#the logical and reasonable me says I should want otherwise

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

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"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having, you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

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Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[justawritterwithideas]

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: The BAU rushes to Washington after discovering that the lead singer of a famous band may be in danger, causing Spencer to come face to face with his past after 15 years.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains mentions of murder, vomiting, mistreatment, as well as the use of strong vocabulary. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,269 words.

a/n: hello! here i come with the second chapter of "boy wonder and the rockstar", i had fun writing this chapter as i also suffered from lack of creativity ( T T ), but finally inspiration touched me. I hope you like it. Remember to read the chapter cautions and have a good read.! English is not first language, so I may have mistakes, if so, I'm sorry. :(

𝟎.𝟐: 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

For many people, memories that are related to times in their lives relate to certain aspects of the five senses, whether it's certain sounds or textures, music that brings them back to that exact memory, or simply tastes of foods that remind them of what their loved ones used to make.

For Spencer, it was smells.

Despite possessing a memory that makes him remember even the smallest detail of what happened the day before, his olfactory memory was much more developed than other senses.

During his childhood, or what he considers childhood, his memories smelled of the pages of old books that his mother read to him and her perfume, impregnated in the bed sheets when they sat together to read some classic of literature. When he was in his youth, sometimes the smells reminded him of the charcoal in his pencil, writing mathematical exercises on white sheets, or sometimes the smell of chlorine, because of the thousand times bullies forced him to go to the bathroom.

But during his college days, he always thought that the smell that would be his favorite was the soft smell of the library, of wood and humidity; but no, those memories had the smell of freshly brewed coffee, cherries and menthol cigarettes.

His good memories always brought smiles to his face in the middle of nowhere, as if he was remembering one of those old bad jokes they used to tell him and he couldn't find the humor in them, or maybe the less thought out answers to such logical questions. His good memories caused his stomach to clench tightly and his chest to feel heavy, as if a stone was replacing his heart.

Spencer knew why. Why his body felt that way.

But he didn't want to admit why.

Because if he admitted it, he knew the only reason he did would make him regret it, he would have to give reason to his sentimental side than the rational side.

And he hated not being right.

"Spence."

J.J.'s voice brought the boy back to his desk, taking his eyes off the nearly iced coffee with a pound of sugar to keep him awake.

He'd been daydreaming about Y/N's laughter in his ear for nights now, just like when they had sleepovers at her apartment. He couldn't get her out of his head, let alone get the smell out of her hair when she was the small spoon.

"What, what's going on?" the opposite replied, looking at the blonde. She seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in her friend's head.

"I'm asking you, is something wrong, are you sleeping well?"

"Yes." Bullshit.

"Are you sure? Your eyes say otherwise." The black circles under his eyes gave him away.

"I've been sleepless for a few days, but it's because my neighbors won't let me sleep." Another bullshit.

"You should talk to them, you know." The boy nodded, giving the blonde an elongated smile and returning to his paperwork.

"Really all right?"

"Yeah, J.J. It's fine."

"'S okay, you know what you can tell me."

"Yes J.J., thank you."

The answer didn't leave the blonde satisfied, but she made an extraordinary effort to ignore his attitude and return to the desk with Luke and Matt, who had been staring at him for a couple of minutes.

"He's rambling again." Commented J.J as she returned, who kept her eyes on her best friend and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

It was usual at this time of year, when the leaves were beginning to turn their last summer colors, that Spencer would go blank staring at a spot in the room more than once.

No one quite understood why that happened to him, the only one who knew was Gideon. But he never shared any of Spencer's secrets, not even if a gun was held to his chest.

"Guess whateee, my dear friends!" The conversation was interrupted by a cheerful and enthusiastic Penelope, who commanded everyone's attention with her sonorous voice.

"What's going on, Garcia?" Luke turned to see her, who was coming with an envelope in her hand.

"Your genius did it again, rub the wishing lamp and I got tickets to the best concert of the year - Paradox in Virginia! Can you believe it?"

"You got them!?" J.J. was the first to startle, coming closer to see the tickets for the most anticipated concert of the year.

"That's right, my dear friend! A girls' night out to see Paradox. You, me, Emily and Tara."

"No way, god. I'll talk to Will and rest assured I'll be ready for that night." J.J smiled hugging her friend's arm.

"What's Paradox...?" muttered Luke, causing Matt to turn to look at him. The poor Luke was trying to comprehend what his friends were talking about.

Was he too out of date on pop culture or were they speaking in some kind of secret code?

"Oh Luke, why did you ask that?" Matt shook his head, earning a glare from the blonde couple.

"What did you say, newbie, don't you know what Paradox is? Oh god, no way. I'll have to bring you up to date with a course on what today's music is right now, follow me." Penelope motioned to the boy, who turned to see Matt who was lifting his shoulders laughing.

"No Penelope, you're not going anywhere. We have a case, and it's urgent. There's no time, meeting room now."

The rest of the people turned to look at each other, abiding by their boss's orders as they saw her so anxious and serious about a case.

That didn't look good at all.

The adrenaline and euphoria of last night's show, plus the last two dates, had been enough of a stimulant for Y/N to fall asleep in bed once they arrived at the hotel. Her whole body was exhausted, and at that moment all she wanted was some chamomile tea and a thousand hours of sleep.

She loved her job, of course she did! But she was mentally and physically exhausted from giving almost 15 concerts without a break, from one state to another, with more cups of coffee and energizers in her body than times where her eyes closed to sleep.

And the only time she found peace and quiet was when her body was being moved from one location to another, so, at that moment, her body was resting in the comfortable seat of the SUV after being driven to an interview and returned to the hotel to rest.

She felt her limbs meld with the seat, feeling like she was in heaven itself where her muscles all over her body were relaxing after days.

Her peace didn't last long when she heard a soft call.

"Psss, Y/N."

The, now, blonde heard the call from Felix, also known as the band's drummer and her best friend.

"What? You ruin my beauty nap."

"What did one wall say to the other?"

Y/N could hang him right then and there.

More the tiredness in her body made her think, trying to devise the best answer to get him to leave her alone.

"What?"

"I'll meet you at the corner."

"I'm having the biggest self-control to not kill you because you just interrupted the only moment of peace I've had these past three months, asshole."

"You haven't been able to sleep?"

Y/N denied with her eyes closed, desperate to get back to her attempt at sleep.

"Not a single moment, I woke up three times last night and that was the best attempt at sleep I've ever had."

"Your pills aren't working?"

"They're placebos, they won't make my body calm down just like that and go back to my eight hour sleep cycle that I'd had for the last two years without touring." The young woman opened one eye, looking at her friend. "I just have to get used to it, I have to get back to the cycle of excitement I used to have when it was tour after tour."

"Maybe if we talk about that thing that bothers you-"

"No way."

Y/N knew what he meant, knew it was talking about a certain doctor who gave her goosebumps every time she thought about him and took her back to her college days.

Why was she still thinking about him? It had been almost 15 years since they last spoke.

Y/N looked at the date on her phone.

No, she was wrong.

It had been 15 years since they last spoke.

Today was 15 years since she had received the last letter from Spencer with her name written on it.

The last time she felt the smell of his perfume on the sheets and his ugly doctor's handwriting on a sheet of paper.

The last time she saw written "wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you are with, you are always on my mind and in my heart, Y/N."

Last time she saw written "Love from Quantico, dr. Spencer Reid. I'm also known as your #1 fan, but only you know that."

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well that night? Yes.

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well for that last week? Yes.

Was that the reason why, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him smile? Yes.

Was she going to admit it? No.

Never.

"Y/N..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Felix. Don't insist."

"But, Y/N-"

"Let it go, Felix. Really, don't insist." Tyler's voice made Felix turn to look at him angrily.

Tyler and Shawn, the guitarist and bassist respectively, shook their heads and made an "X" symbol with their fingers, muttering at the same time "don't do it, don't be stupid."

"Enough kids, let it go. In two days we have a very important concert to give in Seattle, so I don't want any fights."

"You heard him, Felix." Y/N smiled opening her eyes, looking in the direction of Gerald, her manager.

Thank you, Y/N murmured in the man's direction.

Gerald just raised his shoulders, noticing how the van parked.

"Okay, down."

Tyler and Shawn were the first to get out, followed by Y/N and then Felix.

Felix hated to come off as meddling in Y/N's life, so whenever he meddled too much in the girl's life, he simply knew that seeking forgiveness from her was his best option.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to insist."

"It's okay, Felix. I know you meant no harm, but I don't want to talk about it."

"And when will you?"

"I don't know, I guess when I'm ready."

"It's been 15 years, Y/N."

"I know, but I'm still not read-"

"Miss Autumn?"

Y/N turned to see the receptionist, who was holding a package.

"A package has arrived for you."

"Thank you, do you know who brought it?"

"No miss, I'm sorry."

"No worries, thanks again."

Y/N received it, walking to the elevator along with Felix after seeing how the package had a sticker on it that said "express delivery."

"What did you order, compulsive shopper?" Gerald turned to look at her, causing Y/N to deny in confusion.

"Nothing that I know of, I promise."

"Maybe it's a collaboration, Tiffany's already started putting the ads with your face all over it." Shawn smiled, elbowing the arm of the store's new ambassador.

"A gift for you to occupy at the next gig." Gerald replied, nodding softly as he looked down at his phone.

The box was small and covered in the typical plastic they place around it. Compact enough to drop a set of jewelry on behalf of the brand, but it seemed odd that it came directly and without warning.

The group made their way to the small meeting room where they had set up everything they needed, ready to hear the itinerary Gerald had prepared for them about their upcoming events.

Y/N's fingers went to open the package once it was placed on the table, watching as  the "Tiffany & Co." logo on its little sky blue box.

"Okay guys, tomorrow you have rehearsal from noon until three in the afternoon, then you'll have an interview on a radio station near the sta-"

A beautiful gold ring with a navy blue gem in the middle was the first thing that caught the young woman's eye, perfect for the occasion. But it was heavier than usual.

"Then you can go eat and rest, we'll still have dress rehearsal, so you can get ready-"

A shout coming from Y/N deafened the group of people, causing them all to look in her direction.

Her skin was as white as paper, her eyes fixed on the box she had just opened and her face with an expression of pure terror from an experimental horror movie.

All eyes went in the direction of the box, which Y/N felt like everything she had eaten that morning was going to spew out of her mouth right then and there.

"Shit."

The beautiful ring encircled something.

A human finger.

A human finger that stained the bottom of the box.

A human finger that was accompanied by a note.

"I hope you enjoy my gift, my sweet star. I made it just for you, good luck at the concert."

"This morning at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Washington, the lead singer of the band Paradox received a package. Inside was a human finger with a ring on it." Emily was passing around the photographs that had been sent by the Washington police, it showed just what she had just described above. "According to the receptionist it was dropped off by someone from a package store. The police questioned him and he said it had arrived with yesterday's load of packages."

"From where?" Luke asked.

"They don't know, they collect packages from all over the country so they don't know where it came from. They're looking for the tracking code of the branch they sent it from."

"How grotesque, who would send such a thing to an artist like her?" Tara looked at Emily, who sighed.

"But what do we have to do with this case?" Rossi looked at his tablet, zooming in on the picture of the ring.

