#originally come from the land I live on and research

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hey, I’m sorry to dump this on ya but your blog gives me a lotta hope and I just wondered if you had anything to say to my current ails- I am but a very anxious teen and I am so scared. I see so many people talking of how the world “Will end in 2040” or how “damn the past was so much better because it was simpler” and I am lowkey starting to believe that. I’ve got a problem with romanticizing a past I wasn’t even a part of and I really don’t want to live in some awful dystopian future and I fear I’ve missed out on so much because of when I was born :( and how come no one can afford basic shit anymore? I don’t wanna have no money at all! I really would like to be happy in the future but with all the bullshit caused by social media and the lack of money it seems bleak. I’m sorry that this is such a negative ask but I am not doing so hot and was hoping you’d have an insight ? Don’t respond if you don’t wanna

Hey ya there sprout 🌱 it can be really tough out there!

Your feelings are valid, so valid in fact that those exact feelings are why Solarpunk as it currently exists is around! We've all been there!

Between the wages of the top 10% of ppl vs everyone else being greater then during the French revolution, the average citizen globally being worse off then when the great depression was happening, climate crisis after crisis, all while consuming endless bits of info both horrifying (ex Politics) and hopeful (ex Social Media activism) it's waaaay too much for anyone to bare alone! Much less constantly! That burden shouldn't be on any of us!! But since it is, I'm here to help at least lighten the load even if temporary.

The best thing to do when we feel like this is to stop. Find 5 minutes to be still. We are fight/flight/fawn creatures and we will only loop in our solutions without actual clear choices if we don't Chill Out. We're mammals our natural state is Chilling Out and Play.

Next, think about how cool the planet is and particularly how cool humans are?

How there's finger flutes on ceilings thousands of years old, smaller then average indicating that parents held their children up to draw on the ceilings.

Think about the invention of looms and spinning fibers! What other creature could do that? Think about the kids that could build Snowmans without aching fingers because of lovingly knit mittens.

We sing like whales do, like birds do, like wolves do, and we do it to share stories and ideas over food! It is the first things babies mimic! We have songs so old we no longer know their origin just that they came from love! We even have songs to herd cattle meaning music transcends just us but bleeds into our relationships with the planet!

That we have play behavior! Just like wolves and foxes and whales and octopus it is so built into our DNA to play its generally how we learn things! This ranges from agriculture (children tossing seeds around, blowing on dandelions!) To chores (parachute games > folding laundry, playing pretend > usually chores/job based) to hunting (tag! Hide and seek!)

Think about our interconnectiveness with the planet too, how we are guided by Honey guides to find abandoned hives to share in the spoils of bread and honey. How Sweetgrass needs us to flourish, how berries and nuts need us to spread across the land, how we fix other animals broken bones and beaks and help them return home when otherwise they wouldn't ever get home.

Now that you can remember we deserve to be here, that you deserve to be here. We can look at the current situation and bare it.

And we do that by doing small things. Jam out and listen to music while picking up litter on your block, go to a library and just hang out or research something you love, make seed Bombs and toss them I to abandoned lots, make silly cartoons. Whatever it is, it will be enough.

The weight of the world isn't ment for the individual no matter how much Capitalism and Elites will try and guilt you over their failures. That weight is ment for collective groups, but your job as a Person is to be happy where you can and to be kind so others can be happy. The last thing that I always keep in my heart is a quote from my fave author Ursula Le Guin:

Hang in there, a brighter tomorrow is gunna happen. I promise 🌻

[heydragonfly]

Hey since it’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day, if you want to know the indigenous people native to the land you currently live on, you can go to Native Land Digital (link embedded) and they have information on all of the Americas and Australia, as well as smaller pockets of information (where applicable) elsewhere. It’s pretty accessible and can show you territories, languages, and related treaties. I’d recommend anyone to check it out, particularly Americans and Canadians, cause this level of local history isn’t often taught. (If you get lost on the map/confused of its orientation, click “settler labels” in the bottom right hand corner, which should give you the current map Settler-made lines)

[guzhufuren]

The message that P'Sammon, the writer of 4 Minutes, shared on her twitter (heads up it's google translated)

[Great Tyme]

Many people have understood correctly. In the real dimension, how could Great and Tyme love each other? One is a loveless child who looks at the other with lust. The other is a young doctor who is stuck in resentment. If Great and Thyme had never entered the four-minute dimension, there is no way they could have loved each other.

But both of them had the opportunity to enter the four-minute dimension, which is not an imaginary world, but a parallel universe connected by a bridge called NDE (Near-Death Experience).

[What if]

The four-minute dimension is a world where...

What if… Great is brave enough to stand up for what is right.

What if… Tyme can put down his resentment.

Therefore, their relationship develops properly and gradually. Love can then arise in that dimension.

Fortunately, Great and Tyme have the opportunity to return to a new life in a world where time moves forward normally. The brave Great and Tyme who put down their resentment have remembered the love that they had for each other in the four-minute dimension and continue to love each other in the real dimension. Even though Great still has to take responsibility for the consequences of his own actions, Great is no longer alone. Tyme will be the one who will be by Great’s side from now on.

The love of this couple originated in a different way because these are Great and Tyme. Two young men whose hearts stopped beating at the same time at 11:00 am and had the opportunity to enter a special time together, both of them learned not only about love and relationships but also about making decisions in life.

[Regret]

The author's mother always made this joke that "knowing something is not as good as knowing if I should have", which made the author think carefully before deciding to do or say anything. If I had known, I would have been able to change it while I was still alive, but if I had known, when I was 'about to die', I would not have been able to do anything. The experience of caring for terminally ill patients taught the author that we should not live our lives as if the end would never come. This idea reduces impulsiveness, spontaneity, and ignorance. Every decision is under our control.

[Timeless]

Does a timeless land really exist? From an author's perspective, I believe it does. But with the potential of humans who can only control the dimensions of width, length, and height, and perceive the time dimension that flows forward and does not reverse, life is determined by lifespan. But if we can bring ourselves to experience the fifth dimension, for whatever reason, we may escape from the rules of time or even control time ourselves.

The author would like to ask permission not to reveal all the theories of science, physics, medicine, research, or philosophy used to create this story. In fact, there are visual symbols, additional interpretations from the production team and actors that the author must analyze himself as well. Therefore, it is open for discussion. There is no right or wrong. You can throw theories around as much as you want. I really like to read everyone's analysis.

Thank you to all viewers who have been following 4MINUTES all along. Me and the team will accept all criticism to improve and develop future works. 🥰

[writingwithcolor]

Afro-Latine Jewish woman maintaining cultural connection in an isekai comic

Anonymous asked:

Hello! Mixed Latin American nonbinary Jew here. I'm working on a, relatively light-hearted, isekai-style fantasy comic concept of an afro-latine Jewish lady who gets sent through a portal to a colorful scifi/fantasy land, inhabitated by various imaginary creatures sorta like in Alice in Wonderland. She gains magic powers and goes on adventures, working as a scientist researching the land's magical energy. (some of the local creatures she befriends are entirely original species, and some are inspired by my local folklore, but otherwise I try to avoid culturally coding the creatures since they're mostly nonhuman looking). The story isn't supposed to touch any heavy topics like antisemitism or racism, but I've read about the cultural problems in ""normie protagonist finds a new home in a funky fantasy world"" stories, f.ex. how Harry Potter's narrative basically implies that Muggleborns have to abandon their original cultures in order to successfully integrate into the very prejudiced but ""cooler"" Wizarding World. My original goal was to break the mold that escapism fantasy usually revolves around white protagonists adventuring in heavily Western-inspired fantasy worlds, and poc-coded characters are usually nonhuman creatures or racial stereotypes. However the protagonist girl in my story comes from a loving, latine-jewish human family, and while she regularly visits them on Earth instead of just staying in the fantasy land 24/7, I'm afraid that making her story be about being happy adventuring in a separate imaginary land filled with nonhuman characters might turn into an ""abandon your family and culture"" narrative. Are there any ways how I could avoid this? Maybe making the fantasy land's worldbuilding and designs more Latin American or Jewish inspired and thus resonate more with her cultural background, or making it clear that the land is not ""perfect"" and she still loves her family?

One of the first things that stands out to me is that you haven’t set her up to need to abandon her culture in order to make a life in another place. She has the ability to go home and visit her family, but I also don’t see any reason why, if she lives primarily in the fantasy land, she couldn’t be portrayed as practicing Judaism actively in her new home. It’s true that Judaism isn’t solely defined by religious/cultural practices, but it’s also true that religious/cultural practices are one of the most recognizable and most uniting elements of Jewish identity.

I think it might help in this case to think about Jewish practices in terms of communal versus personal: that is, what are practices she would need to seek out a Jewish community for, and what are practices she can do independently?

Does she control when she is able to visit her family? If so, visiting for Jewish holidays so that she can be at a family meal or holiday services seems like a way to highlight that she is just as connected to her family as someone who moved to a different city might be. If she experiences/has experienced the death of a family member or partner, going home to be with a Jewish community for shiva or to say kaddish on a yahrzeit is another touch (for readers who may be unfamiliar, Jewish mourning practices are intensely communal and are intentional about bringing the mourner into an active support system and slowly reintroducing them to the world, and as such a mourner is likely to spend this time somewhere where they can access and be supported by a Jewish community).

As far as practices she can engage with on her own in the fantasy setting, it would be nice to see her observing Shabbat, either in a traditional way by refraining from adventuring and instead engaging in hospitality and prayer between dusk Friday and sundown Saturday, or in a less-halakhic way if she comes from a Reform or comparatively-assimilated background, by marking Friday sunset with candles, blessings, and a good meal, even if she is intending to continue her research through the next day. She would hardly be the first Jewish person to live in a place without an established Jewish community, and a festive meal can be shared just as happily with non-Jewish friends if they’re griffons and fauns as if they’re Christians and Muslims.

Here’s one idea that I think would be hugely meaningful as a way of establishing both that she intends to make her home long-term in Fantasy World and that she intends to carry Jewish traditions with her into her new life: hang a mezuzah.

Think about it: a mezuzah is the visual marker of a Jewish home, as much to the resident as to a guest. When she is home from her adventures, in her garden cottage or enchanted tower or wherever she returns to between adventures to record and categorize her research, simply showing a mezuzah in the background instantly makes the point both that she is intending to stay, and that this is a Jewish space. If as time goes on she adds other Judaica items to her space, it can add to the sense that her Jewishness is present and alive in this world, simply because she is present and alive in it.

If she doesn’t have a settled space or if you’re not planning on setting any scenes there, having Jewish visual markers on and around her can help, too. For low-hanging fruit, maybe she has a silver Jewish Star or chai necklace that catches the light now and then, but since you’re going for a light, fun vibe, maybe she’s packing her adventuring supplies in a bright-blue vinyl backpack emblazoned with “Temple Shaarei Tzedek Junior Youth Retreat 1998” (am I old? I’m pretty sure there are adults reading this who were in Junior Youth groups in 2003, but I’m willing to bet retreat swag hasn’t changed that much).

I do like the idea of including Latin American and Jewish elements in the worldbuilding, especially as an intentional way to combat the cultural dominance of Western European folklore over fantasy writing, but because your character is from and has access to our world, you have the beautiful opportunity to carry real-world markers of Jewishness with her as well.

-Meir

I adore Meir’s answer, but then, I’m the kind of person to whom “enchanted tower with a mezuzah” as an aesthetic is so near and dear to my heart that I wrote a whole fantasy series about it. Couple of random suggestions: one thing I really enjoy is exposing my gentile friends to Jewish food—I love watching the absolute shock of delirium hit someone’s face the first time they taste my charoseth. Imagine this little bowl of chopped apples and walnuts, looking vaguely dirty because they’re soaked in cinnamon-infused wine, so it’s basically dingy beige slop….so that first bite of sensuous, deep sweetness is a huge surprise. Pick your favorite equivalent and imagine the first time a centaur or a winged princess or whatever other fantasy character tries it at your MC’s behest! (Feeding brisket to dragons would make a great name for…something…)

I don’t think you’re likely to do this anyway but since these are public answers: “fantasy world fun, Jewish upbringing a chore” is a narrative I would not feel at home in or care to read. But that’s a rather predictable remark from me anyway ;)

And of course I support the “the secondary fantasy world is actually Jewish” solution too, having one of my own.

–Shira

[buriedpentacles]

How to Discern Sign from Coincidence

I've noticed that in both on and offline witchy and pagan communities a lot of people's first question relating to deity work and communication is "how do I tell if something is a sign" so I wanted to share my perspective and how I vet something as being a sign or message from my deity or not. This is a pretty simplified 'checklist', but it's important to note that signs are not my main form of communication with my deity which is why I'm quite 'conservative' in identification of them!

How many times? Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence but three times may be a sign. This is a general rule I use for signs like angel numbers, specific animals or imagery or something similiar. Though it doesn't always apply - for example, if I see five crows on a nearby roof I don't see it as a sign because that is a very common sight where I live. But if I see three deer near my house in one day, that IS pretty mystical.

How unusual is it? If something 'makes sense' or can be easily explained by mundane reasons it is less likely to be a sign, and this can work in "levels". E.g. if I see a spider in the corner of my room, that's pretty unlikely to be a sign because that's just what spiders do. A spider running across a specific chapter in my book or tarot guide is still explainable but I'd probably check if it was meant to be a sign. And a sparrowhawk landing on my windowsill would almost definitely be a sign because they rarely come into the area where I live.

How does it make me feel? Sometimes I get a gut feeling that something is a sign or a message, even if it isn't unusual or has only happened once. This can easily be mistaken for 'wanting' something to be a sign so still vet and double check but the differentation does with time, experience and a growing relationship with a deity. Often, signs are clear that they are signs, because you're deity wants you to see them and so your intuition often drags your attention to the, and tells you that they're special somehow.

How do I confirm? I almost always vet signs and messages, typically it's just a quick tarot reading to confirm that something was a sign and what it might mean or represent. Often I'll also meditate or consider the sign to see what feelings or knowledge it inspires in me as well. Sometimes I don't need confirmation, I just know. But that has come with time and I would always check early in my relationship to my Mother Nature.

Important notes If something is just coincidence, that's okay, and it's still cool! So what if that crow wasn't a sign from a deity, you still got to see a crow! And so what if that fortune cookie message wasn't actually a message from your spirit guides, it can still be an inspiring and needed message! There is magic in the mundane and that's wonderful.

If you're new to paganism or witchcraft and want to work with a deity I will warn you to be wary and do a lot of research. Don't just assume: "I saw crows the other day, Odin must be reaching out to me." or "I found a bunch of rose petals on the floor so it must be aphrodite." Signs can mean a great number of things and if you truly believe it is a deity, vet and research source materials for that deity and pantheon. Ask for confirmation and take things slowly, it is very easy to trick yourself into seeing something you want to see.

Signs vary between practitioners and it's important to understand and respect that. What might mean one thing to you, means something entirely different to someone else - even if you're devoted to the same deity. While I always recommend checking original religious sources (if possible) for traditional omens and meanings, they will probably be quite unique to you!!

Tell me about some signs you've recieved from your deity or spirit guides (or whoever)! Mine tend to be animals or plants, which is definitely on brand!

[haunting-venus]

line 'em up and measure ↳ lo'ak sully x male!human!reader

content warnings | smut ( mdni ), characters are aged up, brief description of wounds, slight intoxication, mutual masturbation, literal dick measuring contest, xenophilia ( alien biology ), dirty talk, praise

word count: 3995

notes | this was originally supposed to be for the last day of @eywaite and @tallulah477 romancing pandora event, but life got in the way. still, i couldn't get this out of my head so please enjoy this now !

na'vi dictionary | narlor — beautiful ( visually )

It was stupid—absolutely fucking insane, really—the situation you’ve planted yourself in. You knew you were a trespasser, not looked upon with any grace by Eywa on this exomoon but fuck, this must be some kind of sick joke.

“Dude, my dick is definitely nicer than yours.” Lo’ak’s cheeks are flushed with alcohol, grin toothy and shit-eating as his knee bumps yours.

You’d come across the Omatikaya purely by chance—a lone xenobotanist presumed dead after the tragic and fiery crash of your research team’s buggy in the depths of Pandora’s forests. You’d been warned about the local indigenous population, of course, and had been explicitly told your group was not important enough to risk more lives should you fuck up this exploration.

No one was looking for you, and you were alone on an alien planet with nothing but a scalpel and a faulty research tablet.

You’d wandered for hours, bleeding and disoriented, ears ringing with the impact of your buggy into the tree and heart pounding in fear at the inescapable situation you were now in. You were certain that you were smaller than anything in this forest, and that your sluggishly bleeding wounds and pounding headache would soon make you easy prey for whatever roamed in these woods.

You’d thought the time had finally come as you gasped against a tree for air, vision blurring with pain as your legs shook with the exertion to keep you upright. The air was rife with beastly screeching, the sound so high-pitched you thought briefly that this might be what death sounds like. The deafening flapping of giant wings had you scrambling to the forest floor, using the last of your strength to move pitifully away from the gnashing jaws of the creature who landed in front of you.

You were able to catch a glimpse of worried golden eyes and a lean blue frame that towered over you before the world slipped into inky blackness.

You’d learned afterwards that the Omatikaya did routine patrols in the areas known to the RDA, scheduled bouts of precautionary scouting should the Earth’s military ever stray too far from their boundaries. Well, you’d strayed a lot, apparently.

The man who’d saved you had carried you in a princess hold before the chief, his strong arm holding up your back and looped under your bent knees. It should’ve been embarrassing, you thought, a grown man having to be carried like a ragdoll by a stranger who was bargaining for your life to be saved. Then again, you didn’t exactly have time to worry about how tough you looked when you were on the verge of slipping unconscious again.

It had taken over a week in the medical care of the nearby human outpost before you were on your feet again, body weak from dehydration and healing minor fractures. The man who saved you, Lo’ak, came to check on you regularly, asking questions about your life and your intentions—how you’d wandered into the Omaticaya borders, why you were traveling in the forest, if you had any trackers on you, if anyone was following you.

After several days of him poking and prodding at you with questions, he returned with a much more intimidating man at his back—The chief, Jake Sully, adorned in ornate feathered regalia and a stern expression.

You knew you were best off telling the truth—you were a researcher with many injuries, nowhere else to go, and of no harm to any of the People. You’d even offered to leave once you healed, return to the RDA encampment with tight lips and fake amnesia, though Jake Sully had quickly brushed that off. It was in the People’s best interest that the RDA never knew you came in contact with them, and the only way you could do that was by never returning.

