#probably should’ve added a little context

[whitesaintrave]

as promised, here’s a little snippet from my erasercloud college au!! decided to post it today for shirakumo’s birthday <33

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creations and Love’s Manifestations - Dr. Ratio x Female Reader- Chapter 3

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143

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Masterlist | Previous chapter

A/N: Happy New Year! Hope everyone had a fun New Year’s Eve - I spent mine in a way I think the reader would, drinking with friends. I’m officially back in Uni now, so updates will be slower (~1-3 updates a month) but my semester is lighter so I’m confident I’ll have the time to update. In other news, I officially finished pre-farming for Ratio! He’s gonna be the first character I max out traces for!

Chapter 3: Touch Deprival

“Question: Are you sure you are alright?” as usual, Screwllum’s voice was monotone and flat, sending no hints to reveal how he was feeling at the moment. Consequently, he had to express his feelings in other ways, rubbing your shoulders soothingly as you tinkered with the camera equipment in front of you, “Affirmation: it is your day off, you can easily save this task until tomorrow.”

You couldn’t have looked any more different from this morning, crop top and shorts now replaced with comfy sweatpants and a button-down white shirt which looked suspiciously similar to the one your robot companion wore under his suit jacket. Your back was pressed firmly against the front of his metallic body as you both sat on the floor in the Seclusion Zone in a room full of two things; plants and the little creatures that Ruan Mei abandoned after leaving the Space Station a few hours ago. A few of the little creatures hoped around freely, as if happy for the company, “Given all of this,” you gestured to the creatures around you, “we should’ve put cameras down here months ago,” you let yourself lean further back against your companion, savouring the feeling of his arms kneading your tense flesh, “might as well get it over with before someone else decides to run a fucked up experiment down here.”

He didn’t rebut the content of your statement itself, rather responding with a simple, “You did not answer my first question, dear,” his metallic hand trailed further down your back, massaging the space near your shoulder blade through the white shirt. You muffled a groan at the relief that shot through your body, a sign that had him continuing the motions with a firmer grip. You didn’t know how the robot managed to give the most amazing massages, but his hands were definitely missed whenever he was forced the leave the station. 

“I mean, as good as someone can be after almost dying a few hours ago, I guess,” your tone was neutral, your gaze and fingers focused on the security cameras in front of you, which you were attaching to camera mounds to place on the walls around the Seclusion Zone. You knew if you dared to look back at Screwllum, he would see through your words in an instant. His title as a genius wasn’t just for show after all, “I mean, it obviously was scary when it happened, but I can’t take up more of your time. Herta’s probably already out for my head after you left your meeting with her early.”

“Affirmation, I did not tell her the reason of my sudden departure,” he replied, one metallic hand drifting from your back to your face, tilting your head so that, even from in front of him, you two were forced to make eye contact, “It was hard not to abandon my work when you texted me to inform me you were using the bathtub in my room with no context,” he let his hand drift from your cheek to cup your chin, “I care about you, my dear. I don’t want you to push yourself.”

Ah, the bathtub. It was silly really, how someone like Screwllum, who couldn’t use a bathtub in the first place, had one in his quarters while you were stuck with a shitty shower with absolutely no water pressure. It just so happened that all the guest rooms in the Space Ship were equipt with bathtubs, and though Screwllum was a frequent visitor of the station, he had no official permanent quarters of his own, though, at this point, the Station staff just gave him the same room in the Space Station anyway, making that particular room his unofficial permanent quarters.

Of course, when you finished cleaning the incubator room in the Seclusion Zone, hands covered in smelly bug guts, you had abandoned your computer and water bottle in favour of taking the elevator to the floor housing the living quarters and used your FOB to unlock Screwllum’s room solely for the purpose of his bathtub. With your one-track mind on trying to get the smell of bug off of you, you had neglected to check your phone after sending Screwllum a text letting him know about your tub use, which ultimately led him to check on and fuss over you, a pattern of behaviour that was still ongoing now.

“And I appreciate your company, as always,” you flash him a smile, pushing the camera you were working on to the side so you could turn and face him, straddling your legs over his own. You pressed a brief kiss to his cheek before pushing your body against his own, sighing at the familiar feeling of his hands wrapping around you, “But you’ve been with me all afternoon; go take a few hours, finish your work,” you let your hands trail down his chest, shuddering at the cold feeling of his metallic frame below his suit, “I’ll be here when you’re done - remember, you still owe me dinner and drinks.”

“How could I forgot?” Screwllum chuckled as you pressed another kiss to his cheek, though he made no movement to leave. You both knew why; the answer hanging between the two of you, but remaining unspoken, as if you two were playing a game to see who could avoid bringing it up the longest. To avoid doing so, you snuggled yourself into his chest, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent as he rubbed a cold hand up and down your back.

“Ahem,” Screwllum’s hand stopped moving at the sudden sound of another voice breaking the relative silence, albeit the irregular mewings of Ruan Mei’s cat-like creatures, in the room. You forced yourself to sit up, regretfully removing yourself from Screwllum’s arms to face the new presence in the room. “Sorry if I am… interrupting something,” as per usual, Dr. Ratio’s features were hidden by the alabaster head, leaving only his toned body on display to you and Screwllum, who exchanged looks as you moved to sit beside the robot.

“You are,” was your simple reply. You forced yourself to grab another security camera from the mess of items you had scatted on the floor around Screwllum and yourself, attaching it to the camera mound to control your anger at the Doctor’s presence, “You can go away now.”

“How rude, to think you would treat a delegate of the IPC like this,” he placed his hand to his chest in mock offence. You pictured his eyes rolling underneath the alabaster read to aid to the sarcasm radiating off of his body, “I expected more from you.”

Noticing your anger and lack of motivation to carry on the conversation, Screwllum allowed himself to speak, “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced,” he stood up, you frowning at him as he took a few steps forward, sticking a hand out to the Doctor, “I am Screwllum, number-”

“Number 76 of the Genius Society, ruler of Planet Screwllum, leader of the resistance against Rupert I,” Doctor Ratio rambled out the list of title, counting each on his fingers like a child may do when trying to solve a math problem, albeit the Doctor’s action was clearly mocking in nature, “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Screwllum. I work for the IPC, of course I am aware of your identity.” He huffed, removing the alabaster head to reveal his own features, hair slightly out of place due to the action. He looked unamused, crossing his arms with another dramatic huff.

“Affirmation; your tongue is as sharp as your looks, as I have heard, Doctor,” Screwllum’s tone was even, though he retracted his outreached hand, which had gone unanswered, plainly and obviously, making the tension in the air obvious.

You resisted the urge to groan in frustration, instead stating, “Why are you here, Mr. Ratio? I’m sure you have better things to do than lounge around in the Seclusion Zone all day,” you resisted the urge to smirk at him, “keep this up and I may just report you to your employer for time fraud - its not like you’re doing any work around here anyway.”

“You’re the one who told me to come here, remember?” he questioned, leaving your quip unanswered and raising an eyebrow. He sighed at the blank look at your face at his words, as if disappointed, “Pity, it was quite a dramatic comment, I would have suspected you to remember it. What was it again?” he put a hand to his chin as if in thought, though the mocking smile told you the words were already committed to his memory, “Ah, yes, ‘We are definitely having a chat about this later’ that it.”

“Yeah, later, as in not now,” you said drily, pointing to the army of cameras surrounding you, “I’m clearly busy.”

“I seem to recall that you entertained a conversation with me just fine earlier today when you were also busy,” he sighed dramatically, leaning against one of the tubes full of plants cultivated by Ruan Mei, “I suppose idiots truly can only multitask for so long during the day; pity, I truly enjoyed our conversations.”

You opened your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but were silenced when Screwllum spoke first, “I do not mean to interrupt,” he spoke, glancing between you and the Doctor curiously, “However, I do need to depart to a meeting,” he turned from the Doctor, walking to where you sat and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “My dear, don’t you think allowing Mr. Ratio to accompany you may allow you to finish this task quicker? I’d hate for you to waste more time on this venture.”

Screwllum’s shining green eyes bore into yours, almost as if he was daring you to rebut him. You knew what he was playing at as he rubbed familiar, soothing circles into your flesh. It was another silent dare, for you to bring up what you knew was on both of your minds. Of course, you didn’t, an action you knew that your companion expected. Your eyes drifted briefly to the Doctor, who was watching you two curiously as if you were a math problem that he couldn’t quite solve. 

“Fine, fine,” you relented, putting your hands in the air in mock defeat, meeting the Doctor’s eye, “I’ll let you stay, only if you help me put up these cameras once they’re ready.” You hated the smug look on the Doctor’s face at your words as if he had emerged victorious from the exchange somehow, his hands moving from being crossed at his chest to instead resting on his hips like some sort of superhero. 

“Quite bold of you to ask a mere visitor to help you with such a menial task,” he started, though he walked towards you and Screwllum nonetheless, “However, if you insist, I suppose I can help. The Station will benefit from my adept hand, after all.”

“Ah, yes, I can already hear Lady Asta gasping in pleasure when she see’s your expert camera placement,” you rolled your eyes as you shoved another camera into its mound, earning a glare from the Doctor. Once again, Screwllum saved the day, breaking the silence before he could retort.

“With that settled, I will take my leave now,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, your eyes transfixed on the Doctor, whose eyes were equally as focused on the small act of intimacy, “Conclusion, I will see you later tonight, my dear.” He let his metallic hand remove itself from your shoulder after being sure to give it one last squeeze.

“Can’t wait!” you smiled at him, dragging your eyes away from the Doctor to watch your companion retreat, keeping your focus on his form until he was completely out of your sight, before you reluctantly dragged your eyes back to the Doctor. He stood a few feet away from you, as if unsure exactly where to go or what to do. You huffed at his reactions, “What, does a genius like yourself not know how to socially interact with people? Sit down already!”

“You must forgive me, the IPC doesn’t provide lessons on social etiquette regarding sitting on the floor,” he replied drily, awkwardly taking a seat next to you on the cold metal floor of the Space Station, his eyes looking over you as you continued your work with the cameras, “We sit in chairs, like civilized people. I do not understand your logic of working here.”

“Come on, Doc, live a little, sitting on the floor never killed anyone,” you shrugged, your voice light, but lacking the usual passion you preferred to give to your retorts. Too tired to really care, you ignored his gaze to continue your work, “Plus, it’s easier to work here anyway, saves me lugging cameras around later.”

“I must say, you lack your usual passion that you provide to our oh-so-delightful conversations” he scanned the immediate surroundings as if searching for something, “Is this what you’re like sober? I dare say you make a much more entertaining conversationalist when you are slightly tipsy.” It’s only then that you realized he held a bottle of wine in his hand, a brand you didn’t recognize, “Drink then, so we can speak like intellectuals.”

“Wow, aiding my alcoholism? You must be in a good mood,” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion, though you were quick the grab the opened bottle anyway, taking a few large gulps of the wine. It was a dry wine, definitely not your favourite, but it was strong, the red liquid burning your throat as you swallowed. 

“You could at least pour yourself a glass first,” the Doctor shot you a glare, grabbing the bottle to wipe away the stain of your lipgloss at the opening, “I’m beginning to suspect you have no concept of manners.”

“Do you see any glasses around here?” you retorted, both you and the Doctor looking around the room, the only signs of objects other than cameras or plants being Ruan Mei’s little cat-like creatures. That seemed to be enough to shut up the doctor, at least briefly, as he spent the next few minutes watching you construct cameras and drink wine in silence. Of course, though, the Doctor could only stand to exist without hearing his voice for so long, leading him to break the silence.

“You did not answer my earlier question,” he replied, voice even, though containing less of an annoying edge than usual. Aeons, what was it with these men and their persistence to get an answer out of you today, “Why are you colder than usual?”

You shot him a glare, standing up from the floor in anger, as if you wanted to punch him right then and there. Of course you didn’t, instead allowing yourself to pace the room, a few of the cat-like creatures hopping alongside you as you did, “You really have to ask me that? And you call yourself a member of the Intelligensia Guild?” you scoffed, pausing your pacing to stare him down directly, thriving in the way he squirmed slightly in his uncomfortable seat on the floor, “Not only did you use your stupid looks to sneak into the Seclusion Zone, but you witnessed Ruan Mei’s psychotic experiment, knew what was going to happen, but didn’t tell anyone about it, instead basically sending myself and the Trailblazer to our impending doom!” Your words were cold, harsh, streaming out like a river, as if you couldn’t hold them back any longer, “I know were not exactly friendly, but holy fuck, draw the line somewhere, right?”

He held his hands out in front of him, arm muscles flexing as he did so, “I understand you are upset, however-”

“Upset?” you scoffed, a sarcastic laugh leaving your lips, “Wrong, I’m pissed off! Is my life a joke to you? A few more seconds of fighting that stupid thing and I wouldn’t be here right now!” you pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Imagine if we did die, huh? Were you just goint to lounge around the Space Station as if you didn’t send us to death without the tinest warning? Or were you going to celebrate since I was finally out of your hair?”

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” he replied, tone cold, disappointed even, as if you were in the wrong for claiming he would do such a thing, “I’m sure you noticed that I returned to the Seclusion Zone before you left.” You had noticed. Of course, you did. You had been forced to halt your cleaning job temporarily to get the Trailblazer back to the Storage Zone. Mysteriously, despite the Trailblazer never having pressed the button for the elevator, the elevator was awaiting your arrival, as if the previous user had taken it downwards to the Seclusion Zone, despite you having seen the Doctor taking it upwards before you headed off to your impending doom. The Doctor took your silence as acknowledgement, “I was prepared to aid the two of you in defeating the creature if required.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, processing the new information to add on to what you already knew. You weren’t sure of what to make of the elevator incident til now, not knowing if the Doctor came to help you or mock you. Somehow, you found the later to be more preferable than the reality. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you rebutted, sitting down on the floor again, keeping a few feet distance between you and the Doctor, “Knowing that you could help me defeat a monster that you failed to tell me about in the first place?”