"The DNA results came back to find out whose finger it is." A photograph of a stranger appeared on the TV screen. "He is Bruno Colombo, an Italian artist and the owner of that finger. We just got word that his lifeless body was found in his art studio."

"He's Autumn's ex-fiancé." Penelope commented, surprised at all that was going on. "In 2016, he and Autumn got engaged after dating for two years, but after a few months it was discovered that the engagement ended after Autumn discovered him and an art gallery owner having sex in his studio. According to him he did it because he wanted to make an exhibition that would portray Autumn's true feelings, and this way he could see her feeling of anger and sadness. There are still people who idolize him for that."

"What a jerk." Matt muttered.

"And how come no one noticed his absence?"

" According to this, he was isolating himself when he was setting up exhibits so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to suddenly disappear."

Spencer felt his heart pounding, why would he get like this over a clear case of a stalker obsessing over a music star?

It's not like he even knew her.

"Apparently, this relates to a series of related cases over ten years that the only common element is this band, Paradox. No one has ever linked them before as none of the modes of operation are the same, the only factor that unites them is the viciousness with which they are carried out and the band, of course." Emily sighed, showing the various faces and deaths that surrounded them.

"Race or religion has nothing to do with it, it seems neither does gender." Spencer commented, quickly reading each of the bodies found. "But it looks like they all had an encounter with the band or one of the members. From 2008 when the first body was found until now."

"The director asked us to take on this case, the level of this band is insane and it seems to be going against the vocalist, Autumn. They are currently on a world tour after two years of no activity, plus not much is known about her in general." Emily turned to look at Penelope. "Garcia, you're joining us on this trip. You serve us better back in Washington than you do here at Quantico. Reid and Lewis will go meet the M.E., the rest of us will go to the station and then we'll all go to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, we'll meet the band and their manager." The whole group was surprised, especially Penelope who held a surprised expression. "Wheels up in 30."

Y/N always thought that the whole thing about having human parts shipped to you in a box was part of fiction. At best, news fiction.

But what she had just experienced was surreal.

Her body was shaking with a cup of tea in her hands, feeling her hands stinging around the cup.

"Who the fuck would send something like that to Y/N? No one we know is capable of doing anything to her, they would fuck up their careers if they were exposed like that." Tyler turned, annoyed, in the direction of Y/N. "Who did this to you, are you hiding something from us?"

"No, Tyler. I'm not hiding anything, why would I hide the fact that someone sent me a fucking human part on my name to a hotel in the middle of our comeback tour? You're blaming me for something, huh? Tell me to my fucking face, Tyler."

Y/N stood up in exasperation, letting the hot water spill onto the floor.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N. If you got sent a finger."

"Go straight to hell, Tyler. Right straight up." Commented the girl raising her middle finger.

"Enough! Both of you." Gerald's loud voice interrupted them, separating the band's strong personalities. "Right now we can't fight. They just sent a fucking human finger to Y/N, we can't get mad about that, we should be worried."

"Finally someone with sense." Y/N sat back down, setting the cup aside.

"What are they seeing so much of us, why aren't they doing anything? They should be looking for the person responsible." Felix got up walking towards the officers, being stopped by Shawn.

"Hey, they're doing the best they can. If we go in there and raise our voices, we're going to hinder the investigation, don't be a dickhead."

"Damn it, this can't be happening." Y/N stood up, starting to walk over to her purse to pull out a cigarette and place it between her teeth.

"You can't smoke in here, Y/N." Gerald's warning went in one ear to the girl and out the other, flicking her lighter. "Y/N."

"What, look at the shit we're in, I just got sent a fucking human finger from who-knows-who and you're asking me to keep my cool!? I can't! There's a crazy person out there sending me that shit with 'nice words'." The girl threw the lighter at who-knows-where, finding herself on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Don't fuck around and leave me alone to have a smoke, Gerald."

The group fell back into the same silence that surrounded them four hours ago, letting the cigarette smoke flood their nostrils.

They were desperate, they needed to get to the root of this.

Y/N knew it. Right now she was the eye of the hurricane, who that box and message were addressed to; the same person who had sent her that, had taken it upon himself to send her flowers and letters with the same nickname, "my sweet star."

At first she thought it was nice, of course it's nice when you get your favorite flowers along with letters of good cheer and best wishes, but it's not nice when you get a gift like today's.

But her attitude would get her nowhere, she was annoyed and exasperated, but they didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

"I'm sorry, but this is too much for me, I can't handle this alone and my attitude isn't helping anything. " Y/N commented, taking her eyes off her cigarette and looking at the people closest to her. "We should be in this together."

"I'm sorry, kid. I got upset that I couldn't help you, that you didn't know who sent you that." Tyler sighed, giving the girl a rueful smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ty. I'm really sorry, everyone."

The girl took another puff on her cigarette, letting the minty flavor cool her lungs.

"The FBI is here."

The announcement made everyone look at each other, taking their last breaths and letting Y/N finish what she was doing, the only thing keeping her sane at that moment.

"I'll see you downstairs, okay?" Felix left a kiss on the young woman's forehead, taking his leave to get on the elevator.

Y/N found herself alone in the room, again feeling disgust rise in her throat. She couldn't get the image of that package out of her mind, how was someone capable of writing those sweet words and sending something as grotesque as that.

The girl's hands gently stroked her cheeks, waking up and she shook her head. She would make one last stop to the bathroom before heading downstairs, so she could go more consciously for who-knows-what things would make her talk.

The BAU met up with a group of people who, thanks to the way Penelope was getting excited, could be sure it was Paradox.

All along the way, Spencer had listened to Garcia's theories and who it could have been. He loved listening to her talk, but his head was somewhere else, somewhere else but there.

Something inside him sensed something, something he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was his thoughts of the past that had been running through him since morning.

"Agent Prentiss, I'm Gerald Murphy, the manager of Paradox." The man shook hands with the woman, who was looking over his shoulder at three people. "These are the members of the band: Tyler, Shawn and Felix."

The three let out a wave into the air, giving them a smile of sorts.

Spencer knew they weren't entirely happy they were there, he read it in their body language.

"I understand there are four of you in the band, here I see three." Emily looked directly into Gerald's eyes.

"Yeah, Autumn, the vocalist, is upstairs finishing something. But she's coming down now, right?" Felix nodded, watching the FBI agents.

Felix crossed glances with Spencer, feeling that familiar air from somewhere.

Spencer felt that familiar air too, but maybe he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Please, let's go somewhere more private. That way we can talk more quietly."

Gerald motioned to the three men, who plunged inside the room, followed by everyone else.

The BAU settled down in front of the four people seated on the couches.

"If you like, we can wait for Miss Autumn." Emily glanced at the group, all of whom nodded.

"It's for the best, she's the most affected." Felix looked in the direction of Tyler and Shawn, who simply nodded in unison.

"You've never received anything like this before?" Luke directed his question at the group of people, causing Tyler to let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You think that's a normal thing to receive, a human finger? Please, be realistic."

"Tyler, shut up." Shawn motioned, slapping the young man's knee.

"That's a stupid question of his, since when is getting shit like that going to be normal?"

"Tyler!" Shawn gave him a stern look, turning his gaze back to Luke. "I'm sorry, we're touchy about this that just happened."

"My question was out of line, it's my fault." Luke admitted, turning to look at the rest.

"When is Autumn getting here?" Felix's question seemed to work magic, smelling her best friend's signature scent.

A strong smell of cherries and menthol tobacco made Spencer shake his head.

It wasn't time to remember Y/N, it wasn't time to focus on something like that.

It felt like his head was playing a joke on him, as if she was suddenly here. But the smell didn't go away, in fact, it intensified to the point that Spencer could feel his head hurting.

"Sorry I'm late."

Spencer felt his entire body freeze, as if he were turning into an ice cube.

The voice he thought he would never hear again.

The voice that escaped so much in his dreams.

He could hear it there, like an echo in his head.

His head turned, catching the figure that had just entered with some haste.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Autu-"

"Y/N."

The girl looked up, meeting Spencer's hazel eyes.

No way, Y/N thought.

Her heart stopped, as did the time around her.

Standing in front of her was a much older and mature Spencer Reid, but with that same lotion that made her dizzy.

The woman's mouth opened slightly, feeling the air in her lungs catch and no words came out of her mouth.

Her lip quivered, her pulse altered.

"Spencer."

Oh fate, how cruel did you have to be?

@alexa-33 | @ahhhhyesk | @imthefuckingleader | @narmothewraith | @kneelforloki | @niyahwhoreworld | @lexie0037 | @deadunicorn159 | @corpsebridenightamare | @preciousbabypeter | @sakuramadae | @zzz000eee | @runefirestarter | @sebastiansstanswhore | @whateverrrrrrrrs | @xsarcasticwriterx | @chris-seb-marvel | @bellaramseygfsblog | @lillysbigwilly | @dezibou | @astrophileous | @ily2lia | @sophiario | @valenftcrush | @oxace-of-heartsxo | @spencerrxids | @w31rdg1rl | @ineedsomezzz | @yeehawbitchs | @coolstories66 | @baku-hoes-blog

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[caelivir]

secrets kept between stars | orter madl

— synopsis. in which orter madl tries to understand you

— pairing. orter madl x gn visionary reader

— genres. fluff, some angst, a little comfort, orter in major denial

— warnings. implied child abuse on reader but there are no descriptions.

— word count. 4.7k

— notes. markus is a made up character. i am reposting this… enjoy!

“Hey Orter!” You call over the wind that beats down at your face. It sends goosebumps throughout your entire body, but there’s no time to worry about it. You were soaring in the sky, riding the broom that you mastered years ago, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“What is it?” Orter responds, although barely audible. The wind drowns him out, and he refuses to yell.

“Let’s make a bet,” You suggest, a mischievous smile donning your features. Orter doesn’t even attempt to hide the scowl and glare directed towards you as you spoke those words. His reaction makes you grin wider.

The Desert Cane brings his face back to front, as if to focus on what’s ahead (and not the idiot to the right of him). “Now’s not the time for your games, (Y/N), especially now.”

The only reason Orter has to put up with you and your antics is because of the attack coordinated by the Madjinn. If he wanted to, he would have handled the Madjinn by himself, no sweat. But direct orders from Wahlberg say otherwise, and who would dare cross him?

“Come on,” You pout, clearly disregarding his opinions. “Let’s raise the stakes a bit.”

“The stakes are high enough.”

You pause for a moment. The gears in your head running at a hundred miles per hour to figure out how you can rope him into your offer. The two of you are about to drop in on perhaps the most destructive creatures of your world, and yet, you don’t seem to be bothered by the fact. That’s why Orter can not work with you. You’re too carefree, too busy chasing the thrills provided by this magic filled world. It makes him wonder why the hell you even became a Visionary if you weren’t going to take it seriously.

No matter how many hours he spent trying to grasp the reasons behind all of your brazen thoughts and actions, he came up with an answer that would equate to a grand total of nothing. That was the other problem with you. You are complex beyond his understanding.

“How about this?” You start, preparing to share your suggestion with him. “A simple competition.”

Orter stares distantly, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a bit curious about what you were about to offer.