You were met with a mix of fear and anger from the local population. You were an intruder, an unwanted reminder of just how closely war knocked at their doorstep. It would’ve been easy to feel isolated, a bird without a nest.

Except you were surrounded with the most incredible flora and fauna you had ever laid your eyes on, the lands near the village so much more rife with life than the secluded bases of the RDA. The scientists at the outpost just outside the village welcomed you eagerly, sharing their notes and knowledge and living space with open arms. Then, of course, there was Lo’ak.

Lo’ak was a friend, one of the few that you’d acquired in the months since the crash. Turns out, one of his best friends was a human boy who’d grown up in the labs outside the Na’vi encampments, Spider, so he was neither scared nor angry with you. He was mostly curious, poking and prodding you with questions about Earth and showing you hidden wonders of the Forest when he got a rare day off.

He was also damn beautiful—tall and indigo-skinned, with lean muscles and swirling tattoos over the length of his strong arms and the curve of his ribs. You would be able to get over your little infatuation with some ease, you’d met plenty of good-looking people in your life, except he wasn’t just beautiful. He was fucking kind too, and it drove you nuts. 

So yes, Lo’ak was beautiful, funny and kind. He made you feel safe and wanted in a world that wanted to kill you at every turn, and he did it with the most endearingly toothy smile you’d ever seen.

He was also the chief’s son, which made him explicitly off-limits even if you did have any chance in any multiverse of getting to be with him. Which was exactly why you shouldn’t be in this situation right now, lazing together on a couch that is far too small for the two of you, passing a leather flask of pxir that was quickly emptying.

You must have been more drunk than you thought, letting the rogue idea slip between your teeth. It was supposed to be a joke, really—a dumb quip about how much you missed getting dicked down back on Earth. Your options were extremely limited, even more than they had been in the RDA outpost. At least over there there had been some sexually repressed military guys to get it on with. Here, everyone was either decades your senior, or definitely not your type.

“You just need to get some Na’vi cock. It’ll make you forget all about whatever puny action you were getting on Earth, bro.” Lo’ak laughed

 You were two young men, tipsy and comfortable with one another, it was completely natural to talk about sex. You knew that the Na’vi were extremely comfortable with sex, seeing it as a connection between life forms, something natural and beautiful. Plus, humans were inherently curious, not to mention repressed and hormonal. You figured that sexual experimentation between the two species was something nearly inevitable.

Still, it made you hot beneath the collar, having Lo’ak’s eyes so keen on you with hazy comfort as he suggests you get down and dirty with a Na’vi. With someone like him.

“Hey, watch how you talk about human cock. I’ve still got one, dude.” You scoff, taking another deep swig of the bitter alcohol. It’s always been so easy this way, hiding your discomfort behind sarcasm and dumb jokes. “Besides, it can’t be all that different.”

“Dude, my dick is definitely nicer than yours.”

It should be insulting. It is insulting, you tell yourself. That’s why your cheeks flush so devastatingly red, definitely. “Oh, fuck you, pretty boy. If that’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, go ahead.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Lo’ak’s eyes glisten with amusement, obviously reveling in the dumbstruck look on your face.

That was another thing you’d come to love about Lo’ak. He was always competitive, even over the stupidest things, even with stuff that will get him smacked or killed. He jumps at any opportunity to prove to himself and others that he was capable and brave. It usually made your heart flutter with admiration, now it just puts you on edge.

“You’re not seriously suggesting to whip it out, are you?” You chuckle

“What, you’re scared I might be right?” He goads.You’re about to deny him, about to insist you’ve had too much to drink when you’re barely even feeling a buzz so you can  

Except that Lo’ak is already pulling his hips up from the couch, moving to sit up on the arm of the seat so he can untie his loincloth. His muscled torso stretches while he extends his body, black swirling lines of tattoos he acquired with the reef tribes etched down his ribs and tapering just at the edge of the v-line leading into his bottoms.

It’s completely stupid and irrational. It’s definitely something that could get you smacked or even exiled if people found out. Hell, Lo’ak could never talk to you again if he knew what dirty things were running through your mind. It’s also the start of every stupid, dirty fantasy you’ve been unable to repress for months.

If you were a stronger man, you’d get up and leave. Except, you’re not.

“Alright, pretty boy. Put your money where your mouth is.”

Lo’ak’s grin is a little smaller than before, still confident but edged with something that seems bashful, his tail swinging leisurely behind him. It only takes a few tugs of his practiced fingers for the leather of his loincloth to loosen, then fall to the tiled ground of your room.

You feel ashamed for looking, even though that was the whole point of this stupid competition, if it could even be called that. You try to keep your face neutral as Lo’ak lighty spreads his legs, brows furrowing a bit. The apex of Lo’ak’s legs resembles more of a human female’s anatomy than anything. His skin is smooth, hairless just as the rest of his body, the darker stripes on his skin narrowing to a slit in his crotch

You swallow heavily, tucking one of your legs up to your chest to hopefully obscure the growing bulge in your shorts. You try to keep your voice even, teasing, even as it shakes. “From where I’m standing, looks like there’s nothing to compare, bro.”

“Fuck off, just give me a second.” Lo’ak mutters, cheeks warm as he brings a hand between his own legs. “Only humans are dumb enough to have their shit hanging out all the damn time.”

You’re glad to see a flush on Lo’ak’s cheeks, hear the gruff rasp of his voice. It’s comforting to know you’re not the only one a little affected, and you feel a bit of hope blossom inside your chest.

His fingers move between his legs, parting the slit with soft movements, his fingers shining with slick between his legs as he coaxes the opening open. He keeps his lips tight, chest moving with heavy breaths at each of his own touches.

Your eyes are rapt at his every movement, heart pounding .You briefly wonder if this is how he touches himself when he’s all alone, if he makes the same heavy breaths and twitches of his ears.

It takes only moments for something to begin breaching the folds of Lo’ak’s slit, his breath coming a little heavier. Slowly, a cock emerges from the sheath inside his body, a lighter shade of blue tapering to pinkish at the tip. There’s no balls that follow it, though the base seems a bit swollen as he hangs at half-mast before you. 

“Whoa.” You clear your throat quickly, averting your gaze from Lo’ak’s laughing eyes. “Thought you’d be bigger, honestly.”

It’s a big fat lie, and an obvious one too. Even without being fully hard, Lo’ak’s cock almost easily matches the length of your forearm.

“Oh, fuck off. I can smell you, you know. I know just what you think of your first Na’vi cock.” His tone isn’t malicious, just teasing, each word laced with 

Your face flushes, fingers twitching anxiously against your thigh that still sits tucked up against you. It’s easy to forget how superior Na’vi senses are when you spend so little time with them, especially outside of the lab. You briefly wonder if Lo’ak has been able to tell every time you’ve felt a flare of arousal in his presence, if he had connected the dots that your brain constantly wandered to your filthiest thoughts in his presence.

He leans forward, pressing one hand on the arm of the couch behind you. He’s close now, his breath near ghosting over your face as his eyes search yours. “Your turn. Not much of a competition if I’m the only one showing off, now is it?”

This is quickly treading into dangerous territory, something that sobers you up quicker than any water of coffee could. Lo’ak’s hand is still cradling his length, just ghosting lightly along the enlarged base as he leans over you with his muscled body. You know you’re hard, can feel the blood rushing from your head to pound between your thighs, can feel your length pressing uncomfortably against the cotton of your shorts. Unlike him, there’s nowhere for you to hide, no way to conceal just how affected you are.

You feel like you’re free-falling, diving head first into all the emotions you’d convinced yourself would be better off tucked away. Part of you wanted to keep it all at arm’s length, to let this be a moment of lust, another memory to be tucked away. The other part wanted to jump in feet first, consequences be damned, fuck the fallout.

You steel your nerves as Lo’ak backs off a little, giving you the space to undo the buttons of your pants. You know you can end this all with a few words, that if it really bothered you Lo’ak would forget this ever happened and never bring it up again, because he was that kind of guy. Except, you’re sure you aren’t imagining the lingering heat in Lo’ak’s gaze, or the excited flick of his tail as his eyes follow the movements of your fingers as you drop your pants.

You don’t need visual confirmation to know you’re already hard and leaking, the tip of your cock red and aching as your fingers ghost along your thighs.

“Looks like I win.” Lo’ak’s voice is breathier than before, his knee brushing against your leg as he lingers closely to you. His hand still sits close to his own cock, which has made no signs of retreating back into his body.

“Okay, you’re obviously gonna be bigger than me. You’re a fucking giant.” Your face flushes, trying to ignore the throb in your cock as Lo’ak’s eyes trail across your body.

“Don’t be so hateful, bro. No one likes a sore loser.” 

“Yeah, well, at least I have more stamina than you.” It’s so easy to slip back into teasing sarcasm, like a shield you can put around yourself to keep all the confusing emotions at arm’s length. It helps you feel some control that has been steadily slipping away, grasp onto some sort of reality.

Lo’ak just chuckles lowly. “More stamina? I’m a trained warrior, bro. Stamina is my game.”

You snort, trying desperately to forget the fact that you’re both naked beneath the waist. “You’re the most reckless fucker I’ve ever met. I bet you blow your load in two seconds.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the pent up little scientist. You really think you can last longer than me?” Lo’ak’s voice deepens, one of his hands trailing up across the outside of your thigh as he shadows over you.

“Try me.”

Lo’ak’s mouth is on yours before you have a chance to regret the challenge. He’s so much bigger than you, and the way his entire mouth encompasses yours is strange but not unpleasant. One of his hands eagerly comes up under your shirt and along your ribs, the other holding up his weight on the couch behind you. You run your fingers up along the planes of his body, tracing the ridges of his ribs and the curve of his shoulders, to embed them in your memory.

He gasps as he pulls away from you, his hips dipping to nudge his hardening cock against your hip as he leaves a line of wet kisses from the corner of your mouth to underneath your jaw. You vaguely register his tail thumping excitedly into the plush of the couch, the way his ears twitch forward to catch every hitch of your breathing.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” Lo’ak’s voice mumbles across your skin, canines grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he pushes himself closer to you.

“Touch yourself.” You gasp, tightening your grip on Lo’ak’s bicep as he pushes his hips down into you.

Lo’ak pauses. “What?”

“Come on, you wanted to talk a big game. Let’s see how long you really last.” Your grin is devilish, edged with excitement and desire as you trail your fingers teasingly across the muscle of his arms. You delight in the little shiver that passes through him.

“Wouldn’t you rather be the one to touch me?” His voice is raspy, breathless as he nibbles along the curve of your neck.

“Oh, where’s the fun in that, pretty boy?” You bite your lip in a grin, resting your forehead along his own. “We want this to be a fair trial, and having my skilled hands on you could definitely skew the results.”

Lo’ak laughs, removing his hand reluctantly from your ribs to palm along his own cock. “Fine, no touching. For your results.”

You can feel yourself steadily losing control as you lean back and watch Lo’ak—the way he teasingly trails his fingers down his own chest and across his cock, the little gasp he lets out when he tightens his fingers around the base, the desperate hitching of his hips as he keeps his eyes firmly on you as he works himself over.

Lo’ak’s eyes flick expectantly towards your own hard cock, moaning loud as he finally sees you grip yourself in your palm. You’re so sensitive and it’s been so long, each touch feels magnified with Lo’ak above you, watching your every move with panting breaths. Lo’ak slows his movements on himself a bit, moving to grip himself at the swollen base of his cock. His reaction is immediate, a deep groan vibrating through his chest as his eyes roll a bit.

You tighten your grip on the base, heat shooting through you as you drink in the sounds of Lo’ak’s moans. Fuck, of course he’s loud. Your lips brush against his own as you speak. “Jesus, the sounds you make are fucking incredible.” 

A knowing smile reaches across Lo’ak’s flushed face. He parts his lips to run over yours, drinking in the sigh you let out. “Really? Well, you’ve got a pretty incredible mouth too.”

“S-shut up-” You gasp. You know you should go slow because some stupid part of you still wants to win, to make Lo’ak come undone first because of you. Yet, you can’t help the way your fist tightens at each wet little gasp coming from Lo’ak’s mouth, the way your hand quickens around yourself as you watch his pretty cock move through his fist.

“It’s true. You don’t know how many times I’ve done this thinking of your stupid smart mouth, how it would feel.” Your breath hitches at Lo’ak’s words, each breath emphasized with the roll of his hips into his own fist.

“Oh, oh, shit.” You know your desperation is seeping into your tone, suppressed moans barely being hidden by your gritted teeth. You’ve always been weak to Lo’ak, and now is no exception, especially now with the admission that he’s thought of you before.

“You look so sexy like this, all spread out under me. You know, you’re always calling me pretty boy but you’re putting me to shame here, narlor.” Lo’ak’s eyes are hazy but calculating, watching each expression on your face as the filth he’s saying echoes into the air around you. He has a look in his eye, like he knows he’s winning.

“Oh fuck you.” You groan, your hips moving desperately up into your hand. You can feel the heat of Lo’ak’s body encompassing you, the head of your cock brushing against his leg with each movement of your hips. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Hah, really?” Lo’ak gasps. The sly grin that comes across his face is all the confirmation you need.

“You’re trying to get me off, by…by saying that stuff. I-it’s cheating.” You moan as your fingers snag against the head of your cock, catching the precum leaking from your tip to slicken the slide of your fist.

“Oh, that wasn’t in the rules,” he teases, licking a stripe up your neck. He lowers himself closer to you, the head of his cock bumping against your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. “Not my fault I can’t stop thinking how perfect you’d feel wrapped around me.”

Fuck, you don’t know if he means your mouth or your ass but it really doesn’t matter, either one of the images sending your brain into a frenzy. A moan rips through you, fingers twisting around your cock. It’s so easy to picture how Lo’ak would look inside you, or how he would fall apart on your fingers. It has you hurtling dangerously close to the edge.

Your breath quickens as you look up into Lo’ak’s eyes, dark pools ringed with the slightest amount of gold. His tail coils around himself, wrapping possessively around your shin.

“Fuck, look at you. It’s like you’re out of a wet dream.” Lo’ak grits his teeth, pushing his cock up against you as he strokes himself. You can see the slick from his slit dripping across his cock and down his thighs, a sweet and musky smell coating the air.

“Hah, have a lot of d-dreams about me?” You tease, but your voice is thready, more pleading than asking.

He grins against your lips. “Maybe. Wouldn’t you like to know.”

And fuck the thought has you reeling. It’s so easy to see Lo’ak in your mind, waking up hot and needy to dirty thoughts of you, half-asleep as he stuffs a fist in his mouth and strokes himself to completion with your name on his lips.

“S-shit, shit, Lo’ak, I-” your breaths come in quick gasps, too turned on to care about any embarrassing sounds that are leaking from your throat.Your body is thrumming with energy as heat coils tightly in your stomach.

“I want you to come, narlor. Right now, on me.” Lo’ak groans and you can feel his fist bumping into your hip with his rapid movements. Your eyes are clenched shut, riding the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm 

“Come, let me see it. Now.” His voice is urgent, pleading.

“Oh, f—uh-”

The muscles in your thighs clench as you buck up into your fist, your cock bumping Lo’ak as you come across your fist and stomach, smearing your release onto your partner with each movement onto Lo’ak. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder, a moan tumbling from your throat as you come harder than you ever had. Maybe there was something to Lo’ak’s theory about Na’vi cock after all.

Lo’ak isn’t far behind you, panting into your mouth as his hips move unsteadily against you. His throat strains around a loud groan, and you’re able to open your eyes just soon enough to see his face scrunch in pleasure, ears twitching with each rolling wave of pleasure pulsing through him. 

You try to commit the look to memory, down to the lopsided and dopey grin that stretches across his face. Lo’ak sighs with satisfaction, his dirty hand coming to rub softly across your hip. “Told you I would win.”

You can’t help the giddy smile that comes across your face, giving a peck to his grinning lips. “Best two out of three?”

[heiznx]

BOOK 6 TWST THINGS I GLOSSED OVER

THINGS I WANT TO SHARE (note) i'm only finding out about this now while i'm reading the masterlist here, since the wiki hasn't updated yet and i skipped book 6 in the eng game, because i used a translator to read book 6 in the jap before it came out in eng. some information are already well-known and some are things i already knew, but i decided to take note about anything i thought was noteworthy!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Chapter 66, Tower 2, Part 5 — Riddle became a dorm leader on his first year.

Chapter 66, Tower 3, Part 8 — Riddle said that he confiscated exam study guides, made by Azul, in Heartslabyul. — He thinks that Azul couldn't compete with him in terms of academics because Azul has too much on his plate, while he devotes himself in his studies.

Chapter 67, Tower 2, Part 17 — According to Leona, Riddle can cast a spell so fast and that he could lead a group and fight on the front lines with his fire power, but sees it as a double-edge sword because of his stamina and his temper but he has a confidence to be a leader.

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 19: PTM-456 — Riddle misses Grim

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 20 — He started taking special lessons when he was 3 — When his mother was pregnant, she was already preparing all necessary materials to ensure Riddle will grow up to be an exceptional mage. — Riddle is not sure whether he is a prodigy or if he earned his talents because of how he grew up. — He studied in a private school when he was young and wasn't able to skip grades despite his intelligence because it wasn't a 'norm' and his school didn't allow it. — He also said that he saw no point for him to skip grades either because he needs to be 24 years old to be a medical mage. — He originally was supposed to be a medical mage once he graduates, but he MAY be having second thoughts because he developed an interest in law after becoming a housewarden.

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 22 — Riddle's cape can cover two people and block a bit of light.

Chapter 69 — Riddle hasn't taken his magical device licensure exam.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Chapter 66, Tower 2, Part 13 — Leona's Unique Magic: King's Roar, can turn ice to dust.

Chapter 67, Tower 2, Part 25 — Leona has a refined palate, he doesn't like dry, stale rations. — He drinks sports drink.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

Chapter 67, Tower 2, Part 21 — Leona says that he doesn't think Ruggie's magic is as good, but he's aware of what he is lacking and doesn't hesitate to use Leona to make up for it; Ruggie doesn't see it as anything shameful.

JACK HOWL

Chapter 67, Tower 2, Part 21 — Leona views Jack as someone pretentious, and says that Jack doesn't have what it takes to lead yet so Jack comes to Leona when things gets too out of hand. — Leona finds Jack's honesty adorable.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Chapter 66, Tower 2, Part 5 — Azul became a dorm leader at his second year.

