has had to make adjustments to her diet. I have changed all my morning coffee capsules to decaf versions, and banned myself from any alcohol and raw food at all. Before I was pregnant, I had thought that it would be so hard to give up these things and control my diet so strictly (mommy has an issue with self-control and loves her coffee / oysters and sashimi / a glass of wine or can of beer from time to time, you can ask daddy) but somehow it has not been as hard to resist these things as I thought. The harder part is in not arousing my friends’ suspicion as I reject eating the very things I used to love, or as I convey the fact of my bloatedness and intense fatigue (without revealing the cause) to them.

Mommy shall sign off now, with this drawing of a cute pokemon called Mudkip, which you have been nicknamed after. 

My love for you began since you started growing in my womb, and my only mission is to keep you safe and love you always.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Watching the 'Inside Vice Versa' videos and feeling very called out...

Why yes...you betcha I am.

And also...for those or you who read my long-ass post about ep 1, here's yet another example of what I think are the four main/important colours together in the clothes on the bed: red and blue, and yellow and green. 👀

Anyway, is it Saturday yet?

[megamanrecut]

Since it’s…been awhile since I’ve posted anything, here’s a small snipit from the next chapter of Mega Man Recut Miniseries: Karma, the scene in Episode 6: The Incredible Shrinking Mega Man where Proto Man pretends to order Elec Man to destroy himself to test if Elec Man is capable of mutiny (also where the fic got its name).

Note: Admittedly, this scene was kinda dark? At least for Recut anyway, hahaha. I originally wrote it to address repeated comments asking if the real reason some Robot Masters were not reoccurring was because Wily sent them to Brain Bots’s ‘Robot Recycler’(™) when they failed (which is both super dark and a cool interpretation!). For Recut Wily? No, he’s basically a muppet and wouldn’t kill a Robot Master unless they were completely out of his control (like Ice Man, who fortunately got away >:D) and his actual reason for some Robot Masters only used in one plot then never again is, uh, he kinda forgets they exist. That’s also my personal head canon for why RS Wily’s schemes vary wildly in scope and scale, practicality, and yet sometimes repeat: one track mind, easily distracted (and Proto Man’s willingly along for the hilarious and exciting ride) /…end unexpected ramble 

Note 2: This wasn’t completely edited, the beginning is still copy/paste from the original episode :D  Snipit after cut:

Karma, Chapter 10:

“That man is insane.”

"Gee, really? The mad science hadn't tipped me off yet.”

Instead of reporting immediately to the hangar as Dr. Wily instructed, Proto Man had followed Elec Man out of the laboratory and was walking with him down the hallway that lead to the armory.

"Weren't you listening?" Elec Man asked incredulously. "He's making shrink rays powered by magic crystals. It's an insult to your intelligence and mine.”

"Maybe, but if it does work, wouldn't that be cool?"

"If Wily shrinks every major city, it'll destroy the economy, including the Underground which we normally trade with," Elec Man continued.

"Quit looking for holes in Wily's plans," Proto Man said dismissively. "Just go with the flow." 

The door to the armory at the end of the hallway was straight ahead of them. Proto Man looked over at Elec Man, and said in a casual yet low voice, "Hey Elec Man, do me a favor? Know our recycling room? Go to the scrap metal compactor, turn it on, and step inside.”

The words didn’t immediately register. Elec Man was so accustomed to abusing Wily in front of Proto Man that he had suspected nothing off about Proto Man accompanying him toward the armory instead of reporting to the hangar as Wily had asked. He glanced over at Proto Man’s face, which cheerful yet unreadable, the overhead lights shining dully off his visor, and lowered his own voice. "Is this another one of your jokes? I will be destroyed.”

Proto Man shrugged. ”Yeah, I think you will. That’s an order. Hop to it.”

Elec Man felt…stunned. Wily was inventing shrink rays and planning to auction off cities, and now, now, Proto Man had finally decided to act like a true second-in-command and dispose of the dangerous and defiant criminal within their ranks?! 

With no choice but to obey, Elec Man glared at Proto Man and was about to turn back down the hallway toward the recycling room—but before Elec Man had a chance to fully process a premature and unpleasant demise, Proto Man quickly stopped him.

"I'm just kidding, I'd never order you to hurt yourself, Wily'd have a fit. Just testing your loyalty, you're a good sport.”

Elec Man’s shock, indignation, and betrayal evaporated instantly. He couldn’t believe Proto Man had had him going there. It appeared Proto Man had picked up more about acting like a ruthless gangster than Elec Man had given him credit for. Though he felt annoyed for falling for the ruse, Elec Man surmised Proto Man’s motivation hadn’t been for a cruel laugh at his expense. "This has something to do with Ice Man's betrayal, doesn't it?"

"You know it. Of all the other Robot Masters Dr. Wily's reprogrammed, your personality and will have changed the least…and in your case, that could be a problem.”

"It gives me no pleasure following your orders. If I could disobey Wily, you'd both be dead.”

Proto Man laughed. ”See, that's what I'm talkin' about! Though no offense, if you were capable of killing me, you wouldn't be here.”

"So how do you justify keeping me here against my will?”