The Doctor sighed dramatically as if he was a child caught stealing from a cookie jar, before beginning to speak, “I… apologize for my actions,” despite his extravagant sentiments before speaking, his words were surprisingly genuine, his usually snobby voice reduced to a volume barely above a whisper, “I was confident in your ability to hold off the creature, however I should have told you about the threat it posed… I am sorry.”

You blinked dumbly a few times before bursting out into laughter, scootching closer towards the Doctor to grab the wine bottle, taking a swig between your giggles, “Wow, it’s that easy to elicit an apology out of you, Doc?” you smirked, “I should’ve recorded that shit, ahhh it was so satisfying!” 

“You-” he glared at you, yanking the bottle out of your hands in anger, “Were you faking that temper tantrum the whole time? Are you capable of holding any conversation without emotional manipulation?” You continued to giggle, laughs only edged on by the warmth rising to the Doctor’s cheeks, which he tried to hide with his hands.

“I mean, I was, and am still upset,” you shrugged, snatching the bottle again from where he placed it on the floor to take another swig, sighing at the taste as you pulled the bottle away from your lips “But, why would I let that get in the way of me teasing you?” she mused, “Maybe I should’ve took it further, hmm? Waited until you got down on your knees and begged for my forgiveness before-”

“Enough of this insolence!” he exclaimed, an angry blush on his clear skin, “I have never met someone with so much gull; someone so infuriating!” he again snatched the wine away from you, though he failed to take a sip from the bottle.

“Hey, hey, you deserved all that after what you put me through today!” you pointed an accusatory finger at him before standing up from the floor, “Now come on, Doc, these cameras aren’t gonna put themselves up, huh?” you grabbed two of the cameras from their resting place on the floor, gesturing for the Doctor to do the same.

“And why would I help you exactly?” he questioned, crossing his arms across his chest, “may I remind you that I am your guest? If anything, you should be grovelling to me to fulfil my every wish.”

“You would like me on my knee for you, huh?” you teased, raising your eyebrows suggestively, causing the Doctor to open his mouth in rebut, though you were quick to cut him off before he could speak, “But you told Screwllum you would help, so too bad.” He sighed incredulously at your words.

“That was before you tricked me into apologizing and embarrassed me!’ he retorted, breathing heavily, as if relieved to finally let a retort escape his lips.

“Embarressed you in front of who exactly?” you cocked an eyebrow, looking between the Doctor and Ruan Mei’s creatures, “I don’t exactly think they’re the type to spread gossip ya know?” The Doctor and you watched as the creatures continued to jump around aimlessly, “So come on already, the sooner we do this the sooner we can leave each other alone.” The Doctor sighed, though he picked up two cameras nonetheless, trailing after you as you made your way through the Seclusion Zone. Your first step was the area overlooking the primary home of Ruan Mei’s creations, who seemed to longue by a toilet-like device nearby to where you were sitting. You easily began positioning a camera at the corner of the wall a few feet away from the toilet, allowing the device to display a view of the whole area.

“May I remind you that I have no loyalty to the Genius Society; I do not owe Screwllum my word, nor do I owe you anything,” the Doctor rebutted after a few moments of silence, as if he had been thinking of the retort, “However, I will help you this time out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Wow, isn’t this amiracle,” you ensured the camera was at least partly secure before turning to face him, placing a mocking hand to your chest, “The asshole Doctor caring for others? I’ll make sure to remember this moment; make sure to have your ghost writer reach out to me for your next autobiography so that I can tell them all the wonderful times we had together!”

“You read my autobiography?” he raised an eyebrow at you, though you didn’t notice due to your back once again being turned to him. You sensed the change in his tone though; less snarky and self-centered and more teasing, “I never knew how much of a fan you were; you should have told me Ms. Y/N, I would have gladly signed something for you.” You finished positioning the camera, turning to glare at the mocking smile on the Doctor’s face, “Is your propensity to teast me related to your infatuation with my work? It would explain why you make it you life’s mission to cause me strife; its akin to a child pulling their crushes hair on the playground!”

You scoffed, the Doctor trailing after you as you walked to the other side of the room near some plants that had been cultivated in the Seclusion Zone, and near a place where a few other of Ruan Mei’s creations had been lounging. The creatures were quick to give you some space to position the camera, “You wish, Doctor, I just find your reactions amusing,” you mused as you fiddled with the camera, “Screwllum lent me the book; I’ve got to say, eight doctorial degrees? Like holy shiy, at what could you’ve possibly learned in the eighth that you didn’t already learn in the seventh?”

A moment of silence passed again, you figured because the Doctor was looking to retort again. You weren't complaining though, the silence allowed you time to realize how fuzzy your head was becoming from the wine, and allowed you to find a suitable spot on the opposite side of the room near a staircase to plant another camera. You briefly glanced at the Doctor as you grabbed one of the cameras from his hand, earning no notable reaction. With a shrug, you tuned and began to position the device before the Doctor spoke again, “If I may be so bold… what exactly is your relationship with… Mr. Screwllum?”

“Huh?” you weren’t expecting that question, nearly dropping the unsecured camera, which you barely managed to pick up before it hit the ground. You turned to face him, as if searching his face for the intention behind his words, “What, you’re worried I’m taken? I’m flattered, Doctor, this is the second time today you’ve implied you wanted me to worship you on my knees. You sure don’t hold back on your kinks, huh?”

“Are you capable of responding to anything seriously” he exclaimed awkwardly, brushing off your attempt to deflect the situation. His eyes scanned your figure, taking in Screwllum’s button-down shirt that trailed down to the top of your upper thigh, “You clearly have… some romantic relationship with each other. I am merely curious how a man of his standing has the ability to put up with someone like you.”

“Believe it or not, I’m quite a pleasurable person to be around, you just bring out the worst in me, Doc,” you joked, pondering if you should place the camera or focus on the Doctor, but opted for the latter after you determined your next words, “The relationship Screwllum and I have is pretty simple - were just fuck buddies.”

You weren’t exactly sure how the Doctor would react to that information, though you would have never expected the mere word ‘fuck’ would cause him to open his mouth like a fish, sputtering as if he was speechless, his face red with embarrassment, “W-What?”

“What, eight doctorial degrees and you don’t know what the term fuck buddies is?” you cocked an eyebrow, a smirk growing it’s way on your features, “Ya know, friends with benefits, a situationship, meaningless sex, booty call-”

“I understand the concept!” the Doctor practically shouted, as if begging you to shut up, his face growing redder, “I just cannot comprehend how someone like him would be in a… sexual relationship with someone like you.”

“What, like you can’t picture how we do it?” you questioned teasingly, curving your middle and pointed finger in a ‘come here’ motion, “Come on, use your imagination, Doc! I’ll let you know that Screwllum is great with his fingers!”

Your actions only seemed to spiral the Doctor further into an embarrassed mess, one of his hands moving to attempt to hide the heat on his cheeks, “That is not what I meant,” he sighed, frustrated, “I merely wish to understand how one of the most notable men in the universe ended up being close to a mere security guard.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, turning away now to refocus on the camera, “I mean, that’s nothing special really if I had to be honest. Screwllum visits pretty often, so naturally we ended up talking at some point,” you looked over your shoulder at the Doctor, “Plus, haven’t you seen him? Dude’s smoking hot, of course I’d flirt with him after we got to know each other. It’s as simple as that.” By the strange look the Doctor was giving you, you were pretty sure he didn’t share your enthusiasm regarding the attractiveness of robots, not that it really mattered - more for you to have after all. 

“And yet you’re not dating,” the Doctor commented, trailing after you again as you once again wandered around the room to the wall opposite the stars to put up another camera. You barely glanced at him this time as you grabbed the last camera from him, quickly turning away. 

“We're not dating,” you kept your tone as casual as you could, focusing your attention on positioning the camera on the wall. You doubted the Doctor was the best at picking up on emotional cues, but you wanted to be safe nonetheless by avoiding his questioning gaze.

“I see,” he spoke simply before continuing, “I suppose that’s self-explanatory,” he commented offhandedly as you continued to avoid his gaze while focusing ion your work, “You don’t seem like the type to commit to a long term relationship; both you and Screwllum must have greater satisfaction with this… arrangement.”

God, if he was going to make you talk more about your sex life, you definitely would need more wine in your system, “Ah, Doctor, falling into assumptions of character?” you murmured as you secured the camera, “I expected more from your eight doctorate degrees.” Not seeing a way out of the inevitable, you half-hazardously finished placing the camera before wandering back towards the wine to take a swig, the Doctor once again on your heels.

“I do not understand your assertion,” he watched you impatiently as you took some swigs, the bottle nearly drained before you forced yourself to stop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You were quick to grab two more cameras, motioning the Doctor to follow you once he grabbed two more of his own.

“... I was not the one who suggested our relationship be casual. It was Screwllum,” you once again kept your tone even as the Doctor followed you up the first flight of stairs, where you decided to place a camera beside the door to an experimental room. You looked at the Doctor over your shoulder after a moment of silence, “What, no witty remark for that one, Doctor?”

“I am merely confused,” he confessed, his tone curious. You preferred him more when he was mocking you, “I must admit, I am not familiar with your relationship with Screwllum, but he clearly showed care for you earlier.” Your mind wandered back to the robot, his touch on your skin, his reluctance to leave, the way his fingers expertly massaged your flesh, the way you were straddlingly him when the Doctor had found you. You shoke your head, as if to brush the memories away.

“That’s the thing,” you commented with a shrug, turning to face the Doctor now that the camera was secure to the wall, “At the end of the day, Screwllum will never seriously date someone because of who he is,” you shrugged, as if speaking those words didn’t pain you, “I obviously see him as someone extraordinary who is honestly a lot kinder than a lot of humans I know,” your eyes trailed down to the ground floor, eyeing Ruan Mei’s creations, “But at the end of the day, he’ll always be scared that he can never truly love me because he’s a machine,” you admitted, “Screwllum doesn’t think he’s capable of genuine love, so he won’t get himself in a situation where someone feels that way about him on a deeper level.”

“And yet you have feelings for him,” the Doctor commented as you walked into the experimental room after the first flight of stairs, placing another camera on the other side of the door. Your mind was foggy now with the wine, as if you knew you should stop talking but couldn’t. Maybe one of the Doctor’s degrees was in psychology, considering he seemed to know exactly how to make you spill your inner demons. 

“I think I did at one time,” you said honestly, “But I accepted that whatever I wanted with him won’t ever occur, and I moved on.” With the camera secure, you turned to face the Doctor, “You’re awfully curious about my failed love life, huh? What ‘bout you? Some cute chick waiting back at the University of Veritas Prime?”

“I have no time for romance,” he spoke plainly, crossing his arms over his chest disinterestedly, “There are much more pressing matters for someone of my standing to deal with than something a fickle as a relationship.”

“Spoken like a true virgin,” you clasped your hands together with a mocking smile, “How sweet, Doctor,” you turned away from him, the Doctor again trailing after you as you left the room and walked up the second flight of stairs, “Though, honestly, if I had to deal with your attitude everyday, I wouldn’t fuck you either. I’m sure hearing your voice day after day everyday while getting a degree would be enough to drive me to drop out. I pity all the women who had to deal with you year after year.”

“Very funny,” he spoke, sarcasm dripping from his tone, “Unfortunately for you and myself, many women have the propensity to throw themselves at me,” he sighed, as if recalling the incidents, “They are dull minded and not worthy my time, attention, or energy.”

“Hmm, curious,” you commented, unceremoniously climbing on top of a few metal boxes at the top of the stair case to reach an adequate area on the wall for your camera, “And yet you seem to always find me for some obnoxious conversation? Does that make me special?” you turned, smirking over your shoulder.

“We simply keep running into each other, you are not special,” the Doctor brushed off your comment, shooting you a judgemental stare as you descended from one pile of boxes to make your way to another file on the opposite side of the landing, grabbing the last camera from his hands before climbing up the boxes again.

“Awww, don’t be shy, Doc,” you teased, eyes focused on the camera instead of him, “You know there’s more to it - you’re the one who sought me out this time, after all,” you looked over your shoulder once the camera was secure, “If you’re falling for me, might as well tell me now so I can reject you before it’s too late.”

You turned back to the camera, one foot taking a step back so you could better check the accuracy of the angle. You gasped when your foot felt nothing to rest on, flailing your arms as your body began to fall backwards, cursing the stupid wine as you did so. Through your drunken haze, your mind attempted to think of any solution to get yourself out of this situation, though any logic snapped away when you felt him.

Doctor Ratio was quick to react, arms wrapping around your waist as your body fell, pulling you away from the boxes and closer to him. He made a small grunting noise as your body collided with his chest, his warmth surrounding you as he pulled you close to him. In his arms, you truly realized the extent of his physique, feeling the muscles in his chest against your back, and truly acknowledging the size of his arms as he held you against him. His body was hot, almost unbearably so, your body used to the cold metallic arms of your usual partner. It was comforting though; as if you were wrapped in a blanket. What overwhelmed you most, though, was his scent. His clothes smelt clean, as if they were fresh from the laundry, giving him a soft smell, a harsh contrast to his more harsh figure. However, as if to cover the softness up, there was a hint of cologne, nothing too strong but definitely something there that tickled your nose as you inhaled the musky scent. His breath tickled your exposed neck as he breathed, giving you goosebumps despite the overwhelming scent surrounding you.

“If anything, it seems as if you are the one falling for me,” he whispered into your ear, voice lacking its usual arrogance, replaced by something you wanted to label as flirtatious, but were afraid to do so. He chuckled at your lack of response, “It does feel nice to finally have you at a loss of words - as if I’ve finally reached a checkmate against one of my opponents. 