Chapter 66, Tower 3, Part 8 — Azul considers Riddle as an academic rival. — His overall ranking often goes from top 2 to top 10 — Even after book 3, he still has his backroom 'consultations'. — Riddle said that Jade mentioned Azul goes off campus on day offs under the pretense of market research.

Chapter 67, Tower 2, Part 17 — According to Leona, Azul is a quick thinker and knows how to put himself in an advantageous position. Leona assumes Azul struggled living in land, but Leona says that Azul sees it as a strength.

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 17 — He (possibly with Floyd and Jade as well) were trained in Sunshine Lands (a place where a prince of Sunshine Land married a princess from the Coral Sea and was founded by the mermaid princess) and said that he couldn't find a 'catch' in the organization and he put in an application there as soon as he was accepted in Night Raven College.

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 20 — Azul started learning the basics of magic when he was 8, and he was taught by his mother and grandmother who were both mages. — His family was not entirely pressuring him in studies thus him being lax about it until he was in middle school.

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 22 — He was raised in the deep sea so his eyes could adjust to the darkness.

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 25 — Azul doesn't feel upset when fighting against Ortho and Idia's dreams because he knows well enough that someone has to make a sacrifice to make it come true — One of his dreams is to be a valedictorian, opening a second Mostro Lounge branch, starting a delivery business, selling tableware, running a hotel, and getting into the leisure industry.

Chapter 69 — Azul has never driven a magical wheel.

FLOYD LEECH

Chapter 67, Tower 3, Part 17 — Azul said that Floyd often forgets to take his doses to keep his human form (transfiguration potion), and says that it's normal for him to hear Floyd saying "Hey, my ears are fins again!", or "My fingers grew some webbin'!"

JAMIL VIPER

Chapter 67, Tower 2, Part 25 — Leona calls Jamil: Snake. — Jamil admits to Leona that he always judged people around him as stupid, incompetent, lazy, or good-for nothing, but says that that was just what he wants to believe. He admits he has more to grow.

VIL SCHOENHEIT (FT. ROOK)

Chapter 66, Tower 1, Part 4 — He can separate his feelings and duties as a dorm leader and his personal thoughts and emotions.

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 16 — When Vil first got in Night Ravel College, he started turning down long-term acting offers to focus on studies, but had to act in some plays and movies because they got sequels.

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 17 — Vil first met Rook on the school gardens. — Vil never gave Rook the time of his day but Rook kept reaching out to him and pointing out things Vil internally chides himself for. — He didn't catch up to what Rook talked about for five hours about his own play.

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 19: PTM-854 — He is curious what he would look like if he took a form of a phantom because he thinks phantoms are the manifestations of their greatest desire. — He remembers what his phantom looked like. — He admits to unconsciously thinking about beauty about being youthful and may have feared aging.

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 25 — Vil acknowledges that the Shroud brothers wanted 'normalcy' but was willing to destroy their dreams for his own.

ROOK HUNT

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 20 — Rook found the Mirror's sorting agreeable thus stayed in Savanaclaw, but thought he would learn more about 'beauty' in Pomefiore faster so he transferred. — He talked to Vil about his decision in transferring from Savanaclaw to Pomefiore, but Vil couldn't talk him out of it. — According to Vil, Rook stuck out like a sore thumb when he entered Pomefiore because his hair was long, thick, unkempt, and he also had freckles in his cheeks and nose. — He never bothered using sunscreen or skin care so his cheeks and nose were always bright red. — He would go all-over the place in sweatpants with frayed hems or jeans with torn knees, but would fix his attire a little when going to an operas and concerts with dress codes. — Vil once picked out an outfit for him because Vil believed that a beautiful stage deserves beautiful audiences.

EPEL FELMIER

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 19: PTM-859 — Rook said that Leona praised Epel's broom/flyting skills in the club.

GRIM

Chapter 66, Tower 3, Part 9 — Grim is 70cm. — Epel said that Ace and Deuce told him that Grim hates his nails being trimmed.

Chapter 67, Tower 1, Part 19: PTM-735 — He has long nails. — He often scratches on Heartslabyul's couches.

[nintendonut1]

So, today's Court of Roses update has a cameo in it...

...which I then turned into an actual AU OOPS!

Geno (half elf/half gnome) is a wizard/scholar living in Calcin who studies the stars, and Mallow (gnome) is his apprentice studying air magic under his wing~

Geno came from a far-off land outside of Prismal after a ruthless gang of bandits destroyed his home (hackcoughsmithygangcough) His clan worshiped the stars, and he honors their memory by studying to unlock their fullest potential. Once Geno's had a chance to move, settle in, transition (yes, the face marks are transition ritual tattoos, he's transmasc here too :>) and start over, Frogfucius brings Mallow to him, asking him to take him in as an apprentice, and try to help him control his inner magic.

Meanwhile, Mario is a mercenary coming to Calcin looking for honest work, and answers a job posting about clearing out some old ruins to help further celestial research...

SO UHHHHHH idk how lame and nerdy it is to make an AU contained within your own original work BUT. HERE IT IS I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT JGKFLHKGHJF

[reidmarieprentiss]

Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Summary: Y/N lives through the worst day of her life (in this world), will her and Spencer make it out the other side together?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, crime, smut, fluff

Warnings/Includes: hostage, guns, shooting, injury, danger, angst, crying, having mom and dad, meeting the parents, good relationship with parents, smut (18+) more warnings under the cut

Word count: 14.9k

a/n: hi!! i took a different turn with this than originally intended, believe it or not this is far less angsty than it was going to be

main masterlist

Additional warnings: PiV (unprotected not explicitly mentioned), fingering

Y/N was at work, discussing a patient’s progress with a physician assistant in the brightly lit corridor. The day had been routine, a comforting monotony of chart updates and consultations. She was in the middle of a detailed explanation when suddenly, the air was pierced by the sound of shouting and screaming from down the hall.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat as she turned around, her eyes widening in horror. A gunman stood at the entrance of the pediatric ward, his wild eyes scanning the room. He was heavily armed, the cold glint of the weapon sending chills down her spine.

The hospital’s sterile, safe atmosphere shattered in an instant, replaced by raw fear. Y/N’s instincts kicked in, and she reached out to protect the children nearby, pulling them close and trying to shield them as best she could. Her mind raced, but she forced herself to stay calm for the kids’ sake.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she tried to comfort the children huddled around her. “Stay quiet and stay close to me.”

The gunman’s voice echoed through the ward, barking orders to his team who were spreading out, searching the rooms methodically. “Find Alex!” he screamed. “We don’t leave until we have him!”

Y/N’s heart pounded louder with each passing second. She had no idea who they were looking for, but the desperation and menace in their actions made it clear they were willing to do anything to find their target.

She locked eyes with the physician assistant, both of them understanding the gravity of the situation. They had to protect the children, keep them safe from this nightmare that had invaded their sanctuary.

The gunman’s gaze swept across the room and landed on Y/N, his eyes narrowing. “You!” he barked, pointing the gun at her. “Get over here!”

Y/N’s legs felt like jelly, but she forced herself to stand, her hands trembling. She stepped forward, trying to keep her voice steady. “Please, there are children here. Let them go.”

The gunman sneered, tightening his grip on the weapon. “You’re in no position to negotiate. Move!”

Y/N complied, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty. She had to stay strong, had to find a way to protect the children and survive this ordeal. As she moved closer to the gunman, she glanced back at the kids, giving them a reassuring nod. 

“Stay calm,” she mouthed, praying that help would come soon. Her thoughts flickered to Spencer, hoping against hope that he would somehow sense something was wrong.

—

Spencer was at his desk, surrounded by stacks of case files and reference books. The familiar hum of the BAU office was a comforting backdrop as he immersed himself in the latest research. He had just made a particularly interesting connection when the door to Hotch's office flew open, and JJ came rushing in, her face pale and urgent.

Hotch emerged a moment later, his expression grave. He called out to the team, his voice cutting through the usual office noise. "Everyone, into the meeting room. Now."

Spencer felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He quickly followed the others, his mind racing with possibilities. As they gathered around the table, Hotch wasted no time.

"We have a hostage situation at a hospital," Hotch began, his tone serious and focused. "St. Agnes Hospital. An armed group has taken control of the pediatric wing. They’re looking for a specific patient, presumed to be someone’s son."

Spencer felt his heart stop. St. Agnes. That’s where Y/N works. His mind immediately flashed to her, and a wave of panic surged through him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the fear gnawed at him, threatening to overwhelm his composure.

Hotch continued, "We don’t have all the details yet, but we know the gunmen are heavily armed and have made it clear they won’t leave without the patient. The situation is extremely volatile."

Spencer’s hands clenched into fists under the table. He forced himself to focus on Hotch’s words, knowing that staying calm and collected was the only way to help Y/N and the children she was likely with. The pediatric wing. Of course, she would be there, comforting and protecting the kids as best she could.

Morgan noticed the tension radiating from Spencer and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We’ll get them out, Reid. We’ll get Y/N and those kids out of there."

Spencer nodded, swallowing hard. "What’s our plan?" he asked, his voice barely steady.

Hotch looked around the room, meeting each team member's eyes. "We’ll coordinate with local law enforcement and the hospital security team. JJ, start gathering intel on the gunmen. Prentiss, work with Garcia to get the hospital's layout and any surveillance footage we can use. Morgan, I want you and Rossi to start strategizing entry points and containment. Spencer, we’ll need your expertise on profiling the gunmen. They’re looking for someone specific, which means they have a motive we need to understand quickly."

Spencer nodded again, forcing himself to focus. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, but he knew he had to compartmentalize, to use his fear as fuel to bring Y/N and the children to safety.

As the team dispersed to their tasks, Spencer took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. He wouldn’t let his fear control him. He would use it to drive him, to ensure that Y/N and every single child in that hospital made it out safely.

—

Y/N stood rigidly in front of the gunmen, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. The children huddled across from her, behind the PA, their small faces pale with terror. The leader of the gunmen, a tall, menacing figure with cold eyes, stepped closer, his gun trained on her.

"Where is Alex Bartel?" he demanded, his voice sharp and unforgiving.

Y/N's heart raced, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together, refusing to give them any information. She couldn't betray the child, no matter what they threatened.

The gunman’s patience was thin. He grabbed her by the arm and shook her. "I asked you a question. Where is Alex Bartel?"

Y/N remained silent, her eyes meeting his with unwavering determination. She knew that giving up Alex would mean certain doom for the child. Her silence was her shield, her only weapon against these monsters.

The gunman’s face twisted in anger. He struck her across the face, the force of the blow sending her reeling. "Talk!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall.

Y/N’s vision blurred, but she shook her head, biting back the pain. She wouldn’t break. Not for them. Not ever.

"Fine," the gunman hissed, a cruel smile spreading across his face. He turned his attention to the children. "If you won’t talk, maybe they will."

He reached out to grab one of the kids, a little girl who had been clutching the PA’s leg, tears streaming down her face. Panic surged through Y/N. She couldn’t let them hurt the children. She had to do something.

"No!" Y/N screamed, lunging forward to block the gunman’s path. "Don’t touch her!"

In the chaos, another gunman reacted instinctively to her sudden movement. A shot rang out, echoing through the hall. Y/N felt a searing pain in her shoulder, the force of the impact sending her to the ground. 

To everyone watching, the shot seemed fatal, aimed at her heart. The children screamed, the sound mingling with the shouts of the gunmen. Y/N’s vision darkened, her body slumping as the pain overwhelmed her.

Y/N lay motionless on the cold floor, every nerve in her body screaming with pain. The searing wound in her shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat, but she knew better than to move. She couldn’t give away the fact that she was still alive. If the gunmen realized their mistake, they would surely shoot her again to finish the job.

Her breath came in shallow, controlled gasps, each one a battle against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her. She could hear the gunmen barking orders, their voices a harsh backdrop to the terrified sobs of the children. 

Y/N's mind raced, trying to stay focused. She had to keep still, had to play dead convincingly. Any movement, any sign of life, and the gunmen would be back. She needed to survive for the children, for Spencer, for herself.

The sounds around her blurred into a distant cacophony as she concentrated on remaining perfectly still. She willed herself to ignore the pain, to ignore the fear coursing through her veins. She imagined Spencer’s face, his comforting presence, his strength. It gave her something to hold onto, a reason to endure.

Minutes felt like hours as she lay there, every second a test of her willpower. She could feel the warmth of her blood pooling beneath her, the scent of it mingling with the sterile hospital air. But she didn't move, didn't even flinch.

The gunmen continued their search, their footsteps echoing as they moved through the hospital. Y/N's ears strained to pick up any sign that help was coming, any indication that the nightmare might soon be over. 

As the commotion grew more distant, Y/N allowed herself a tiny sliver of hope. She could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance, a promise that help was on the way. She just had to hold on a little longer.

In the back of her mind, she clung to the thought of Spencer. He would come. He would find her. She just had to survive until then. And with that thought, she found the strength to keep still, to keep pretending, to keep fighting.

Y/N's resolve was strong, but the unrelenting pain in her shoulder grew more intense with each passing moment. She could feel her strength waning, her body struggling to maintain the façade of lifelessness. The room spun around her, and her vision started to blur, darkening at the edges.

The children’s cries became a distant echo, their voices blending with the harsh commands of the gunmen. Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of agony through her body, and she could feel herself slipping, her grip on consciousness loosening despite her desperate fight to stay awake.

The blood loss was taking its toll, making her lightheaded and dizzy. She tried to focus on the sounds around her, hoping to catch any sign that help was near, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Her mind drifted, thoughts of Spencer and the children mingling in a haze of pain and fear.

Finally, the pain became too much to bear. Y/N's body, pushed to its limits, began to shut down. Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt herself falling into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. The last thing she remembered was the faint, distant sound of sirens, a small beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness.

As she passed out, her body remained still, the illusion of death convincing enough to keep the gunmen at bay. The children, still huddled together, continued to cry, unaware that Y/N's unconscious state was a result of her heroic efforts to protect them.

In the midst of chaos, Y/N's mind finally succumbed to the darkness, her body limp and motionless on the cold hospital floor.

—

Aaron Hotchner stood with the tactical team, coordinating the next steps of their entry strategy. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stepped aside to take the call, the tension evident in his posture.

"Hotchner," he answered, his voice steady.

"Sir, we have a report of a casualty inside the hospital. An adult, no ID yet," came the voice on the other end.

Hotch's heart sank. Y/N wasn't just Spencer's girlfriend; she was family to him. He'd known her for years, watching her grow from a compassionate, driven student into a dedicated child psychologist. She had been there for Jack during some of the hardest times in his life, and her presence had been a source of comfort and stability. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't ignore the gnawing fear that it could be Y/N.

He knew Spencer was already on edge, and the last thing he wanted was to add to his anxiety without concrete information. It could not be Y/N. The thought of her being in danger hit him hard, but he had to stay focused for the sake of the mission and everyone involved.

"Understood. Keep me updated," Hotch replied, his tone firm. He turned back to the team, his mind racing. They needed to move quickly and efficiently to minimize further casualties and end the standoff.

Hotch gathered Derek Morgan, David Rossi, and the law enforcement team, finalizing their plan. They would enter through multiple access points, coordinate with the hospital security, and neutralize the gunmen as swiftly as possible.

"We move on my signal," Hotch instructed, his voice carrying the authority and calm needed to lead the team through the chaos.

With a nod, the team moved into position. Hotch, Derek, and Rossi led the charge, their movements precise and controlled. The hospital corridors, usually a place of healing and care, were now battlegrounds filled with tension and fear.

As they breached the pediatric wing, the sound of their approach startled the gunmen. Derek and Rossi quickly subdued the nearest threats, their training and instincts taking over. Hotch moved methodically, his focus unyielding.

"FBI! Drop your weapons!" Hotch's voice echoed through the halls, a command that brooked no argument. The gunmen, caught off guard, began to surrender under the overwhelming presence of the tactical team.

In the midst of securing the area, Derek's keen eyes scanned the rooms for any sign of Y/N. He moved swiftly, his heart pounding with the urgency to find her safe. As he entered one of the rooms, he saw her—lying motionless on the floor, blood pooling beneath her shoulder.

"Y/N!" Derek shouted, rushing to her side. He checked for a pulse, relief washing over him when he felt the faint but steady beat. "Medic! We need a medic here, now!"

Derek gently cradled Y/N's head, his voice soothing despite the chaos around them. "Hang in there, Y/N. You're going to be okay. Help is on the way."

As the medics arrived and began to take her, Derek's thoughts were with Spencer. He knew his friend would be devastated to see Y/N like this, but he also knew that Spencer needed to know the truth.

"Hotch, we found her," Derek reported through his earpiece. "She's alive, but she needs medical attention immediately."

Hotch received Derek's message with a mix of relief and dread. He had to tell Spencer, but he needed to do it in a way that wouldn't distract him from the mission. As the team secured the remaining gunmen and ensured the safety of the children, Hotch made his way back to a quiet area where he could call Spencer.

The weight of what he had to say pressed heavily on his chest. Hotch knew how deeply Spencer cared for Y/N, and the thought of her being hurt was like a knife to his own heart. He took a deep breath and dialed Spencer's number, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

"Spencer," Hotch said, his voice gentle yet firm when Spencer answered. "We found Y/N. She's alive, but she's injured. Derek and the medics are with her now."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. Spencer's eyes widened, a mixture of fear and relief flooding his features. "I need to see her," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, barely holding back the panic threatening to overtake him.

"You will, Spencer," Hotch assured him, his own voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "But we need to make sure the area is completely secure first. Stay focused, and stay where you are. We'll get you to her as soon as it's safe."

Spencer nodded, though Hotch couldn't see it. "Okay," he whispered, his mind racing with images of Y/N lying injured, of the moments they had shared, of the fear that he might lose her. "Please... please hurry."

Hotch could hear the anguish in Spencer's voice, and it tore at him. "We will, Spencer. I promise."

Spencer hung up the phone, his hands shaking. He felt utterly helpless, a sensation he rarely experienced. The logical part of his brain fought to maintain control, to focus on the facts and the tasks at hand, but his heart was in turmoil. Y/N was hurt, and he wasn't there to protect her.

He paced the small room, his mind replaying every moment he had spent with Y/N, every laugh, every touch, every word. The thought of her in pain, of her possibly slipping away from him, was unbearable. He felt a tear escape, and he angrily wiped it away, determined to stay strong for her.