"Never said I did,” Proto Man said frankly, though he paused on the question for a moment. “…Do you believe in karma?”

"No."

"Well, while I can't go into the details of your past, let's just say maybe you had something like this coming.”

Being forced to work for an inept mad scientist as punishment for being a member of the Syndicate was a bizarre definition of karma. Elec Man cast an appraising look at Light’s prototype, who willing assisted Wily in unleashing chaos on an unsuspecting populace just for the fun of it, and asked, "And what does karma have in store for you?”

Proto Man smirked. "I don't believe in karma. Listen, I don't understand what you're unhappy about. I know you think working at Skull Fortress is slumming, but by this time next week, you'll be back on top. In the mean time, you've got important jobs to do, jobs too tedious for a human like Wily to do it himself. He's the creative architect, after all, which takes up all his time.”

Elec Man remained unmoved; he refused to see crime as a game like Proto Man did. ”A child can dream up a shrink ray."

"Yeah, but only a mad genius can build one. Wily specializes in impossible inventions. For example, you were reprogrammed by a gun made of vacuum tubes and price scanner parts. Isn't that amazing?”

Elec Man ignored the last jab as he crossed through the door into the armory and shut it firmly behind him. 

Keep talking, idiot. Your time will come—and it won’t seem fun when you finally face the harsh reality of crime.

[spencers-renaissance]

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for. 

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia 

Pairing: Gen 

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered. 

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis. 

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label. 

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information. 

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods. 

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised. 

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well. 

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases. 

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps. 

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes. 

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?” 

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case. 

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner. 

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better. 

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.  

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully. 

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that. 

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively. 

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away. 

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air. 

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand. 

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning. 

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important. 

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.” 

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you. 

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it. 

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it. 

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

[infernwetrust]

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 1

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: Michael has some business handled at his California home.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, a lil smut, MURDER, some graphic descriptions

WC: 3.1k

A/N: I thought long and hard about starting this, but I’m gonna go ahead and give it a shot. Outpost Michael fits this perfectly of course, but he’ll cut his hair every now and then lol. This will have it’s own bracket on my master list. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The air was cool. The evening was just right. Your husband Michael had decided to throw a small party that consisted of only close friends, family members, and some staff from your residency and Michael's line of work. Party music played moderately in the background as the backyard of the Santa Monica Villa you and Michael purchased this same year was filled with laughter, dancing, and casual conversation. Servers carried around platters of the most delectable finger foods. Drinks were also being served. Cars were lined up in the driveway, late arrivals having to park on the side of the road. Luckily, Michael always sent one of his guards on a golf cart to pick up his guests that had to park far away.

Michael laid in his hammock, across his rather large pool so that he was away from everyone else. Michael dressed comfortably. He wore a beautiful salmon pink floral shirt and white slacks, with a white belt. No need for shoes. Around Michael's neck was a platinum rope chain that glistened when the light shined on it just right. Around his wrist was a platinum iced out Rolex watch, his name engraved on the inside, one of his favorite gifts from you. The only ring he decided that he wanted to wear today was his wedding band, which shocked you. Michael always wore all of his rings.

Curled up against Michael's chest yours and his beautiful 1 year old boy, Malcolm. He was blessed with a full head of hair, just as blonde as his father's. He took after your eye color, but his resemblance to his father was unmatched. No worries because in his twin brother's arm was your handsome 3 year old son, Michael,who captured most of your features. All really, but your eye color. Michael won that fight again. Junior, is what everyone calls him. On the opposite side of Michael, still in his hammock was you, dressed in that sundress Michael loved to show you off in. Your wedding ring glistened on your finger, no matter what time of day it was or where you were. Michael made sure of that. Around your neck, your favorite Pearl necklace.

You lay head your head on Michael's chest, rubbing your hand gently against the back of your one year old. Michael raises his arm slowly as to not alert the sleeping child and takes a sip of his whiskey. He's glaring at someone, hard. And you know why and who, but you rather choose to not address it. All you were waiting for were the words.

"You know, brother." Jim said to Michael, using his free hand that wasn't holding Junior, to also take a sip of his drink. "I don't see how you do it."

"And what is it that I do, Jim?" Michael questioned, turning his head slightly to meet his brothers gaze. Junior nestled his head back into Jim's chest, mouth full of goldfish out of the bowl he was holding. Jim sat in a chair, adjacent to Michael's hammock.

"How you stay so calm and collected about things."

"Dirty work is not something I'm a fan of."

"But I am."

"I know, so that's why I gave this task to you."

"You know I'll do anything for my family."

"I just don't see why we can't just kick them out." you mumbled, watching as Malcolm grabbed your finger in his sleep as you tried to put your hand back down from his back.

"Because in this life, lessons have to be taught." Michael answered you, putting his glass down to wrap his arm fully around you. Michael made eye contact with his other twin, Duncan, who sat amongst a group of women, one of them in his lap, stroking his hair. He nodded, giving Michael the cue. "Will you go ahead and take the kids inside?" You sighed, sitting up, looking Michael in his soft blue eyes.