A proud smirk glazes over your face. “I bet that I can defeat more Madjinn than you. If I’m right, you owe me a favor, and vice versa.”

Now that is loaded. You’re strong. Orter is not denying that. If you weren’t then it just wouldn’t be logical for you to be a Divine Visionary. But to imply that you could do better than him does not sit soundly with him.

“So Madl, what’s it going to be?” You cock your head to the side, throwing a glance his way, taking in his stone-cold expression. He slides the frames of his round glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You’re plotting something. You always are. Orter knows better than to fall for your tricks.

He gives in.

“Suit yourself.”

You flash a smile, knowing that’s as close to a yes as you were ever going to get. Without another word, you tip yourself backwards off your broom. Orter’s eyes widen slightly as you freefall from the sky. It takes him a moment to process what just happened. His body reacts faster than his mind. Before he knows it, he’s riding his broom to follow you down.

Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck was he doing going after you?

You’re approaching the ground at a speed that would have any normal person screaming in terror. But you would much rather die than be normal. Orter doesn’t get it. You play with life and death as if it were some game. He considers going in to save you. He considers whether he should offer his hand or use his magic to protect you. He swears that he’s thinking about this in a logical perspective because one Divine Visionary dying is a hindrance to the rest. But deep down, his heart betrays his mind, telling him that his reasonings have nothing to do with logic. He denies that too.

There’s a Madjinn coming into view. And the thought of saving you flies out his head as he finally pieces together your careless action. You pull out your wand from your coat, (it surprisingly has not gotten lost during the descent), yet you make no move to cast a spell. Every passing second of your inaction stresses Orter. What are you waiting for?

Orter’s about ready to take this matter into his own hands. The cantation of a spell is at the tip of his tongue, but before he can get the first word out, the Madjinn vanishes. Every trace of its existence disappears with it. The Desert Cane can’t help but turn your way. Any sign of your previous playfulness is buried under your emotionless face.

You land onto the earth’s dirt with ease. Orter realizes he unknowingly summoned his sand to soften your landing. He remains suspended on his broom, observing you from above. You meet his cold eyes with your own. The Madjinn slip past the barriers of your minds as if they aren’t currently terrorizing the world, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you.

But then you break out into that shit-eating grin while holding up a single finger. One. Orter snaps himself back to reality. You had just defeated a Madjinn like lightwork, and he didn’t even know how. You’re strong. He knows that, but looking back, when has he ever had an opportunity to witness your magic in person? Before today, you’ve only ever taken solo missions. Wahlberg doesn’t allow anyone to accompany you no matter how dangerous it is.

So that begs the question,

Just what the hell are you?

Orter lets out a huff of breath as he watches the sixth Madjinn fall to the will of his sand, an enormous hole blasted into its chest. He pushes his glasses up the frame of his nose. He hovers in the air for one last moment, eyes scanning the scape of the land to ensure that there are no other monsters.

After obtaining the confirmation he needs, Orter guides himself back onto the loose soil of the earth. He brushes off microscopic specks of dirt off the sleeves of his black robe. A snap of a branch captures the attention of the Visionary. His eyes follow the darkness of the trees. He waits for something, anything, to pop out. He grips his wand in anticipation.

Instead, it’s only you. The cool face you held earlier was more relaxed. Dirt and sweat smears across your entire face. You quickly spot Orter, and you break out into your standard warm smile.

“Oh hey, Orter.” You greet. There’s a slight stumble to your steps, but he can see you’re putting every ounce of your effort into keeping straight. “You alright? You didn’t get too fucked up by any Madjinn, did you?”

Orter Madl swallows down the urge to reprimand you for your choice of words. He’s aware of the joking tone laced in your words, but nonetheless, the concern twists his stomach.

“By the way, how many did you get?” You follow up with a twinkle in your eyes that displays your excitement. The bet. You were talking about the bet he agreed to in the sky.

Orter adjusts his glasses out of habit as he sighs, “Six.”

You stare at him with wide, bright eyes, lips tugging into a wide smile. He couldn’t read it. What were you trying to express to him? Did he win? Did he lose? Hold on. Why the fuck does it even matter to him?

“Let me know when you want to cash in that favor,” You respond with a wink. But before he could even pitch in, your eyes roll to the back of your head, legs giving out.

And you fall.

“They’ll be fine,” The nurse informs. “They overexerted themselves while using their magic, but they’ll be back on their feet after a few days' rest.”

“Alright, thank you.” Ryoh nods. The nurse takes it as a sign to dismiss herself.

With your caretaker out of the room, Ryoh lets out a heavy sigh. Orter observes your sleeping figure, studying every inch of your face. You’re… serene, like an angel, he thinks. The energy that typically bursts through you during the day is locked away. The goddamn smile you wear on your face finally takes a break here. This is you, you at zero percent. And all it took for you to reach that is two couples of Madjinn. For a Visionary, that should be lightwork. Perhaps a little draining but not to the point where you collapse. Just what kind of limits did your magic have? He digs through his mind, searching for any reasonable explanation that would answer that. He comes up with zilch.

Ryoh collapses himself onto a chair by your bed, legs crossed. “You really are an idiot. Always trying to act like you're the best magic user in the world when we both know that it’s me,” He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Orter wonders if you can hear him. “You’re gonna get an earful from me when you wake up.”

Orter doesn’t know why he stays. He could’ve left the moment after he dropped you off, but he didn’t. Even when Ryoh learned of your condition and assured him that it was okay for him to leave, he didn’t. You’re foolish. Foolish for not realizing the limits of your magic. Foolish for pushing yourself further than you should have. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. He’s stupid for being so worked up over you despite the fact that you’re fine. Stupid for letting you dominate his thoughts when he’s “convinced” that he doesn’t care about you.

“If you’re gonna stay, you might as well pull up a chair or something,” Ryoh remarks, slicing the quietness that engulfed the infirmary.

Orter exhales lightly. “There’s no need.”

“Whatever suits you, man.”

They fall back into the rhythm of silence, both too prideful to speak to the other despite working with each other for months.

“Hey Orter,” Ryoh starts, eyebrows creased slightly. “What do you really know about (Y/N)?”

It’s a simple question really, yet Orter can’t follow. He’s known you for years, knows the surface of your persona but never anything beyond that. He’s never bothered to dive into personal facts. That’s exactly what Ryoh is trying to pry at. What did he know about your pastimes, your magic, your history, literally anything?

And the answer was that Orter doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you at all.

Ryoh offers a small, sympathetic smile. He offers it like he knows it well. “Can’t come up with anything? Not surprised.”

Orter’s lips twitch onto a frown. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Orter. This has to do more with (Y/N) than it does with you,” Ryoh assures with a wave of his hands. His elbow finds the cushion of your bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight. He presses his palm into the skin of his cheek, fingers drumming along his skin. “I’m not under any derestriction to say this, but (Y/N) couldn’t share anything with you even if they wanted to.”

With a skeptical glance, Orter begins to ask, “What are you talki-”. There’s a slight stir under the thin coverings of your hospital bed. A faint whine breaks through your lips. Your eyelids twitch, but you don’t make a move to wake.

Your mini disturbance prevents Orter from eliciting anything more out of Ryoh. But from what he could tell, the Light Cane wasn’t planning on sharing anymore either. Instead, he’s left with more questions than answers, and they’re swimming in his mind.

“I’ll see you later, Orter.” Ryoh says at the door, but he knows Orter is too distant for him to bother with a response back. The blonde’s lips tug into a minuscule grin before he’s off to his next destination.

There’s always been some sort of force to you. The kind of force that draws others to you whether they like it or not. It’s not a spell, not any sort of magic. It’s just… you. Orter knows it. He himself has fallen victim to it. Pull them in, but don’t let them get too close. You live by that. And with the new information from Ryoh, Orter can’t help but wonder how much of it was real. How many lies spilled from your mouth for the sake of whatever you had to protect?

It’s another late night at the Bureau for Orter. Paperwork always seems to find him. The space in his office is illuminated with the flames of candlelight. With the tip of his quill dipped in black, he signs off the final signature of the night.

Orter leans into the back of his chair. His eyes find the ceiling. He studies it as if it was going to whisper the secrets of life into his ear. He deems it useless – sitting around doing nothing, that is. He decides on a stroll around the Bureau. Maybe that’ll be a good way to waste time, or maybe someone else will bother him with more work. The latter is less likely. There isn’t much action during this time of night. There are sure to be a few stragglers, but none have any business with Orter.

His steps reverberate through the halls, echoing down the stairs. He passes by a couple of unfamiliar faces that offer him stiff nods of acknowledgement. He has no clear destination in mind. His legs make all the decisions before his brain can process it. They lead him down familiar paths, and eventually, Orter finds himself in front of the library entrance. Its towering mahogany door is cracked open slightly, strange in the fact that it’s past its closing time.

Curiosity takes over him. The door creaks on its hinges as he opens it, and Orter nearly cringes at the sound. He steps in. He mutters a spell under his breath to light up the tip of his wand, illuminating the darkened space. He cuts his wand across the air of the room. The collections of books become visible for a brief moment before hiding in the darkness once more. Step after step, he ventures deeper into the labyrinth of novels and textbooks.

He finds nothing to indicate what had opened the door of the library. Perhaps this was just a waste of time—time Orter could’ve spent sleeping. Maybe he should chalk it all up to the head librarian locking up incorrectly. That lady is as old as a bat. It’s a miracle to see her functioning properly on the job.

He’s a split second away from turning his back and leaving. There’s a sudden yelp coming from the back that makes him pause in his steps, a crash that lands on the carpeted floor. Without a second thought, Orter’s quick to dodge tables and bookshelves. His legs carry him to the source of the sound.

He finds you holding your left hip as your face contorts into expressions of pain. The spines of the book brush against the sides of his shoes, but he pays no attention to them.

“What are you doing?” Orter looks upon you with shock and perhaps a smidge of horror.

“Oh hey, Orter,” You respond between winces.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” He whispers sharply.

“That’s a good point, a great point even, but I’m going to be honest with you-”

“You forgot? You didn’t think about it? You don’t care?” Orter lists all of your typical excuses at the top of his head.

Your lips contort into a bright smile. All the pain that coursed through your body dissipates, and for a moment, Orter forgets he’s even mad at you.

“You know me so well, Madl.” You tease with a hand over your heart.

“Do I though?” Orter mutters under his breath, not expecting that you’d catch it. But you do.

Your smile falters, eyes softening. You don’t hold back, don’t try to play it off. Just like how you dove headfirst into the Madjinn, you don’t hesitate to confront someone face to face. Sometimes Orter can’t tell if it’s one of your better traits.

“What do you know?” Your voice is soft, hinted with fear.

Orter runs his tongue over his lips. He smooths back his mess of hair with a comb of his hand, but it falls back into the same place as before. “Not much.”

There’s silence. Neither of you know what to say. That is until an idea pops into the Desert Cane’s mind. It’s a shot. It’s a hit or miss if you’ll agree to it.

“Can I use my favor?”

“What?”

“My favor,” Orter steps towards you. “The one from the bet.”

“That’s sudden but sure,” You shrug.

He takes a breath. It’s now or never.