“No wonder women don’t like you,” you forced yourself to speak, voice lacking the confidence you wanted it to possess, “you just see them like chess pieces - a game to you.”

“I can reassure you, you’re the only one entertaining enough to resemble a challenge,” he laughed, making sure your feet were on the ground before he moved to release you. Your head was practically spinning then, a mix of the alcohol, closeness to the Doctor and some resemblance of dignity that was now absence after your tumble. You immediately felt cold at the absence of your skin, a feeling you usually were okay with. But now… now all you were craving seemed to be heat. 

He let out a yelp when you pulled his body back to yours, your back against his chest again, “Aeons, this is embarrassing,” you muttered, before turning your head to look at him, “...but can you hold me a little longer?” He hesitated slightly, looking you in the eye as if to see if you were testing him somehow. When you merely stared back at him, no hint of a smirk on your features, he sighed, moving his arms to adjust to your body again. You sighed in relief at the feeling of his arms wrap around your waist again, resisting the urge to nuzzle back against him.

“How drunk are you exactly?” he groaned in annoyance against you, though he didn’t make a move to leave your side, “This type of behaviour is ridiculous, even for someone as idiotic as yourself.”

“It’s not my fault that I want some comfort!” you defended, words slightly slurred now from the alcohol “You try fighting some stupid mutant bug and washing bug guts off yourself for two hours, and get back to me about how you feel!” you huffed, forcing yourself to move away from him, “Just forget it, let’s go grab more cameras and-” You gasped when he pulled you back towards him again, this time picking you up bridal style. The feeling of his strong arms against your legs made your shudder, the less PG part of your mind wondering how they would feel in more skin tight pants compared to the sweats you wore now,  “What the hell are you doing, put me down!”

“As if I’d let you walk after you almost cracked your skull open,” he scoffed, descending the stairs with you in his arms, his demeanour completely normal despite your weight in his arms, “Though I must say, your comments do make your behaviour this evening much more understandable.”

“I’m not some stupid puzzle for you to try to solve, bastard,” you resisted the urge to flail your way out of his arms, not wanting to fall on your ass again today.

He ignored your protests, continuing to speak, “I have to say, my intentions of asking about Screwllum were to try and dissect the curious behaviour you too displayed,” he began, descending the second flight of stairs, “If there truly is no romantic feelings between you two, why did he hesitate to leave? Why did he continue to touch you for as long as possible.” The Doctor carefully placed you down on the floor near the cameras before placing his hands on his hips, not batting an eye as you reached towards the wine, “It makes sense now; the anger, the reluctance to be alone, the mentions of fighting to the death.” He paused for a moment as if adding dramatic effect.

“You were scared. You don’t want to be alone. You want someone to comfort you - it is the only thing I can hypothesize behind Screwllum’s motives to suggest I remain here with you after he depart - he was worried about you.”

You downed the rest of the wine, bottle now empty as you placed it down, “Why do you have to be so smart? It’s annoying,” you murmured, the bottle falling to the ground as you failed to place it down properly, “So what if I wanna little comfort after almost dying, isn’t that normal?”

“And why, exactly, do you want this comfort from me?” he asked, cocking a curious eyebrow at you. 

It was a question you asked yourself too - why him? In all honesty, your two, now three, interactions with the Doctor had all been a pain in your ass, keeping you from doing something else that you wanted to do to deal with tiring conversation with some pompous asshole who had no desire to do anything but insult you… Yet you had to admit, the conversations were fun after all. Compared to the other people you surrounded yourself with at the Space Station, Doctor Ratio was new; exciting. He wasn’t afraid to poke your buttons to see what response he would get, something that you couldn’t really say about any of the other researchers. You supposed to closest thing was Herta, but even she couldn’t be bothered to talk to people most days, too focused on the damned Simulated Universe to give a shit about you. That was it - it had to be. You were craving something, or rather someone, who could challenge you, and it just so happened that this Doctor could.

…Not that you were going to tell him that, though. 

“I don’t exactly got a lot’a options here,” you gestured at the room, the only surroundings being Ruan Mei’s creations, “What, am I gonna rant to a stupid cat thingy about my fear of death?”

“You could have saved the rant for Screwllum,” the Doctor commented, eyes flickering from you to the empty wine bottle, “But you instead agreed to rant to me - you are smarter than to make excuses for your actions.”

You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest, “Aeons, and you say I’m the emotionally manipulative one - how did your stupid fancy University teach you to get information out of people so easily,” she sighed in defeat, “I’m not the type of person who wants to reflect on my emotions, and you’re the type of person to give me a distraction, that’s all there is to it.”

“I see,” the Doctor smirked, confidently sitting down beside you on the floor cross-legged, his knee briefly touching yours as he readjusted, “I’ve got to say, this sudden confession of your feelings towards me has me flustered. Perhaps it is you who wants to grovel at my feet, despite you suggesting the reverse.”

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you groaned, wishing you had more wine to drown your sorrows in. You attempted to stand up, extremely wobbly on your feet, “Lets put the rest of these stupid cameras up so I can get the hell out of this place.”

The Doctor grabbed your wrist as if to steady you, though the action didn’t seem to cure the wobble of your figure, “You’re clearly not in the condition to continue working. Why don’t you rest here and continue work later…” he trailed off, as if thinking how to finish his sentence, “...when you’re not stumbling around like a light weight.”

“Lightweight!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “You try drinking a bottle of wine and see how you act!” The Doctor ignored your words, gently pulling you to the ground, placing one of his muscular arms around your waist, as if to prevent your escape.

“Just go to bed, the Station will be better off for a while without you stumbling around down here,” he stated bluntly, repositioning you so that you could rest your head on his chest, the rest of your body curled up beside him.

“At least let me sleep in my room,” you groaned, wiggling against his grip, “No offence, but my bed is a lot comfier than you’re stupidly buff chest.” He snorted slightly at the comment, arm still firmly holding you in place.

“You can barely walk,” he reminded you, “And I do not think either of us would benefit from the rumours that would result from me carrying you towards your room,” you could practically hear the gossip now - its not like researchers had much better to do than start baseless rumours anyway. 

“Ugh, you’re so stupid, Doctor,” you mumbled, accepting your fate and shifting your body slightly to get more comfortable, “You and you’re stupid eight Doctorate degrees, why are you so fucking frustrating?”

“Veritas,” he said softly, making you open your tired eyes to look at him. He gazed down at your figure from where you on his lap, “My name is Veritas. If we are going to be familiar enough to do… whatever this is, you may as well call me by my first name.”

“Veritas,” you tested the name on your lips, “First telling me to sleep on you, and then telling me your first name? What’s next, a marriage proposal?”

“Just shut up and sleep,” he huffed, holding you against his chest, letting you rest your body weight on him completely. You could hear his heartbeat as you rested there, a sound so unfamiliar to you considering your usual cuddling partners. However, somehow the rhythmic thumping was relaxing - a sign of life that showed you that there was someone by your side. It scared away any thoughts of that Aeon-forsaken bug that threatened to invade your mind.

“Dr- Veritas,” you corrected yourself sleepily, “You’ll stay with me, right?” your words were muffled as you spoke into his chest, eyes fluttering with the sleep that already wanted to flow over you.

“It is not like I have much of a choice given our current predicament,” he sighed, though his grip did not loosen on you. You smiled at his words, though your mind briefly wandered away for a second.

“I wanted to ask you,” you said softly, “Early today, you told the Trailblazer that you stumbled upon Ruan Mei’s research after coming down here for your own purposes…” you mumbled, forcing yourself to finish the question despite the desire to sleep, “...Why exactly were you down here in the first place?”

He was silent for a moment, though it was so brief that you wondered if you had made it up, “I will tell you when you awake, I promise.” You nodded, tired mind finding some sort of solace in his words, allowing you to finally let sleep overtake you.

It's only when you wake up the next day, Screwllum shaking your arm urgently, that you realize the Doctor went back on his word.

[averydavery]

The Like A Dragon Infinite Wealth Problem

Ichiban sprite WIP for my (admittedly self-indulgent) fangame

Pseudo-essay and ramblings below the cut

Tldr:

I’m a sore, butt-hurt player who feels a bit cheated and a lot disappointed.

Critical Rating- 8/10

Personal Rating- 6.5/10

SPOILERS AHEAD

So I’m writing this as of just finishing the game. Mind you, it took me about three-fourths of this year to beat LAD8. Not because it was challenging but because one thing or another pissed me off so much, I had to put it down for extended periods of time. Now I want to get my glazing out of the way so you understand the things that I’m 100% not bashing here and a lot of my criticisms just have to deal with how RGG studio as a whole has become as storytellers and developers.

But most obviously addicting was the gameplay. This is probably one of my favorite turn-based RPGs in terms of mechanics and strategy— and I played BG3 this year. It improved everything that was in 7 and added only more things worth liking, especially the inclusion of Kiryu breaking the entire physics and reverting to just pummeling someone. I thought that was a really endearing touch. Also, out of all the games I’ve put on the TV, this was the one my dad enjoyed watching most. For context, my dad is a fifty-three year old man who only plays first-person shooters and has no interest in any other kind of game. I play with subtitles too and he’s usually not a fan of that since he has poor vision but he LOVED watching the silly little “essence of” moves. He genuinely got excited whenever I did a shit ton of damage on an enemy lmao. Also in my dorm I have a poster of Ichiban and my dad pointed at it recently and said “I know that guy! He beats up people with his magical bat!” … literally sobbed.

Besides the gameplay, it had nice quality of life improvements from 7 which was to be expected. Although I am VERY opinionated in terms of the story, my favorite part was Eiji and Ichiban’s development. The ending scene had such a cyclical feel to it that kind of reigned in some of the craziness to remind the viewer that the first “new” character Ichiban met was Eiji and a lot of Ichi’s expository conflicts were the result of his actions. I thought out of all the antagonists, he was the most realized and motivated as well. A lot of the more shocking moments I cared for had him in it— either explicitly or implicitly. Also not to mention the “bon voyage” motif, that was adorable.

Other things I enjoyed a lot were Dondoko Island, what a great in-depth mini game that at times I’d much rather play than the main story, and Chitose and Tomizawa. I liked both of them a lot, I thought the were sweet additions, it’s just Chitose had a lot of bearing on the story in regards to Eiji and I wish I could see it through. She wasn’t in the ending much at all and I feel like since she was so guarded we didn’t see her personality very much. Tomi was a much smaller part of the story which was a bummer but regardless, he certainly didn’t bother me and I like him for what he’s there for! Also he’s the most down-to-earth and relatable character on the team so that perspective was nice.

Okay now onto why I didn’t like this game so much.

I enjoyed this game really up until Kiryu went back to Yokohama and got his own team. Everything I disliked about the plot could be traced back to starting around that chapter. If you boil it down, this game introduces itself as being a continuation of Ichiban’s story and revolving around him. But when we take ahold of Kiryu it reveals itself to be a game centered around both of them. And one side of the story is about a new, fresh, and beloved character we players are always excited to play as… and the other is Kiryu.

I’m gonna rip the band-aid off now: I am sick of Kiryu. Do I think he deserves a better ending than in 6? Yes. Have I played Gaiden? No. Do I think that they should’ve found a way to end his story in Gaiden? Yes.

We as players have spent SEVEN AND A HALF games playing as Kiryu, from 0 to Gaiden. I think it’s not a stretch to say they need to give him a rest. I wish everything that happened with Kiryu at the end of this game was either put into Gaiden and RGG had marketed that game as “the true twilight era and ending of Kiryu Kazuma” or been experienced through the eyes of Ichiban. After all, it felt like Kiryu was upstaging Ichiban more or less in his own game and not in a good way. If this game was supposed to be truly “shared” between the two of them then they shouldn’t have made Ichiban such a focal point and made it like some grand scheme visualized through two different lenses like they did with Kiryu and Majima in 0. Every time I was back at the helm of Kiryu was just biding my time until I was Ichiban again! And call this an original take (sarcasm), but I don’t think a game should be played like that.

Not to mention that RGG now has a habit of making the game unplayable by forcing the player to spend hours leveling up to beat a boss and while I think that’s a clever way to get the player to spend more hours in their game— I definitely think we can all agree that spending time grinding to level up or to get new poundmates was no one’s favorite part of the story. So not only am I trying to rush through Kiryu’s story that I’m bored by, the game forces me to stay playing as him which only makes me hate that half of the game more.

I also think this series has really lost its spark, it set a standard that the conflict has to be so large, so all-encompassing and complex that it doesn’t really know what story its telling. What I mean is done best in 3 which is my favorite game in terms of story, is because of its scope. Sure, the US is involved so the issue is slightly international and there is some silly, yakuza-brand confusion but 3 is solely focused on that little town in Okinawa. Everything came back to Kiryu’s attempt to settle down there and how the Tojo Clan still seemed to follow him all they to his doorstep. The plot was localized and familiar characters like Majima and Dojima made decisions remotely from Kiryu, while new faces like Rikiya and Mine got to shine. In 8, the scale is so large and is trying its best to be so fanservice-y that the story of “Ichiban finding his mom” is lost completely in the cracks.

Also the cult shit. I know this RGG but even for their standards, this was stupid and not in a silly way. I was just groaning.

Not to mention, Lani is a character I felt no emotion towards. I wish the story was solely been about Ichiban finding his mom and it had spanned the entirety of the story, rather than the player being told “well, Akane isn’t the important one that Palekana is looking for it’s actually this random kid she’s protecting that you don’t know anything about or have an attachment to instead.” I think if they had, again, narrowed the scope and simplified the plot to be Ichiban searching for his mom— it could’ve been way more emotional and impactful. They could’ve even tried to achieve that Twin Peaks “who killed Laura Palmer?” vibe. Be which I mean, a very simple question or sentence could’ve been expanded upon tenfold.