"Baby, you don't have to-,"

"One day you'll understand, Y/N." Michael said, cutting you off, grabbing one of your hands and giving it a few small kisses. Getting up, you gently picked up Malcolm, holding him close to you.

"Come on, Junior."

"Nooooooo." Junior whined, not wanting to leave his Uncle's side. "Don't wanna."

"Hey." Jim said, playfully grabbing Junior's tummy, causing him to giggle. "What was that phrase I taught you?"

"The first time." Junior responded happily.

"The first time what?"

"Listen!" he clapped, letting go of his bowl which Jim quickly caught before it fell to the floor.

"Smart boy. Now go with inside with your mommy. We'll play later, yeah?" Junior quickly nodded, scurrying off of Jim's lap and to your side, grabbing your hand. He turned around momentarily to look back at Jim, who shot him a quick wink before you took both boys inside. You also managed to scurry up the other children as well, promising treats and a good show on TV. You had them at treats.

"He loves you so damn much." Michael said, sitting up, hanging his feet of his hammock to come face to face with his brother. "Sometimes I swear he thinks you're his father."

"I mean. I could be. We're twins."

"Watch it, playboy."

Jim chuckled, reaching for his drink to take another sip. He dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, black slacks, and a pair of dark blue dress shoes. A black Louis Vuitton belt, midnight silver buckle, lined his waist. He sighed, reaching for his pistol that was tucked neatly behind him is waistband. He quickly removed the clip, checking it, and popping it back in before setting it down on the table next to Michael.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Jim questioned. "He's been with us for a few years, Mike."

"All the more reason to get rid of him. I've taken care of you for years and you betray me like that?" Michael answered. "He knows too much and has seen too much."

"That's true." Jim mumbled, rubbing his hand underneath his chin. "What are they doing with his body?"

"Burning it." Michael said quickly, squinting his eyes at Jim. "Like we do 90% of the time. Do you not want to, Jim?" Michael's question caused Jim to laugh as he got up, returning his shirt back into his slacks. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table, taking one out, placing it between his lips and giving it a light, tossing the box back on the table. He inhaled sharply, before exhaling lengthy.

"You and I both know, Michael." Jim began as he took another hit of his cigarette. "That I shy away from nothing. Especially not an, how do I put this, opportunity." Jim tucked his gun back into his waistband.

"And speaking of opportunity." Jim continued, looking out into the body of people before hitting his cigarette one last time and then handing it to Michael. "Here's mine."

Jim made his way, at a decent pace, back to the other side of the pool, where all the party goers stood. He took his time, waving and smiling at familiar faces. Spotting his target, he moved with just a little bit more urgency. It's such a shame that Bryce had to go. Michael watched Jim as he moved, continuing to sip his drink. Part of him wanted to look away because this hurt him as much as it was going to kill Bryce. Bryce was one of his favorites.

He remembered when he stumbled across Bryce who limped out of an alleyway, screaming for help as Michael closed up his bar. When Michael laid eyes on him, his clothes were completely ruined by blood. He held onto his stomach, collapsing onto the sidewalk, coughing up more blood as he spoke. Michael made his way over to the boy, kneeling down by his side, removing his hand from his wound, watching as the he poured out.

"How bad do you want to live?" Michael asked, cocking his head at the boy.

"What the fuck is up with you man?!" he questioned. "Help me!"

"I asked you a question." Michael spoke again. "You want to live right? I could just let you die, here."

"Um, kinda, yeah!"

"Then tell me how bad you want to live."

"Bad man! Bad! I want to fucking live bad! Please don't let me die!" Michael grinned. How fragile life was, he thought. How it could just be taken from you at any moment. Moments like these.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Br-Br-Bryce." he responded before blacking out from the pain.

"We're going to get you alllllll fixed up, Bryce."

Michael took Bryce, not to a hospital, but instead back to his property, where his own private doctor could deal with Bryce. They managed to take care of what they discovered was a gunshot wound instead of a stab wound like Michael originally thought when he found Bryce.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked Dr. Joseph as he stepped into the rather large, renovated, shed he had given to his doctor for his medical practices. He even was nice enough to give him a little office space as well.

"Well. He's very lucky considering how much he was bleeding." he answered. "Those two bullets I removed barely missed his vital organs, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Which room do you have him in? Is he awake now?"

"Room 3. It has the most room. The last time I checked on him, yes."

Michael nodded at his words, making his way over to the room. He entered quietly, not wanting to startle, Bryce. Bryce sat up in the bed, sipping on an ice cold water, scrolling through the movies on the flatscreen TV Michael had gotten installed in every room. Jim's idea, of course. There was an awkward silence in the room as Bryce didn't know whether to thank him first or say fuck him for waiting until he passed out and asking him all those stupid questions.

Michael didn't say anything as he walked around to the side of Bryce's bed, pulling up a near by chair to sit closer to him. Michael leaned back in his chair, throwing a leg halfway over his knee as he clasped his hands together. Bryce never took his eyes off of him, not sure what his next move would be.

"You're welcome by the way." Michael said. "Isn't it nice having someone take care of you without all the pesky need for insurance information or just a bill in general?"

"Why are you doing this?" Bryce questioned.