“Tell me who you are. No lies or any other fake information. I want the truth.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You stare at him, searching his eyes for any sign that he’s messing with you, but all that could be found is determination. Orter is set on obtaining the truth, and you know that nothing you say will stop him until he gets what he wants, and frankly, you’ve always wanted him to know.

“You’re gonna hate me for it.” You admit in a whisper, eyes cast down.

“That is for me to decide.” Orter shoots back. You fall into another beat of silence.

“Come with me.”

The top of the Bureau overlooks the entire town. It’s a place not visited by many, but when it is, they’ll find the best view the realm has to offer. It’s a haven for you, an escape from the horrors of work and the overall busyness of life.

The moonlight casts a glow on the ledge you and Orter sit. A breeze tickles your face. You snuggle into the warmth of your visionary robe as much as you could.

“Orter,” You begin, a solemn look on your face. “What do you know about Markus?”

“Markus,” Orter repeats. “He’s one of the most heinous criminals known to mankind. Not to mention an underling of Innocent Zero.”

But what did Markus have to do-

“What would you do if I told you I was his child?”

Orter’s head snaps towards you, but you’re facing straight ahead.

That’s a joke. You have to be joking. It has to be-

“If you think I’m joking, I’m not,” You enforce as if reading his mind. You avert your gaze to meet Orter’s. “You wanted the truth? This is it.”

The man next to you is stunned into silence. There isn't anything he can say. All he can do is wait for you to explain.

You take a breath. “My father was one of the worst people alive,” You laugh bitterly. “So much to the point where I don’t even think I can even call him a person.”

“You think he would change his ways once a child came around,” You continue with a sigh. “But I guess I wasn’t enough to make the shittiest man alive turn into a good person. Not that I’d want him to be. The things he did…”

You grip the material of your robe so tight that you could practically pierce the fabric. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to stop them from quivering. You shoot your eyes towards him. “They’re unforgivable. Even if he did change, I would’ve hated for him to live a peaceful life knowing that he’s made others miserable, including mine.”

The stars are intrigued by the heart-to-heart conversation you’re sharing with Orter. There’s far too many of them out tonight, not that you minded. This ledge of the Bureau and the lights of the night have heard all your stories, but they don’t dare share it with the world. There’s no one for them to share it with.

Being open with humans is different. Being vulnerable can cost you. Humans are not the same as stars. They can betray you, abandon you in a single moment when you share your darkest secrets with them. Stars won’t. They keep to themselves, confining themselves to the space beyond earth.

He’s by the books, follows every law and constitution there is set. Orter knows where his sense of justice lies, and when you reveal your all to him, you know that justice is not going to lie with you. You wonder if this is the right decision you’re making, trusting Orter like you do a star. He may resent you. Hell, he might try to kill you too. But if there’s a chance, a small hope that he might not, then you’ll take it with both hands.

“If it weren’t for my magic, he would’ve killed me.” You admit. You take a breath, letting the cool air flow through your lungs.

“Your magic. What is it?” Orter questions.

“Markus called it Void Magic.”

“Void?”

“It sends things,” A pause between your next words. “to a void. I don’t know where. I’ve never been. But wherever I send them, they never come back.”

Orter calculates the words that will spill out of his mouth. You don’t let him, instead choosing to continue on with your tale.

“I was forced to use that magic for bad things, Orter,” Your voice breaks as you say it, and Orter swears he sees your eyes shine with tears.

“He would take me with him to carry out his orders. Told me to send things away. Innocents sent away by my command. I didn’t want to, believe me, I didn’t want to, but if I refused…” You inhaled as an effort to compose yourself. “Let’s just say I had to suffer the consequences, things no child should ever have to experience.”

“How’d you escape him?” Orter asks so delicately that it surprises himself.

A bitter smile takes your face. “Wahlberg. He saved me.”

Orter briefly recalls the details of Markus’s arrest from years ago. The papers said that the Bureau had been able to grasp the location of the heinous criminal. He was cornered by a number of potent mages, including Wahlberg himself. After a vicious battle, Markus was arrested and imprisoned deep within Hecatrice. What the papers never mentioned, though, was a child.

“He saved me from execution. He covered my identity and cut off any ties that I had with Markus. He told me that my magic could be used for good if I honed it right. And I wanted to be good. I wanted to bury the monster that bastard forced onto me. Wahlberg helped me with that. He helped me with everything. That’s why I’m still here today.

“It’s still so difficult. I fear that some day I’ll be spit on by society for what I did. Some days I fear that monster will crawl out again, and everything I worked for ends up being for nothing. That’s why I refuse to get close to anyone. I’m scared that I could end up sending them to the void by accident, because even now, there are still aspects of my magic that I don’t understand.

“I drown in my fear, and from that fear, spawned the front I present to you and to everyone in this goddamn world… Some days I wish that they killed me that day.”

Those last words fall from your lips quietly. Orter wishes you would take it back despite the protests of his mind.

“What keeps you going on the other days?” Orter inquires. That shouldn’t matter to him though.

A look of fondness fills your eyes, and the sadness that weighed down your heart is burned away.

“The fact that I can be better than Markus ever was. The fact that I am free.”

Minutes of silence fall between you two after that. The information that you’ve dumped on him is still processing in his mind. Orter doesn’t get it. His mind, his sense of justice, tells him that you should be punished, to suffer the sins of your crimes. It whispers that your place in society should be stripped away. And his heart, which is so attuned with his mind, counters otherwise. For once they don’t fall into agreement.

(Y/N) is not their father. It tells him. They were only a child forced into the will of their parent. They’re doing better — being better, is that not enough for you?

What should it matter? His mind argues.

“Do you hate me now?” You ask, hesitant. Fearful.

And for once, he’s at a loss. Orter Madl, who’s so sure about everything in his life, has not a single clue in how he should approach your question.

You know the answer, coward. His heart barks. It’s been in front of you this entire time.

And it dawns on him. It hits him like a sprinting horse, knocking the air out of his chest. So that was it. It was something so simple, yet he twisted it to be more complex than it actually was.

“I should,” Orter answers. “All my morals point me in that direction. My head is all for it.” His hands slide the frames of his glasses up. Your eyes track the movement.

“Yet I cannot find it in me to follow it. You’ve consumed my thoughts, filled my mind so much that I made it my mission to figure you out. I wanted to understand you, and I brushed it off as plain curiosity, but it was never that.”

Your heart catches along with your breath. Your head is lost in confusion.

“I am enamored by you. It was always easy as that.”

Orter finds your eyes, full of light and wonder. A gulp trembles down his throat. He makes the mistake of trailing his gaze down to your slightly parted lips and his breath pauses.

It’s as if time slows down to a point where it becomes unmoving. Everything drowns out, and it’s just you and him and the heavenly beings that look on with anticipation from their places in the night sky.

Your hand reaches out for his face. Your fingers delicately sweep strands of hairs out of his eyes.

“I tried. I tried to bury my feelings for you, yet I continued to fail. You have captured my heart, Orter Madl, and it is yours to keep.”

Orter is not prepared for what possesses him next. He closes the space between your bodies. His hand finds the soft skin of your cheek, caressing it so gently that you feel like you could fly. Your lips move in sync with some timidness, adjusting to the feel of each other. Your lips are warm, and it lights every fire within Orter.

He kisses you for every time he wished you near him. You kiss him back for every unspoken word that built in your heart.

Orter thinks he could do this for centuries, spend all his time with his mouth against yours. The way your hands run through the hair on the back of his head is euphoric. He wants you to do that for all of eternity.

When you pull away for air, a selfish part of him wants to bring you back. You opt for a smile, and he settles for that too, for it is something he engraves into his memories.

His forehead presses onto yours, and he exhales joyously. Your body relaxes into his.

“I promise you,” Orter whispers. “I promise you that I will help you in any way I can. I will be a light in your journey.”

Another smile graces your face. You respond to him by sealing your lips with his once more, assuring him that his promise is understood.

The stars always knew that though, but that was yet another secret they kept to themselves.

[cat-hesarose]

Izzy Hands and broken promises

Now that I've had a day to digest the ending, I'm still in the "Izzy should have lived" camp but can better understand why it soured an otherwise great season finale for me.

Keep reading if you like rants about storytelling and queer catharsis from people with a Bachelor degree's worth of overconfidence and strong opinions.

Bar a handful of icks (Zheng Yi Sao getting outsmarted by Ricky, etc), I loved this season and don't see a wealth of problems that would not have been solved by two additional episodes. That said, Izzy's death is one of the things I can't see making any more sense if they had more time to explore his journey because his journey is what problematizes djenk's stated reasoning for his death.

In that one interview (and to be fair, we only have a brief window into his intentions as of right now), djenks positions Izzy as two things, specifically to Ed: a mentor and a father figure. And yeah, mentor figures often die. Their student surpasses them, or acquires a new narrative drive from their mentor's death to continue a quest.

Neither of these things feel like a fit for Izzy and Ed's dynamic nor their respective arcs. Neither does "father figure". Izzy was a love interest. He was described as a love interest. He confessed love to Edward. His mentor relationship was more established with Stede, if anything, who is an unreliable narrator and may well have been lying about Edward claiming that Izzy taught him everything he knows.

The journey that Izzy went on this season was parallel to Ed and Stede but it was with the crew. It's one big queerplatonic love story essentially, of him finding himself as an individual through the support they give and the space they hold for him. Season 2 Izzy Hands is, among other things, a love letter and showcase of the queer community's power to revive hope and purpose.

Izzy has the world's messiest breakup with Ed when they're both at their worst, and his healing begins with the crew of the Revenge. He only interacts with Ed again after bonding with, and growing through, the crew. So yes, it absolutely makes sense that his journey would proceed towards making peace with/saying goodbye to "Blackbeard". But it does not make sense that it would end there, with his death.

Djenks says that they're pirates, and people die. And yeah they do. But in the hand-wavy logic universe of OFMD it feels dismissive to say that about the death of a major character. And odds are, David "Izzy is my favourite character" Jenkins is not dismissive of Izzy, so that leaves tragedy.

My issue with that is, season 2 Izzy is no longer an innately tragic character. If you told me at the end of season 1 that season 2 would end with Izzy dying in Edward's arms telling him to go forth and change and accept love, I would've gone "that's sad but it makes sense." Because it would have, at the time. Season 2 Izzy departed from the trappings (so I thought) of the doomed fate of the bitter old repressed grimdark pirate when he put on the gold-painted wooden hoof and embraced his new role as First Mate of Stede Bonnet's gay floating kindergarten.

His death feels like a betrayal because, in a show that does queer characters Really Well, Izzy's arc feels like a broken promise. To say nothing of the politics of having a character attempt suicide, begin to heal, then say "I want to go" before dying, I wanted Izzy to want to live. It really felt like that was where his character was going, where his character was supposed to go.

Death for a character who is showing all this potential is only a natural ending in a tragedy. It isn't presented as peaceful or to punctuate another character's growth. Season 2 Izzy Hands had ceased to be reliant on and subject to Blackbeard. If anything, he was tied to the crew, who all stood back and felt much more removed from his death than they probably would have been if the show had more time to show their emotional responses. Having him die in Ed's arms, apologising for fueling Ed's destructive tendencies and encouraging him to be himself and accept love, feels like he got shunted off his new arc and back onto the old one. It feels like he went through all of that just to take a last-minute huge step back and re-subjugate himself to this character who does not reciprocate his devotion.