I don’t know, this has gone on long enough. What do you think?

[alwerakoo]

Baby Blue (Chapter 8)

Rise of the TMNT Leonardo/Yuichi Usagi Chapter 8 of a longer fic THIS IS PART OF A SERIES - might be confusing to read without context

AO3

---

In the end, Leo turned to April for help, practically begging her to entertain Splinter for one evening.

Which, really, was a big thing to ask of her.

“I don't hate your dad,” she told him (a bit entertained by his theatrics), which might've been true.

But they were also never close or even particularly friendly, which Leo always appreciated. There were many things he was willing to forgive in order to keep her as a friend, and being fond of his father was not one of them.

Raph, surprisingly, had proven just as easy to bribe. Seemed like a quiet evening without his little brother to worry about made up for Usagi's presence in The Lair, and Leo should’ve probably felt at least a bit offended.

Usagi and Raph didn't seem like the type of people who would form any kind of deep friendship anytime soon, but his brother clearly has a soft spot for him, and that almost made up for the rather insulting implications.

“Keep the doors open,” Raph said, clearly half-joking. Then he frowned and added, a little more seriously: “Actually, keep them closed. Raph doesn't wanna see any of that.”

So, in the end, Usagi enters their home without any resistance, but to the loud chorus of Leo's beating hearts.

And Leo would never admit it out loud, under any circumstances – but Donnie was right.

Usagi seems completely unbothered by the walk through the sewers, expressing an appropriate level of appreciation towards the graffiti Mikey left there, and an almost excessive amount of excitement about the rats running around the corners.

He finds them 'cute', and Leo is starting to see a pattern.

The Lair itself seems to make an equally great impression on him, but it all pales in comparison to the pure bliss on his face the moment Leo slips a controller into his hands.

Usagi, as Leo quickly has the opportunity to find out, has only a relative understanding of video games, but approaches each one with the equal level of enthusiasm. And an equal lack of talent.

After showing his usual great aim and quick reflexes don't translate into the virtual world, Leo, somewhat in desperation, lets him stick with Sims.

It's the only game in which Usagi is able to keep his characters alive. Which basically means that he's also playing it wrong, but Leo has no intention of taking away his fun for much longer.

His room is warm, lit by the fairy lights hung near the ceiling and the TV they moved to his bedroom for this one evening. Leo lies on his stomach, sprawled on his beanbag, stubbornly trying to look as casual as possible.

Which is hard, because he can't remember the last time he was so aware of his own body. The way Usagi glances at him out of the corner of his eye, like he knows that Leo is perfectly aware of how closely he's watching him and just doesn't care – definitely isn't helping.

“So...” Usagi says, a bit suddenly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “How are you?”

Leo blinks.

He shifts slightly, resting his chin on his folded arms.

“What?”

“I’m asking how are you,” Usagi repeats, in an equally dry tone.

He grips the controller a little tighter; enough so that his thumb bends at a distinctly awkward angle. Leo should stop looking at his hands.

“We’ve been talking for an hour,” he notes.

“So what?”

For a moment, Leo looks at him carefully, narrowing his eyes a little.

“I'm good,” he says slowly. And then, because he quickly gets the impression that this is where the conversation is headed: “And how about you?”

“I had a shitty day yesterday,” Usagi says without hesitation.

Leo bursts out laughing, lifting his chin so he doesn’t bite his tongue. He covers his mouth with a hand, a bit embarrassed by his own reaction. But not enough to actually stop himself, nor his tail, waging against the leathery seat.

Usagi looks at him, and there's no trace of resentment on his face. Just curiosity, like he wants in on the joke, too.

“You know you can just tell me that,” Leo says. “We don't have to go through all that small talk.”

A hint of amusement shows on Usagi's face, but his shoulders slump a little, like he didn't really know that.

“I'm nervous,” he says. “I'm sticking to the script.”

Leo giggles, rolling over so he's lying on his back, his hands clasped over his stomach.

“Since when do you have a script?” It's one of the things he appreciates most about Usagi. The way he can always turn a situation into something so ridiculous that Leo completely forgets about the knot in his stomach. “And since when are you nervous about anything? Stop being nervous.”

Usagi tilts his head a little, his gaze softening.

“Stop making me nervous, then.”

He's still smiling, but his face is casually sincere, without a trace of the usual overconfidence that pushes every flirtation behind the line of a potential joke.

Leo's fingers tighten, and when he swallows, he feels his own pulse in his throat.

“Okay,” he says, a little dry. “Why did you have a bad day?”

If Usagi is disappointed in any way, he doesn't show it.

“Mikey and Donnie had a fight.”

Leo's shoulders slump a little; his earlier, sudden embarrassment quickly dimming under the surge of pure, nosy curiosity.

“Really?” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Is that why Mikey texted me: 'if you see him, tell him to fuck off'?”

“You were there for that?” He asks.

Usagi grimaces slightly, like he's disappointed, but not at all surprised.

“Probably. Honestly, they're all kind of fighting right now.”

Usagi shifts in place, turning on his beanbag to face Leo. But he doesn't stop the game, leaving his charges to their own fate for a moment.

“Because Mr. Barry told him,” Usagi rests his hands on his hips, lowering his voice in his best Draxum imitation, “'Stop gallivanting around all night'. And Mikey was like: 'Don't tell me what to do'. And Barry went all 'I am your father', and all that.”

Leo rests his cheek on his hand, frowning. He's known Mikey long enough to recognize all the soft spots that make him snarl. This sounds a whole lot like all of them, at once.

''Yeah, Mr. Barry said he's gonna leave Spot at a shelter if I don't bathe him more often.” Usagi throws up his arms in a gesture of pure indignation. “He's an animal! They all kind of smell!''

Leo wonders if it was Draxum's way of getting Usagi away from his family more often. Probably not. But maybe.

“Right.”

“Well, anyway, Donnie said: 'Father's right, but he shouldn't call it that, because that's kind of cringe', and Barry was like: 'What's cringe?', and then Mikey told them to fuck off.”

Slowly, Leo nods.

He's not sure how much his friend is paraphrasing. Knowing his family, probably not much.

“For the most part.” Usagi shrugs. “But I think that whole...” He falls silent for a moment, studying Leo, as if trying to spot an early reaction in his face. “Shredder situation, he kind of... You know.”

“I thought Draxum doesn't really care what they do,” he points out.

Leo, aware of just how suffocatingly protective he himself has become since then, grimaces.

“Sounds like a nightmare.”

Usagi frowns, something oddly defensive in his tone.

“I don't know. It's nice to have someone who cares about you like that.”

Leo opens his mouth, but then hesitates, analyzing his friend's words a little more carefully.

There's something sharp and determined in them, like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. Like someone who doesn't take anything for granted.

“I know,” he says, as if trying to ease the tension in his friend's muscles with just his words. His voice pitches a little with a quiet trill. “But you have to let him breathe, sometimes. Mikey's not made of glass.”

Leo worries about Mikey, of course. It's hard not to, when every piece of him seems to be begging for sympathy – like a magnet for trouble.

But he keeps those feelings close, closer than his love. Perhaps it's one of the many abilities that came to him much easier than to their older brothers.

He's harsh with him, sometimes. But there's a palpable sense of fairness in that. In recognizing his brother can, and won't hesitate to hit right back.

If Mikey's made of glass – he's already all broken and sharp edges, something to cut your skin on.

They're two sides of the same coin, and Leo isn't going to pretend they're not, even if he won't talk about it.

Usagi presses his lips together, running his fingers over the controller. He looks like he wants to disagree, but he's not sure how.

“Maybe,” he says finally, and they leave it at that.

For a long moment, Leo just stares at the TV screen, feeling his earlier embarrassment slowly drain away.

“You're playing,” he says, mostly to break the silence, “like you've never seen a console before.”

“Leatherhead had an Xbox. We used to play at his place when we were little,” Usagi replies. “And, well, my brother had one, too. But I couldn't really use it.”

Leo frowns.

This time he sits up, shifting his weight to his hand and hip, tilting his head slightly. Usagi doesn't meet his gaze, but that could simply be a matter of his sudden involvement in the game. His friend's creations don't seem to be doing as well on their own as one might assume.

“What?” Leo says, feeling a bit like he'd just jumped out of the rain and straight into the gutter. “Why?”

Usagi's face hardens a bit, like he just realized there's a stone in his shoe.

“You know,” he says. “Every time we see each other, I feel like I only talk about my family.”

“In my defense, you said we could,” Leo forces a smile, taking that as a clear answer.

It's a 'not now'.

“But we can talk about something else.” Usagi glances to the side, finally returning his gaze.

His ears fall over his shoulder, moving the fur on his cheek at an odd angle.

Leo has the sudden urge to straighten it.

“Like what?” He asks instead, leaning forward and clasping his hands behind his drawn-up knees.

“Like why have we known each other for a year, but this is the first time I've ever been to your house?”

Leo blinks, confused.

Usagi smiles a bit, the way he always does when he manages to throw him off.

“I've never been to your house, either,” Leo says, not convincingly.

“Yeah, because my family sucks,” Usagi replies without hesitation.

Leo presses his lips together.

It was hard to disagree with such a convincing argument, now that he had the chance to meet at least one of its members. He wouldn't argue about it before that either, out of pure solidarity.

Right. Solidarity.

“Well, I mean,” Leo says, carefully feeling each word in his mouth, “mine kind of does, too.”

Usagi turns to him. There's a peculiar expression on his face, something equal parts understanding and curiosity.

“Donnie,” Usagi says, lowering his voice, like they're sharing a secret. “Really hates your dad.”

“Like your dad?”

“Like my dad.” Leo nods. “He's a deadbeat.”

He doesn't even realize how easily the words come out of his mouth now until he says them. It feels dangerous.

“So you've mentioned.”

“Is there a story behind that?” Usagi tilts his head slightly, all casual. “Or do you talk about your family only after marriage?”

Leo lets out an involuntary laugh.

“That's an idea. A father-in-law like that would scare away many people,” he says, mainly to avoid thinking about the deeper meaning of the joke.

And also because he is not sure how to answer the question.

There is a story behind it. There isn't one. There's so much of it that trying to cover it all in one conversation feels doomed from the start.

“You know Donnie can be a little...”

“Protective over you?” Usagi teases.

Leo wasn't going to use those words exactly, and it leaves him a bit flustered with embarrassment.

“I guess,” he mumbles. “It's a lot of different reasons.”

“Mhm.” Usagi sounds like he wants him to continue, but didn't expect him to.

“Splinter- Dad wasn't really...” Leo pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. It's like chewing on glass. “Present. When we were little.”

Usagi's face takes on a strange expression, like he's not surprised, but something makes him feel like he should be, if only out of common decency.

It feels weird to say something like this to anyone – to roll over, exposing the softest parts of him. Especially with someone who he so desperately, achingly, wants to impress.

But it's different.

Usagi makes his heart (just one) jump inside his chest, makes the air stick to his throat, makes his stomach swirl with something dizzying.

But he's also a friend.

And a damn good one at that.

He'd rather they leave the forced decency behind.

“Don't look at me like that,” he says. “You already knew that.”

Usagi's face falls into something more honest, almost apologetic.

“Well, I mean, yeah,” he says with a sigh. Then, more carefully: “You know, when I met you, you and Raphael reminded me of those people who are raised as their parent's sibling.”

Leo's face almost aches with how wide open his eyes are.

“The hell?” He says, laughing, because he doesn't really know what else he should say.

“For the record, I know it's not possible, he's younger than he looks,” Usagi says, like that was the most concerning part of his statement. “You too, but in a different way.” He leans in a little, finger pointed at his face. “He has old eyes.”

Leo quiets.

He sits on it for a moment, but there's nothing to argue against, really. Usagi's right.

He sucks on his teeth, feeling a familiar, old fire spark to life. It's second-hand anger, frustration for the sake of feeling anything.

Sometimes being angry at his father feels like being angry at the sun in the winter, for not rising fast enough, for disappearing too soon. Like he needs something to blame for why he can't bring himself to get out of bed in the morning.

“Don't ever say that to him,” he warns. “It's- He doesn't like talking about that. But I know. He took care of me a lot when we were kids.”

“That's nice,” Usagi says, and he sounds like he means it.

He doesn't seem to pick up on the bitterness in Leo's voice.

“Splinter-”

And before he has a chance to respond – he stills.

He can see Usagi straighten next to him, his ears shifting with a new sound.

Raph hasn't bothered them at all this evening, but Leo can hear him now – his familiar footsteps down the hall.

They're not talking loudly, not louder than usual anyway (which doesn't really mean much all things considered), but he knows he sound from his room carries; running under the door and echoing down the tunnels.

He should quiet, because Raph will be upset if he hears this.

That thought pulls on him like a last string.

He's set off now – white-hot anger filling his throat, like it'll burn him alive if he doesn't spit it out.

“I fucking hate him.”

The footsteps still.

Usagi turns back to him, his eyes wide and bright with confusion.

“Hey,” he whispers, like he thinks maybe Leo doesn't know.

He's already giving him too much credit.

“I barely even know him,” Leo says, voice a little louder than before. “I hate when he shows up like 'hey, remember me?' and everyone is acting like we're supposed to play happy family.”

Usagi looks at the door to his bedroom and back to Leo, with the facial expression of someone watching a friend shoot himself in the foot.

“Are you-”

Leo doesn't let him finish.

“Sometimes I wish he'd just stop trying.” Leo's fingers tighten, and he bites where it hurts. “It's better when he's not even here.”

He hears Raph down the hall. He hears him hesitate, stumble, before he turns back, footsteps quieting down as he goes.

Leo's shoulders loosen.

Then tighten again, as soon as Usagi leans over to grab his arms, firm and just a bit harsh.

“What the fuck was that?”

He still sounds a bit hushed, but it doesn’t stop him from almost shaking Leo in place.