"Answer me this, Bryce." Michael leaned forward in his seat. "What if I offered you a chance to start over? A new chance at life. Somewhere, where you could be safe, your meals paid for. And all you have to do is stay by my side, loyal to me."

"I'm not gay, man."

"Who said anything about being gay?" Michael questioned, raising his eyebrow. "And what if I was?"

"Listen." Bryce breathed out. "I didn't mean to offend you. Look. Thank you. For bringing me, to, well wherever we are, and helping me. And once I'm all healed up, I'll be all out of your hair."

"Do you have any family, Bryce?" Bryce's whole attitude changed. He looked softer.

"No..." he answered silently.

"Well you do now."

Jim was just a few feet away from Bryce now when the two made eye contact. And when Jim reached, rather quickly, behind his back, Bryce knew. Of course he knew what he had done. Bryce turned around to start running, when Jim quickly cocked his gun and fired two shots, both at the back of his legs. Everyone stopped what they were doing, in shock, but not enough shock to runaway. It was Jim and who dares question one of Michael's brothers. Everyone watched as Bryce fell to the floor, screaming bloody murder in pain. Jim continued to walk at his leisurely pace to him, standing in front of him.

"Now." Jim said aloud, over the groans and screams of Bryce. "I know you all looked at Bryce as family, right? 4 years ago my brother found this piece of scum bleeding to death, begging for help. And of course Michael helped him."

"I'm sorry!" Bryce yelled, hands reaching out to grab Jim's ankle and it took everything in him not to kill Bryce right then and there, but he wanted to get his point across.

"And with the help of our wonderful Dr. Joseph, he was taken care of, free of charge, can you believe that?" Jim continued. "And all we asked for in return was just his unwavering loyalty." Jim snatched his ankle away from Bryce's hand, stepping on it, instead, causing him to scream out again as his fingers were crushed.

"But when you lie to AND you steal from the hand that feeds you." Jim looked around at everyone as he said this. "There are consequences." Jim kneeled down in front of Bryce who looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, pleading with Jim.

"Please..." Bryce whispered to Jim, grabbing ahold of him again. "Please Jim, I'm sorry. I was desperate."

Jim grabbed him by his face, snapping his head up to look all the way at him. He looked at the gun in his opposite hand, before looking back at Bryce. The small breeze that was in the air had come completely still, everyone virtually silent as they watched the events unfold. When things first went missing around the house when Michael would hold meetings, they didn't even think to look at Bryce. Not until Michael had trusted him enough to appoint him as Duncan's right hand man. Duncan handled all of the cartel's finances and when he kept coming up short on the days just him and Bryce would do the counting, he caught on rather quickly.

"I liked you Bryce." Jim said, jaw clenched. "I really did. We all did. We loved you almost, but you know the rules, don't you?"

"Jim please..." Bryce whined, starting to cry his eyes out, but only enough for Jim to see and hear. "Please man. I'll do anything. Anything please!"

"What did I tell you happened to those who betrayed the cartel? What is your own way out once you're in? I mean I could just let you go, yeah? But once you walk out those doors you become a liability to me, my brothers, and my family. And I just can't have that."

"Death..." Bryce mumbled. "But we can work something out, please!"  Jim chuckled as he let go of Bryce's face, quickly cocking his gun again, before holding Bryce's face up again. He put the gun inside of Bryce's mouth, looking him dead in his eyes.

"Maybe in another life." And with those words said, Jim pulled the trigger, the sounds of bloods and mush splattering across the ground. A few turned their heads, not wanting to see the sight. Jim looked up and back across the pool at his brother who downed the rest of his drink, nodding at Jim.

"Clean it up." Jim said to the disposal crew who stood near by, rising to his feet, and tucking his gun back away. "Everyone else can carry on."

///

The warm water danced on your skin as you stood in the shower, washing away all events from today. You put your face underneath the water for a few seconds before running both of your hands through your hair. When you turned around you were startled by the presence of your husband, Michael, who stood behind you, a little soaked from the backlash of you being underneath the water. His vibrant blue eyes were now several shades darker as he was out of the sun light. He simply just stared at you.

You offered to trade him positions under the water so he could get completely wet too and of course he didn't object. You were now staring at him as he stepped underneath the water, sighing as it hit his skin. He ran his hands over his face as he turned around to face you, getting off as much water as he could before he opened his eyes again to look at you. Water dripped off his skin and your eyes couldn't help but trail all over him. He was so beautiful. His long blonde hair, over shoulder length, completely wet now as the water continued to pour down on him. You almost smiled, remember when Michael told you that he was going to start growing his hair out. He cut it every now and then, but nothing compared to long haired beauty.

"I'm sorry." he spoke, running his hands over his face again. "I know you don't like when.. you know." You walked over to your husband, pressing your forehead against his, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His large hands found their way to small of your back, pulling you even closer.

"I know..." you mumbled, using your thumbs to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not mad at you, Michael. I just don't want you to become... emotionless."

"Everything I do is to protect you and our boys. Without my family, I am nothing. This empire? We built it, Y/N. Not just me. I'm still here emotionally, but you know it works. He was too much of a liability to just let go. And when the right information gets into the wrong hands, I'm only sure you can imagine what happens."