It makes me wonder if his death scene was one of the first ones written, before all that energy was spent giving him a new life and new connections and new, you know, new reason to live.

Anyway, that's how I feel about it. TL;DR Izzy's growth should have included LIVING HIS HARD-WON NEW LIFE and if I ever see djenks i'm going to cross the road and avoid eye contact.

[daosies]

and in the end, it's you

cyno swears he hates you.

(but the race of his heart says otherwise.)

cyno ♡ gn!reader

warnings: cyno is in denial, smitten cyno muehehe, scholar cyno

note: happy holidays to those who celebrate!!! also this is my first time writing enemies to lovers so im sorry if it isn't actually enemies to lovers 😭😢

gift for @1eaf-me-alone !! i hope you enjoy <3

Cyno hates the way you act like you know everything. 

He hates the way you talk, the way you laugh. He hates the way you do the bare minimum, the way you excel even if you don’t mean to. He hates the way stars glimmer in your eyes whenever you talk about mindless, unimportant things that mean so much (to you) in the moment, yet nothing at all in reality.

Cyno hates you. Nothing more, nothing less.

“But why?” one of his classmates asks with an incredulous look. “I think they’re pretty funny.”

Instinctively, Cyno’s expression sours, his lips forming a prominent frown. “Yeah, right. You just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Them,”—Cyno doesn’t even want to say your name—“they’re just, just insufferable!” 

It’s not like him to get so emotional over trivial matters, but Cyno can’t help it. When it comes to you, he always gets upset, always acts unlike himself. He supposes that’s another reason why he doesn’t like you; you have a way of pissing him off, even if you don’t realize it. 

“‘Cause they don’t care about school?” his classmate asks, struggling to understand Cyno’s frustration. “It’s not really our business, though…” Cyno rolls his eyes, his hands slamming on the desk before standing up. “I’m going to the library.”

“Alright…?”

As a scholar, Cyno believes that everything in the world has an explanation. He believes that knowledge must be sought, that reason will always triumph over fantasy. He also believes that, in order to succeed in life, one must work hard, that they should cultivate their talents in order to use them.

You defy all known standards of Cyno’s life. Your talent overpowers everything, leaving people like him in the dust. Even if you hardly try, you always succeed—and that makes him the most upset. Why them, of all people? Cyno wonders, his eyebrows furrowing as he walks towards the library. What did they ever do to deserve such talent? 

Cyno hates the way you treat the Akademiya as a game. He hates the way you break records, the way you make revelations with the mere flick of your finger. He hates the way the world changes at your will, the way you bring even him—a man with strong resolve—to his knees, questioning everything he’s ever known.

What is he, if not for logic? What is he, if not for the very standards he bases his life upon? You defy all known rules of Cyno’s life, and in doing so, you destroy his very being, his very essence. What is he now? What is he in your existence?

With a heavy heart, Cyno pushes the doors to the library open, wincing at the bright light that engulfs his world. The windows are blinding, his hand coming up to block his eyes as he observes the seemingly empty room, shocked at how few people there are.

He finds you in the center of it all. In the spotlight of the world, you sit with your figure slumped into a chair, your head buried in your arms as a few picture books are propped up around you. Cyno doesn’t know how to feel when he sees your sleeping face, your fluttering lashes and your content countenance. He doesn’t know how to feel in the silence, in the absence of everything that makes you annoying (at least, to him).

Oh, is all he thinks. Oh. 

For a brief moment, the furrow of his brows ease, the frown tugging at his lips loosening. For a brief moment, Cyno’s shoulders relax, his expression becoming blank as he stares at you for a few seconds longer than he should. Cyno stares at you, unsure of what to make of himself, unsure of what to do with himself.

So he ignores you, placing the image of you sleeping soundly into the depths of his mind, never to be touched on again. Cyno walks past your form, swallowing the lump in his throat as he runs a hand through his hair. His hand comes up to the collar of his cloak, tugging at it awkwardly in an attempt to quell his thoughts. He feels something stutter in his chest. He wonders if it’s from stress.

It’s not stress, a part of him says, it’s because of… Cyno suppresses these thoughts with a quick swipe against his chest, his thumb pressing against the left side of his torso as he feigns ignorance to the quickening thump-thump, thump-thump that reverberates throughout his being.

Cyno refuses to accept whatever his subconscious tells him. Because reason triumphs over fantasy, because logic is the foundation of this world. 

It’s not because of them, Cyno tells himself. Never. 

Cyno hates you. Nothing more, nothing less.

(But it’s tough to hate you when you look so serene, so peaceful. It’s tough to hate you when, even in your sleep, that smile takes over your lips, leaving him wondering what you’re dreaming of. It’s tough to hate you when his heart stutters, hurts at the mere sight of you.)

Subconsciously, Cyno’s gaze drifts from the various titles lining the shelves. His hands fall limp as he stares through the crevices of the books, his eyes finding you—again—as you bask under the lamplight. He observes you, noticing how your brows furrow ever-so slightly, noticing how you hum something akin to the tune of your favorite song.

(How does Cyno know what your favorite song is? How does he know its tune?)

Tearing his gaze away, Cyno takes a random book from the shelves, not bothering to look at its title. He forces his way through his instincts, refusing to spare you another glance.

“What a good pick,” the librarian muses, checking out the scholar’s book. “I didn’t know you read things like this, Cyno.”

Only then does he read the novel’s title: I got reincarnated as the villainess in a novel I hate?! His eyes widen, embarrassment overwhelming his features as he averts his gaze from the amused librarian.

“I… I don’t,” he replies. But they do. Again, his heart stutters at the thought. And again, Cyno ignores it.

(Why does he know what type of novels you read?)

With a regretful expression, the scholar begrudgingly takes the book. He hides it in his cloak, rushing past your still-sleeping figure as he swears, swears he won’t look at you again.

He breaks his short-lived promise the moment his eyes find your face, tracing over the curl of your lips and the bridge of your nose. Cyno berates himself, shrinking into his hood as he questions why he keeps doing this: breaking his promises, staring at you, perceiving you. 

A part of him knows the reason why. But Cyno ignores the race of his heart and the flutters in his stomach. He ignores everything and anything when it comes to you, the bane of his existence. 

He ignores it until he can’t. Until he’s face-to-face with you, trying his best to tear his gaze away. 

“So here’s how it’s gonna go,” you say, pointing at the paper assignment. “You do the researching, I do the presenting.”

Cyno wrinkles his nose. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“A genius,” you reply. “Duh.”

Ugh, Cyno thinks, rolling his eyes. Your arrogance makes him upset. Cyno hates the way you act, the way your pride is insufferable and the way you think you own the world.

(You do. You do own the world. His world.)

Working with you in a group project may be the worst punishment of them all. But, even as you command him (like the tyrant you are) he can’t bring himself to look away, to let his gaze stray from the glimmer in your eyes and the movement of your lips. Cyno can’t help but observe you, analyze you, scrutinize you for the tiniest traits, picking you apart while swearing he hates you.

He ignores the way you flip haphazardly through picture books, paying no mind to his deathly glare. You have a knack for pissing Cyno off; not only do you order him around, you also linger around him like some sort of fly. 

“Can you go away?” he asks, but it comes off more like a statement. Cyno’s words are clipped and to the point, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you with a deadpan expression. “You’re bothering me.”

You smile innocently. “I’m just reading, though?” 

“Go read somewhere else,” he retorts. “I can’t study when you’re around.”

“I have to supervise you, though,” you say with a shrug. “What if you doze off?”

That’s what you do, though, Cyno thinks with a frown. When you’re around, his hands become clammy and his thoughts become blurred. When you’re around, Cyno can’t think straight, he can’t do things that are so normal, so mundane. When you’re around, you mess up the continuous, familiar process of his life, the parts of him that he cherishes most.

“I won’t,” he quips. “Now go away.”

A teasing grin replaces your carefree smile, your gaze focusing on his as Cyno feels his voice die in his throat. His breath hitches, falling slack as he becomes the center of your gaze, the subject of your attention. 

(He’s yours. All yours.)

“Right,” you respond sarcastically, not taking his words to heart. Your eyes linger on him for a second more before returning to your picture book, not paying any mind to Cyno’s mindless tapping on the desk. He says nothing, yet his breath finally escapes, his hands brushing against the fabric of his cloak as he fiddles with the cotton.

Your mouth opens to speak, and Cyno already knows what you’re going to say.

Just trust me on this. 

“Just trust me on this.”

(How does he know?)

With one hand, Cyno brings the collar of his cloak up to his mouth, covering his lips as the tiniest of smiles creep onto his face.

(How could he not?)

[suhmingo]

I, uh, don’t know how to actually preface this. It’s really just a mini rant/pseudo-analysis of chapter 167. Which was pretty crazy. But, I loved this chapter, and yes I’m typing this with two hands.

But first let me try and do some housekeeping.

It’s perfectly fine to have an emotional, even visceral reaction to 167. That’s the point

If you feel grossed out, betrayed, unnerved, dumbstruck, or any form of bamboozled by today’s chapter then good! That means the emotional weight of the scene is working, and that you are a proper, feeling human. The

The whole point of fiction is to explore themes that would be difficult, even dangerous to experience from a place of safety. To me that’s, like the entire reason I ever wanted to become a writer, one of the most unsung broke boy jobs in the history of the world. My desire for Denji to get better in a world that is dead set on making him fail is the entire reason I have an emotional investment in the first place. Stories are inherently about conflict and the struggle with resolving conflict, that should make you uncomfortable.

Say what you want about Chainsaw Man. I can take it, I’m a big boy. But one thing that it has always had since Chapter one is a well-defined through line about the complexity of our innate desire to find some type of love fighting against the pain-wrought pathway that it leads us down. In a good story, every chapter should have some way of showing the highs and lows of that theme, and I’m pretty confident when I say that 167 perfectly shows us that.

It’s bad. Don’t let people who brag about their trauma tolerance tell you otherwise. You are well within your right to feel. But I think it would behoove people to 1. Realize that this is fiction, and its effects, though evocatory, are ultimately abstract, and 2. Realize that exploring dark themes allows people, especially a 16-25 (Or whatever the target audience for CSM is) to grapple with and think on human concepts as all encompassing as love.

From a writing standpoint, one chapter has escalated the tension of the entire story more than anything that has happened in Part 2 so far. It’s admittedly a bit early to call it peak. But looking at it as a simple story beat, that’s a fantastic chapter as far as the medium goes.

Listen, the whole point of stories since, like, Mesopotamian times was the tension between wanting a character to achieve happiness vs the hardships and trauma that life happens in life. They’re supposed to put you in a sensitive state emulative of a tense environment. I’d argue that the prevalence of escapist fiction and fandom has changed how we emotionally digest fiction. But that’s a whole nother essay.

The events of 167 aren’t some horny non-sequitur. Everything that happened is entirely a logical, if graven, extension of how we know characters.