“What?” Leo bristles, still an open bear trap.

“You know your brother heard all that, right?”

“Yeah.” He moves his arms, shaking him off. “So what?”

“So what?” Usagi repeats, earnestly confused. His eyes are wide and so pretty it hurts. “You just said-”

“It's none of your business, okay?”

He regrets the words before he finishes. He regrets them before they even leave his mouth.

It's venom and misdirected bitterness, and there's such genuine hurt on his friend's face. Like this is something unexpected, like he just woke up to find out the floor next to his bed wasn't there anymore.

Then his face straightens, upset and full of hurt pride.

“You wanna repeat that?”

Leo doesn't.

His shoulders slump. Keeping up with everyone's low, low expectations of him is one thing. Genuine disappointment is another.

“No,” he says, like a plea. “No, I'm- I'm sorry.” The words pass through his mouth like they want to choke him. “I'm just angry.”

Sometimes, he feels like he's rarely anything but.

There must be something particularly guilt-stricken and pathetic painted onto his face, because Usagi's gaze softens.

“That was mean,” he says anyway.

“I know.”

“Then why'd you do it?”

It's a good question. Not one Leo knows how to answer, tho.

“He- Raph's just so...” He starts anyway. “It's like he keeps wanting to defend him. Our father, I mean. I hate when he does that. I don't know, maybe he just doesn't care.”

He knows it's not true.

And Usagi looks at him like he does, too.

“Leo,” he says. “Raph cares about you more than you know.”

“I'm sorry,” he repeats.

“It's fine. I don't-” Usagi stops for a moment, lingering. “I just feel like I'm missing something.”

Leo smiles, faintly.

“I'm as lost as you are.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Usagi asks.

“No,” Leo says, so quickly it's an instinct. “No, I want you to stay. Can you stay?”

He sounds pathetic.

“Yeah,” his friend says. “Of course.”

***

He can't call the rest of the evening 'awkward', but it's stilted, filled with unspoken things, and when Usagi gathers his things to leave, he hesitates for a moment.

Leo can feel him watching when he takes out his sword, tracing the outline of the portal in the air.

“Hey, you know,” Usagi says, his fingers running over the straps of his bag. “You know you can talk to me, right? About... Anything.” He finishes, a bit lamely.

Leo looks back at him.

He's giving Leo so much credit, like he wants to believe this is something unnatural, out of character. Like this is one bad day, one hiccup along the way. Like he wants to believe deep down, inherently, Leo is a kind person.

(Leo wants to be kind. He wishes he could.)

“I know,” he says. “Thanks.”

Usagi doesn't look convinced.

“I really think we should... Talk about this?” He says, like what he's really asking is: 'Is this right? Is this a thing people say?'.

“I'm-” He's a lot of things. And 'ready for that' isn't one of them. “Okay. But not- Not today.”

“... Okay.”

Usagi lingers, for just a moment, before he finally steps closer, wrapping his arms around Leo. It's hesitant at first, like he's giving him space to pull away.

Leo squeezes him like he's trying to hold onto fog, arms tight around his friend's shoulders.

Usagi sighs, face buried in the dip of Leo's shoulder. His neck is soft and warm, and Leo traces the back of it with his fingers before he has the mind to stop himself, feeling down his quick pulse.

He feels Usagi swallow.

“Right,” his friend says before pulling away. “Good luck.”

***

The Lair feels quiet.

He considers himself for a moment; considers just sinking back into his room until everything around him passes by itself.

He doesn't.

He finds Raph in the kitchen, busying himself with something that looks vaguely unimportant.

“Hey,” he says.

He wishes he could see his face, but Raph has his back turned to him. But he answers, which feels like half the success.

“Hey.”

He sounds flat, a little dry.

Leo waits, the clock on the wall ticking away.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” He finally breaks the silence himself.

Maybe he should've taken that chance. Should've taken the out his brother gave him, acting like nothing happened. Brush it under the rug.

They've been doing it for so long, sometimes he feels like they're standing on a ticking bomb, ready to spill over at any moment.

Raph sighs.

He turns and there's something deeply sad on his face, like there's so much frustration pressing onto it he's almost crying.

“Why are you doing that thing again?”

“Doing what?” Leo says, doing it again.

He's hurt and sad and childishly angry, and he doesn't know how to hold all of it inside.

“You're trying to start a fight.” Raph says, plain and simple. “You knew I could hear what you said about Dad.”

His tail shifts behind him, like he wants to strangle Leo with it.

Leo flexes his fingers, his claws digging into his palms.

“I can voice out my thoughts in my own room,” he says, which is right on the line between honest and cruel.

Raph growls, quiet and low, like he wanted to only hum but didn't quite manage to.

“Doesn't mean you should go around airing our dirty laundry to strangers.”

It's mean and unexpected, and there's a flash of real annoyance that passes through Leo.

“Usagi is my friend.”

Yours, too, he wants to add, but doesn't.

Raph's face does a complicated, regretful thing, like he wants to explain himself but can't quite manage it right now.

“You know what I meant,” he settles on.

“I didn't say anything I wouldn't otherwise,” Leo says. Then: “You know I hate him.”

Raph slams his hand on the counter, and it catches Leo off guard so much that he takes a step back.

“Can you stop doing that?!”

He doesn't remember he last time Raph yelled at him.

(He doesn't remember he last time his dad spoke to him like this.)

There is real bitterness and anger behind Raph's words, and Leo already feels each of them sting. He bit into more than he could, and he can feel his jaw start to ache.

Raph raises a hand, putting down more fingers as he speaks.

“You hate him, but you won't move out. You hate him, but you're trying harder when he's in the room during training. You hate him, but you can barely look him in the eye.” He looks back at Leo. He's not yelling anymore, and it doesn't help. “You want him to like you so bad.”

And that makes you pathetic. And that makes you stupid. And that makes you a fool.

Leo can hear all of it loop in his mind, even if Raph doesn't say any of it out loud.

There must be something showing on his face now, because Raph's eyes smooth over, and his shoulders drop a little. There is real gentleness on his face, like the carefulness of picking up broken glass after you already smashed the bowl.

“It's fine, of course you do, he's our dad, Leo.” He says his name like he used to when Leo was a lot younger. “But I'm sick of you pretending it's anything other than that.”

With that, Leo realizes that his eyes are wet. He feels awful, and it's not what he wanted at all.

He likes pointless arguing, he likes hitting where he knows it'll hurt, he likes to feel blood in his mouth.

He likes a double-edged knife – to feel a bitter sting of that push and pull.

This is different. He knows that all of this will hurt Raph more than it will ever hurt him.

And worst of all – is that he's right.

He loves his father more than he hates him, and he's never ready to let go of the only home he's ever known, and he's a coward who'd rather cut his hand on a shattered mirror than ever look himself in the eye.

He opens his mouth, looking for anything to say:

“I don't-”

And with something like the last snap of anger, the last crackle of a dying fire, Raph spits:

“You don't hate him like I do.”

Leo falls silent.

Raph's mouth draws into a thin line, like he's also surprised, like it was a thought that he's been running away from for so long, that he barely realized when it finally caught up.

Raph looks back at him. And when he does, Leo can see every line years of disappointment, anger and bitterness left on his face. His eyes look old.

“Okay,” Leo says, nearly a whisper.

With that, he turns, walking out of the room.

***

He spends the day in Donnie's room, curled up on the small cot his brother set up in his workshop, watching him work. Sleep doesn't catch him, and all he can do is stare up into the ceiling and think.

And think, and think, and think.

[rottenpumpkin13]

My mind's made up that, at any given moment of entering a room and making eye contact, Sephiroth and Genesis just immediately hone in on each other and are hellbent on causing a scene. They are not to be trusted together under any circumstances.

Except for the inevitable moments where all that venom and hostility were forcibly diluted by regret. It always happened to Sephiroth first. Of course, he was the more level-headed of the two. He lost a night of sleep racking his brain over what he could’ve done to set Genesis off. 

And then he remembered how he wasn’t pondering over the actions of a regular person. It was Genesis, and whether he chose to ignore it or not, Genesis was and had always been a man of inexplicable actions. 

Sephiroth knew the embellishments Genesis added to his personality were nothing more than smoke and mirrors. There was fragility and context behind the expensive painting Genesis chose to hang over his heart. 

By the time Sephiroth was done pondering over the Why’s that could explain something as incomprehensible as Genesis Rhapsodos, he was already on the elevator on the way to his office. He had skipped breakfast, a trifling price to pay for engulfing himself in thoughts. 

It happened to Genesis next. Regret spat on his face the moment he first looked in the mirror that morning. Words he wished he could take back became painted on his face like a twisted form of plastic surgery. It etched a permanent frown on his face and highlighted all the truly ugly details that comprised his personality. 

Ever the infantile little boy looking to get the last word. He should’ve known better than to take anything Sephiroth said to heart, even more than to prolong a mutual spat with verbal aggressions.

Sephiroth didn’t have the luxury of a normal, healthy development like he did. Depending on the severity of the blow, he knew Sephiroth was the type to lie awake all night blaming himself for their fight. 

And then Genesis felt truly rotten. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Sephiroth was fine that morning, and probably went about his day as he normally would. 

But Sephiroth was his friend. And he had definitely skipped breakfast. 

So Sephiroth got a knock on his office door. 

He didn’t have time to acknowledge the person on the other side. The door opened anyway, and Genesis strode in wordlessly. Sephiroth’s eyes fell on the items in his hands, both of which filled the room with a sweet scent. 

Genesis held a steaming cup of tea and a brown bag that contained a cinnamon roll. 

Sephiroth, like Genesis, didn’t say anything. He simply watched as the older man placed the food on his desk, then stretched his arm toward him. Genesis’s gloved fingers were warm as they sunk into Sephiroth’s hair. 

Sephiroth sat still as Genesis ruffled his bangs with the expressed intent of messing them up. 

Typical. 

Genesis snorted, retracting his arm as he spun back around. 

There wasn’t a single word exchanged between the two. Genesis was out the door again before Sephiroth could even try to find something to say. 

He pulled the cinnamon roll toward him with a sigh, blowing the stray strands of hair from his face. Well, he supposed it wasn’t technically needed after all.

As much of a chatterbox as Genesis was, he had funny ways of speaking without using his voice. Sephiroth had known him long enough to decipher each of them.

Bringing Sephiroth breakfast wasn’t a peace offering, nor was it an apology. 

Sephiroth smiled as he sipped the tea. 

It was his way of saying I love you.

[the-bitter-ocean]

(OPTIONAL ACHIEVEMENT CONTENT, ACT 3/ ACT 5 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT) @biblicallyaccuratecrow I hope you don't mind me adding my two cents in analyzing Bonnie as well because I also adore this scene and Bonnie as a character. This scene ABSOLUTELY left an impression on Siffrin and he internalizes that the entire game. It’s so so fascinating to me how well-crafted the dialogue and callbacks to certain moments are it makes me run around in a circle

Like when the MAL DU PAYS fight was happening and it was speaking as Bonnie, the dialogue reminded me of the stupid rotten adults scene. Granted in the context of stupid rotten adults / Memory of Promise achievement Bonnie lashed out because they didn’t like the party talking about death- about how each and every one of them were fully on board with sacrificing their lives if it meant protecting them. This is notably different from the Mal Du Pays version of Bonnie who is voicing all of Siffrin’s fears and self loathing on the situation ( their feelings of having personally failed to protect Bonnie and that they should’ve died instead to protect them)

Shoutout to the @isat-script-project for providing the dialogue from the game for easy access to everyone else, the screenshots I used are from that website/ blog specifically so be sure to check that out if you hadn’t done so! You can find a link to the website here. Anyway moving on to the analysis:

Stupid Rotten Adults:

Act 5 (Failed Friend Quest)

(Act 5 MAL DU PAYS fight)

Like when you analyze what Bonnie says in stupid rotten adults versus act 5 both of them outright tell Siffrin that he should die. It wasn’t pleasant and genuinely was hurtful, even if we the player and also Siffrin in hindsight post game know that Bonnie didn’t mean to say that and was just a kid verbally lashing out in a high stress situation.

I said it before a while ago and so have many others when analyzing Bonnie or the rest of the cast but I’m not surprised Bonnie reacted so viscerally to Siffrin getting hurt for their sake. Not only has it happened before in the past prior to the events of the game (the sadness incident) but given what little information that we know about Bonnie’s older sister Petronille, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Nille probably had a similar mindset to protect their younger sibling too. (Nille being the one to run away from home at a young age because it’s heavily implied that it was an unsafe/ abusive environment and decided to raise Bonnie all by herself). I wouldn’t be surprised if she got frozen in time while protecting their sibling, telling Bonnie to run or go find help and prioritizing their safety first before anything else. That sort of survivor's guilt can heavily affect anyone- so it’s not a shock that it hit home for someone as young as Bonnie (who at the youngest would be 10 and at the oldest would be 12 because they’re stated to only be a preteen).

There’s hints of how much Bonnie dislikes the idea of people dying/ getting hurt for their sake all throughout the game- even before you get to the ACT 3 Friend Quest or even the Memory of Promise/ Stupid Rotten Adults achievement. In general Bonnie repeatedly expresses that they want to contribute to the party in a meaningful way. Bonnie wants to help too! They want to have an important role and be able to protect their family and be viewed as someone equal rather than be viewed as “just a little kid” that the party has to babysit or coddle. A lot of the party is aware of these feelings and do their best to make sure Bonnie feels included even if they’re not allowed to be actively fighting by letting them be the one to hold all the important items/ potions they find while traversing the house and being the one to help make the snacks so that the party doesn’t go hungry on the journey. Even when they aren’t a primary fighter in the group, unlike the prologue where Bonnie didn’t get to fight at all nor did they hold the potions (it was Odile, for some reason oddly enough lol) Bonnie in ISAT has a random chance of being able to land a hit on any enemy the party encounters / do the finishing blow for an attack and also is the one to throw the bomb if the player decides to craft one during the loops.