"You'll be okay, Y/N," he whispered to himself, his voice cracking. "You have to be okay."

Back inside the hospital, the team worked with precise urgency. Derek, Rossi, and the law enforcement officers moved through the corridors, securing the gunmen and ensuring the children's safety. Derek's thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N, lying there injured but alive. He pushed himself harder, knowing they needed to get Spencer to her as soon as possible.

Finally, with the immediate threat neutralized and the hostages safe, Derek made his way back to the entrance, where Spencer was waiting, his eyes searching desperately for any sign of Y/N. When Derek saw him, he felt a surge of empathy. Spencer looked like a man on the edge, barely holding himself together.

"Reid," Derek called out, his voice breaking the silence.

Spencer turned, his eyes filled with desperation. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's in the medical bay," Derek said, his voice gentle. "She's stable, but we need to get her to a hospital for surgery."

Spencer didn't wait for Morgan to say anything else. He ran towards the medical bay, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached it, he saw a flurry of activity, medics moving quickly and urgently around a stretcher. He strained to see through the chaos, his heart in his throat, desperate to catch a glimpse of Y/N.

"Where is she?" he shouted, his voice breaking. "I need to see her!"

A medic stepped in front of him, gently but firmly placing a hand on his shoulder. "Spencer, you can't go in there right now. She's in critical condition and has lost a lot of blood. They're doing everything they can to stabilize her."

Spencer felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He swayed slightly, his vision blurring with tears. "No, I need to see her. She needs to know I'm here."

The medic's eyes softened with understanding. "I know this is hard, but the best thing you can do right now is let them work. As soon as she's stable, you'll be the first to know."

Spencer nodded numbly, his heart aching with helplessness. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving the flurry of activity around the stretcher. Every second felt like an eternity as he stood there, silently willing her to hold on.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with anguish. "Please hold on. Please be okay."

Finally, the medics began to move, preparing to transport Y/N to the hospital for surgery. Spencer followed as closely as he could, his heart breaking with every step. He couldn't be by her side right now, but he would be there the moment they let him. They had faced a nightmare, but he refused to believe this was the end. They had survived, and he would make sure they had many more days together, no matter what it took.

—

Spencer made his way to the waiting room, his steps heavy with worry. Approaching the receptionist, he tried to steady his voice. "Excuse me, could you please notify me when Y/N L/N is out of surgery?"

The receptionist looked up from her computer and asked, "And who are you in relation to her?"

"I'm her boyfriend," Spencer replied, his voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “Spencer Reid.”

The receptionist frowned slightly and checked the records. "I'm sorry, but you're not listed as her emergency contact. We'll have to ask her once she's awake if she wants you to be notified."

Frustration surged through Spencer, and he clenched his fists. "You don't understand, she's... she will want me there. I need to know if she's okay. I need to see her."

Luckily, Hotch appeared at his side, placing a calming hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Spencer, it's okay. We'll figure this out."

Hotch turned to the receptionist. "I'm Aaron Hotchner, and Y/N's emergency contacts are myself and my wife, Haley Hotchner. Could you please update us on her status and inform us when she's out of surgery?"

The receptionist nodded, recognizing Hotch. "Of course, Agent Hotchner. We'll make sure you're informed."

As they sat in the waiting room, a storm of emotions churned within Spencer. The initial shock of hearing Y/N was injured had given way to a simmering frustration, which now threatened to boil over. He couldn't understand why he wasn't listed as her emergency contact. After everything they'd been through, after all the moments they had shared, why was he still on the periphery of her life?

Hotch's presence, usually a calming force, now felt like a reminder of his own inadequacy. Spencer tried to remind himself that Y/N had known the Hotchners much longer, and logically it made sense for them to be her contacts. But logic was a poor balm for his wounded pride and anxiety.

"Why am I not her emergency contact?" Spencer muttered under his breath, the words escaping before he could stop them. "We've been together for months. I've been there for her just as much as anyone else."

Hotch, overhearing, placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Spencer, it's not about that. Y/N trusts you. This is just a formality."

"But it doesn’t feel like just a formality," Spencer shot back, his voice rising slightly. "It feels like... like I'm not as important to her as I thought I was."

Hotch met his gaze with steady eyes. "You're not thinking clearly right now. This isn't about who's more important. It's about who could get to her parents the fastest, who’s already in the system. We can update it later, but right now, focus on the fact that she's stable and going to be okay."

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to let Hotch's words sink in. But the knot of frustration in his chest wouldn't fully dissolve. He felt sidelined, helpless, and it was tearing him apart.

He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to keep his composure. "I just... I need to see her. I need to know she's okay."

"You will," Hotch promised, his voice firm. "We're going to see her as soon as they let us. She's going to need you, Spencer. So stay strong for her."

Spencer nodded, his heart aching with a mix of love and frustration. He wanted to be the one Y/N relied on, the one she turned to in her darkest moments. And perhaps, once she was awake and well, they could have that conversation. For now, he had to focus on being there for her, no matter what.

"Spencer, she's in good hands. The doctors are doing everything they can. Let's just focus on being here for her when she wakes up."

Spencer nodded, trying to take comfort in Hotch's words. He knew Hotch cared deeply for Y/N, almost like a sister, and seeing him so calm helped Spencer find some semblance of control.

Meanwhile, Haley was on the phone with Y/N's parents, explaining the situation. "M/N, D/N, Y/N's been hurt, but she's in surgery now. Aaron and I are here with her. I thought you should know. You might want to come as soon as you can."

Her parents, understandably distraught, promised to catch the next flight. "We'll be there as soon as we can, Haley. Thank you for letting us know."

With Y/N's parents on their way, Haley relieved Aaron to go home with Jack and kept Spencer company in the waiting room. She sat next to Spencer, offering him a supportive smile. "She'll pull through, Spencer. She's strong. Just hold on a little longer."

Spencer nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. He appreciated Haley's presence, even though his mind was a whirlwind of worry and frustration. The waiting was agonizing, each passing second dragging on interminably. Every time a doctor or nurse walked by, his heart would leap into his throat, hoping for news.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a surgeon approached them, his expression serious but not grim. Spencer stood up, his pulse quickening.

"Y/N L/N is out of surgery," the surgeon said, and Spencer's breath caught. "The bullet missed any major organs, but she lost a lot of blood. She's stable now and will be moved to the ICU shortly. You can see her once she's settled."

Relief flooded Spencer, and he nodded, tears of gratitude welling up in his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Haley squeezed his shoulder again, a silent reminder of the support surrounding him. "I’m going to go see her," she said softly. “I’ll tell her you’re here, ask about having you come back.”

Spencer watched as Haley walked towards the ICU, his mind a tumult of emotions. He was relieved beyond measure, but the ordeal had taken a toll on him. He sank back into his chair, trying to steady his breathing, to calm the frantic beating of his heart.

Minutes later, which felt like hours, Haley returned, her expression gentle but firm. "She’s still groggy, but she’s awake. She wants to see you."

Spencer's heart leapt. He stood up, his legs feeling unsteady, and followed Haley to the ICU. As they walked through the sterile corridors, his thoughts raced. He felt a mixture of overwhelming relief and lingering fear, the adrenaline of the past hours still coursing through his veins.

They reached Y/N's room, and Haley gently opened the door. Spencer stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding Y/N on the bed. She looked pale and fragile, but her eyes were open, and a faint smile played on her lips when she saw him.

"Spence," she whispered, her voice weak but filled with emotion.

Spencer crossed the room in a few quick strides and took her hand, careful not to jostle her. "I'm here," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm right here."

Y/N's fingers tightened around his. "I knew you'd come," she murmured. "I knew you'd be here."

Spencer leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Y/N. So much."

"I love you too," she whispered back, her eyes closing again as exhaustion overtook her.

Y/N felt the overwhelming relief of seeing Spencer by her side, his presence a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. As his hand enveloped hers, a sense of safety and comfort washed over her. The pain and fear that had gripped her began to ebb away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the love in his eyes. With Spencer there, holding her hand and whispering words of love and comfort, she finally felt safe enough to rest. The rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his presence—it was all she needed to drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing she was not alone.

Spencer stayed by her side, his heart aching with love and relief. He watched her breathe, the rise and fall of her chest a soothing rhythm that calmed his frayed nerves. He knew the road to recovery would be long, but they were together, and that was all that mattered.

Haley stood by the door, giving them a moment of privacy before she quietly left to update the others. Spencer barely noticed, his entire focus on Y/N. He held her hand, whispering words of love and reassurance, promising to be there for her every step of the way.

When Y/N woke up, the room was filled with a soft morning light filtering through the blinds. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow, and she immediately felt the presence of her parents. Her father stood at the foot of the bed, his usually stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of worry for his daughter's health. As a healthcare worker himself, he understood the gravity of her condition, and it showed in the deep lines of concern etched on his face.

Her mother, always kind but with a slightly cold detachment due to her autism, was silently crying. She leaned over, gently kissing Y/N’s forehead, a rare display of emotion and physical contact that spoke volumes about her love and fear.

Both parents were so focused on Y/N that they barely noticed the man asleep next to her bed, or barely cared. Spencer was slumped over in the hospital chair, his hand still entwined with Y/N’s, his face resting on the edge of the bed. The uncomfortable position had left him sore, but he had refused to leave her side.

As Y/N stirred, her father finally noticed Spencer. He glanced at his wife, silently acknowledging the presence of the young man who had stayed with their daughter through the night. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a recognition of Spencer's dedication and love for Y/N.

Spencer woke up with a start, the realization of new faces in the room jolting him upright. His body ached from the awkward position, but his concern for Y/N overrode any discomfort. He quickly assessed the situation, his gaze moving from Y/N's parents to her, checking to see how she was feeling.

Y/N's father stepped forward, extending a hand. "You must be Spencer. I'm Dr. L/N, Y/N's father. Thank you for being here with her."

Spencer stood up, shaking the offered hand. "Yes, sir. Spencer Reid. I'm... I'm her boyfriend," he said, a bit flustered but determined to show his respect.

Her mother, still holding Y/N’s hand, gave Spencer a nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you for staying with her," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

Y/N squeezed Spencer's hand, offering him a reassuring smile despite her own fatigue. "Spence, these are my parents," she introduced gently. "Dad, Mom, this is Spencer."

Spencer nodded, looking at Y/N’s parents with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I wouldn't be anywhere else. I love her."

Dr. L/N gave a small, approving nod, while Y/N's mother gently squeezed her daughter's hand, her tears finally stopping as she found some solace in the love surrounding her child.

The room was filled with a palpable sense of relief and unity. Despite the fear and pain of the past hours, there was a shared understanding that together, they would support Y/N through her recovery, each drawing strength from the presence of the others.

As the days passed, Y/N remained in the hospital, her body gradually healing from the surgery. The sterile environment that had once felt like a sanctuary of healing now felt like a constant reminder of the trauma she had endured. Each day, she was faced with the decision that weighed heavily on her mind: should she stay at her current job, where she no longer felt safe, or should she take her parents up on their offer to move in with them and start anew at her father's hospital?

During her recovery, Y/N spent a lot of time alone with her thoughts, the hospital room both a place of healing and a crucible for her inner turmoil. She looked out the window, watching the world go by, feeling disconnected from it all. The decision felt like a crossroads, each path holding its own set of challenges and uncertainties.

In the quiet moments, she replayed the day she was shot over and over in her mind. The fear, the helplessness, the pain—it all came rushing back. Could she really return to the place where she had almost lost her life? She loved her job and the children she worked with, but the thought of walking through those halls again filled her with dread.

On the other hand, the idea of moving back in with her parents felt like a step backward. She had worked so hard to build her own life and establish her independence. Yet, the safety and comfort of her parents' home and the opportunity to work alongside her father at his hospital seemed appealing. It would provide her with a fresh start, away from the memories of the trauma, and a chance to heal both physically and emotionally.

Y/N's parents visited her often, bringing warmth and reassurance. Her father, with his calm demeanor, spoke about the new position at his hospital, emphasizing how much they needed someone with her skills and compassion. Her mother, despite her usual reserved nature, expressed how much she wanted Y/N to be safe and close to them. Their love and concern were evident, and it tugged at Y/N's heartstrings.

Spencer was a constant presence, too. He stayed with her as much as possible, bringing books to read together and engaging in gentle, comforting conversations. He was her rock, his quiet strength a source of solace. But she knew that staying with him meant staying in the city, where the memories of the shooting would linger.

—

As Y/N finally left the hospital, she decided to celebrate her recovery with a special dinner for her parents and Spencer. She chose a cozy, intimate restaurant where they could all relax and enjoy a pleasant evening together. The soft lighting and warm atmosphere provided the perfect setting for the occasion.

As they sat down at their table, Y/N smiled at the three people who meant the most to her. She felt a deep sense of gratitude for their support and love throughout her recovery. The conversation flowed easily, with laughter and shared stories.

"Spencer, did you know my dad is a doctor too?" Y/N said, glancing between Spencer and her father. "It's one of the reasons I chose to work in healthcare."

Spencer nodded, smiling at her father. "Yes, Y/N mentioned it. What field are you in, Mr. L/N?"

"I'm in internal medicine," her father replied, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Y/N has always had a passion for helping others. I'm glad she's found her own path in the medical field."

Y/N's mother chimed in, her voice warm but slightly detached, "And we hear you're a doctor too, Spencer. That's quite impressive."

Spencer blushed slightly, feeling the weight of their admiration. "Yes, I'm a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. It's a bit different from traditional medicine, but it's incredibly rewarding."

The conversation continued pleasantly, with everyone enjoying the meal and each other's company. However, the topic soon turned to the decision that had been weighing heavily on Y/N's mind.

"So, Y/N, have you made a decision?" her father asked gently, his tone filled with concern.

Spencer looked puzzled, glancing between Y/N and her parents. "What decision are you talking about?"

Y/N hesitated, her heart racing. Before she could respond, her mother, oblivious to the tension, answered, "Oh, the decision about whether Y/N will stay here or move back home with us to work at her father's hospital. We think it would be best for her to be closer to family, especially after what happened."

Spencer's face fell, a mix of shock and hurt washing over him. He looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "Y/N, you never mentioned this to me," he said quietly, his voice trembling.

Y/N reached out to him, her eyes pleading. "Spence, I was going to talk to you about it. I just... I needed more time to figure things out."

But Spencer was already standing, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need some air," he muttered, turning and walking out of the restaurant before anyone could stop him.

Y/N watched him go, her heart breaking. She turned back to her parents, her eyes filled with tears. "I need to go after him," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Her father nodded, understanding. "Go, Y/N. We'll be here when you get back."

Y/N hurried out of the restaurant, searching for Spencer. She found him outside, leaning against a lamppost, his shoulders hunched. She approached him slowly, her heart aching for the pain she saw in his eyes.

"Spence," she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm so sorry. I was going to tell you."

Spencer looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and anguish. "Why didn't you, Y/N? Why didn't you trust me enough to share this with me?"

Y/N's tears flowed freely now, her voice trembling. "I was scared, Spence. Scared of losing you, scared of making the wrong decision. I didn't want to burden you with my doubts."

Spencer took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "Y/N, you're not a burden. I love you, and I want to be there for you, no matter what. But we can't keep secrets from each other. We have to face these challenges together."

As they stood in the dim light outside the restaurant, Spencer stepped back slightly, searching Y/N’s eyes for answers. His voice was soft but tinged with hurt and confusion. "Y/N, why are you even considering leaving? Is it because of me?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock, she stepped forward and brought her hands up to cradle his face. "No, Spencer, it's not because of you. It's not about you at all."

"Then why?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why are you thinking about moving back home?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's because of what happened, Spence. After getting shot, I don't feel safe at the hospital anymore. I thought I could handle it, but every time I walk through those doors, I relive that moment. My parents offered me a job at my dad's hospital, and it feels like a safe place to heal and recover."

Spencer looked down, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. "I just thought... I thought we were building something here, together. I didn't realize you were struggling so much."

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Y/N whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't want to worry you, and I didn't know how to bring it up. But please believe me, Spencer, you're the reason I want to stay. You're my anchor, my safe place. I love you so much."

Spencer's eyes, instead of softening, hardened with a mix of confusion and frustration. "Why didn't you tell me, Y/N? How could you keep something this big from me?" His voice was louder now, the pain and anger evident.

"I didn't know how, Spencer! I was scared and confused," Y/N cried, her voice cracking. "I didn't want to burden you with my fears."

"Burden me?" Spencer repeated incredulously. "Y/N, we're supposed to share our burdens, not hide them from each other! Do you have any idea how it feels to find out like this, from your parents, not from you?"

Y/N flinched at his words, the guilt gnawing at her. "I know, and I'm sorry. But this isn't easy for me either! I don't feel safe there anymore, and my parents offered me a way out."

"A way out? So you're just going to run away?" Spencer snapped, the anger he rarely showed now surfacing. "What about us? What about what we're doing here?"

"Don't you think I want to stay?" Y/N shot back, her own anger flaring. "Don't you think I want to be with you? But I can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not!"

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "I thought we were in this together. But it feels like you're making decisions without me."

"I'm trying to figure things out, Spencer! I'm scared, and I don't know what to do," Y/N shouted, her voice breaking. "But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Spencer stopped pacing and turned to face her, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "Then why does it feel like you're already leaving?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she replied, "I think we both know the answer to that."

Spencer's face fell, a look of devastation crossing his features. "Y/N, don't... please."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Spence, I love you, but I can't stay here feeling like this. I'm scared all the time, and I can't keep pretending that everything's okay. It’s not fair to either of us."

"But we can work through this," Spencer argued, his voice desperate. "We can find a way."

Y/N's voice broke as she continued, "I wish it were that simple. But every time I walk into that hospital, I relive that day. I can't breathe, I can't function. I can't keep living like this."

Spencer's eyes filled with tears, his voice barely a whisper. "So, what does this mean for us?"

Y/N's heart ached as she looked at him, her voice raw with pain. "It means I need to go home, to heal. I need time, and space, and I can't do that here. And you... you need to be here, doing what you do best. It's not fair to ask you to leave everything for me."

Spencer shook his head, his tears falling freely now. "I don't care about that. I care about you. I can't lose you."

Y/N stepped closer, her hand gently cupping his cheek. "You won't lose me. But we both need to take this time to figure things out. Maybe one day, when we're both ready, we can find our way back to each other."

Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "I don't want to wait. I want you now."