Denji is at the lowest point we have ever seen him at. He was literally dismembered and put back together less than 10 chapters ago. The last chapter literally had him groveling on his knees at a cauldron’s brew of his own weakness, immaturity, stupidity, and horniness. I think we can all understand why he would not be in a good mental state to just lose himself in the moment. You can’t even blame Denji in this situation. He was in an entirely vulnerable state that was exploited entirely by

Yoru. Who is the literal embodiment of war. If you think that someone who represents the human fear of war is going to play fair. Turn on the news for five minutes. Yoru is a character we are not supposed to like. She’s fun, because she’s a work of fiction, but she’s arguably less trustworthy than Fami. She’s a violent, exploitative being who possesses a dead teenager. There is no “too far” for her if it’s the fastest way on the road to conquest. Reminder that before she caught feelings, her plan was literally just to castrate Denji because she thought that would further her goals. The fact that it turned into kissing was actually sparing a worse fate. IMO that savior was all in the actions of Asa.

Asa. I genuinely believe that, subconsciously, Asa wanted to kiss Chainsaw Man. Not like how it happened. Never like how it happened, but her desire for Denji/Chainsaw Man's affection has always been evident. She gets irreparably upset when she’s stood up, she makes cringe poetry for Chainsaw Man, and her entire goal as of now is in some misguided desire to make him happy. I also don’t think Asa is actually demisexual, or averse to sex. She is afraid of intimacy, which stops her from ever acting on her urges. Notice that both times Yoru has kissed Denji, it was after the idea of sex and intimacy was explicitly brought to the conversation. To me that screams that Yoru is spurred on by her host’s innate desires. Hell, it’s been shown that in the same way that Yoru has made Asa more proactive of a human being, Asa has made her feel emotions. I don’t think it's a coincidence that Yoru is blushing while kissing Denji. None of that was part of her plan. That’s Asa’s emotional influence getting the better of her in what I predict to be a fantastic role reversal of their initial contract.

This is thematically in line with how Chainsaw Man presents love and sets up deeper themes.



Remember way back in Part One when Denji was just an initial horndog and everybody kinda hated him? I hated Denji back then! When I first heard of Chainsaw Man I genuinely thought it was going to be a mommy-kink fuelled power fantasy. But I was wrong. Wonderfully wrong. Fujimoto used the allure of that idea in Makima to present a story about how dangerous and manipulative the very idea of grooming is, and how damaging that can be to a person. The same way Denji’s desire to get the approval of Makima was poisonous to him is mirrored in his desire for vapid, instantly gratifying sex is being portrayed here. I genuinely think this chapter is going to age like fine wine, and I am absolutely willing to take egg on my face if I’m wrong.

[ganondoodle]

( totk rant?)

i have talked alot about my problems with totk in detail, as most of you probably know by now- but there really is a vibe of big ambitions but then not committing to it throughout the game

they want to have that building mechanic in it no matter what in a world that isnt in any way build around it, mister "freedom = good, linear = bad" guy wanting to give you ultimate freedom in the game (which imo leads to it being nothing again) but not committing to it and it creates a really toxic loop of things being more punishing than rewarding

you can build a fuckton of weird vehicles, but big parts, ESPECIALLY the glider, is on limited time so you cant actually go anywhere you want; they know giving you absolut freedom will remove any possible challenge- so they limit it by making the glider part timed, but then they cant do that for every single part bc it would be almost impossible to create anything that works well when every part is on a timer and you dont know how much of its lifespan is left bc you accidentally hit a fan once so now its uneven with the other one AND the more parts you have the more it uses battery, it makes sense, so you cant build soemthign super overpowered right at the start and its just kinda logical, but it leads to you being incentivised to build something with the fewest parts that dont have a timer-

then theres the battery power, which they try to limit by putting its upgrades behind multiple different currency exchanges, which is frustrating and leads to alot of grinding and gets overpowered really fast (it works against itself too that said currencies are all placed in the most undeveleoped and repetetive area of the game and are all never involved in anything interesting, its reused old enemy camps and the same mines everywhere, theres not a single reward in the underground that actually feels rewarding imo)

then you get the autobuild thing, so you can skip the building part of the building mechanic that is the main selling point of tha darn game, bc they know it can get frustrating to rebuild your things over and over so they give you a skip button for that if you are one of those players that doesnt like it BUT THEN they cant jsut let you do it for free so they give it a price, either spend the same currency you need for the exchange for the one you need for battery upgrades or spend parts you collected- both of which are things players generally save up and refuse to use (like the -never use any health potions bc what if i need it more at some point- thing is a problem for a reason)

then theres the added thing of the building stuff despawning incredibly quickly, im gonna guess its otherwise a performance problem (that the game is already struggling hard with) but it makes the entire already bad loop of trying to fix a problem with bandaids over and over even worse, you dont want to go too far away from your vehicles bc it will despawn and waste all that you used to build it, its like a leash to you stopping you from actually using it for more freedom- and potentially adds another annyoance bc you might try to bring it with you as far as you can, a monster truck in the depths you spend all your parts on gets stuck on the first bits of terrain you run into and you desperately try to get it out without destroying it, and if you cant you need to spend a ton of resources to build it again, even with autobuild

which is how you get the hoverbike, stupidly overpowered and boring but doing anything else is just less efficient in every way, it uses the least amount of battery, never breaks, is only 3 parts to rebuild

(i know me in particular doesnt enjoy the building in totk at all, for all those reasons and more ...... shiekah ........ and i know you CAN still choose to doing it more creatively, but you never need to, its entirely based around YOU making it fun for yourself, and i dont think its that controverisal to say a game should be fun and challenging without you having to create all the fun yourself and set yourself limit it all yourself)

similar goes for the dungeons, they heard you want the dungeons of old times back, but their strict adherance to freedom (which they themsleves contradict) leads to them being more breakable and less dungeony than even the titans in botw, they cant make it linear, thats BAD, so you can do any puzzle in any order, it cant build on any of the others bc you need to be able to do it when you want (the only one going slightly against that is the lightning one? maybe?), totks dungeons dont even limit that you cant climb them (even the titans in botw recognized that makign it easy to break so they are made of the same unclimbable material like the shrines and other shiekah tech) and the new abilities make them laughably easy to break ( .. im not even gonna mention the water temple one bc ... you dont even need to do anything there to break it to make it easier)

they wanted to cater to people wanting old dungeons, but didnt commit to it, making them WORSE dungeons than the titans with the only bonus being they got different designs and a longer build up to it (that often feels more like artificial filler than actually part of it ... like the missing lore tablet at the zoras and the missing part is a few steps away from it at best)

(ALL THE WHILE they DO limit you in SHRINES, you cant climb the walls again, for some reason, you can climb any other sonau structure though, why not that? idk, but dont limit it enough either bc you can break it all in really cheap and unsatisfying ways with ultrahand and time reversal alone- and they CANT limit those bc those abilities are the main ways to solve the 'puzzles'- botws abilities were .. well, limited in what they could do making them much more balanced, but moving sth with ultrahand and then stepping on it and time reversing it can be the boring solution to any 'puzzle', the best and only really good shrines are the ones that take all you shit bc it wactually forces you to be creative BC ITS LIMITING YOU)

(funnily enough a big possible reason why they removed the bombs from botw is bc of the glitches with it ...... like the new stuff isnt even worse and you dont even have to try lol)

people speculated on there being underground exploration due to the first trailer? people are worried about reusing the surface? ok they put the entirety of the surface map into the game again, but dont commit to it being a full thing, its horribly underdeveloped and filled with either nothing or reused filler material, while also neglecting changing anything substantial about the surface, and then the sky isalnds they even reduced and really there isnt anything of substance on there either besides the tutorial (hey, seriously, if one of botws most defining feature is its wide and empty sky why the hell would you decide to use that same map to put in your sky islands idea in), not commiting to one idea but doing all of them badly

ganondorf? well, they sure put him in there, but really what does he do? fuck all, the entire actual game hes jsut marinating in his own miasma juice for no reason, he doesnt have any presecne in the game, all he gets its a few scenes in the "story" that are told through memory cutscenes in a stupidly mega distant past i dont give a fuck about and all he does is go through the most stereotypical villain checklist of both actions and speech, they want ganondorf in there but dont commit to him ACTUALLY being there (listen i love ganondorf but really calamtiy ganon was more interesting than totk ganondorf ok im SORRY they did him so dirty)

they want dragon zelda and link 'losing' his arm be a big epic sacrifice but then .. again, dont commit to it, they tell you its oooh so irreversible and whatever and then at the end just fukcing reverse it, with no build up at all, and NONE of your own input, it just happens, and its not JUST zelda but also links arm, reversing it BOTH even and you dont even need to have all shrines (that are supposedly to cleanse your arm of miasma, i guess thats a non problem if you just stab the source of it to death instead)

they want it to be a sequel but also its own game, not committing to either and leaving us with this weird .... more alternative universe thing, vague references to botw but also acting like it never happened, slight changes, like zeldas hair, to make her seem different when shes exactly the same (you cant imply waifu zelda would ever age and not look like a little doll) and ignoring anything about her character from botw (no im serious, ooh shes nerdy for 3 minutes at the start and one time in a written thing from some servant of da royals in the past and thats it, interest in the shiekah? whos shiekah?- if anything her character is reversed, really having even less agency than in botw, that one decision to dragon is like, it really doesnt matter and not really her decision bc she didnt have a choice and it gets reversed anyway without her even remembering)

even retreading all of botws points (but doing it worse imo), but then attempting to differentiate itself from it by removing a big thing that made it what it is (shiekah) without giving it any or any sensible explanation among more, not committing to either sequel or AU and so doing both incredibly badly

(not quite the point but what i have been questioning for a while ... they way raurus abilities work ... so do all sonau have those? was it just a normal thing to have? could all sonau just glue shit together and jump through ceilings? he never uses anything of that when we see him? why is it just in the shrines at the start and its like .. he just gives it to you ...?? huh??is it part of his arm .. jewelry??)

(anyway, tin foil hat moment but it just feels like either there was a huge internal fight about everything or they neglected it in favor for something else, like say, a movie that earns them billions and is faster and cheaper to make than a game... or just dont care anymore i guess, idk which is worse tbh)

[thewertsearch]

AG: Tavros, you give confidence a 8ad name. I gave you all the chances in the world to earn it, to earn REAL confidence, and you failed.

Pictured: Vriska giving Tavros 'a chance to earn real confidence'.

AG: You couldn't even do the one little thing I asked you to! The one thing that would have made you man up once and for all.

'Man up' is a funny idiom for a troll to use. We've occasionally seen trolls fall into human gender stereotypes, but it's quite rare, and always sticks out like a sore thumb.

There's an interesting conversation to be had about troll genders. With a reproductive cycle so different to ours, their gender framework will inevitably be different as well. Yes, there are male and female trolls - but what do male and female actually mean to a troll?

On Earth, your assigned gender carries cultural baggage which simply wouldn't exist on Alternia. Assigned gender plays no role in reproduction, nor does it influence household division of labor, since trolls don't have households.

Gender aside, do trolls have a concept of masculine and feminine? Beyond a few stray idioms, the only evidence I can find is their clothing styles. We haven't seen any male trolls rocking a skirt - not yet, at least.

tl;dr: 'Man up' is a cultural can of worms. I think that was probably unintentional, though, and I think we're supposed to interpret that line as if a human spoke it. Vriska's calling Tavros a wimp, which is business as usual.