"Do you ever get afraid, Michael?"

"Only if it deals with you and my sons." he said, looking down at you, smiling. Cheeky bastard.

"I'm being serious. What if one day you go out and don't come back home? What if we get attacked here? What will I do? What will I tell our children?"

"Don't you ever worry about that, my love." Michael reassured you. "As long as my brothers and I are alive and breathing, no one will be in any kind of danger. I promise." Michael brushed his lips across yours as he finished his sentence. You pulled him in for a kiss. A hungry one, it was, as your tongues wasted no time entering each other's mouths, Michael's dominance showing as you basically let him devour you, melting away at his touch. He backed you up against the shower wall and you gasped against him as it was cold. He picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him like your life depended on it. 

"Let me help you forget..." he said against your lips, brushing his nose across yours and you remembered, just how in love you are with Michael.

Taglist: @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @jimmason @theneverendinghunger

[surveillance-0011]

The Basement Plays Smash Bros

Isaac: He’s like 5 so he’s not too good but the others usually go easy on him. Probably plays as Pikachu or Pokemon Trainer, maybe Ness. Plays for fun and w/ items on.

Magdalene: Plays as one of the princesses or one of the cute characters like Jigglypuff. Just here to have a good time. Decent but Smash would never be her first choice of games to play. She also keeps the peace when things get heated.

Eve: Plays to not hurt Isaac’s feelings by refusing. Intentionally loses or fucks around except for one time Azazel was like “I bet you’d suck even if you tried” and she beat him like 3 times in a row. Idk who’d she choose... Maybe Meta Knight or the blue or black Kirby skin?? Samus?? Bayonetta??

Cain: Chooses the “cool” characters a lot. Maybe Cloud? But also would play as Mario and Greninja. Maybe Hero. Spams attacks at first but eventually kind of gets good. He and Isaac usually fight on the same team. Will pick up any item.

Samson: Chooses either one of the Belmonts or Street Fighter characters, maybe Bowser or Ganondorf. Or Terry?? Maybe Lucario. Probably the best at the game, out of the kids at least. Isaac and Cain ask him for help with story mode. Doesn’t like playing with items on. Lowkey has a hard time remembering which Smash ball is the real one.

Eden: Tries out every character. They like Corin, Mewtwo and Pit a lot. Sometimes they’ll just choose random for shits and giggles.

Judas: Not really into it and at first his reaction is like “ugh why are you BABIES playing a BABY GAME it’s like some brutish fighting game but with a bunch of KIDDY characters. Waste of time” but Samson is like “man stfu how about you play around and see for yourself”. He doesn’t admit it but he finds it,,, kinda fun. Plays as Robin.

Lazarus: It’s not his cup of tea and he’s kinda bad but he can have a good time w/ it. It’s not about winning it’s just good to do something with the other kids that’s NOT gonna get them all killed. Plays as Pit or Yoshi, maybe Dr. Mario.

Azazel: Annoying little shit. Like he’s a decent player but his attitude is just... ugh. Salt for days, unironically tells you to get good, spammy and edgeguardy. Plays as Joker or Ridley or both. He does like Dark Pit too tho. Has probably given Isaac a controller that was unplugged/uncharged/off/set as a cpu at least once.

Lilith: Has only played once or twice. Plays as Rosalina or Olimar. Kind of bad at it but she has a good time.

Bethany: Plays as Zelda, maybe Min Min. Skilled at the game, wins a lot. Turns off most items except for the pokeballs and assist trophies, as well as the Smash ball.

Keeper: Plays as Wario, kind of holding out for Waluigi. Not the best at the game. Pretty chill.

Wrath: Melee fanboy, probably. Rage quits if he loses too much in a row. Mains a “high tier” character (bold of you to assume I know who is high tier). Thinks that “It’s just a game” is a weak mindset.

Greed: Plays as King K. Rool, initially for the jokes but it is not a joke anymore.

Siren: Purple inkling or Bayonetta. Decent at the game and v chill. 

Min Min: Plays as Min Min. 

Hornfel: Plays as Fox or Joker half the time. The other time he uses a Sans or Shaggy mii. He’s alright.

Loki: Casual gamer but pretty good at competitive play. Plays as Banjo, maybe?  Or Mario.

Dark One: He’s amazing. Or, at least, amazing at being annoying. His playstyle is the way it is solely so he can Ruin Your Day In Particular. Probably has an Expensive Gamer Setup. Tells you to get good. Plays as Pichu and Pikachu.

Adversary: Video games aren’t usually his thing but Smash is one of those things that’s just fun even if you aren’t super into that stuff. He’s pretty good at it, having learned a lot from observing. He plays as Wolf.

Mom: Probably thinks Smash is the spawn of the devil.