Y/N's heart shattered at his words, but she knew what needed to be done. "I know, Spence. But right now, I need to do this for me. And you need to let me."

Spencer opened his eyes, the pain evident in his gaze. "I don't know if I can."

Y/N's voice was soft but firm. "You can. You're stronger than you think. And so am I. We'll get through this, somehow."

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I love you, Y/N. More than anything."

"I love you too, Spence," she whispered, her voice breaking. "That's why this hurts so much."

—

Y/N stumbled down the street, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t care that she had abandoned her parents at the restaurant or that she probably looked crazy. She couldn’t bear the weight of the conversation with Spencer any longer. Her heart ached with the realization of how deeply she had hurt him, and now she felt lost, not knowing what to do next. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could offer her guidance. Without much thought, she found herself walking toward the Hotchner household, seeking out Haley.

When she arrived, Haley opened the door, her face filled with concern upon seeing Y/N’s tear-streaked face. She immediately welcomed her inside, guiding her to the living room and offering her a comforting hug.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What happened?” Haley asked gently, leading her to the couch.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I don’t know what to do, Haley. Spencer and I… we just had a huge fight. He’s so hurt, and I feel like everything is my fault. My parents want me to go back home with them, but I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do. I love Spencer so much, but I don’t want to keep hurting him. But… I’m also hurting so bad right now. I don’t know if I can go back to my normal life.”

Haley nodded, listening intently. “Relationships are hard, Y/N. They’re ever-changing, and you have to grow together each year. It’s not always easy, but if you really love someone, you find a way to make it work.”

Y/N looked up at Haley, her eyes searching for reassurance. “Do you really think Spencer and I can get through this? Do you think we’re right for each other?”

Haley smiled softly. “I haven’t seen two people so perfect for each other in a long time. Aaron and I have talked about it, and we both agree that we’ve never seen Spencer glow like he does when he talks about you. He’s happier, more at ease. Aaron even noticed that he picks at his fingers less, doesn’t get as many migraines, and talks to his mom more since you came into his life. You’ve made a huge impact on him.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, but doubt still lingered. “But what if I can’t fix this? What if he never forgives me?”

Haley squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You have to try, Y/N. Relationships aren’t about being perfect; they’re about loving each other through the imperfections. Spencer loves you, and you love him. That’s a strong foundation to build on. It’s going to take time and effort, but if you both want it, you can make it work.”

Y/N wiped away her tears, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thank you, Haley. I needed to hear that.”

Haley smiled warmly. “Anytime, Y/N. Just remember, it’s okay to ask for help and lean on the people who care about you. You don't have to be alone in this.”

Y/N nodded, “Haley, I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve already hurt him so much. What if he doesn’t want to give us another chance?”

Haley took a deep breath, her expression serious yet compassionate. “Y/N, Spencer loves you. That kind of love doesn’t just disappear. Yes, he’s hurt, and it might take time for him to heal. But he’s also strong and capable of forgiveness. The key is showing him that you’re committed to making things right.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “But how do I do that? How do I prove to him that I’m not going to run away again?”

Haley leaned forward, her gaze intense. “You have to be honest with him, Y/N. About everything. Tell him why you’re thinking about leaving, what you are feeling, and what you want for the future. He needs to understand that your decision to leave isn’t because you don’t love him, but because you are scared and confused.”

Y/N wiped away another tear, her heart heavy with regret. “I should have talked to him instead of running away. I see that now. But I was so afraid that he wouldn’t understand, that he would see me as weak.”

Haley’s expression softened, and she reached out to gently squeeze Y/N’s hand. “We all have moments of weakness, Y/N. It’s part of being human. But it’s how we deal with those moments that define us. Spencer doesn’t see you as weak; he sees you as someone he loves deeply. And if you’re willing to fight for your relationship, he will see that too.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “Do you really think he’ll give me another chance?”

Haley smiled, her eyes filled with reassurance. “I do. But you have to be patient. And from what I’ve seen, you and Spencer have something truly special.”

Y/N clung to Haley, grateful for her support and guidance. She knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with Haley’s words echoing in her mind, she felt ready to face the challenges and fight for the love she and Spencer shared.

She still had a big decision to make.

—

Spencer, his face streaked with tears, knocked on Emily's apartment door with a heavy heart. He didn't know where else to turn. Emily had always been like a big sister to him, someone who could offer the comfort and perspective he desperately needed. And he didn’t want Derek to see him cry.

Emily opened the door, her concern evident the moment she saw him. "Spencer, what happened?" she asked, stepping aside to let him in.

Without a word, Spencer walked in and collapsed onto her couch, his body wracked with sobs. Emily sat beside him, offering a comforting presence. Sergio, her cat, sensed the tension and padded over, nuzzling against Spencer's leg.

Spencer reached down to stroke Sergio, the gentle purring providing a small, welcome distraction from his overwhelming emotions. After a few moments, he began to speak, his voice choked with grief. "Emily, I don't understand. She’s thinking about leaving. She didn't even tell me she was considering it. I thought we were working things out."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise. "Who’s thinking about leaving? Y/N? Y/N's thinking about leaving? What do you mean, Spencer? I had no idea she was even considering it."

Spencer looked up, his eyes red and swollen. "She’s been talking to her parents about moving back home with them. She’s so hurt, Emily. She doesn’t feel safe here anymore. And now, she’s thinking about going back because she thinks it’s the only way to heal."

Emily listened intently, her heart aching for her friend. "Spencer, I know this is incredibly hard for you. But you have to remember, Y/N's situation is different. She went through something traumatic. It's not like facing unsubs for us."

Spencer looked up, his eyes red and swollen. "But why didn't she talk to me? Why didn't she trust me enough to share her fears? I've faced danger too, and I never thought about leaving."

Emily reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Spencer, what we do for a living isn't normal. We’re trained to handle these situations. Y/N isn’t. Her job was about helping people, not facing life-threatening dangers every day. It’s not about her not trusting you. It’s about her needing to feel safe and in control of her own life again."

Spencer nodded, trying to understand, but the pain was still raw. "I just... I feel so helpless. I love her so much, and I can't stand the thought of losing her. It feels like she's giving up on us."

Emily sighed, pulling him into a gentle hug. "Spencer, she's not giving up on you. She's trying to heal in the only way she knows how. It doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She just needs time and space to figure things out."

Sergio climbed onto Spencer's lap, curling up and purring louder. Spencer stroked the cat absentmindedly, finding a small measure of comfort in the simple act. "I just wish I could understand her better. I want to support her, but I don't know how."

Emily gave him a reassuring smile. "You already are supporting her by trying to understand. Give her time, and give yourself time too. Healing isn't a straight path, and it's okay to feel lost right now."

Spencer nodded, the tears still flowing but his heart a little lighter. 

After leaving Emily's apartment, Spencer found himself wandering through the quiet streets, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The night air was cool, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside him. Emily's words had brought some clarity, but the pain and confusion remained.

As he walked, Spencer's mind kept returning to Y/N. Her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the comfort he felt in her presence – all of it played on a loop in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, but underneath that was a deeper, more painful emotion: fear. Fear of losing her, fear of being alone again, fear of never finding that same connection with anyone else.

He thought about the nights they spent together, talking about everything and nothing, the way she made him feel understood in a way no one else ever had. She had become his safe place, his anchor in a world that often felt overwhelming. The idea of her leaving, of not having her in his life, was unbearable.

Spencer stopped by a park bench and sat down, burying his face in his hands. He felt tears welling up again, and he let them fall freely. Why can't I fix this? he thought. Why can't I make her see that she doesn't have to run away to heal?

He remembered their early days together, how effortlessly they had clicked, how natural it had felt to be with her. They had shared so many dreams and hopes for the future, and now it all seemed to be slipping away. He couldn't understand why she hadn't come to him, why she had kept her fears and plans hidden until now. It felt like a betrayal, but he also knew that she was hurting in ways he couldn't fully comprehend.

Maybe I'm not enough for her, he thought, the doubt creeping in. Maybe she needs more than I can give. The idea of her moving back home, starting a new life without him, was a knife to his heart. But he couldn't force her to stay, couldn't make her see things his way. All he could do was be there for her, support her in whatever decision she made, even if it meant letting her go.

He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered into the night. "And I will always love you, no matter what happens. I just wish you could see how much I need you, how much we need each other."

The thought of her leaving still tore him apart, but he knew he had to respect her choices, even if it broke his heart. As he stood up to head home, he made a silent vow to himself: to be the best partner he could be, to support her through her pain, and to hope that, in time, they could find their way back to each other.

—

The BAU team was exhausted as they stepped off the jet, the weight of their latest case still heavy on their shoulders. It had been a grueling two weeks, filled with sleepless nights and relentless days. Yet, for Spencer Reid, the exhaustion went beyond the physical. His heartache was evident to everyone, casting a shadow over the team's usual camaraderie.

Spencer barely acknowledged anyone as they made their way to their desks. His eyes were sunken, dark circles prominent under them, and his shoulders slumped with an invisible weight. The team exchanged worried glances, their concern for him palpable. Spencer’s usual spark was missing, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

Hotch noticed Spencer's avoidance and knew why. He himself had struggled with the knowledge of Y/N's final decision. The unspoken tension between them was thick, neither willing to confront the painful truth just yet.

Emily watched Spencer with a heavy heart. She had seen him hurt before, but this was different. The loss of Y/N had gutted him in a way that no other personal tragedy had. She approached him gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Spence, you holding up?" she asked softly.

Spencer forced a small, tired smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, his voice hollow. "Just tired."

Derek, sitting nearby, shook his head. "We’re all tired, man, but this isn’t just about the case, is it?" His voice was filled with a mix of concern and frustration. "You don't have to pretend with us."

Spencer glanced around, his eyes briefly meeting each of theirs. He knew they cared, knew they wanted to help, but the pain was too raw, too personal. "I just need some time," he said quietly, his gaze dropping to his desk. "I'll be okay."

JJ, standing by Hotch's office, crossed her arms and frowned. "Spence, we’re your family. Lean on us. We’re here for you, no matter what."

Hotch, who had been silently observing, stepped forward. "Take some time off, Spencer. Go home, rest. We’ve got things covered here."

Spencer nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He grabbed his bag and made his way out, feeling the weight of their concern following him. As he exited the building, he couldn't shake the image of Y/N from his mind, wondering if she was still in Quantico or if she had already left for good.

Back inside, the team watched him go, their hearts heavy with worry. Emily turned to Hotch. "Do you know if she’s still here?" she asked softly.

Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. She was supposed to make a decision while we were gone. I haven’t heard from her."

Penelope, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up, her voice trembling. "I tried calling her, but she never answered. I didn’t want to invade her privacy by tracking her down, but... I’m so worried about both of them."

Rossi, leaning against his desk, shook his head. "Sometimes, love isn’t enough. They both have to want to fight for it. And right now, it seems like they’re both too hurt to see clearly."

The team nodded, knowing Rossi was right but still hoping for a miracle. They had seen Spencer at his best and his worst, and they weren’t ready to give up on him—or Y/N.

Meanwhile, Spencer wandered through the streets of Quantico, his mind a whirlwind of memories and emotions. He missed Y/N with every fiber of his being, but the fear of hearing she had left was paralyzing. He wanted to reach out to her, to beg her to stay, but he didn’t know if he could handle another rejection.

As he walked, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a message from Hotch.

Spencer, I know you’re struggling. If you need to talk, I’m here. Don’t shut us out.

Spencer stared at the message, feeling a surge of emotion. He typed a quick response, Thanks, Hotch. I’ll be okay, before shoving his phone back in his pocket. He wasn’t ready to talk yet, but the offer of support meant more than he could express.

Spencer walked the entire way home, his mind a tangled web of thoughts and emotions. He needed the time to process everything that had happened over the past few weeks, to try and make sense of his feelings. As he approached his apartment building, he noticed a figure slumped against the wall near his door. His heart rate quickened with alarm, but as he drew closer, he saw the familiar green Converse sneakers and his breath caught in his throat.

It was Y/N.

She was sitting on the ground, her arms wrapped around her shins, her head resting on her knees. The sight of her there, vulnerable and broken, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him. He felt an overwhelming surge of love and relief, but also a gnawing fear of reopening old wounds.

Spencer stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing. Should he approach her? What would he say? Would she welcome him or push him away? He felt a wave of doubt and uncertainty, but then he saw her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and the decision was made for him.

Slowly, hesitantly, he walked toward her, his footsteps almost silent. He knelt down beside her, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch her shoulder. The moment his fingers brushed against her, she looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. For a split second, time seemed to stand still, and all the hurt and confusion of the past weeks melted away, leaving only the profound connection between them.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

"Spence," she choked out, her voice cracking as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

Spencer felt his heart swell with a mix of love and sorrow. Without another word, he gently helped her to her feet, their eyes never breaking contact. He could see the depth of her pain, the regret etched on her face, and it mirrored his own.

As they stood there, the night air cool around them, Spencer realized that he couldn't turn away from her. He couldn't let his fear and anger keep him from the person he loved most in the world. He took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening.

"Come inside," he said softly, guiding her towards the door. "Let's talk."

Y/N nodded, her fingers clutching his hand as if afraid he might disappear. They walked into the apartment in silence, the familiar surroundings bringing a sense of comfort and security. Spencer led her to the couch, where they both sat down, the tension between them palpable.

Spencer got up briefly to get them each a glass of water, hoping it would help calm their nerves. When he returned, he sat at one end of the couch, Y/N at the other. The distance between them felt like a chasm, a stark contrast to the closeness they once shared.

Y/N took a sip of her water, her hands shaking slightly. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't leave."

Spencer's eyes softened, his own heart aching with the weight of their shared pain. "You couldn't or you wouldn't?"

Y/N's gaze met his, filled with unshed tears. "I couldn't. I couldn't leave you."

Spencer set his glass down and moved a little closer, the emotional distance still lingering between them. "I was so scared, Y/N. Scared that you were leaving because I wasn’t enough, because I couldn’t protect you. I didn’t understand why you would go through something like that alone."

Y/N shook her head, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I thought I was protecting you, Spence. I thought leaving would make things easier for both of us, but I was wrong. I see that now."

Spencer's eyes held a mix of frustration and hurt. "You broke my trust, Y/N. You left without a word, without giving us a chance to face it together. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

Y/N's tears spilled over, her voice breaking. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I was scared and confused, but that doesn’t excuse what I did. I thought I could handle it on my own, but I need you, Spencer. I need us."

Spencer took a deep breath, the pain in his chest easing slightly as he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He moved a little closer, closing some of the distance between them. "I want to believe you, Y/N. I really do. But it’s going to take time. I need to see that you mean what you say."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy with regret but also filled with hope. "I understand, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I love you, Spencer. More than anything."

Spencer looked at her, his own tears threatening to fall. "I love you too, Y/N. Let's take this one step at a time."

Y/N smiled through her tears, the first genuine smile she had felt in weeks. "One step at a time."

As they sat there, the weight of their emotions hanging in the air, they both felt a glimmer of hope. It wouldn't be easy, but they were willing to try. And in that moment, it was enough.

—

Spencer arrived at his desk, his mind still a whirlwind of emotions from the encounter with Y/N. He noticed an envelope sitting there, his name clearly scrawled in Y/N's familiar handwriting. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up, fingers trembling slightly as he opened it.

Inside, he found a handwritten note from Y/N. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

Spencer,

I know I’ve apologized before, but I need to do it again. I’m truly sorry for the pain I caused you, for breaking your trust and your heart. I can’t change the past, but I want to make things right. I want to start over, to rebuild what we had, if you’re willing to give me that chance.

I’m inviting you to a second first date. Just you and me, getting to know each other again. No pressure, no expectations, just a chance to see if we can find our way back to each other. Meet me at the park by the fountain at 6 PM on Saturday. If you don’t come, I’ll understand, but I hope you do.

Yours always,

Y/N

Spencer's heart raced as he read the note, his mind a mix of hope, fear, and uncertainty. As he sat there, contemplating what to do, he knew that he couldn’t let fear hold him back. This was a chance to rebuild, to see if the love they once shared could be rekindled. And for that, he was willing to take the risk.

Carefully folding the note, he placed it back in the envelope and slipped it into his jacket pocket. 

Spencer looked up from the note, momentarily startled by Derek's voice. He quickly tried to compose himself, but Derek had already caught the slight flush of color in Spencer's cheeks.

"What ya got there, pretty boy?" Derek asked, leaning against the edge of Spencer's desk with a teasing grin.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his fingers still holding the envelope. He glanced down at it, then back up at Derek, deciding that honesty might be the best approach. "It's a note from Y/N," he said quietly, his voice betraying a mix of emotions.

Derek raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A note from Y/N, huh? What does it say?"

Spencer sighed, feeling a bit vulnerable. "She apologized again and... she invited me to a second first date," he admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the turmoil inside.

Derek's grin widened. "A second first date? Sounds like she's really trying to make things right. How do you feel about that?"

Spencer glanced back at the note, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. "I don't know, Derek. Part of me is still hurt and angry, but another part of me... I want to give it another chance. I miss her."

Derek nodded, his expression turning serious. "You’ve been through a lot, man. It's okay to be cautious, but it’s also okay to follow your heart. If you think there’s a chance to rebuild, then go for it. But do what feels right for you."

Spencer took a deep breath, appreciating Derek's support. "Thanks, Derek. I think I’ll give it a shot and see what happens."

Derek clapped him on the shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Good for you, pretty boy."

— 

Y/N glanced at her watch again, her heart sinking as the minutes ticked by. It was 6:05 pm, and Spencer still hadn't shown up. She tried to keep her hope alive, but the longer she waited, the harder it became. She could already feel her heart breaking, the familiar ache of disappointment setting in.

Just as she was about to give up and call it a night, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps. She looked up to see Spencer jogging towards her, his face flushed and slightly out of breath. Relief and a flicker of hope filled her heart as he reached her, panting lightly.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Spencer said between breaths, his eyes wide with sincerity and regret. "I couldn't decide if I wanted to come. But I’m here now."

Y/N's eyes softened, a mix of emotions swirling within her. "You came," she said, her voice a little shaky. "That's what matters."

Spencer took a deep breath, finally catching his breath. "I know I’ve been a mess, and I’ve struggled with everything that happened. But I couldn’t ignore this chance, Y/N. I couldn't let you slip away without trying."

Y/N nodded, feeling a tear escape and roll down her cheek. "I’m glad you’re here, Spencer."