AG: So instead you flew away and cried, and decided to sleep away your sorrow for the rest of the adventure.

Tavros already alluded to this incident during his conversation with Jade. I guessed that Vriska would be involved, but that was a bit of a no-brainer.

Vriska's trying to frame Tavros as pathetic, but it sounds like he actually put his foot down, flat-out refusing to participate in whatever she had planned. Much like the FLARP incident, this sounds like a victory for Tavros, even if she's convinced him otherwise.

AG: Do you have any idea how sick that made me? Everything a8out you makes me sick.

He rejects your advice. He rejects your advances. His lusus cared for him. He was allowed to be kind, and accepts kindness from others. He doesn't care about winning, but he never lets you win. No matter how much you torment him, he refuses to get any stronger, which means your mindset might be wrong.

'Sick' would be an understatement.

AG: Your plan to control her lusus really wasn't a 8ad idea! AG: And using your a8ility to "save her life" (lol) was a pretty good way to test how effective your powers are across sessions. [...] AG: Practicing your a8ilities is important, so when it comes down to using them for something that really matters, you know you're ready for prime time. AG: I know this first hand. AG: I got lots and lots and LOTS of practice with your little guinea pig friend. ::::D

So that's why Jade was constantly napping? That can't have been good for her brain.

AG: The catch is it's not going to work! [...] AG: You couldn't sic the guardian on Noir even if you were inclined. Not even if I were to MAKE you inclined! :::;)

Like I said before, it's really Vriska who can control First Guardians.

AG: 8ecause you are dealing with a pro here. I already thought of that. AG: I thought of everything! AG: The guardian is not going to attack the agents who engineered him in the first place. AG: Or who I should say were "encouraged" (lol) to engineer him.

Why the fuck would you do this?

When Vriska prototyped Bec, she explained that the event was mandated by the Alpha Timeline, so she didn't make anything worse by causing it. I don't agree with her argument, but I do understand her logic.

This is different. Up until now, there has been no evidence that Bec can't harm Agents. Vriska had no prophecy to fulfil, and no reason to believe that this was required to preserve the timeline. Yes, now we know it's baked into the timeline, but only because Vriska wanted it.

Having Bec help with Jack was a really good idea, and removing the option to do so helps no one. Where's the benefit?

AT: wHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, AG: Tavros, at this point it should 8e o8vious. AG: I am the unseen hand 8ehind every major event in their session, and to some extent, their whole lives. AG: At least those events not happening 8y the volition of their own natural incompetence! AG: Don't you think this is how it should 8e? Shouldn't the greatest player leave her fingerprints on every step of the rise to power of her ultim8 nemesis?

I know Vriska likes to feel in control, but this is ridiculous.

Inserting yourself into Alpha loops is one thing, but nerfing Bec when you don't have to is straight-up sabotage. Couldn't she just stick to micromanaging John's outfits?

AG: I have every angle covered already. The human session is on full Serket lockdown. Any effort you make to disrupt my plans will 8e laugha8le, just like everything you have ever done in your life. AG: The only thing left to do now is prepare to kill Jack myself, and save everyone's ungrateful asses.

Oh my god, I think I've cracked it.

Vriska thinks she's the only one with the right to kill Jack.

She describes him as her ultimate nemesis, which reeks of main character syndrome. Bec isn't important enough to kill Jack, so she eliminated him as an option. It has to be her, the most powerful Player, who's gained all the levels, because that is how these things are done.

It's not just ego, either - there's a deeper motivation at play. If Vriska doesn't beat Jack, she doesn't win - and if she doesn't win, then what was all that abuse were all those challenges for? What was the point?

In Vriska's head, Jack needs to be her nemesis. She needs to be destined to kill him - because if she is, then everything she went through was justified. She'll have secured her position as the most powerful Player of all, and she'll never have to be jealous of anyone again - least of all that wimp with his sweet little fairy lusus. They're all weak, and she's strong.

If she doesn't kill Jack, she's a loser.

And losers may as well be dead.

[ceilidho]

pbf! Gaz would sound so reasonable when he explains why it would be better to do it the old fashioned way :(

"When you cum, it’ll take better."

"Mating press is the best position to conceive."

"If I massage and suck on your tits, it’ll help the milk flow."

"I can hold your legs up afterwards, so everything stays where it should be."

"Fresh seed is better than the turkey-baster-thing you wanna pull.“

Everything he says is soo logical.

Gaz frames it so intelligently that you're sort of overwhelmed; like, he makes it seem so cut and dry. Like of course, why didn't you think of this yourself? He just wants to make sure you get pregnant on the first try, that way you aren't spending months and months trying on your own.

Of course, he then goes on to say, "It's more likely to take if we do this every day. You'll be so upset if you take a test in a couple weeks and it doesn't come back positive. Just a couple more times to be sure."

And then a 'couple times' turns into a month :(( turns into sleeping together even the first trimester because "you're already dealing with so much, won't it be nice to just let me lick your pussy and make you come?" :((( turns into your libido going wild in the second trimester and Gaz super reasonably saying "if you're so needy, I'm happy to lend a hand" turns into co-parenting and sleeping in the same bed because otherwise it'll confuse the baby :)))

[femdomlieeh]

Jealous

Younger!Haruto (Treasure) ✧ Older!Reader

WC—2 k

THEMES—makeup artist x idol au ✧ younger!idol x older!reader ✧ jealousy ✧ fluffy

WARNING—cute shit ✧ jealous!Haruto ✧ tiny bit of angst ✧ pet names (miss, 누나, boyfriend)

NOW PLAYING—Never Felt So Alone ✧ Labrinth

A/N. 누나 (nuna) = older sister

M.LISTS—treasure ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

All rights reserved © femdomlieeh

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"That tickles a bit," Jihoon giggled a little as you patted his neck with a soft cushion. "Sorry, Jihoonie. I'm finished soon," you smiled at his smile, patting a bit faster. "Nooo it's OK. I like it," he winked. You laughed, Jihoon was not shy. Unbeknownst to you, on a chair beside Jihoon, sat an even taller blonde guy staring at the whole interaction with red eyes. Haruto, your boyfriend — who you would otherwise notice in a crowd — was sitting on Jihoon's left which meant your back was turned to the poor boy. Since YG had a dating ban, he couldn't say anything he wanted in this situation, like 'look at me instead' or '누나, stop laughing with that stupid guy, please' or 'pay attention to me' or 'can we switch makeup artists so I can be with my girlfriend?' because everyone knew that if he so much as hugged you or held your hand in front of other staff members they would betray the company for some money from dirty, disgusting Dispatch. All Haruto could do was sit and huff, hoping you would for no logical reason just turn around and see him and stop doing Jihoon's makeup to compliment his hair.

Done with Jihoon, you went to one of the tables with drinks to take a sip or your iced americano, thirsty af. While drinking you noticed Doyoung (who was also finished with his makeup) had smudged his lip tint when he drank from a chocolate milk packet without a straw and, naturally, you went up to him to repaint his lips as a makeup artist should do. Haruto was staring at you on the mirror as you focused on Doyoung's lips and lightly dapped them with your finger. It looked so intimate to him; your finger tips touching his lips. He knew it was part of your job and that to you this was a mundane action like cleaning your EarPods/headphones or scrolling through TikTok or doing laundry — but it still hurt a bit.

"Looks perfect now! No chocolate milk until after the VLive, OK Doyoungie?" you said, arms crossed jokingly, knowing the boy liked snacking. 'Doyoungie' pouted jokingly — and totally unnecessarily — as he nodded "Yes, 누나, don't worry." You laughed. Haruto was pouting now but unlike Doyoung it was not in a joking way. He wishes you were paying this much attention to him instead of his members. He knew it was your job to make sure everyone looked good but in this specific instance it still hurt his feelings. He had just coloured his hair blonde, which was a huge shift for him as he'd never had to colour his hair so dramatically for a comeback, and he didn't like it and needed all your reassurance. His hair stuck out like a sore thumb so how didn't you even notice him? How come you noticed such a small detail on Doyoung's makeup? Why were you even looking at his lips so attentively? Why didn't you notice Haruto who'd been only two meters away from you for the past half hour?

His makeup artist gave him a thumbs up, signalling she was finished with his makeup which meant he just had to wait until Hyunsuk's awful hairstylist was finished and then Treasure could finally start their VLive. Haruto sat down by one of the large tables with everyone's drinks, again only a few meters away from you, and moved a few blonde strands to look a bit awkward on purpose, hoping your hawk eye would notice so you'd come to correct his hair. But no! You were busy with complimenting Asahi on the pretty ring he got to wear for the VLive, so another stylist came to fix Haruto's hair, combing it a bit and moving some hair strands away from his eyes, in a way that would've felt romantic had it been you who did it instead — oh, how he wishes you were touching his hair instead and looking into his eyes.

During the VLive, the boys were celebrating their comeback and playing fun games to entertain the viewers. Some of the staff were monitoring the comments to see what games were popular or boring among the fans so they know what to plan for future VLives. You were in the styling room, the boys were in the room that had been decorated and prepared for the VLive, watching the live and laughing at Asahi's robot infamous dance that people kept asking him to do no matter how old it was and Junkyu's fun energy and Yoshi's lobster hat he had to wear as a punishment for losing a game. Out of curiousity, you looked at the comments, happy to see many positive comments drowning out the few bad ones — however, you noticed something a bit odd.

Junqt: 'Woahhh haruto is so cometitive!!!'

raffaello96: 'Haruto is teasing Doyoung so much lmao'

HwanJungle: 'Haruto looks so cute mad haha'

Ye_shihohoho: 'Jihoon and Haruto must've had an argument b4 the live lmaoooo'

JeongwooSayang<3: 'thank you Ruto for brining back asahi's robot dance ekgknrb'

What? You had noticed your boyfriend was a very active participant in this VLive, talking more than usual and joking around, coming up with the idea to play 야자 time so he could talk to his older members informally (especially Jihoon, Doyoung and Asahi for some weird reason), teasing Doyoung before Doyoung makes the first move to tease him, even pushing Jihoon lightly so he wouldn't win a point for his team. You hadn't thought too much of it until you saw the comments.

After the VLive the boys were exhausted, their social batteries lowered, smiles and laughs all spent to entertain the fans. Now they were all ready to have something to eat or take a nap (if you were Hyunsuk).

"Ahhh finally I can have my chocolate milk!" Doyoung exhaled, gulping down everything in one go, to which Haruto rolled his eyes.

You waved to him. He walked up to you, ruffling his hair a bit, hoping you'll fix it finally, "Did you see today's VLive, Miss?"

"Yeah, you acted a bit strange in the VLive today... Are you OK?"

"Strange? By that you mean my team won all games thanks to me. I did a good job, right Miss?"

"Of course, you did a really good job," you patted his arm, not sure if he was open to hugging in front of his members.

"Thanks, Miss," he smiled a bit, looking at the floor, making it very obvious you should look at his hair.

You giggled, grabbing his chin to make him look at you, "You don't need to keep calling me Miss you know? Only the members are here."

"You don't like it?"