Pestilence: Isn’t too interested in playing and even if he was the controller he uses would have to be sanitized like a million times afterwards. Instead opts to watch like half of it and comment needlessly. “War, you should probably use one of your smash attacks.” “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN DOING DIPSHIT” “No, I mean the one with the ball” “FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME THERE’S NO SMASH BALL WE PLAY WITHOUT IT”

War: It’s a good thing that he’s not super into video games bc if he was he’d be even worse to deal with. Like Wrath he can get pretty pissy and he gets VERY heated but he doesn’t really throw tantrums over it like Wrath does. Also he’s aware that he’s not super good at the game. His play style is pretty annoying and kinda spammy (whether he does it on purpose or not is debatable, but he probably is). Dislikes playing with items on. Mains one of the sword characters (probably one of the Links).

Death: He’s not really into video games but he catches on to how things work quick and gets pretty good for a casual player. Mains Donkey Kong, for whatever reason. You’d think he’d choose a more “serious” character but nope. The Monkey is his character of choice.

[senorarelojes]

Ficlet: Violator (1/1)

Summary: This prompt from @songsofgayanddevotion and @raphinas: "basically, dave goes to have a prostate exam and alans the doctor and basically dave comes over the table while alan is checking him LMAOOOOO" Rating: Mature

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When Dave opened the door, he thought he’d gotten the wrong office at first. “Oh, sorry,” he said hesitantly, hovering in the doorway. At Dr. Miller’s desk was an immensely good-looking young man who was scanning a clipboard, his eyebrows raised inquiringly at Dave. “Erm, I think I’ve got the wrong office--” Dave began.

“Are you David Gahan?” the man said pleasantly before rising to his feet. He was a little taller than Dave, six feet of trim muscle in neatly pressed grey trousers and a black Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was a world away from the casual polo tees and slacks that Dr. Miller favoured. “You’re here for the prostate check?”

Dave only belatedly realised his mouth was hanging open when the bloke’s eyebrows inched higher, waiting for Dave’s response. “Um, yeah, yeah that’s right,” he said hurriedly, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Sorry, I was expecting Dr. Dan Miller--”

“He’s down with a very bad flu,” the bloke said, before offering his hand. He had the longest, most elegant fingers Dave had ever seen, and Dave forced himself not to think about where those fingers would be later. “I’m Dr. Alan Wilder, I’m the locum taking over his patients for today.”

“Oh. Um. Cool.” Dave shook his hand a little awkwardly, trying not to notice the nice firm grip of Dr. Wilder’s handshake. “I’m Dave Gahan.”

Dr. Wilder’s mouth curled up a little in amusement. It somehow made him even more attractive; Dave was fucking doomed. “Yes, I know,” Dr. Wilder said, tilting the clipboard at Dave. “Do have a seat, Mr. Gahan.”

“Dave!” he blurted out, before realising that Dr. Wilder was staring at him. “I mean, Dave is fine. No need for Mr. Gahan.”

“Sure.” Dr. Wilder just smiled at him, and Dave decided this must be divine punishment for all the grief he’d put his mother through as a wayward teenager. “So I read through your files, and I understand you told Dr. Miller that you had concerns about prostate cancer.”

Dave nodded, feeling a bit more settled back on familiar territory. “Yeah, my uncle was diagnosed with it last month. And I don’t know the medical history of my dad - my bio dad - so I thought I should get it checked on.”

Dr. Wilder simply nodded without judgement. “You’re in your 30s now, so you’re not in the typical at-risk group for prostate cancer. Still, whenever family history is involved, it is understandable if you have concerns.”

Dave let out a long breath, relieved that Dr. Wilder seemed to be taking him seriously for now. Besides, Dr. Wilder had a very calm, relaxing manner about him that felt infectious, something about his voice that was pleasant and soothing. Dave would pay money to hear this bloke read audiobooks.

Then again, Dave would also pay to hear and see the very handsome Dr. Wilder do a whole manner of other things.

“So what’s going to happen now are two things,” Dr. Wilder explained. “First, we will conduct a Digital Rectal Exam, which would be a physical examination by a trained physician to see if you have an enlarged prostate. Then we will also do a blood test to check your prostate-specific antigen levels.”

“Right.” Dave desperately tried to ignore the heat suffusing his face. He wasn’t going to blush in front of a medical professional because of a fucking prostate exam. “Yup, I get that.”

Here, Dr. Wilder hesitated. “It’s important that you feel comfortable with the doctor conducting the digital rectal exam,” he said quietly. “If you would rather have Dr. Miller do the test with you, we can reschedule--”

“No I want you,” Dave said a little too quickly. His face felt like it was on fire as Dr. Wilder’s smile curled up in amusement again. “I mean-- fuck, sorry. I meant I don’t mind you doing it.”

“If you’re sure.” Dr. Wilder was already pulling the drawer open and taking out a box of latex gloves, so hell yes, Dave was fucking sure.

Dave tried not to look too eager as he unbuttoned his jeans and shed them, going to where Dr. Wilder was telling him to stand. “Could you take off your briefs, then bend over the examination bed?” Dr. Wilder politely asked him, and Dave had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t respond that he would do anything Dr. Wilder asked him to that involved beds and getting naked. Slipping off his briefs and folding them on top of his jeans in a neat pile, Dave shivered a little at the cold air hitting his exposed bottom.

Getting into position as he leaned against the bed, Dave heard the snap of Dr. Wilder’s gloves, along with his footsteps coming closer. “Relax,” Dr. Wilder said, a cool hand resting on Dave’s bum. “I’m a doctor.”