Spencer stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I miss you, Y/N. I miss us. Can we try to find our way back to each other?"

Y/N's heart swelled with hope and determination. "Yes, Spencer. We can try. We can start with this second first date and see where it takes us."

They stood there for a moment, the tension easing as they both felt the possibility of a fresh start. Spencer smiled, his nerves settling a bit. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

Y/N smiled back, linking her arm with his. "Yes, let's."

Spencer looked at her curiously. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," she replied with a mysterious smile.

After a short walk, they arrived at a newly opened Thai restaurant. Spencer's eyes widened in surprise. "The Thai place! I've been wanting to try this for weeks. How did you know?"

Y/N smiled warmly. "I remember you mentioning it a while ago. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

Spencer's face lit up with a blend of joy and disbelief. "You remembered that?"

She chuckled, feeling a warm flutter in her chest. "I pay attention to the things you say, Spencer. You matter to me."

Once seated, Spencer noticed Y/N reaching into her bag. She pulled out a book and placed it on the table between them. It was a rare Russian literature book he had been searching for but couldn't find.

Spencer's jaw dropped. "How did you…? This book is almost impossible to find!"

Y/N grinned. "I have my ways."

Spencer felt his heart swell with emotion. "Y/N, this means so much to me. Thank you."

They ordered their food, and as they waited, they held hands over the table, their fingers intertwined. The nervousness of their first date mingled with the comfort of their familiar bond, creating a blend of excitement and warmth.

Spencer smiled, a touch of mischief in his eyes. "Remember our first date? I was so nervous, I almost spilled coffee all over myself."

Y/N laughed softly, squeezing his hand. "I remember. You were adorable. Still are, actually."

Spencer blushed, his gaze never leaving hers. "You make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

Their conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. They talked about their favorite moments together, their hopes for the future, and the joy of reconnecting. Every glance, every touch, was a reaffirmation of their love.

"So, what else do you have planned for tonight?" Spencer asked, his voice playful.

Y/N smirked, leaning in closer. "You'll have to wait and see. But I promise, it’s something you'll love."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You always know how to keep me on my toes."

When their food arrived, they eagerly dug in, sharing bites and savoring the flavors. The meal was delicious, and the ambiance was perfect. They were in their own little world, surrounded by the buzz of the restaurant but completely focused on each other.

Y/N took a sip of her drink and looked at Spencer with a teasing glint in her eye. "You know, I think this date is going pretty well. What do you think, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer grinned, playing along. "I think it's going exceptionally well, Dr. L/N. You certainly know how to impress. I can't believe you did all this for me. You've made tonight unforgettable," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N squeezed his hand. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, Spencer. I wanted to make things right."

Spencer leaned across the table and kissed her gently. "You have, Y/N. More than you know."

As Spencer and Y/N left the restaurant, the cool night air wrapped around them like a comforting blanket. They walked side by side, their hands naturally finding each other, fingers intertwining as if they had never been apart. The gentle pressure of their clasped hands sent a wave of warmth through Spencer, a silent reassurance that they were on the path to healing.

Y/N glanced up at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Do you remember the first time we walked home together?" she asked, her voice filled with nostalgia.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I do. I was so nervous, I kept stumbling over my words."

Y/N laughed softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I thought it was cute how flustered you got. I was secretly hoping you'd ask me to hold your hand, just like this."

Spencer blushed, shaking his head with a grin. "I was terrified I’d say something stupid and ruin everything. You were just so pretty, I couldn’t form a single coherent thought."

"Oh, I was pretty, was I? What am I now, then?" Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.

Spencer's smile widened, and he leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking with hers. "Now? Now you're absolutely breathtaking," he replied softly, his tone filled with sincerity.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. "Breathtaking, huh? You really do know how to make a girl feel special."

Spencer chuckled, his hand gently squeezing hers. "Well, it’s the truth. Every time I see you, I’m reminded of how lucky I am."

Y/N's cheeks flushed, and she playfully nudged him. "You always were the charmer, Spencer Reid."

Spencer grinned, feeling more confident with each passing moment. "Only for you, Y/N. Only for you."

Spencer leaned in completely, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. He hesitated for just a moment, as if seeking her silent permission, and then closed the distance between them. His lips met hers in a gentle, tender kiss, filled with all the emotions they had both been holding back. It was a kiss of longing, of apology, and of hope.

Y/N’s heart soared as she kissed him back, her hands resting on his chest. The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of them in this perfect moment. She felt the warmth of his love and the sincerity of his feelings in every soft movement of his lips.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless. Spencer rested his forehead against hers, a small, contented smile playing on his lips. "I’ve missed you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine."

"Hmm, no, I think I have a pretty good idea." Y/N said softly. 

They continued walking, their conversation filled with lighthearted banter and shared memories. Spencer looked down at Y/N, admiring the way her hair shimmered under the streetlights.

"You know, you look absolutely stunning tonight," he said, his voice sincere.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. "You’re just saying that because I’m wearing your favorite dress."

Spencer shook his head, his smile tender. "The dress doesn’t hurt, but it's you that takes my breath away."

Y/N grinned, placing her fingers on his wrist in a mock serious manner. "Hmm, seems like you might be in love, Dr. Reid. It’s a common side effect of spending time with me."

Spencer laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "I think I might need a second opinion."

"Pretty sure I’m the best in the business," Y/N teased back, her eyes twinkling. "But if you insist on another opinion, you might have to wait until Monday."

"Then I’ll just have to trust your diagnosis, Doctor," Spencer said, pulling her a little closer as they walked. "I must admit, I like the symptoms."

"Good," Y/N replied, feeling her heart swell with happiness. "Because I plan on being your personal physician for a very long time."

Their walk continued in comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional shared glance and squeeze of hands. The night was peaceful, and they both felt a sense of rightness, as if the universe had finally aligned in their favor.

As they neared Y/N's doorstep, she looked up at Spencer, her heart racing with anticipation and hope. "Spence… you can say no, but do you want to come in?" she asked, her voice soft and hopeful.

Spencer looked into her eyes, his own filled with a mix of love and anticipation. “More than anything,” he replied, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

Y/N's heart fluttered as she unlocked the door and led him inside. The warmth of her apartment enveloped them, and she felt a sense of rightness wash over her. They stood in the entryway for a moment, the air between them charged with unspoken emotions.

Spencer leaned in, his lips capturing Y/N’s in a deep, sensual kiss. The intensity of his touch made Y/N’s heart race. She responded eagerly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Spencer’s hands found their way to her waist, holding her firmly yet tenderly.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Spencer’s fingers traced the curve of her spine, sending shivers down her back. Y/N’s hands moved to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as she pressed herself against him.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured against her lips, his voice filled with desire.

“Yes, Spence?” she whispered back, her breath hitching as his lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I want you,” he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

“I want you too,” Y/N replied, her voice trembling with anticipation.

They moved together, their bodies speaking the unspoken words between them. Y/N’s hands roamed over Spencer’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Spencer’s hands slid over her ass, his touch gentle yet insistent.

As their lips met again in a fervent kiss, Spencer pulled her, tugging her to the couch. He pushed her down gently, their kisses never breaking. Y/N’s hands explored his back, her nails lightly grazing his skin, eliciting a soft groan from him.

Spencer’s mouth found its way to her throat, and he gently bit down, making Y/N moan. Her breath quickened, and she arched into his touch, wanting more. Spencer’s other hand slid up her thigh, his touch both teasing and electrifying.

“Please, Spence,” Y/N gasped, her body aching for his touch.

Spencer responded by brushing his fingers along the seam of her tights, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her. Y/N’s fingers dug into his shoulders, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Wait, wait, Spencer,” Y/N panted as she pushed him back slightly, her breath ragged.

Spencer’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his features. “Are you…are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby,” Y/N quickly reassured him, cupping his face in her hands. “I just want to make sure you’re really ready for this.”

Relief washed over Spencer’s face, but he still looked uncertain. “I’m really ready, Y/N, but…I need you to show me what to do.”

Y/N smiled gently, her fingers tracing his jawline. “We’ll take it slow, okay? We’ll go at your pace.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes locked onto hers. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

Y/N guided his hands to the waistband of her tights, helping him pull them off. Spencer left light sucking kisses down Y/N’s exposed thighs as he pulled her tights off. Y/N squirmed where she lied on the couch, so overwhelmed by having Spencer’s beautiful mouth on her.

Spencer looked up at Y/N with begging eyes, not knowing where to go next. She took his hand, showing him how to touch her over her panties, where to rub her clit and how much pressure to apply. She whispered encouragement, her own excitement building as Spencer gained confidence. His touch grew surer, more deliberate, each movement guided by her soft instructions and their mutual desire.

“Like this?” Spencer asked, his voice low and filled with awe as he rubbed her clit with intense focus.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Y/N moaned softly, her body responding to his touch.

Spencer’s fingers moved to the waistband of her panties, pulling them off as well. His lips followed her whispered directions of sucking on the skin behind her ear. Y/N’s clit throbbed with the lack of touch, her body thrumming and arching against his. Spencer’s eyes darkened with passion, his love for her driving him to learn quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his concern evident even in his desire. Spencer’s eyes glimmered in excitement. “Can I touch you again?”

“God, yes please, Spence,” Y/N responded, her voice full of anticipation and desperation.

“Oh, oh my god, you’re so wet. Is this just from me?” Spencer’s tone was a blend of amazement and disbelief, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Yes, all from you, for you,” Y/N confirmed, her own breath catching at the intensity of his touch. “Only you.”

Spencer’s hands moved with newfound confidence, fingers finding Y/N’s clit again, this time without the barrier of her panties. Y/N cries out at the feeling of his rough fingers rubbing her sensitive bud with the dexterity of someone who has done this a million times.

Y/N sits up slightly, alarming Spencer, but before he can pull away or ask if she’s okay, she whips her dress over her head. Baring her chest to Spencer, she looks at him with a mixture of vulnerability and boldness. Spencer's eyes widen, his cock hardening in desire.

Spencer's breath hitched as he took in the sight of her. She was beautiful, and the intimacy of the moment left him awestruck. His hands moved with a newfound confidence, tracing the curves of her body with reverence. The warmth of her skin against his palms sent shivers down his spine.

"Y/N," he breathes out, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re… even more beautiful than I remember."

She smiles, her confidence bolstered by his reaction. "I want you to feel comfortable with me, Spence. No more holding back."

Spencer's hands gently glide over her breast, his touch reverent and filled with awe. "I’ve never seen anything so perfect."

Y/N's heart swells with love and desire. "We’re perfect together, Spencer."

With a deep feeling of love and comfort, Spencer removes his shirt as well. He may still be a virgin, but Y/N has never made him feel pressured or like something was wrong with him. He pulls back completely, stands to remove both his pants and his briefs, feeling vulnerable yet confident in their connection. Now matching Y/N, he takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with desire.

As he stands there bare, Spencer feels a whirlwind of emotions. His heart races with anticipation, his nerves tingling with excitement and apprehension. The room feels charged with electricity, each moment stretching into infinity. He looks at Y/N, seeing her beauty and the depth of her love reflected in her eyes, and he feels a surge of gratitude and affection.

"Let's move to the bedroom," he suggests, his voice gentle yet demanding.

Spencer gently guided Y/N to her bedroom, the dim light casting soft shadows across the room. The bed, covered in a quilt Y/N had made herself, felt inviting and warm. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of their favorite Thai dishes from dinner. As they stood by the bed, the sounds of their breathing filled the room, heavy with anticipation and desire.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through him. This was his first time, and the weight of the moment was not lost on him. His mind raced with thoughts, but the overwhelming sense of connection with Y/N anchored him, guiding his actions with love and sincerity.

Y/N's eyes locked with his, a reassuring smile playing on her lips. She reached up, brushing her fingers through his hair, her touch calming his nerves. "Spence," she whispered, her voice soft and filled with affection, "it's just us. There's no rush. Let's just be together."

Spencer nodded, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. "I want this to be perfect for you," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.

Y/N's smile widened, her heart swelling with love for him. "It already is, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Y/N," he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "I've never felt this way before. You've shown me what it means to truly be loved."

“Oh, Spence,” Y/N’s lip trembled, her eyes filled with a hint of tears. The depth of emotion between them was palpable, a beautiful blend of tenderness and desire.

Finally, Spencer brought his body back to Y/N’s, his eyes locked onto hers as he entered his fingers inside her with a mix of anticipation and tenderness. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she felt Spencer's movement. 

She could sense his nervousness, his eagerness to make this moment perfect for both of them. "You're doing so well, Spence," she whispered, her voice filled with love and reassurance. “Fuck your fingers feel so good, so long,” she whines.

Spencer's heart swelled at her words, a rush of blood flooding his cock. He knew he wouldn’t last long once he was inside Y/N, but he felt himself care less and less as she proved her devotion and care for him.

“I’m ready, baby, I’m so ready, I need to feel you,” Y/N murmured, her voice thick with desire.

“Okay, okay, shit, me too,” Spencer replied, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe this was happening. Every nerve in his body was alive with sensation, and his mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anticipation, fear, love. As he moved closer to Y/N, he felt a surge of gratitude for her patience and understanding. This moment was more than physical; it was a profound expression of their bond, a step towards healing and rebuilding trust.

As Spencer slowly entered his cock inside of Y/N, he knew he was done for. No one and nothing would ever compare.

They moved together so fluidly, like lovers who would find each other in every lifetime. Her gentle encouragement and the way she responded to his touch filled him with a sense of confidence and belonging. He knew he was exactly where he was meant to be, with the person who understood and cherished him completely.

Their movements became more synchronized, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Spencer's nerves began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of connection and intimacy. Each touch, each whispered word, was a reassurance, a reminder of the deep bond they shared.

Y/N's soft moans and the way she held him close only fueled Spencer's determination to make this moment special. He marveled at the way their bodies fit together, how her warmth and softness seemed to envelop him, grounding him in the reality of their love.

Finally, as they reached their peak together, Spencer held Y/N tightly, their bodies trembling in unison. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the afterglow of their shared experience.

Y/N looked up at Spencer, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “I love you so much,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Spencer gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his heart swelling with adoration. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice tender. “This was perfect.”

They lay together, their bodies entwined, basking in the warmth and love that surrounded them. In that moment, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, stronger and more connected than ever before.

The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them in this cocoon of intimacy. Spencer's senses were heightened, every touch and sensation amplified by the intensity of their connection. He felt a profound sense of gratitude and love, knowing that Y/N was sharing this moment with him, making him feel whole and complete.

a/n: N is for New Years by @spencereidluver is what inspired me to write more smut for this story! their work is amazing, check it out!!

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

Comparative Mythologies of the Long Night: Part Two – Azor Ahai and The Red Sword

In part one, we looked at the origin story of the Long Night, and the ways in which it is reflected in the main series. Now, we shall move on to discuss the heroes who seemingly saved the world.

The most notable of these heroes, with whom you are likely aware, is the one most commonly known as Azor Ahai; emerging from Asshai, this is the hand that wields the flaming sword Lightbringer. They are also known as Hyrkoon the Hero, Yin Tar, Neferion, and Eldric Shadowchaser.

As a brief aside, it is interesting to note that all of these names can be related to specific places in Essos; the Patrimony of Hyrkoon is an ancient nation, Yin is a city in Yi Ti that has often been its capital, ‘Nefer’ is the last city in the distant kingdom of N’ghai, ‘the Shadow’, or the ‘Shadow Lands’ are a region in the furthest east, with AssHAI in the southwest, serving as something of a gateway to them – and it is the Shadow, as we will later learn, from whence the dragons may have first originated; tamed by an ancient, unnamed people.

Whether this solid anchoring of these heroic aliases in various places means anything more than a suggestion that the hero – or heroes – may have come from there, or were perhaps claimed by those peoples, I will leave you to ponder. For now, we shall turn to Azor Ahai’s legend.

Of Azor Ahai (AA), we have the most available information of all of the legends we shall discuss. He is also the only one explicitly prophesied to return again, and the manner in which AA shall return and be heralded is very clearly laid out for us from multiple sources.

AA is described as a leader, wielding a burning sword that radiates heat and light. He gave ‘courage to […] men and [led] the virtuous into battle’, returning ‘light and love’ to the world. So we should account for these aspects, as well as the finer points of the prophecy.

Much has been said about who AA reborn might be, with many candidates proposed. I will not be spilling that ink here; it’s Daenerys. Born on Dragonstone, a smoking isle in the great salt sea, she arose when darkness gathered and, beneath a bleeding star, awoke dragons from stone.

I would also point out that even Jon Snow, upon hearing of the Prophecy in the context of Mel’s candidate Stannis, zeroes on the importance of Stannis not being born on Dragonstone. One can almost hear the author himself tapping his fingers impatiently, no?

If you favour another candidate, a more abstract interpretation of the prophecy, feel free to do your own research and present it elsewhere; I am interested primarily in exploring the myths, not arguing. However, I do hope you will let me expand on my case and consider it fairly.

Dany becomes a leader, bringing hope and courage to mankind and returning light and love to those lost in the darkness. Moreover, she inspires them to fight for themselves, for their lives and loves; leading them into battle, but not doing their fighting for them.

I would also briefly highlight this echo of command from Quaithe, in light of one of AA’s names being ‘Shadowchaser’ – and that Quaithe wishes Dany to go to Asshai, from whence the myths of AA were born and the prophecy was written.

Going back here may mean in a temporal sense, revisiting the origins of AA and learning who he was, what he did, and most notably for Daenerys, why it was needed. She is, as present, unaware of the encroaching darkness that threatens the world, on any level except subconsciously through her dreams. A revelation is needed.

To add to this, we have the ‘Prince that was Promised’ title; these are used interchangeably with AA by Mel and by Maester Aemon and seem to often refer to the same person; in light of GRRM’s addition of Aegon’s dream to the canon, my interpretation is that they do refer to the same person, but by accident. Though we do not yet have it in GRRM’s words, Aegon saw the return of the Long Night and a Targaryen fighting against it. This is tPtwP, Aegon’s name for this leader who happens to also be the one who woke the dragons from stone to fight the cold.

And it is Aegon’s dream that dream-driven Targaryens have stumbled across in their scrolls – what Rhaegar to become a warrior and thence to confer the promise he initially saw in himself upon his newborn son. The Red Priests who herald Dany speak only of AA; Mel may have discovered tPtwP on Dragonstone itself. All other sources for the Promised Prince title seem to be either Targaryen or Targaryen adjacent – such as Barristan, who himself speaks of Jenny of Oldstones’ witch friend, presumably close to certain Targaryens.