A lot of this characterization can be missed on a first playthrough especially if you don’t do things like analyzing the different sadnesses or paying attention to the different bathroom conversations that the party has. You can find the dialogue that I’m presenting currently in this analysis on the official isat wiki:

When the party encounters the two sadnesses Accablement and Abattement you get this very interesting conversation when examining the sadnesses for the first time:

I think it makes the game all the more impactful to see all those little moments where every character, not just Siffrin is allowed to not be perfect or respond in the best way all the time. They feel all the more real and human in how they interact with Siffrin but also how the cast interacts with each other throughout the game even if we aren’t playing in their pov.

isat thoughts: stupid rotten adults isn't talked about enough

y'all can we talk for a minute about stupid rotten adults event because dear god i have thoughts

[tw for talk of death and suicidal ideation]

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

it's honestly one of the more tragic party interactions in my opinion, purely because in this case... siffrin was trying to do the right thing, or at least what they thought was right. they tried to use touch to comfort them, something that they had heard would help, and had it rebuked. Which isn't bonnie's fault, really. they're a kid going through something that a kid should never have to go through. we don't acknowledge enough how fucked up it is for bonnie to be with the party on their journey, even if it leads to them bonding with the group. so it's not surprising that it could come out like this at an age when kids may not have the words or emotional intelligence to express how they're feeling (lord knows some adults never learn either)

but then.

they hit you with this:

and i remember just full stop going "holy fuck bonnie" when this happened. because holy shit, in the context of everything that siffirn is going through, especially if you already had the dagger interaction... they have. they have done that. over and over again, they've died. This isn't directed at isabeau, who was the one to bring it up in the first place, or mirabelle and odile who answer, it's directed to Siffrin, who lost their eye trying to save them, and who could have died for bonnie but didn't. Bonnie doesn't want to lose any of them, but they lash out because of the stress, and direct it at the person who they hold guilt over.

But from a Siffrin POV... it's similar to the time travel joke with isa. it's just another reminder of the ways in which they've failed, and another nail in the coffin of their misgivings regarding what the party thinks about them. All of the things bonnie says here- that siffrin should die, that nobody cares what happens to them, that they are hated- these are all things echoed in act 5 by siffrin.

so i just have to wonder... how much of this conversation stuck with Siffrin? they can resolve it by completing the quest and reassuring bonnie that nothing will happen, if you've done the king quest then you know... something already has happened. And maybe in a way siffrin sees bonnie's anger towards them as a sort of confirmation that it was their fault, and that Bonnie trusted them to keep them all safe, and he failed.

anyways im sick and this probably is rambling and disconnected im goin to take a nap

[chuuyasheaven]

I don't know if you're still accepting requests for the event, but if you still do, Serve Kunikida some justice w/ 3, 6, 9, 11 (i dunno if 4 prompts are fine :') )

If you can also make the fem!reader a little bratty and making Kunikida Jealous by flirting with dazai😔✌️

Prompt/Numbers; 3: “What? Cat caught your tongue?” / 6: “Brats don’t get to cum, darling.” / 9: “Beg for it, let me know you deserve it.” / 11: You’re mine and I’m yours, got it?”

Summary; You messed up Kunikida’s ideal schedule for today, so he’ll have to punish you! :D

Warnings; dom!Kunikida, sub!fem!Reader, bratty!Reader, edging, overstimulation, Petnames (slut/brat/darling/etc.), brat taming, mentions of Dazai, porn without plot, oral (fem!recieving), fingering, squirting, etc.

Notes (from me); I LIVE FOR THIS IDEA??? HELLO?? But you’re so right, I’m gonna serve Kunikida some justice! THE WAY THE SUMMARY IS ALWAYS SO INNOCENT AND SHIT BUT THE REST??? SKDVDJDB

You messed up badly, didn’t you?

You probably did, or else-

You wouldn’t be here in this position.

What Position you may ask? Well..

“Not only did you mess up my daily schedule, you go flirt with my most annoying coworker too?”, Kunikida scolded you, while you sat in bed, totally listening.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big fuss about your stupid ideal, Kuni. Also, i didn’t ‘flirt’ with Dazai, i just cleaned his face.”, you stated for yourself.

For a little context- (Song lyric intended lol)

Kunikida has been very into his ideals lately, barely giving you attention.

This was the reason you decided to force the attention out of him. So you decided to slightly rile him up for him to..punish you.

But since he ignored you messing up his schedule a bit, you improvised.

When Dazai had something little on the corner of his mouth, you got close to his face to rub your thumb over it.

Kunikida had enough of your behavior.

I mean, messing up his schedule is one thing, but flirting with Dazai was a whole ‘nother thing.

This is how you got here- but he was just scolding you, for now.

“I thought you were better than this, [Name].”, “Yeah, yeah. Me too. But we can’t have everything, can we? Can we just hurry this up? If you’re not gonna-”, Kunikida suddenly got in front of you, grabbing your chin to face him.

“Not gonna what, dear? What do you expect me to do?”, you looked into his eyes, when did he suddenly get so attractive?

“What? Cat caught your tongue? I asked you something, answer the question.”, it was like all the comebacks you had in store were robbed by his stare.

“Uhm, w-well-”, you stuttered, making Kunikida amused.

You felt the bed shifting. When you realized Kunikida got onto bed, his knee positioned between your thighs.

“You didn’t think I’ll let you go without a punishment, did you?”, He smirked at your dumbfounded face.

You should’ve actually think this through.

“You must me excited, hm? Because i feel you soak up my knee, darling.”

Kunikida kissed you, you kissed back.

Both of you let yourselves lay down on the bed, Kunikida was topping.

Separating from the kiss, Kunikida got off again, going down to face your damped panties.

“We barely started and you're already wet? Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

“P-please do..oh my..-”, he took your panties and threw them off somewhere on the floor, blowing a little breeze onto your cunt.

Kunikida started eating you out, making you moan with delight. His tongue hit all the right places, him also adding pressure to your bud, heaven.

When you felt your orgasm near, your thighs started shaking slightly.

Just when your high was approaching, he cut off all your pleasure, cutting off your orgasm.

“Brats don’t get to cum, darling. Especially by ruining my schedule.”, Kunikida scolded you once again.

“B-but- please, Kuni, i-i didn’t mean to!-”, he wasn’t buying that.

“No buts, princess. You don’t get to cum. Unless you, beg for it, let me know you deserve it, hm?”, no. You didn’t want to! But was he actually gonna edge you until you beg?

You let out a sharp moan when you felt his fingers enter.

“Hm? I’m waiting, slut.”, the sudden name change was getting you off too, besides of his skilled fingers.

“K-kuni, please..I’m sorry! I-i didn’t mean to get you m-mad..i just wanted your a-attention! Please..p-please fuck me..!”, Kunikida picked up on your pleas, pumping them even faster and rougher.

It was making you loose your mind, maybe him always writing in his ideal wasn’t too bad.

“You wanted attention? Why didn’t you just ask? Probably because you like being treated like a whore, yes?”, he was SO right.

You were getting closer again, but guess what?

Kunikida cut you off again.

“If you wanna cum, then it’ll be when you’re clenching around my cock, understood? Oh, besides, also for flirting with Dazai, i won’t forgive it so fast.”, Kunikida claimed as he stood up, taking off his undergarments.

Seeing his boner, you got wetter.

Kunikida just entered and didn’t even let you adjust.

This made you moan louder than ever. Which made Kunikida more amused.

“You're mine and I'm only yours, got it? I don't wanna see you flirting with that bastard again.”

How was he saying that so casually?

Anyway, you were getting close again, the knot inside your stomach ready to snap any second.

When it did, you did not just cum, you squirted.

Your squirted cum covering his cock.

Kunikida started to thrust more faster and rougher, yearning for his own.

Eventually, he did and he pulled out.

Both of you heavily breathing, when Kunikida gets down between your thighs.

“Kuni, w-what are you doing..?”

“Well i have to clean you up, remember? This is one of my best way to do it, dear.”

Hope you enjoyed it!

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[confusionism]

Maybe Aiden should’ve let Petra cover his face with half the stuff on the counter; he’s pinker than any shade of blush in the entire collection. Tugging the ends of his jacket, then smoothing it down, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Thanks." It's the simplest thing he can say, because every other emotion seems to have hit his internal bottleneck of expression. No matter the context, he could never take all of the credit, adding, "Your team works magic." And if they clean up well after themselves, they'll basically be perfect.

He props his phone up on the nearest table before glancing around the room and locating the box in question. When he flips the cap open, some kind of light fills his eyes. "Oh..." Simple, yet elegant, it's his exact preference carved into an accessory. He takes a moment to run his thumb across the letters, to appreciate their craftsmanship before pulling them out.

"'A' for Aiden," he says, securing one link on his right cuff, "and 'A' for Anna." It's not just a trick of the lighting; he's standing even taller than usual, smiling with unbridled gratitude and pride. "Thank you." With both pieces secure — and her glowing approval — he feels ready to take on whatever chaos comes his way. He would, however, be remiss not to mention, "Might have to start going to work in a suit, just so I can use 'em all the time." Kind of like her necklace, right? The small pieces that anchor them together, even through all of the distance between them.

Just in time, he hears the chorus of some electronic, dance-y pop song blast in the kitchen, alongside the words, 'Car's coming in five!'

"I think that's my cue." What a funny coincidence— a drop of dread suddenly hits the bottom of his stomach. Maybe it's the prospect of finally facing the music, all the folks waiting to pull him into the world of glitz and glamour, or maybe it's just the idea of having to hang up again. Either way, he does a little check of all of his belongings while asking, "You want me to ask if we can swing by and get you?" Not that he thinks she'll agree, and anyway, he knows how hard the exhaustion hits her. She'll probably make it to the couch before collapsing and sleeping the next day away. It's why he keeps an extra blanket right on the armrest, these days. "Promise I'm not trying to run away. I gotta make you and the team proud, after all."

"You're going to be brilliant. Don't worry about me. Rob's a genius in the Heathrow parking lot." Admittedly, because Rob was allowed to zip up the private shuttle lane and scoop her up. Whereas she and Aiden have to rely on a flash of a smile, and an apologetic nod whenever the on-duty airport officer nags them for idling. "Enjoy it! Night!" A big kiss to the screen, and the light grows cold.

As with any long-haul flight, Anna spends it in the in-between. Half-awake, half-asleep. Watching the latest rom-com, and laughing gingerly at every picture she gets between Aiden and the team. Her takeaway is this; she needs to get Aiden his own bedazzled robe, his patience extends well beyond just her or his team, and finally - Aiden Fitzgerald could be a model in another life. With those broad shoulders and soft eyes, Anna knows he's obscenely handsome. But all primped and pretty like this, it's an indisputable fact to anyone who looks at him.

[04:20PM]: I'm surprised she didn't whip out the spray tan machine. She's too used to me and my white girl ass.

A pause, before adding:

[04:21PM]: Take it as a compliment that she didn't shove a sock down your pants ;)

Because it's common practice in their industry, and Anna's seen many an over-confident lush turn bright pink.

She's the last one in and out of the first class shower, washing away the last of Australia's sand from every nook and cranny. The pilot says they're close to landing, earlier than planned, and Anna's buzzing with the prospect of making it for Aiden's big night. Of course, there's the unknown - the airport, the roads. But no one puts time and space between her and Aiden. Not if she can help it.

By the time his text lands, Anna's already dressed. Her back packed, airline nuts stowed away. Ready to sprint through the airport, just to get ahead of customs. Smiling, she's quick to Facetime him instead.

"Oh my God!" Anna gushes, a loud squeal that has her clamping a hand over her mouth. "Aiden Christopher Fitzgerald!" She says in an aghast whisper, so that only he can hear. Petra and the team work their magic, and then some. He is perfect - every bit himself, with an extra oomph. "You're beautiful. The suit! Your hair!" She can already smell the lush aftershave they put on him. Christ - she has to keep herself from getting distracted, or saying something too dirty for listening ears.

"I had Petra get you a pair of cufflinks." It's the final touch, she assumes by his empty lapels. "I think it's in the red box." Silver circular cufflinks with texture, the letter A carefully etched into the surface. Subtle, but proud, and meant to be ambiguous. 'A' for Aiden? For Anna? Both? "I thought it would be nice." And romantic, but that's implied.

"We're just landing." Anna glances over. Tony's already pulled on his jacket, backpack slung over his shoulders. He can see it in her demeanor; Anna's about to make a run for it, with a sliver of a prayer of making it in time. "Have they got a car ready for you?"

[randoauthor]

Tag Game!

Okay so the wonderful @turningtoclown tagged me in this and I figured it looks like fun so why the hell not lets give it a go!!

-Rules: Tag 10 people you wanna get to know better!

Favorite time of the year:

Okay my favorite time of year would have to be fall, I love that sometimes it can be a little chilly so you are able to bundle up, but I also like when it can be a little warmer and you are able to wear like jeans and a T-shirt! It's that weird time in fall where school is just starting but the colors of the trees are changing, it's my absolute favorite!

Comfort food:

Honestly the cutie/clementine things that you can buy like pounds of, I can eat like 10 in a sitting they are so good! that or a bagel and cream cheese, but that is one food that you can never go wrong with!

Do you collect anything?:

I collect two things! Pop Figures and the Starbucks Been There Series Mugs! The Funko Pops allow me to share all of my favorite Fandoms and the Mugs let me share every place I have traveled to so both are a great way I express myself, I think I am well over 100 pop figures at this point and probably nearing like 40-ish mugs! I also have like 6 ukulele's that I love to play!