Dave could only nod in response, not trusting himself to speak. Already he could smell Dr. Wilder’s clean scent, a mix of aftershave and a faint whiff of tobacco. Dave closed his eyes, thinking about Dr. Wilder’s hands on his body, touching the most intimate of places that only his ex-wives had breached. He could also feel the heat emanating off Dr. Wilder’s body behind him, and Dave couldn’t help thinking about what the man would feel like in bed, spooning behind Dave and fucking him from behind, that sly refined mouth pressing kisses to Dave’s neck.

To Dave’s horror, his dick started taking a very keen interest in Dr. Wilder’s nearness as well as the lurid fantasies running through Dave’s head. “It’s fine,” Dr. Wilder reassured him, his voice dropping to that low and relaxing tone again. “Don’t worry about it, it happens to patients sometimes.”

Dave was thankful that Dr. Wilder was both acknowledging his erection while not being weird about it or put off. “I don’t, I’m sorry--”

“Relax, Dave.” The silky way Dr. Wilder said his name made Dave jerk a little, his cock starting to leak over the sterile paper sheets on the examination bed.

Now Dave could hear the squirting of lube from a pump bottle, then Dr. Wilder slicking his fingers. “Spread your legs a little wider,” Dr. Wilder said, and maybe it was Dave’s imagination but the doctor’s voice sounded a little rougher than normal. “Mmm yes, that’s good. Open up for me.”

Dave bit back a moan as he felt Dr. Wilder’s finger slipping inside him, slowly at first so as to help him get used to the intrusion. “Okay?” Dr. Wilder asked, his voice so gentle that Dave fought the temptation to turn around and kiss the living daylights out of him.

“Yeah.” Dave kept his breaths slow and easy, biting down on his forearm as Dr. Wilder slid in a second finger, in and out of Dave in an easy glide. “Keep-keep going.”

Dr. Wilder didn’t say anything, but he pressed a comforting hand on the small of Dave’s back while his fingers inside Dave were searching around for his prostate. This time Dave couldn’t hold back the moan when Dr. Wilder finally found it, pressing on it gently and making Dave leak embarrassing amounts of pre-come all over the covered bed.

“All right?” Dr. Wilder was definitely breathing faster now, even though his voice was still even, but Dave was too busy rolling his hips back, greedily demanding for more pressure from those talented fingers, too far gone with pleasure to care about propriety and inappropriate doctor-patient boundaries and getting sued by the hospital. All he cared about was the insanely hot man behind him with his fingers sending Dave through waves and waves of toe-curling pleasure, on the brink of one of the most intense orgasms he would ever experience.

“Dave--” Dr. Wilder sounded so breathless and stunned that when his fingers crooked against Dave’s prostate again, Dave came and came with a resounding yell, spurting all over the bed and his own bare feet, his legs shaking so hard that they almost couldn’t hold him up. Dave was gasping for air, trying to recover from the brain-melting orgasm as his head thunked down on the bed.

Oh fuck, Dave thought, remembering that Dr. Wilder definitely did not sign up to finger fuck one of his patients into oblivion. Shakily standing upright, Dave turned around with a litany of apologies at the ready. “Fucking hell, I’m so sorry--”

Dr. Wilder was staring at him, his cheeks pink with pleasure and his eyes brighter than stars. His gaze dropped down to Dave’s mouth, and Dave suddenly realised - with a white-hot pleasure - that he had nothing to be embarrassed about because the doctor was licking his lips while staring at Dave’s dripping cock.

“I, uhh--” Dr. Wilder quickly took off his gloves before handing Dave a box of tissues. “I will give you a while to clean up, Mr. Gahan. Someone else will be along shortly to help you. Sorry about that.”

“What do you-- wait!” Dave called out as Dr. Wilder left the examination room, but it was too late.

***

After Dave had finished cleaning up and putting on his jeans again, a nurse came in and apologetically told him that Dr. Wilder had been called to assist with an emergency, so Dr. Miller would follow up with Dave next week about his test results. “Emergency my arse,” Dave grumbled under his breath as the nurse led him out. Outside, Dr Wilder was nowhere to be seen.

Then Dave had an idea.

He only had to wait outside the hospital for about 15 minutes before he spotted Dr. Wilder heading to the designated smoking area, looking a bit shaken as he dug around for his cigarettes. When Dave walked up to him, Wilder avoided his eyes. “If you have any complaints, you can lodge them with the hospital,” he said in a tired voice.

Dave gaped at him. “Wh- wait, why would I want to lodge a complaint?” he said in amazement. “I came to fuckin’ apologise to you, mate.”

“Oh.” Dr. Wilder took a deep drag of his cigarette, a bit confused. “So you’re not mad I took advantage of you?”

Dave stepped a little closer, taking Dr. Wilder’s cigarette from him for his own drag. “As long as you’re not mad I came all over your table.”

They smoked in silence for a while, at least until one of the nurses popped her head out of the back door and called Dr. Wilder’s name, saying his next patient was here. Dr. Wilder stubbed out the cigarette, looking carefully at Dave.