But what of Lightbringer? Daenerys is not trained in arms, so how can she wield a sword? Recall that AA reborn is marked by waking dragons from stone and wielding Lightbringer. There is no separate mention of forging/reforging a sword. Perhaps there is more to the tale than that?

So let us examine Lightbringer and its forging; AA makes three attempts to forge the blade, quenching it in water, lion’s blood and, in his successful forging, the living heart of his wife, Nissa Nissa. The blade is described, by the Jade Compendium, as making its own fiery heat.

The blade never being cold, but being warm as Nissa Nissa was warm, is very alike to the description of dragons being ‘fire made flesh’; and the description of Lightbringer in action resembles nothing so much as the affect of Drogon’s flames. Lightbringer, Red Sword of Heroes, is not a blade; it is the dragons awoken from stone. But what of the three forgings? The exact arrangement of the forgings is sometimes debated, but the one I favour is this arrangement: the first forging in ‘water’.

The second in the ‘heart of a lion’; note that this moment is so important it appears again in the dreams that guide Dany’s steps to her eventual success.

And the third, successful forging – in the ‘sacred flames’ of a funeral pyre, fed by the blood of heart’s beloved. Note the proximity of the water/lion/heart imagery on each occasion, and that the conversations following the first scenes are about dragons, and then about war.

In the chapter prior to the pyre, Dany has dreams haunted by a pursuing cold, and by ghosts urging her on, with very familiar gemstone eyes; this links Dany and the dragons explicitly to the Great Empire of the Dawn and thus to the Long Night that followed the Blood Betrayal.

These dreams also link the dragons to sacrifice, just as Lightbringer is linked to Nissa Nissa’s sacrifice. Dany’s dreams show us the lives lost in her journey to that point (though Drogo is not yet entirely lost to her); those she has lost will lend their names to the dragons.

Blood sacrifice is a deeply potent power, both within ASOIAF and without. Many characters tell us of the potency of shed blood; of kin, king, and of holy men. Within many cultures in our own world, blood sacrifice was a holy act, to ward off catastrophe, as payment – and penance.

In Aztec mythology, for instance, it is now generally understood that blood sacrifice, both of slain captives but also one’s own blood on a daily basis, was both a fuel offered up to the gods for their daily labours, and as repayment for the debt owed by the living to the gods for their sacrifices made when creating the fifth sun, and so all human life. The dreams emphasise Dany’s own shed blood from the beginning; in her bloody footsteps, the burning in her womb, and the burning blood from her torn open back, which ultimately grants her wings.

When the time comes, she offers up her own blood by walking unafraid into the sacred flames of the funeral pyre, to bleed with her fallen beloved. Dany alone, among all Targaryens who have attempted to bring back dragons, took the last and most important step of self-sacrifice.

But if we understand blood sacrificed to be offered up, not just for power but for payment of debt, what debt is Dany paying here? Moreover, have we strayed from AA in this talk of blood magic and penance? I would argue not; for just as Dany’s Lightbringer is living dragons, so too do I believe that AA’s red sword was no literal blade, but dragons also.

I would here posit that Azor Ahai, in the coldest, darkest night, sought to bind fire made flesh to humankind. I propose that he tried and failed twice, before binding dragons to the fate of men.

I implore you to consider that Nissa Nissa was a dragon.

This concludes Part Two. Part Three shall answer the question, ‘what in the world did she mean by that last comment?’, by examining sacrifice, necessity, and the long, sad history of House Targaryen’s ritual offerings of innocence as payment.

[orcboxer]

 Aliens land in the middle east and due to a short altercation some people die so the US intervenes and they're quickly like "we have declared war on the aliens on behalf of Earth" and there's this huuuge media campaign about how we're all in this together and we can defend our homes and humans may not have those fancy alien weapons but we have Courage and Unity, that's our secret weapon, and everyone's like "damn this is a hell of a time to live in, we got invaded by aliens from space that's so crazy I can't believe it's real" and that's all anybody talks about for months and it's kind of annoying because fucking Nate your coworker spends over an hour every day chatting with the manager about it while you are 10 feet away doing the work of both of you. Meanwhile all the prices skyrocket and people are stocking their doomsday bunkers and talking all Serious and Brooding style and you can tell they are like, imagining themselves being the salt-of-the-earth badass with all this wisdom and they're totally gonna kill all the aliens that they expect to come flooding into their house using the semi-automatic rifle that they are now allowed to carry around all day at work just in case of aliens but your main concern is trying to pay rent which has doubled since all this began and nobody will even talk about it because "how can you talk about that when there's ALIENS invading EARTH?" Of course eventually all the aliens get killed to death and the president (a geriatric republican who in the throes of dementia has forgotten everything except, inexplicably, a list of particularly obscure racial slurs) gives a long rambling speech full of pithy lines about the strength of the American Spirit as well as a baffling direct quote from hitler? and somehow when it's all over the US comes out of it owning more land in the middle east and the oil industry experiences a boom in profits and at this point in history the sea has been rising at a ridiculously high rate like New Orleans is just gone and now that the whole alien thing is done people are starting to protest climate change again but Congress passes a bill called like, the Planet Temperature Restoration Act, and all of the parts in the original draft of the bill that would have hurt oil companies all get removed and the version of the bill that passes mainly just subsidizes corporations that put a couple solar panels on their buildings and the only reason it gets passed is because the GOP added a section that dumps trillions of dollars into space exploration using the aliens' ship as well as research into the alien technology and then later during a workers' rights protest the government attacks their own unarmed civilians with the aliens' weapons.

[writers-potion]

Hi! I just wanted to ask if you have any world building tips? I'm considering making a whole society and culture about a species that live on a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy.

Now for context, In my story, Earth doesn't know for sure that aliens exist, there are three characters that are going to be focused on in that universe are basically the first scouts that were sent after their society recently discovered Earth. Two on the planet and one stationed in a nearby celestial body which is where their "base" is, Their goal is to gather intel without alerting humans.

In terms of trying to imagine their biology, would it be good to first imagine the environment and climate of their planet and then address how their bodies adapt and deal with it or vice versa?

I'm also a bit worried about making them too humanlike in terms of their way of thinking since I thought they'd likely be very different from us without any chance of one influencing the other before the story.

Could I use certain myths and legends about non-human creatures as inspiration for the race of sentient beings I'm trying to come up with?

This is a lot so thank you so much if you do answer and I'm sorry if I asked too much of you. Have a nice day!

Inspiration for an Alien Species

For non-humanlike alien characters, look into pre-exising creatures and try tweaking them:

Take a historic/extinct animal and change it. 

Take two animals/insects/bacteria and combine their features. Tweak them until you land on something original.

You can start with a human, and add/subtract features. 

Use mythological creatures – they should offer a good source of intelligent nonhumans! Research about the kind of terrain these mythical creatures live. 

You requirements of how intelligent the aliens are, and what their primary activities are will also determine what physiological features you give them. 

Are they intelligent enough to use tools? What kind of machines? If they are to navigate complex machinery you need to give them arm-like appendages like tentacles, etc. 

What do they like doing most? What kind of sports do they play, and what kind of body parts would they need for that?

What do they eat? How do they eat? 

How do they reproduce?

Are they “pleasurable” to the typical human, or are they “disgusting” or “monstrous”?

Here are some features you could work with:

lead claws (for poison)

quil shooting

mantis arms

fire breathing (hydrogen also works as a flamable if you don't wanna use ethylene)

acid sptting (add venom sacks at the nose to squirt the acid) WARNING make sure the creature is immune to the acid, add a mucus to protect it from its acid.

multiple heads

forked tounge

electricution

bioluminesence

geovores (feeds on rocks)

whip tails

infared vision

gas (if you have seen poppy playtime chapter 3 catnap did this, if not than just imagine a creature breathing accept breathing out deadly gases on command)

Camoflouge

beaks

mandibled and/or multiple jaws

Alien First, or Planet First?

The choice between adapting your alien to the environment or adapting the environment to your alien depend on which of those your worldbuilding depends on. 

If your story is about an asteroid slamming into Earth and there happens to be life on it, the environment is more important. 

If the story is about a human girl befriending an alien, the alien is more important. 

Since you mentioned that your aliens are visiting Earth, your aliens (and how they navigate in a spaceship/Earth) seem more central to the storyline – you can think up of the alien you want, then build a planet they would thrive in. 

How to Differentiate Them 

Religion

Human religions provide (1) an origin story for the world and humans and (2) provide meaning to an essentially meaningless human existence. But what if your aliens have the ability to see far into the past and into the future? God as a Creater wouldn’t work in their world. 

Religion as a response to their physiological needs. E.g. An alien species that have to hibernate would value the God of Warmth the most. 

Religion as a response to a hostile envrionment. What elements of nature do your aliens fear the most? Are they agricultural? What’s their main source of energy? 

Language

Human language is mostly dependent on sound and vision. What if your aliens only communicated via touch, taste or smell?

Based on their habits and social organization, come up with a list of alien vocab. 

French musician Jean-François Sudre created an artificial language called “Solresol”. His language has seven syllables to match the heptatonic musical scale. However, a writer could convert the notes into the seven colors of the rainbow and use Solresol as the basis of a color-based alien language.

What body language do they have to express emotions?

History

Come up with a rough timeline of alien world history. Outline major wars, technological developments, major pandemics, artists and politicians. 

Given their history and culture, how would they view humans?

History repeats itself. 

Art

Standards of beauty are dependent on biology. Scientists say that the faces humans find the most attractive are the most likely to be healthy and fertile.

What standards of beauty would your aliens develop?

What sorts of biological advances would they look for in a mate?

What kind of art would aliens develop if they saw heat, rather than light? 

What about aliens who communicated via smell? 

What kind of art would a race of sentient trees create? Could you create art if you were immobile?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

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[ninjasmudge]

What are your thoughts on the two other monkeys? Idk if you ever heard of them, but it's the Red Bottom Ape and Long Armed Gibbon.

i actaually had some pretty lore heavy origin story hcs for those guys a couple of years ago, but i dont think i ever posted them. ill put some of the old art here and paste the lore under a cut cause its LONG (replaced the old swk and maq in the last pic with some more recent ones bc my hcs for them changed so much lmao)

their lore was well researched i spent days on it but it was a couple years ago lmao, its based on the principals they represent plus which of yin/yang they represent

long armed gibbon- can seize the sun and the moon, distinguish the auspicious from the inauspicious, and manipulate planets and stars

gibbon was born when a seed from a fir tree fell from heaven to earth. it landed on top of an eroded mountian and a tree started growing. after several hundred years, when the tree stretched high enough and was wise enough and the pine cones had gone from dark purple to blue, the trunk split one day at sunrise on a blue misty morning and gibbon walked into the world

red-buttocked horse monkey- who has knowledge of yin and yang, understands human affairs, is adept in its daily life and able to avoid death and lengthen its life

horse was born from a drop of water flung from a trough in heavens stables (part of the reason swk was so pleased to guard the horses when he went)

when she fell to earth she became a river that people often visited and talked around and played in. from this she came to understand human affairs. she also found she could help creatures avoid death or prolong their life by feeding their crops. when she knew enough, she climbed out of the river at sundown and walked into the world

sun wukong, the wise stone monkey- who knows transformations, recognizes the seasons, discerns the advantages of earth, and is able to alter the course of planets and stars

stealing from nezha reborn where the myth goes that when nüwe patched the sky, the leftover stone was where swk came from, but im changing it to one of the tiles that was used to create the furnace was dropped, leaving a monkey sized gap where he could later on slot into to keep himself alive in there. the tile was knocked out of the basket by the wind and fell to earth and this was the only one that landed on ffm. you know the story here, he absorbed chi from heaven AND earth which is why hes so powerful

six eared macaque- who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things

macaque was born very suddenly when a piece of moon rock broke off and fell to earth on a new moon. the resulting meteor created a huge and sudden flash of light in a forest which created hundreds of stark shadows at once. the shadows condensed and the resulting being wouldnt have lived if it hadnt been a new moon because he needed the next hours of darkness to collect himself into a full being. but before the night was done, a new monkey was born who was able to hear everything in the radius he had collected shadows from, which if youve ever seen a meteor flash, is a long way

somethin interesting abt the things that created them- swks tile was actually heavenly, which is why he represents primarily yang (heaven). his was the only one that was CRAFTED BY heaven. gibbon and horse are both from something that fell from heaven and then the earth changed its form (the tree grew on earth from a heavenly seed, and the drop of water became a river) whereas macaque, representing the yin is fully of earth, the meteor that created him was from heaven but he didnt directly come from the meteor, he came from the shadows it created on earth. his only connection is to the earth

[hazelkjt]

OC Introductory Post

Hello, and thank you for stopping by my blog! I'm Hazel and this is my main character for everything FFXIV related, from raiding to rp'ing. My pronouns are he/him, I'm an early 20's college student still trying to figure out what to do with my life, but I'm getting there!

I had mentioned this before but I'll reiterate it here: this blog was originally just for my main FFXIV OC, Hazel Kha, but because trying to manage multiple blogs was pushing me away from doing anything with these character I'm consolidating this one to have all of my OCs on it rather than just one. Those old blogs will remain up to keep the content from disappearing but I will not be utilizing them anymore. I'm sorry if you followed me here exclusively for the Hazel stuff, she will still be the main focus of most of my posts here but there will be others posted up here and there.

I'm situated on Zalera (Crystal) and spend most of my time either raiding or taking GPose shots, but regardless I look forward to seeing everyone's creativity here on the Tumbles.

Anyways, onto the intro bits to them all below the Read More

Hazel Kha

Age: 24 as of Dawntrail

Race: Xaela Au Ra

Height: 6'4"/193cm

Nameday: 25th Sun of the First Umbral Moon (February 22nd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Bisexual

A young hunter and warrior of the Kha tribe, Hazel is a proud daughter of the Azim Steppe who has always longed to see more, to do more. Through her mother's collection of foreign books and literature she came to daydream and wonder of the lands beyond the Steppe. Her desire for adventure high a fever pitch when coming into possession of a wandering samurai's soul crystal, and all the memories and knowledge it contained. She would hold on to the stone dearly for years, until one fateful day she had a chance encounter of a lifetime and through it found her way across the waters to Eorzea. After arriving she found herself under the employment of the Sharlayan scholar Nolanel Corbeaux, working as both research assistant and hired hand to help defend against threats. Not long after Hazel finds herself under the tutelage of Lia Amelune of Ishgard, retired Dragoon and head of her own noble house. Extremely curious and adventurous by nature, Hazel's love of the unknown is matched only by her competitiveness. Idealistic and prideful, Hazel takes to each new day with excitement and wonder in her eye.

Claire Ashe (Claire Bas Syndris)

Age: 29 as of Dawntrail

Race: Garlean

Height: 6'2"/188cm

Nameday: 17th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (May 17th)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Lesbian

A pureblooded Garlean who spent most of her childhood and teenage years living in Ala Mhigo under Garlean occupation. She grew up befriending many of the Ala Mhigan children there without her parents knowing. After her two closest friends were beaten to death in the streets, Claire revoked her family name and fled the city, no longer disillusioned by the Garlean propaganda she was fed her entire life. She traveled to Ul'dah and came into contact with the Lemures, where she was then trained by Drusilla as a Reaper. With her training and pact with the Voidsent Sidian, Claire aided in the revolution to liberate Ala Mhigo from Garlean control. She now works aboard the merchant ship The Enduring Deeds as a deckhand and the ship's main cook. She wears a bandana at all times to hide her third eye, paranoid over the general consensus most people have of Garleans. She puts up a cold and harsh exterior, which as of this point might not be as much of an act anymore, but underneath is a truly kind soul afraid of being hurt and hurting others just from existing.

Derrinall Evramont

Age: 33 (physically) as of Dawntrail

Race: Duskwight Elezen (also Ashkin/Undead)

Height: 6'7"/201cm

Nameday: 9th Sun of the First Astral Moon (January 9th)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Derrinall Evramont originally lived during the final years of Gelmorra. His family were that of knights, dedicated to serving the people, though unfortunately his life was not lost in service of this oath. Sickness claimed him a few years before the total fall of Gelmorra, his soul adrift yet still holding strong to his memory and sense of self for centuries...that is, until he was brought back to the star for reasons he did not know. When he awoke again he wandered the ruins of the crypt he was buried in, eventually stumbling upon two he would learn to be kindred spirits, in a way. The two strangers helped him to recover even as he kept his personal information close to his chest, eventually pointing him to work and housing in Ishgard. He found work under Lia Amelune, both as house servant and a member of the House's ranks of knights. Derrinall's previous experience as a knight of Gelmorra saw him quickly rise through the ranks to become Captain, a title he holds with pride and only the occasional harassment of the Lady he serves.

E'venna Zekiel

Age: 21 as of Dawntrail

Race: Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te

Height: 5'4"/162cm

Nameday: 3rd Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon (November 3rd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Straight

E'venna Zekiel is the eldest daughter of five children. After her father was tempered by Ifrit and subsequently killed, she took it upon herself to help her mother care for her younger siblings, specifically her triplet younger sisters. It wasn't an easy road to get where she and her family are now, especially in a place such as Ul'dah. E'venna began her "career" in back alley fights, as she had always been scrappy in a brawl. After getting into an impromptu fight outside the Pugilist's Guild she was offered membership, and upon joining took it upon herself to partake in Coliseum matches. The shine of her golden hair is matched only by her bright smile and optimistic personality. Combined with her unorthodox and playful fighting style in matches and soon E'venna had earned her the nickname "The Dancing Coeurl" from dedicated fans of her's. Her tournament winnings are a major boon to the family, with it they are able to put the three youngest through a formal education. Her family members almost all strongly disapprove of E'venna's line of work she can't imagine herself doing anything but. She's found her place, and that's in the ring.