Favorite drink:

It depends on the context! If we are going full on alcohol then the Smirnoff Green apple is my favorite so far! But if its a mocktail then a Pina Colada. Otherwise my go to coffee is a Chai Latte or if I don't want the caffeine I go for a frozen hot chocolate!

Favorite song / artist:

Oh boy, my top song so for this year based on apple music is Should’ve Been a Cowboy by Toby Keith it has such a good memory attached to it so whenever I am sad I'll listen to it! But an all time favorite that I always go back to for some reason is Matilda my Harry Styles

Current favorite songs:

Keep Driving - Harry Styles

Home - Michael Buble (a good one for ldr!)

Cleopatra - The Lumineers

When I Met You - Ethan Nestor (if there are any CrankGamePlays fans)

Favorite Crime - Olivia Rodrigo

Great Balls of Fire - both Jerry Lee Lewis and Miles Tellers' versions

5 Foot 9 - Tyler Hubbard

Kiwi - Harry Styles

Someone New - Hozier

Therapy - Andrew Garfield and Venessa Hudgens

Favorite fics:

Oh man, right now I am in my Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick Phase and so I am absolutely loving those fics rn but I am also a huge Marvel Fan! So here are my top ten!

He's so Pretty (when he goes down on me) : This is a Bob fic by the fabulous @seasonsbloom it's hot, like very hot, so if you are a fan of the lovable Robert Floyd and you want something a little spicier (and by a little I mean a fuck ton) I definitely suggest this one!

Be My Angel : This one is by @mitchellpete and if you guys are a fan of my Pete Mitchell fics you'll definitely love hers!

Leave the Light On : This is a toothachingly sweet fic about Rooster and his soon to be wife! @halfway-happyyy wrote this one and honestly it made me tear up a little bit!

The Running series by @Ichawriter is so unfathomably good I literally sat and waited by my phone for the notification that she had posted the next part, I added part one!

Bun In the Oven this one is by @glodessa it's another icky sweet fic but it always puts a smile on my face when I read it!

A Glimpse of Them I just about cried reading that one, to see it from Mav's perspective was absolutely genius and I love the writing style of @bradshawsbaby

Home This one is glorious, you get to see a wonderful glimpse of Bradshaw being a bad and it is just super fluffy!

That Didn't Go as Planned oh my god do I love this fic! that fact that everyone is just as panicked as Rooster is absolutely adorable! @sebastianstangirl01 wrote this and its a super light hearted fic!

Hold My Hand this is a series by @mads-weasley with two technical breakdowns and I absolutely love it, I thing each part is beautifully written and we get the grow with the characters instead of just watching them!

Of Reunions and Sacred Traditions is a cute fic written by @gloryofroses19 it's simplicity yet raw moments drew so man y emotions out of me!

Okay I am gonna tag:

@mrsroosterbradshaw02, @It-Bradshaw, @Ichawriter, @belowtheharddeck, @top-gun-rooster, @youlightmeupfinn, @bratshaws, @nickie-amore, @itscheybaby, @dilfsandtherapy

Good luck to you all, have fun! And obviously don't post if you don't feel like it! It's not like I have a say, all I ask is if you do post tag me! I wanna see the responses

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

              !!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

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Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well. 

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot. 

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title. 

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great. 

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court. 

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next. 

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know. 

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.  

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick. 

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it.  They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not. 

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment. 

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER? 

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better.  I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic. 

[yournightowl]

Your Nightowl#013

i learned what a bastard is today. It was one hell of a rabbit hole.

These two jerks were arguing with each other- i don’t know why, it started, but with them its always something petty and dumb. (¬_¬")  The whole class was just watching them (me included) in a pretty bored way, cause we’ve seen this before and it never goes further than namecalling. But then jerk A called jerk B a Bastard, and the whole mood shifted. Everyone else in class sat a little straighter. Eyes started darting around, looking for an adult to come and intervene. Jerk B got real red and pale at the same time, and i could see veins on his forehead from across the room. i thought he  was gonna hit the other guy. ( o_o)

But then he just walked out real fast.

Bastard’s not exactly a common insult, but it isn’t rare either- and it’s really not that bad. i couldn’t understand why everyone was so static, but i knew it wasn’t right for me to just start asking. So i did what i usually do instead of engaging in the moment- i went and did some research.  (⌐▨_▨)

First, some context- jerk B wasn’t raised by his parents; they’re dead. His family took care of him (well literally he was taken care of by a swathe of maids and butlers and Ads and whatever, but you know what i mean). He never knew his parents, but its still a dick move to bring them up during an argument over something petty and dumb (and remember, with these two, It Is Always Petty and Dumb).

Second, some historical context- Bastard originally meant someone born to parents who were not wed to each other. Obviously, not something anyone gives a shit about today, but for most of our recorded history, it was.

The term also more generally means anything of questionable origin, like a bastardized copy, or an inferior version. It was also sometimes used to describe an illegitimate heir.

All of those definitions are relevant here.

People have been freezing their eggs for a long time now. It’s less common, but people freeze their sperm, too. And when people die, their gametes aren’t always destroyed. It’s incredibly rare, and widely frowned upon, but if you have the rights it is entirely legal to make a child from two people’s DNA without their consent. 

And it’s even possible to make a child from two people who are dead.

It’s possible…but why would you, right? There’s no shortage of DNA to go around. Why would you want the DNA of some dead person?

The answer to that depends a lot on how their will was set up.

Imagine your rich as hell aunt and uncle pass away. They never had kids of their own, so they give you a little something…and give the lion’s share away to charity. The story should end there- “Maybe i should’ve sucked up to them more while they were still kicking, oh well, i better move on,” but then you get a message from a biocorp. 

“Sorry for your loss, standard copy, standard copy… hey, we’ve still got your rich fam’s gametes in the freezer. Wanna make some money?”

So that’s what Jerk A was calling Jerk B- not an asshole, but a Bastard Heir. A designer baby cooked up by his screwed-in-the-head relatives after his parents had already died. A person born just so that their “guardians” could rob their parent’s graves. An illegitimate knock-off of what a child is supposed to be.

(O∆O), right?

Jerk B’s parents died when he was two, so the accusation is total bullshit. But i can understand why he got so mad. He’s probably not still sore about his parents deaths’, not after so long, and not when he doesn’t remember them. But it's nasty to imply that his family only cares for him because they can use him to control his parents fortune.

And that implication could actually be true.

wincing as i type,

Your nightowl

[jbdforspence]

THE REVEAL!

😡 I made a video I was gonna put here but reblogs don’t allow that apparently so that sucks

So! You guys voted the lie as:

My first fan account was dedicated to Evan Peters

I am a huge Evan Peters fan!! He kinda got swept to the side when Spencer was added to the picture but yk that’s not important 🥰

Nobody asked me what the fan account was on (😡) for which I would’ve said a TikTok account (which tbh I probably should’ve said that instead idk mb you would’ve voted it less)

I’ve made abt 20 Evan Peters edits (😭) and they were my first ever forms of any editing ever, so some of them are really bad! 😘

Oh yeah I also have a Mr March funko pop 😍

Now from the question @natashasbitxh gave me I’m guessing you guys thought my first ever account would’ve been a while ago, I can confirm it was recently 😭

HOWEVER… my first ever fan account was in fact the one you’re looking at right now!!! YOU WERE CORRECT!!!!!!

I thought yall might’ve noticed that I have no fucking idea how tumblr actually works, and that’s because I’ve had it for less than a year!

Yeah if you know the Kqirva lore I started as an anon on bestie @jovenshires blog, then I gained the confidence from that to post my Spencer edits publicly, and now I’ve grown to having a YouTube comment in a smosh video 😝

Evan peters WOULD’VE been my first fan account, if only I publicly used the internet 😓

So yeah, I lost so @unknownteapot u can now spam my inbox 😝

THE TRUTHS

I have a boyfriend and he is aware of my Smosh accounts + created 1 of my Spence edits

This one was voted as the lie the least, which yk is a little surprising coz if I told myself this from back in even APRIL THIS YEAR I would’ve been so shocked 💀💀

Obviously I can’t really show u my bf coz that goes against the privacy rules of the game but I can confirm he’s very real and incredibly awesome sauce 👍

Okay so he’s seen both my YouTube videos + a scrapped unlisted one never seen to the public! (Ian hecox out of context, I also made a stupid outro which involves him 💀) he is also a subscriber 🥰

He’s also aware of tumblr and of course TikTok which leads to the second part!

So he created the idea for my head over heels beauty break Spencer edit! Love that one very cute ❤️❤️

I was the top person in one of my highschool math classes

😎 HELL YEAH 💪💪💪💪

It was not on purpose 💀 I won’t lie it wasn’t a hard math or anything lmao

You guys are probably mostly American and I’m Australian so our academic system is a little different but in Australia there’s this thing called ATAR which we have instead of a GPA, however it’s not mandatory and taken by people who want to get into university to get like a proper degree

Anyways for any Australians reading this it was math: applications ATAR so yk nothing crazy!

I also have proof for this one so here u go! 🥰

Okay I think I checked the times correctly and this is hopefully happening rn (😭)

[sangled]

I know this is old probably, but what was the whole thing about aspec/arospec exclusion, and how if someone used your picrews then they support it??

around 2019 (i made the picrew summer 2019, so this was probably a bit before), because i kept getting asked about my stance on ace/aro exclusivity, i spoke on it for the first time. i had no strong feelings on the topic, but admittedly i tended to agree with my friends, particularly lgbt artists of color, who shared more exclusive-leaning opinions.

so i said i didn't think being ace/aro made someone inherently lgbt, since i believed examples of ace/aro discrimination, while terrible, could be compartmentalized differently from lgbt discrimination. i wouldn't stop people from believing so and didn't aim to change people's minds because, again, this wasn't a hill i'd die on, and arguing about it on the internet felt ultimately unimportant in context of real-life lgbt movement. i was part of an lgbt club at my college, and i wasn’t going to treat an ace/aro member differently. i thought i was emphasizing neutrality and respect, though in hindsight i was callous and childish.

i had actually ended up turning a sensitive subject into a weird discursive experiment. i was inviting people to bring up counterarguments so i could try to turn it into something like a debate, though that was wholly inappropriate. i didn't really understand the issue itself, so i ended up recycling a lot of points i had seen floating around. so me hoping to explain things for broader understanding just ended up being a jumbled mess of thoughts and secondhand knowledge.

it was especially irresponsible of me because i did this on a fairly big platform, with people who obviously cared a lot more about the issue than i did. and it was shitty of me to just move on from it without addressing the damage i caused. and this isn't a call for pity because i 'didn't know better' - i had actively chosen to engage in something while preparing little research of my own. i was ~19/20 at the time, and i should've known better.

the picrew only brought it back to the public because as it got popular, people found my posts and warned others about the exclusivity, aphobia, etc. i think the worst it got was that people interpreted my apathy and ignorance for malice, as rumors spread that i was 'forced' to add in ace/aro flags to the picrew (i wasn't, i was asked and added them in like the autistic pride flag or any accessory) or that i hated people just for being ace/aro (anyone who knows me knows i don't dislike people for things they can't control). the picrew itself is just... a lot to deal with, as a result of its popularity. the a-spec discussion just added to it. the picrew itself was just a public character design project i wanted people to have fun with.

it was especially complicated because around this time i was struggling with my own relationship with the asexual spectrum, though i couldn't express it publicly without fearing it be interpreted as an easy escape from my mistakes. again, i hope this doesn't come off as a plea for sympathy. i just want to shed some light on my thought process and subsequent actions.

i've made public apologies since then, deleting the discussion posts in question since it pains me to remember how condescending i was. and since i'm bringing it up again, i'd still like to apologize now. a lot of my personal journey since then trying to be more educated and mature about the topic (as well as in general), and i'll only get better when people hold me accountable.

a lot of people won't see this post, and i'll still be inseparable from what i've said. but i hope it brings some comfort to know that i want to be better, and i don't want to repeat the same mistakes. and please don't harass on my behalf, either. i'd just encourage sharing what i believe now to clear misconceptions. i don't expect forgiveness from everyone, and i'd rather people distance themselves from me if that's the best option for their sake.

i genuinely believe ace/aro people deserve a place in the lgbt community, and that even if some people disagree, that shouldn't stop you from finding respect and acceptance in it. sorry that i had trouble saying that before, and sorry that this explanation has to be this long, haha. if you made it this far, i hope this has cleared things up.

[magnhild]

ranking all of the star wars media i've seen so far because i think aside from andor (which i'm not watching til it's finished) i've watched all the (canon) pre-original trilogy content

(copied and pasted from my twitter)

10. solo

i won't say i disliked it but it didn't capture my attention either. it was kind of just there and i zoned out for most of it. i liked the droid but then she died :( i think it absolutely should've been allowed to be a comedy

9. rogue one

kind of the same story as solo; i don't really see why it needed to exist and nothing about it much interested me. i didn't actually like it any more than solo but i think if i flipped the ranking people would get mad at me.

8. the phantom menace

the beginning of my sw journey and yet sadly it did not leave much of an impact on me. the editing was. something. and it felt oddly-paced. sometimes the cgi and practical effects were really cool though (and sometimes they weren't).

7. attack of the clones

honestly this movie kind of felt all over the place? like so much happened but not really in a good way. the editing felt better than the first one though and it had less jar-jar which is always a good thing.

6. revenge of the sith

watching this after the clone wars added a lot more weight behind the events but also made anakin's turn so incredibly jarring. i feel like they really nerfed padme too :/ it's mostly the added context of the clone wars that puts this one above the other two in my eyes, even if it also manages to be a detriment. idk.

5. obi-wan kenobi

i think a lot of people didn't care for this one and i can see why but i thought it was fine. probably did not need to exist but young leia is the cutest little shit and her interactions with obi-wan really made the series for me. glad it was short though.