“They warned us about this in pre-med, you know,” Dr. Wilder said with a little smile. “Being attracted to one of your patients. Never happened to me until today.”

Dave’s grin at him was so wide that it was hurting his cheeks a little. “Well, when Dan Miller comes back, I won’t be your patient anymore, will I?”

Dr. Wilder’s smile widened in response. “No, I suppose not.”

“Then it’s a date.” Dave grabbed his arm, taking the pen from his pocket and writing his number on Dr. Wilder’s arm. “So you don’t have to nick my mobile from my personal data.”

“Because that would be wrong.” Dr. Wilder smirked at him before heading back inside, leaving Dave laughing at the smoking area.

[staticscreenwriting]

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him. 

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do. 

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “ 

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “ 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.” 

“ Old tattoo? “ 

Billy swallows audibly “scars.” 

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer. 

“ Dr. Pepper? “ 

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “ 

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window. 

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down. 

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole. 

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days. 

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head. 

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips. 

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself. 

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?” 

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“ 

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?” 

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now. 

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility. 

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing. 

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken. 

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars.  Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand. 

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

[charcubed]

Is it me, or is all this casual slur usage just the culmination of everyone treating "homophobia" like a Funni Joek word for years? We are what we pretend to be and all.

Eh, possible, but I don’t really think it’s connected? I mean... maybe. But I too will joke that an inconvenience that affects me is “homophobia,” and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that in and of itself in moderation.

But what I do think this maybe stems from? (Hot takes incoming...)

A) The way stan culture now sometimes includes this whole victimization vibe of jumping to “you’re literally homophobic/lesbophobic/biphobic/etc if you disagree with me on this topic” in what should be genuine discussions, which is unhelpful and often untrue. Or “oooo you wanna call me a f*g/d*ke so bad” just to be an asshole to rile people up. It’s all immature bad faith nonsense. So in that sense, you have this twin effect of people thinking the word “homophobic” doesn’t mean anything because they sling it uselessly and pointlessly to people they don’t like all the time, so when they’re told their behavior is genuinely homophobic they easily ignore that out of habit... and you have people thinking slur use is all universally reclaimed across all communities, because they toss some specific slurs around themselves, which is not how any of this works. 

A big example of the latter is the fact that people can self-identify as or call themselves a slur that belongs to their community, sure, but they don’t get to assign it to other people without consent. Then it’s just slur use, full stop. And also the fact that no, if you’re a bi or lesbian cis woman that doesn’t mean you can reclaim slurs used in a derogatory way against queer men–or that one (1) queer man telling you he thinks it’s okay speaks on behalf of the entire community. It’s such a lack of queer community/history knowledge, all around–and a lack of respect, or lack of consideration for others’ experiences and feelings.

B) It also stems from hatred of men, or disregard for men’s feelings. I’m not kidding; I do think some of this is a serious culmination of that becoming normalized. It’s the subtle pervasiveness of this online idea of “It’s okay to be mean to men because men are trash, actually” and a dislike of masculinity on principle. Which, again: not how this works. But it’s why people don’t seem to care when they’re called out, and they seem to be incapable of recognizing that some of their “jokes”–i.e. threats of fake violence against someone, bodyshaming, flagrant use of homophobic slurs often used against queer men, etc.–are really not okay. But when they’re told “if someone said this about a woman, would you think it’s fine?” they just laugh and brush it off because... It’s men. What does it matter, right? It’s not that serious.

It’s like this undercurrent of the idea of “Men aren’t oppressed so there’s nothing bad about me being callous and cynical and cruel about them. They’ll live.” And not only does that demonstrate a severe, depressing lack of empathy, but it’s also untrue and not intersectional; queer men are oppressed, for example. Toxic masculinity is a problem and a struggle because while it’s not oppression, it’s a societal issue that does come with pressure. But this is the mindset these people seem to have, especially if their garbage content is about fictional men or male celebrities... because then the excuses are “he’s not real” or “he’s never gonna see this.” But they don’t realize that that doesn’t mean this sort of talk is suddenly okay and harmless if theoretically not seen by the people it’s specifically about; that this content can get normalized in this exact way, whether or not they realize it, because they can’t account for what the impressionable young people reading their posts are internalizing; and that it then also runs the risk of bleeding over into IRL spaces either at conventions with actors or just everyday interactions with other real men/queer people. 

And ultimately, regardless, seeing this casual cruelty in the name of edgy humor makes real people–and especially real men–reading the words slung around online uncomfortable. That alone should be enough. But people seem to think it’s their God-given right to call anything a shitpost and it’ll suddenly be harmless.

I’m not really sure why apathy and abrasiveness and cynicism seem to be what’s considered The Cool And Funny Thing To Do, but for some reason it is, because the people popularizing that are the kinds of people who get big audiences in fandom spaces now. And it’s only getting worse. Not to sound like a hippie but uhhhh kindness and empathy and respect should be cool, actually? And if you can’t be funny without being edgy and offensive then maybe you’re not that funny? Wild.

TL;DR: I don’t think it’s from considering “homophobia” a funny joke word but I do think it’s about other phrases or mindsets along those lines being normalized as jokes.