Exploding Goldfish

Age: 36 as of Dawntrail

Race: Hellsguard Roegadyn

Height: 7'2"/218cm

Nameday: 30th Sun of the Third Umbral Moon (June 28th)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: AroAce

Exploding Goldfish, simply known as "Fish" by most everyone, was born to a family of miners in Uldah. Throughout his life he was surrounded by heavy machinery, sparking a lifelong love of machines and inventing. His youth was spent learning everything he could about technology. His studies eventually paid off and he scored the job of his dreams working as part of Garlond Ironworks...for a while. An accident during a project cost Fish partial vision in his left eye and his position in the company. Scarred and humiliated, he drifted for months before finally finding secure work and pay at Wolves' Den Pier. Fish spent his time maintaining the machines used in "Rival Wings" competitions, and when he wasn't working on repairs he was drowning his self-pity in alcohol. It wasn't all for nothing, however. While at Wolves' Den, Fish chanced upon meeting a scrawny Viera living under the pier; Qara Wen. It took some coaxing but eventually Fish was able to befriend him, and over time that friendship evolved into brotherhood. And so when Fish was recruited to join the merchant ship The Enduring Deeds, his one request was that Qara be welcomed aboard as well.

[todayinmagicalgirlhistory]

The Magical Girl Guide to: Faerie Witchcraft

A post a long time in the making, it's finally time for it to get out of my drafts. I've talked about specific faeries in the past but never a sweeping generalization on faerie witchcraft it, so let's change that this 2024.

Faerie witchcraft at its core is a path of witchcraft that revolves around communicating with the folk, working with them, calling on them and leaving them offerings as thanks for their assistance. That is the biggest generalization I can make about the path, but what that core looks like can be very different from faerie witch to faerie witch. So, let's talk about the faeries.

(As always, these 'magical girl guides' isn't the 'end all be all'. These are barely the tip of the iceberg. Always look at other's experiences/UPG and of course make sure to do more extensive research beyond a post on Tumblr.)

What are faeries?

Faerie, Faery, Fairy, Fae, Fey, Fay, it doesn't matter how you spell it, we are all referring to the same thing ー the Good Neighbors.

By definition, faeries are "is a type of mythical being or legendary creature, generally described as anthropomorphic, found in the folklore of multiple European culture a form of spirit, often with metaphysical, supernatural, or preternatural qualities."

There are no real single origin for faeries so much as a collection of folk beliefs from all over.

Terminology

Other Way to say Faerie

Ao sí/Aes sídhe

Daoine sídhe

Sídhe/Shee/Sìth

The Good Folk

The Good Neighbors

The Fair Folk

The Folk

The Gentry

The Good People

Greencoaties

Changeling - a substitute left by a faerie after kidnapping a human. Can sometimes be one of their own, other times it is glamoured rocks and sticks. Was used as an explanation for stillborn children in the past.

Seelie - the "faerie good guys" in stories.

Unseelie - the "faerie bad guys" in stories.

The Wild Hunt/Sluagh/Underfolk - a group of supernatural hunters in a never-ending hunt/chase. The perception of the Wild Hunt changed after the introduction of Christianity to the isles.

Wild/Solitary Fae - faeries with no Court affiliations, not to be confused with the Wild Hunt.

Trooping Faeries - live in communities and are known for singing and dancing.

Faerieland

Also simply referred to as Faerie, this is the home of the faeries.

Thought to be divided into the four Seasonal Courts of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. The Spring and Summer Courts represent the Seelie Court while Autumn and Winter represent the Unseelie Court. These lands are considered to be eternal displays of the season they are.

faeries in folklore

We would literally be here all day if I talked about faeries in folklore. Y'all know faerie folklore and mythology is ancient X'D so this category isn't really all that important.

In these stories, faeries can be anything from benevolent to tricksters to someone out to get it back in blood.

faeries in media

Just as expansive as the faerie folklore post. Faeries are becoming more and more frequent in pop culture with books such as the Folk of the Air series by Holly Black, The Spider Wick Chronicles also by Holly Black, Sarah J. Maas' ACOTAR series and even in older TV shows like True Blood.

Hell, I'm working on a novel that has to do with faeries.

UPG

Since starting my own journey working with the fair folk I've come to learn that your fae working experience is shaped by the fae you go out of your way to interact with, the fae local to your area, what the folk feel comfortable sharing with you and what they feel comfortable letting you share with others.

A faerie witch whose experience centers around the flower faeries local to their area is going to be different from a faerie witch whose experience centers around Unseelie fae. Same for someone who only focuses on transactional relationships with the fae (ex. leaving out home baked goods weekly for a brownie, the brownie takes care of the home and that's the extent of their relationship) vs a someone where their path focuses on enveloping themselves in faerie culture and learning about it on a more personal level (ex. befriending a Court local to your area).

For me personally, my fae work experience centers around wild fae like selkies and death fae like banshee and dullahan. Both of which are very personal and has me enveloped in the cultures of these faeries. No transactions here but something deep and personal, like family. It's influenced the witchcraft I've chosen to incorporate into my craft as an eclectic witch and things I experience on a daily basis. (I do have guides on both selkies and banshee if you are curious. Dullahan post is in progress.)

Because of this, your prospective relationship with fair folk and what that may bring in your life is going to be very personal to you, I've found. There will be some overlap, of course. You'll run into someone and go 'oh damn, me too!!'. But it will still be special and unique to you.

It can be as personal as you want it to be. It can be as impersonal as you want it to be. It's up to you.

As such, I can't really make a generalized UPG post about what working with fae is like. There are so many kinds of faeries out there that it would take forever to complete! And one person's daily UPG can look vastly different from someone else's.

I don't believe it's as rampant as it used to be in witchcraft-related spaces as it was in say 2016, but there will always be people who will say things like 'avoid working with faeries in general' or 'fae work is only best for the experienced. If you're a bigger, fuck off'. But I personally think that, like with any craft, as long as you take the time to baby step your way into it, study as you go along, then fae work isn't something that should be gatekeeped to the experienced.

Seelie vs Unseelie: A Lesson in Faerie Morality

There's a huge misconception about these two faerie categories that Seelie means 'good faeries' while Unseelie means 'bad faeries'.

So the best thing someone can do when stepping into the world of fae work is completely disregard that notion. You can meet Unseelie fae who don't mind mortal company and then meet a Seelie faerie who doesn't fuck with humans in the slightest. I think it would better to think of it as faeries who commit to the right or left-handed paths and even then that's putting human morality on it. Human morality and faerie morality are not the same and the faster you realize that, the better it'll be for you.

What you might find atrocious, faeries might go 'that's not so bad'.

What you might find 'not so bad', faeries might find despicable.

Unseelie courts tend to be a bit less welcoming than Seelie courts in a general sweeping overgeneralization. That’s not to say there aren’t Unseelie fae that wouldn’t interact with humans, but a good majority probably won’t be happy to see a human frolicking about the place unattended. So if you ever feel the desire to visit an unseelie court, I’d wait until you’re more experienced working the fae and having the etiquette down

How important is etiquette?

I've personally found that the closer you are to a faerie, the less important etiquette is.

I don't speak to my selkie friends the way I speak to the flower faeries that are local to my area. The way I talk to banshee I know is very different than how I talk to banshee I don't know.

So yes, it is important to learn the proper etiquette to avoid angering a faerie. But the closer you get to the specific folk in your lives, should the relationship go beyond acquaintanceship/transactional, you'll find yourself speaking a bit more casually with them over time.

Faerieland: A Personal Dive

The home of the Good Neighbors.

You can go to Faerie by way of the astral or by slipping into a pocket of Faerie found in our realm (ex. you're on a nature hike and suddenly you've found yourself walking into a revel).

You could write a 50 page dissertation on the courts of Faerie and still not be done covering it. There are hundreds of Courts outside of the main few that you'll hear tossed around by fae workers and folklore enthusiasts and even with those known few there can be dozens of Sub-Courts.

I've met faeries from the Flower Court, a Summer pixie who came from a specific sub-Court called the Lake Court. I've heard of fae workers talking about Winter Sub-Courts that have to do with specific wintery holidays. So yes, there's definitely more than just the Seasonal Courts.

I always let people who frequent this blog what I can and cannot do and what I have and have not done. So in the spirit of keeping things transparent, I've only ever visited two Courts in Faerieー the Autumn Court and the Death Court. I can't really tell you much direct information about the other Courts because of that.

So I can't really give any 'here's a place I recommend visiting in Faerie' beyond a simple 'avoid any place embroiled in politics'. Any court going through serious issues whether that’s a change in power or what have you, won’t be the best place to visit.

Stick to well-populated places to start. You’ll likely find less problems there than say remote areas of Faerie. Just know, Faerie can be as terrifying as it is beautiful.

As for leadership, that looks different from Court to Court, Seelie to Unseelie.

I usually hear more about matriarchal rulership in Faerie, but there are faerie kings.

Who counts as 'Fae' and who doesn't?

If they consider themselves fae, they're fae. If they don't consider themselves fae, they aren't. That's really all there is to it. I've met merfolk who consider themselves faeries and I've met merfolk who consider faeries separate entities from themselves.

So in my experience, I've found that you just learn what the entity in question thinks of themselves as and respect that.

I'm just trying to keep faeries out my space tbh

You'll find the old timey methods to be very suitable. Iron, salt sprinkled around and so and so forth.

And should be out and about in nature, and you want to enjoy a hike without the fair folk messin' with ya, I'd recommend keeping an item of clothing inside out, carrying rowan or iron charms. And keeping to the trails. Faeries are more likely to avoid areas with heavy human foot traffic.

suitable offerings

The disclaimer here is that these are general offerings that most faeries should like. Should you ever find yourself working frequently with a faerie or find yourself the companion of one, there could be other things that they specifically like or dislike. But you usually can’t go wrong with:

General

Anything from nature like flowers, leaves, etc.

Tea

Honey

Cream

Berries

But should you be trying to get the attention of a faerie of a specific species, fine tune your offerings to that type of faerie. Seashells for selkies, bones for dullahan and so on and so forth.

how to gain the attention of a faerie

1) old fashioned offerings

2) astral travel

3) spirit attraction spell

I’m not a promoter of conjuring or otherwise, forcefully bringing a spirit to your vicinity. Think about it like this: you’re at a wedding. You’re best friend in the entire world is getting hitched to the love of their life, and you’re among the audience. You’re welling up with emotion and pride for your friend to have made such an important milestone in their life when… Suddenly, you’re not at their wedding anymore.

No, instead you’re looking at some random stranger who summoned you to their home who say it’s because they’re interested in working with those of your kind. You wouldn’t be too happy about this, would you? 

Not only is conjuring or summoning bad for the entity, it can be bad for you if this entity isn’t easily forgiving of being torn away from their personal life to your home and you can end up paying the consequences for it. Instead, I recommend a spell that attracts entities to your home or if you’re sufficiently prepared, astral travel it up.

[techwrecker]

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

Summary: Something goes wrong on your mission with Echo. He promises to help you feel better.

Genre: Echo x Reader, Hurt Comfort

Tags: SFW, gn!reader, you travel with TBB, Echo has feelings (& so does reader, but he doesn’t know), Crosshair is a snarky asshole (what’s new), Wrecker is a perfect angel, Tech is ipad baby, spiders?, all the batchers are alive (no Omega)

Word Count: 1.5k [Ficlet]

Warnings: N/A (please let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: I am dedicating this fic to Vi! ( @welcometo79s ) I had this short lil ficlet in my drafts, all ready to go and they’re going through a tough time. I figured some Echo comfort might cheer you up a lil. I hope you enjoy!!

Other: dividers by @moosgraphics & @bunnysrph (tysm!)

find the extended version here

Whatever sickness you had come down with, you had Crosshair to blame. After all, he was the one who suggested you go out with Echo on the mission.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Crosshair, it’s a Krykna nest! You know how I feel about creatures like that,” you pushed back, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

“Hexapods?” Tech cut in, pausing from tapping away on his datapad. “Hexapods make up roughly 15% of our galaxy, you know. Though this is just an educated guess. There is no way to definitively number the countless species.” He rambled.

“No, Tech, not hexapods.” You rolled your eyes. “Creatures who live in dark, disgusting caves.”

“Whoa, have a little faith, huh? I’ll be going with you.” Echo said, feeling slighted.

The Bad Batch had just been contracted by Cid to find a lucrative jewel that originally belonged to the Banking Clan before the trade wars. Its whereabouts had last been seen in a Krykna cave on Atollon, about 200 clicks from the nearest port.

You were the un-lucky crew member who was voted in for the mission. They all put on a tough-guy act, like the creatures didn’t bother them, but you knew they did. Wrecker shivered after Hunter gave them the objective and Crosshair didn’t even try to hide the contempt on his face. Tech argued that he would be more useful guiding the mission from The Marauder, using their complex holomap system that handhelds didn’t feature. The caves were as intertwined as they were dark, like a giant bowl of protonoodles, stewing beneath the sandy surface. Echo was the only one who originally volunteered and Crosshair made an easy target out of you.

“Echo, it’s not that I have no faith in you— or even myself,” you soothed him. “I just don’t appreciate being volunteered for missions by Crosshair.” If looks could kill, Crosshair would‘ve taken one to the heart.

“Enough— All of you. You and Echo will be just fine. We’ll take every precaution to track you in the caves,” he said to you. “Crosshair, quit stirring up trouble. Tech, for the love and life in the Maker, would you get off the blasted datapad,” Hunter prattled off the orders. He knew how to control chaos, thankfully. Otherwise The Bad Batch would not have gotten far as they have.

“Uh… What about me, Hunter?” Wrecker asked, cautiously.

“For once, Wrecker, you’re doing just fine.”

Wrecker beamed at his leader’s words. He patted Crosshair on the back facetiously, causing his chewed toothpick to fly across the cargo hold. Crosshair only glared at Wreckers back as he walked away.

Tech wrapped up his typing and rolled his eyes at Hunter’s orders. He had actually been researching the weaknesses of the Krykna species to aid in the mission. He tried not to succumb to the petty infighting that went on amongst the crew. His factual statements were hard to argue with, after all.

“Alright, let’s head out,” their leader resolved.

Your confidence shrunk with every passing parsec. You talked a big game, and more often than not, you were able to deliver. Caves just creeped you out and spindly creatures didn’t make them any more appealing. And all for a lousy jewel? As if the Banking Clan didn’t have enough funds as is.

After what felt like an eternity of dread, Tech landed The Marauder with ease, nestling in between an outcropping of rocks. The pile of sand-crusted earth would act as cover from any unwanted eyes as well as from the sandstorms, which were particularly nasty this side of the equator. At least, according to Tech.

“Have everything we’ll need?” Echo asked you as he whirred his scomp link to make sure it was in working order.

You mentally scanned the brief checklist before replying. Sand goggles, flashlight, mini fire thrower, and trusty boots. “Think so.”

“Well then, let’s get moving. The cave isn’t too far from here. Maybe a 10 minute trek.”

The hatch of the hull opened, letting a rush of arid air invade The Marauder. The wind whipped against your cheeks, scraping particles of sand into your skin. Though you were wearing the goggles, you raised your arm to shield your eyes out of habit.

“This outta be fun,” you said to Echo, tone almost as dry as the planet you just landed on.

Echo chuckled and headed down the steps.

The journey to the cave really was not that bad. If a scorching sun and high-speed winds was your idea of ‘not that bad’, that is. By the time you and Echo walked up to the mouth of the cave, you were already over it. The irritating dust, the lashing wind, the searing sun. You started to see why the Krykna hunkered down in the caves, safe from the terrain.

“You ready?” Echo called to you, trying to carry his voice above the howling wind.

You eyed the hollow opening warily. Not even the sun was able to penetrate the thick darkness. Looking back to Echo, he had a smile on his face. His smile always managed to stir butterflies in your stomach.

“You can do this, you know,” he reassured. He held his hand out to you, offering stability and comfort.

The gesture surprised you, but not enough to be taken aback. You wondered if maybe Echo felt the same way that you did him. You gladly clasped your hand in his, your heart jumping against your ribcage at the welcome touch.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” you resolved.

You started toward the eerie cave, hand in hand— together.

“Well, at least you got the jewel.” You heard a voice say.

You opened your eyes to see Crosshair and Echo standing at your bedside.

Why were you in bed? You scrambled through your hazy memory to find the answer.

Isolating darkness, sticky webs coating your arms, the twinkle of the scarlet jewel reflecting off your flashlight, Echo desperately calling your name… And then nothing.

Echo huffed. “No, at least we got out of there alive,” he corrected.

They hadn’t noticed you had awoken, so you began to sit up. The pain in your temple scolded you by promptly throbbing in your skull, demanding you lay back down. You groaned against the pain and brought a hand up to lightly press against your head. A damp cloth was already in place across your forehead, attempting to soak the heat off it.

“Thank the maker you’re awake,” Echo said, coming closer to your bedside. “You had us worried there for a minute.”

“W-what happened?” You asked quietly. It seemed your usual confident tone had gotten themselves tangled in the webbed caves along with the memories of the mission.

“A large Krykna got to you before Echo could rescue you,” Crosshair explained. “He’s only being a touch dramatic about it,” he finished sarcastically.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Echo. It happens.” You tried to smile at him, but it came out more of a grimace from the pain.

“No, it isn’t. I should have been quicker than that. His only fist was straining against the rail of the bed, knuckles paling against the dark metal.

Luckily, it was within your reach to rest your hand on top of his to settle his feelings. His rigid grip softened considerably under your touch. “I promise Echo, it’s fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?” You tried to make light of the situation.

“Barely,��� Crosshair snarked.

“Go shine your rifle, why don’t you?” Echo shot back, glaring.

The sniper threw his hands up in surrender with a smirk before turning out of the room. You were surprised he didn’t have more to say, but you had bigger things to focus on.

“Tech said it’s some sort of sickness from the Krykna fangs. It’s nothing serious, but you’ll be out of commission for a few weeks,” he explained. He paused before continuing. “I won’t leave your side until the fever has broken and you’re back to your old self,” Echo promised, his voice more serious than you’ve ever heard it.

His eyes were filled with concern for you, brows knit together. You had never noticed how his eyes had more of a golden hue to them until now. The generic deviation only added to his already handsome features. Echo let go of the safety rail, rotating it to hold your hand instead. Your fingers found their place laced between his, almost as if his hand had been specially crafted by their maker just for yours to hold.

“Thank you, Echo,” you said, squeezing his hand gently, signaling your sincerity. You wanted to reach around his armored torso and give him a hug, but you knew the headache wouldn’t let you, so you settled for rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand.

You knew Echo would do everything in his power to see that you got better . With him looking after you, your health would return in full force and then some. He cared about you more than you knew and wanted to make sure nothing like that ever happened to you again.

Besides having the best caretaker in the galaxy nurse you back to health, you knew that Crosshair would never hear the end of it from the batchers since he signed you up to almost materialize into the force.

tags: @baddest-batchers @rinksu-no-joo

Comments & Reblogs greatly appreciated! 🥰