4. tales of the jedi

yeah i know it JUST came out but i'm putting it here anyway. on the ahsoka side of things i don't personally feel like her episodes added much except for maybe the first one bc i love backstory, but ahsoka is ofc my favourite character so i will never complain about more screentime for her. dooku's stuff was pretty interesting though and i like the context that it adds to his whole deal. i kind of feel we should've gotten it sooner tbh.

3. the clone wars

i think the main thing holding it bad a little for me is its length. i feel like it could've been cut down a fair bit, but for as many boring episodes as it had, there were plenty of great ones as well. i'd say that this is the piece of sw media that does the most for the franchise as a whole. it added SO MUCH context and opened up so many paths for more content. characters actually got to be characters, including the clones, and it makes the third movie hit that much harder. perhaps most importantly of all (this is a joke don't @ me), it gave us ahsoka, who i love very much, and who i find very interesting. i will never get sick of her.

2. the bad batch

though it had plenty of action and drama, the main draw of this show for me is the more lighthearted stuff. omega's addition to the sw cast was a very good decision and i loved every moment we got of her. to see a sw series that put more focus on family was really refreshing for me and i can't wait to see more of it next year. this show was also my first introduction to kanen and hera and goodness i had no idea what i was in for. 

1. rebels

if you've been paying any attention to my twitter at all this past week this should come as no surprise. like the bad batch, if there's one thing i loved most about rebels, it's the found family aspect. i loved seeing the main cast interact and all of their dynamics had a wonderful quality to them that i appreciated. and it gave me back ahsoka! and i love it for that. the entire show had this strong feeling of hope running through it, which of course made the second half of s4 hit all the harder for me. as much as kanan's death and everything surrounding it hurt me, however, i can only commend the series on the impeccable writing that led to that moment. everything was incredibly well-crafted, creating a moment that impacted me more than any other piece of media ever has before. it made me cry at fiction for the first time ever and i love it for that. but i also hate it for that. but i love it for that. i desperately hope that we'll get to see the main character again in the franchise's future, not just because i miss them dearly, but because i feel like none of their stories ar quite finished. i think there's a lot more we could see from them, with my biggest (and probably most unrealistic) hope being for a series focused on hera as she raises her son and works to move on from kanan's death, bc i feel like the series did Not give her enough time to grieve (not that i can blame it, war is busy). 

and there we have it! i don't know if my rankings are very controversial but, as i was saying last night on my twitter, i often enjoy tv shows more than movies, which is why they all ranked above them here. thank u for reading my long post.

[spenciegoob]

Cracked Mirror

A/N: hi, I continued to see a bunch of “season 2 Spencer would be so scared of season 12 Spencer, so I decided why not write them meeting? let’s do it, baby super angsty :P it took everything in me to not tag ‘how it should’ve gone’ but basically this is ‘how it should've gone.’

Summary: Spencer Reid? Meet a very much older Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Season 15 Spencer & Season 2 Spencer

Category: Angst

Content Warnings: no ship, mentions of drug addiction, drug abuse, Tobias Hankel, Maeve, mentions of Jeid

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

_____

Spencer 15:

The smell was always the first thing I noticed when I woke up from a restless sleep. It meant I was alive, that the terrors that danced across my eyelids like a ballad of the doomed were not real. I never believed in the Higher Power, but if there was an Evil Spirit, it possessed my mind the second my guard fluctuated.

The smell, however, the one made up of stiff air that paralyzed you and blood you weren’t sure was yours, that smell meant I got to live another day.

It also meant I could still die.

But now I woke up in a startle because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I escaped this place before, I made it out. Did my only indicator of life just turn into my own personal Hell? Was I finally gone, seconds ago hoping for rest only to come to the conclusion that I would never get the chance?

I was back in a gray jumpsuit, and what scared me the most was how quickly I got up to make my bed.

“Reid, you have a visitor.”

Spencer 2:

They say every person in their career has a moment that changes the way they view their job forever, and I would’ve liked to continue to believe I had mine already, when I put away the first unsub that didn’t deserve the life they were unfortunately gifted to live out. I know I couldn’t sleep much after.

But now that I hurry past empty cells and recreation rooms on my way to a stone box with a killer, I changed my mind.

This was my moment.

I had to keep up with Hotch, and I wish it was because I was scared of getting lost, but it wasn't. If I lose Hotch, I’m afraid I’ll lose my life.

We just had to reach the interrogation room, and we’ll be fine. We just have to talk to... to who?

Who are we here to see? Why am I here?

“Hotch.” The older man stopped his fast pace to turn to me exasperated. I would have that expression too if someone stopped me in a place like this, but here I am, feet stuck to ground like a fear-inducing glue because I can’t remember why I’m here.

“What’s wrong, Reid?”

“Why am I here?” Hotch didn’t get angry, or confused at my question. Instead, Hotch’s face turned into something that was a prized rarity at other times, but right now, it ran my blood cold.

He nodded at me, his face visibly relaxing with understanding, and kindness spreading from his eyes into mine.

“You have someone here you need to see.”

And then he just continued the path we were on until we reached a metal door with a window not large enough to see who was waiting for me on the other side. I didn’t get too close, giving myself a 5 foot head start in case I needed to run, but Hotch would never put me in a position like that, right?

He would never use me as a pawn in a game of life or death.

“Whenever you’re ready.” By the time all the questions flooded through my head like a tsunami that made it to the tip of my tongue, Hotch was gone. 

The invisible magnetic field between myself and the door was a force backed up by science. I felt the way it tugged me forward, like negative and positive electrons charming me with the song of the buzzer unlocking it.

When I was ready, he said. Would I ever be ready for the feeling that washed over me? I felt the weight of the world rest on my shoulders, stuck in an ocean made entirely of resin, slowly hardening around me to keep me trapped.

But I still grasped the cool metal doorknob, and I wish I took a deep breath before entering. It was the wrong call on my part, because I walked in and all the oxygen left my lungs in a flash.

The air in the room felt different. It hung with the purpose of imprisoning those who dare breathe it into their lungs. Enchantment and intoxication were meant to hold beauty and grace, leading the charmed to a fulfillment in life worth living.

But the eyes of Medusa were in the room with me, and I was stupid enough to turn to stone.

“Who are you?” How could I ask that? I knew the answer by looking into his eyes. I say his, because they weren’t mine. Sure, they had the same hazel color, and the same round, boyish shape, but they looked so dull. Sadness, the kind that moves mountains and starts wars, was buried deep in the beholder, casting a shadow over his soul. 

I didn’t stare for very long. I couldn’t.

“You know who I am.” His voice was worse. “I know why I’m here. Sit down.”

“I- I just... Absolutely not! This is- this, I- I can’t. I have to get out of here.” Insanity! It had to be. I was staring at a person I didn’t know, yet knew every little detail about, and I couldn’t breathe.

“Sit down before you panic.” There was no point in lying and saying I was fine, he knew it would be a lie. We weren’t just profilers.

So I sat, taking my time to round the table and pull the chair farther back to establish a far enough distance between us. He did the same. Of course he did.

“Answer my question,” I whispered, looking down at the place where the leg of the table met the top.

“There are far better questions to ask me.” He was right, there were more pressing matters at hand, but how do you ask someone what landed them in a jumpsuit when you were terrified of the answer?

“Did- is time travel a thing?” The second the question left my mouth, I realized how absurd it was, but so was staring into the cracked funhouse mirror I was currently stuck in front of.

“Come on, we don’t have much time, and that’s what you want to ask me? Dig deeper.” Is this how Morgan feels when I’m always right?

How could I dig deeper when it all went so far that the only thing consuming my soul was a bottomless black hole? The memories flashing from projectors all around me as I sank further until eventually my oxygen ran out. Going deeper meant letting the weight of my heart push against my chest like a rock thrown into the depths of the ocean, but I suppose he would follow me.

“What happened?” I looked up to see him take a deep breath, leaning back in the chair with careful contemplation. There was something more though, something that lingered the second we met eyes.

Jealousy. There was nothing of myself to be jealous about, however.

“We made too many mistakes.” We. Only one of us was in the jumpsuit. There had to be some way to avoid that, right?

“God, this is insane!” I promptly shouted, standing up frantically. “You’re the prisoner here, not me, okay? I didn’t do anything. You did. How am I even here? What is happening, I don’t understand.” At the end of my yelling, I was so far out of breath that I had to lean against the wall. “What is this?”

“Tobias Hankel.” No no no, it can’t be. Am I dead?

“Sit down.” I listened immediately this time, too exasperated to care about being cautious about it.

“You’re with him right now, and from what I can tell, you’re probably in a drug-induced dream.” My head shot up at the mention of Tobias’s coping mechanism for myself. “When you wake up, I don’t expect you to hold onto hope, but for that quick second you let go, don’t feel guilty about it. It will eat you alive if you do.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but I’m right, and you need to listen to everything I’m telling you.” I was never one to make demands like this.

“And if I do? Will it stop me from becoming you?”

“No, probably not.” Before I had the chance to get angry again, I watched the way his eyes started to glisten with tears. I watched him crack a little bit more, adding to the already gaping slashes across his heart. How many more until he breaks?

“Leave them in his pocket,” he continued after taking a grounding deep breath. “You don’t need it.”

“What are you talking about?” Secretly, I knew what he was meant, because after this nightmare ended I would be back in a far worse one silently begging to return to this interrogation room. 

There were so many thoughts running through my head that it was hard to focus on just one. Plus, I wasn’t really getting any context here.

“I don’t think I can give you many details. I don’t even know if we’ll remember this, or how I got here, but we don’t have much time. There are so many things you need to know.”

“I know practically everything.”

“No you don’t, kid. You know nothing.” He suddenly stood up, walking over to the wall on our left, leaning a hand against it and hanging his head. “When you feel like something is wrong with him, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell Hotch, request time off, do whatever you have to do. Just, go visit him.”

“Who?”

“You’ll know.” There was so much guilt in his voice that I felt it in my chest. It was like a hole was drilled into me, leaving my heart exposed to vultures who wouldn’t hesitate to rip pieces from me.

“What about my mom? Do I... you know?”

“No, you don’t, but promise me something.” He turned to look at me again, hazel meeting hazel. “On days that she’s lucid, tell her everything. Tell her what you ate for breakfast, and that one time Morgan fell trying to kick a door open. Tell her about the dark parts, about how much you love her. Tell her everything.”

“Oh God is she-”

“No. I don’t think I should be telling you that, but no. Don’t think like that.” As if remembering something, he rushed back over to sit down, pulling his chair in and leaning over the table. “Stop running every negative outcome of every situation in your head. Be careful, but don’t be so careful it becomes reckless. That’s how people get hurt, including you.”

“Is that what happened to you? Is that how you ended up here?”

“No. I’m innocent, always was. I ended up in here because I let myself get blinded by a fantasy I had no business dreaming about. There’s going to be times for you to have dreams bigger than yourself, but the second they start to become nightmares, you have to pull yourself back. Don’t get trapped, kid.”

“You know, Morgan calls me ‘kid’. I don’t really know if I like it or not.”

“You’ll come to love it, but with Morgan, don’t push him away. He’s one of the only few people in this world that won’t scrutinize or judge you, and you need to be honest with him.”

“Why?” After asking, I immediately regretted it, because his answer was the one I’ve been dreading the most.

“Because things are going to hurt you, and it’s okay to ask for help every once in a while.”

“What things? Tell me,” I begged, rushing my words and internally cringing at how desperate I sound, but I needed to know. I needed to know the truth.

“When you fall in love, tell her.” He casted his eyes downward, staring at his hands rough and calloused from the years, kind of like Hotch.

“Is it... is it JJ?”

“No,” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head softly. “You’ll learn one day the difference between being in love with someone, and just simply loving them.”

I couldn’t help the disappointment spread through me for a second, but I quickly gained my composure when I remembered I’m sitting across a profiler.

“This is too much.” My brain was starting to hurt.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” A question crossed my mind causing my hands to stop their fidgeting for just a moment, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and my hands resumed. He caught it though. Of course he did.

“What was that thought?”

“My d-” I cleared my throat before continuing. “William. Did he ever...?” I let the words fade out, hoping that he would understand where I was going. He did. Of course he did.

“No.” He took a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching tightly. “He didn’t.”

“Oh.” While I was disappointed, he looked angry. As sick and twisted as it was, I wish I was more like him. Even with the despairing look in his eyes that came with agonizing memories, he was the man everyone expected me to be. 

He looked at me as if he also wished the roles were reversed. Of course he did.

The edges of the room slowly started to get fuzzy, my vision blurring for a second. “You’re waking up.”

“Can- can I ask you something?” Even though I was terrified of the answer.

“Of course.”

“When did it all go wrong?” He let out a long sigh before running his hands down his face.

“I can’t tell you the exact moment, because even I’m not sure. I can tell you that even when it doesn’t feel like it, you’re alive. You survived, and on some days that’s all that’s going to matter.”

“Do you smell that?” Please say yes, because the smell of burning fish hearts and livers was burning my nostrils and clouding my head.

“Wake up, Spencer. It’s okay.”

“Wait!”

Spencer 15:

My eyes shot open only to be met with blinding lights that seared my pupils. The beeping coming from the machine next to me was the second thing I noticed, and the third was a very alarmed Penelope.

“What happened?” My voice was raspy, and my throat burned intensely.

“You don’t remember? Spencer, you collapsed.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what else to say. Logically, I knew I probably sustained a head injury from the explosion, but when I tried to think beyond that, my brain got fuzzy.

“Are you okay? You know, besides the whole passing out thing?”

“Y-yeah, I just.” I stopped talking. Just what? Penelope hummed curiously for me to continue, but I couldn’t.

“I think I got a second chance.” No matter how vague it was, how little she knew of what that truly meant, Penelope beamed with joy at my answer, and I smiled right back.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” And when she left, I stared up at the ceiling, hoping that the scared kid I used to be took my advice.

____

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