"I mean, it's not bad but it's not good either. Feels a bit distant," you shrugged.

"Sorry, I just did it out of habit." That was a lie. He only ever referred to you as 'Miss' sometimes when managers or other staff, especially from outside companies, were present in meetings, after performances, interviews or at variety shows but after VLives he'd only ever call you 누나 since the styling room was only filled with his member and they knew about the relationship already.

"Are you hungry, Haruto?"

"Hm. A little."

"You feel like eating kimchi stew?"

He nodded.

"Ruto, are you coming?" Jaehyuk asked, holding the door open.

"No, sorry I'll see you guys later."

"OK, bye," everyone waved, leaving you two alone in the room.

"You never answered my question," you held his arm and dragged him to sit down with you on one of the empty sofas.

"What do you mean?" he looked down at his shoes.

"Are you OK?"

"Mhm," he avoided your eyes, finding it hard showing himself vulnerable in this way.

You sat closer to him and held his cheeks, turning him to look at you, "Something tells me my boyfriend isn't telling me the truth.

His cheeks and ears were turning red. Such a small touch meant so much to him right now, especially when you combed your fingers through his hair, making sure no hair strands were blocking your eye contact — oh and combine that with proudly calling him your boyfriend and now he's a strawberry. He felt his breathing changing, stopping for a moment before going faster.

"This is the first time you looked at me today, 누나," he pouted a bit.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Boyfriend, I didn't realise," you felt awful.

"I sat right beside Jihoon during makeup time, you know?" he made his pout bigger.

You were shocked, having been so focused on doing his makeup that you didn't even realise Haruto was right behind you.

"And then you noticed Doyoung's lips and complimented Asahi and stuff and I just got a bit jealous. It felt like I wasn't even your boyfriend but more like someone looking at your life from the outside."

You held his hand in yours, playing with it and squeezing gently. "I'm so sorry but it's also my job to do their makeup and when we're with other staff it's not safe for me to act like your girlfriend."

"I know and that's not the frustrating part, it's just you paid sooo much attention to them and none to me and I just felt ignored. Sometimes I just wish I could go up to you and ask for a hug or do anything a normal couple would," he still pouted, looking you in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Boyfriend," you pecked his nose. That made him smile!

"I wish I could hold your hand and tell you encouraging words or give you a good luck kiss before every performance but I can't. Just know that I'm silently cheering for you and sending you lots of love." You pulled him into a hug and he kept his face in your neck, taking in your scent and warmth and closing his eyes, so comfortable.

His voice was muffled by your neck, "I understand that but 누나, please, pay attention to me more. Even in front of the stylists. I don't mean a kiss or hug— Even if it's just something as simple as fixing my clothes or makeup or hair. Anything. Please?"

"I will, Boyfriend," you placed a small kiss on the top of his head, he smiled.

"Also... Can you like not act so cutesy to the guys? That hurt a bit," he hid his face in your neck, a bit embarrassed to admit he's jealous.

You giggled, "Awww was my little boyfriend jealous?"

You loved calling him little since he was so tall and it made him blush.

"Mhm," he pouted, blushing now.

You cupped his cheek, "I understand," you gave him a small kiss on his nose, "I didn't notice I was being cute but I'll definitely give you a bit more attention instead."

He nodded cutely and kissed your lips quickly.

"Can we stay here for a little longer?"

"Of course," you kissed his forehead.

It was a little uncomfortable to keep hugging in this sitting position so you got up and sat on his lap, wrapping him in your arms, his face in your chest now. "You look so cute in blonde hair," you kissed the top of his head.

He smiled against your skin, "Thank you, 누나."

You stroked his back with one hand and petted his hair with the other, Haruto blushed, happy you couldn't see his strawberry cheeks. Right now you didn't even need to speak, just enjoying each other's touch and breathing. It wasn't awkward. Silence is very comfortable sometimes, especially with your introvert boyfriend. He placed his head on the left side of your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too. So much."

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

❝ And I think, "What if we weren't ridin' and dyin' together?"

The whole world would fall apart

And I never felt so alone, felt so alone, na-na (never felt so alone, woo! Alone) ❞

—timothy lee mckenzie; 2023

[fatedbutblinking]

meeting the parents. jason grace x eros daughter

jason and eros' only half-blood daughter are in love

everyone knew that about them but they refused to admit that it was true to everyone, each other and themselves

then they 'accidentally' sleep with each other one night

despite trying to be the perfect and detached leader, jason can't help but confess first

not only is she the most beautiful girl that he has ever seen, but she pushes him to be the best version of himself. she's caring but biting. she's excited him since the day he met her. and she is really good in bed so

and she thinks his arms are sexy

then comes parent day, one day a year where all the gods are forced to spend the full day on earth with their children

as the only daughter of eros and with jason being one of zeus' only children, zeus and eros decide to take them out for a nice meal

zeus and eros aren't keen on each other, because eros keeps trying to shoot arrows at him and human ladies to piss off zeus' wife hera

soo it's a bit awkward

'i can't believe you're in love with a boy who looks like he should be on a cereal box.'

jason almost spits out his water.

'dad,' she hisses.

'it's like dating peter pan on steroids.'

'nice,' jason jokes.

'don't push it, eros,' she hisses again.

'they're barely dating. of course my son is going to be drawn to a barbie doll.'

'don't talk about her like that,' jason says sternly.

'it's not bad to admit that. she's shiny. it's a good break for you, son.'

jason shakes his head. 'you're such a --'

eros ignores what zeus says and continues to her. 'i know you're in love with him. i can feel how much you do, trust me, and i know he loves you more -- obviously -- but you should still keep your options open.'

zeus puffs his chest. 'of course you're encouraging disloyalty, eros.'

'you're not exactly a saint, zeusy.'

'and whose fault is that?'

'the arrows don't force you to fall in love. they only make you do what you otherwise would if logic wasn't in the picture.'

'i'm already tired of being here.'

'then you shouldn't have made the plan.'

'i had to. you would have taken them to a brothel otherwise.'

'fuck off.'

and so zeus and eros argue

jason and her look at each other. she grasps his hand.

'i'm sorry.'

'no, i'm sorry. your hair is very shiny, but i love you for a lot more than that.'

'really now?' she teases.

'yeah. i like your face, your body, your lips...'

'very funny, grace.'

'i'm more than my looks as well, you know.'

'i don't know. i think he's right about you looking like peter pan. the buffer, sexier, more stupid version.'

'ha-ha-ha.'

'i am sorry, jase. you'd think my dad being the god of love and affection would mean he'd be nice.'

'don't be sorry. they're gods. they're always going to think they're right.'

'but they're our fathers.'

'even more reason for them to think they're right.'

'i love you.'

'i love you more. your dad's not wrong about that part.'

suddenly they notice it is really quiet around them. both zeus and eros are staring at them, having listened to part of their conversation. they seem to be a little bit shocked, but regain their composure quickly. eros ends up smirking, folding his arms on his chest and leaning back as he stares at them. zeus watches them with curiosity, eating an olive.

'what?' he asks. 'what is it?'

'have you two picked what you want to eat?' zeus asks, motioning to the menu.

'i thought you guys wanted to leave,' she says.

'it just happens that you're obsessed with each other,' cupid explains. 'i should at least try to find out why.'

zeus nods. that's the first time that they agree with each other. both of their heads dart towards the menu as they bicker over what food they're going to get.

jason smiles softly and holds her hand. she is a bit in shock now.

'guess we're hard to deny,' he says.

'we? i'm the shiny one,' she jokes, squeezing his hand back.

[jeonggukookies]

too young || seven

summary: another hospital visit brings you and jungkook together again.

word count: 1485

genre:  parent!au, single dad!jungkook angst

one || two || three || four || five || six || seven

“Do you want to explain what happened here?” Your mom asked with a look of disgust on her face, examining all the boxes of Chinese takeout boxes all over the kitchen island, paper plates overfilling the trashcan, definitely leaving a distinct odor of grease. “Or should I ask the rats next door?” 

“Real funny, Mom.” You chuckled, turning on the lights for your apartment. “I didn’t know you would be coming up to visit, or otherwise, I think this place would have been cleaner than Marie Kondo’s house.” 

“Well, I was a little worried. You hadn’t picked up my calls for a couple of days.” Your mom takes a seat on your black leather couch, patting the spot next to her. “Come and sit by me. I’ve missed my only child and want to make sure you’re okay.

“Of course, I am okay,” you said, sighing as you took a seat next to her. “There’s no reason for me to be not okay.” 

She raised her eyebrows at you. “Right because seeing Jungkook at the hospital was definitely something to be okay about.”

“I have been a little busy.” It wasn’t a complete lie. 

The last time you had spoken to your mom you had briefly texted her about the whole hospital situation and how you unintentionally ran into Jungkook. She tried calling numerous times after that, but you never picked up. You drowned yourself back into work, not wanting to think about your personal life, barely cooking, eating and showering. 

“Yeah I can tell,” she joked, laughing. “Kiddo, you know it’s okay to cry. You don’t have to hold it all together.” 

“What is there to cry about?” Shrugging your shoulders, you gave a small smile, not wanting any feeling of despair to show on your face. “I’m fine, really.” 

“So you didn’t like him?” 

“Of course I liked him! But come on, sometimes you just have to walk away right?” Your mom was one of the supportive people in the world, but there were times where she would always use logic and tell you to change your path. At the casino, she saw how gambling and not being able to walk away broke people. People had a hard time to let go of things or even people, but you felt conditioned to feel like it was better to walk away.

“Okay.” She nodded slowly. “What are you walking away from?”

“Him.” 

“But didn’t he tell you that he chose you?” 

Your conversation with Jungkook at the hospital replays in your head once more. He told you that he didn’t want you to be Sarah, and that he loved you for the way you were. You were the one who saw him as an individual and gave him the opportunities to prove what a great guardian he could be. You didn’t pity him for sacrificing everything for Jules, but admired him and his heart. 

But at the end of the day, you still weren’t Sarah. 

He never did all those things for you, and you didn’t know what it all meant. 

He kept that information about Sarah private, as if he had something to hide, as if it were true at one point of time. 

“I rather be alone than to not know where I truly stand in his life.” 

She smiled. “But that’s the thing, Kiddo. You always take the risk. Don’t let fear and insecurity stop you now and deprive you of happiness.” 

“But Mom-” You opened your mouth, but no words left. You knew she was right, and it was almost the exact same thing you told Jungkook when he asked you why did you agree to get to know him. “You know I can be happy being alone.” 

“I do, but I also know you were happy with him too.” Her mom instincts kicked in, because even though you did not say anything, she wrapped her arms around you, knowing you needed a hug from the person you knew and loved you. “Misunderstandings happen.”

“I know,” you softly cried. 

“Even if you don’t take the risk, sometimes luck comes into your life.”

Before you could respond to her, your phone started to ring in your back pocket. Pulling away, you wiped your face, making sure there was no visible tears streaming down your face. 

“Who is calling you this late at night?” Your mom asked. 

Grabbing the phone out of your pocket, you shook your head in disbelief after looking at the screen. You handed the phone to her. She looked down and saw the name flashing across the screen: Jungkook. 

"I told you so,” your mom teased, playfully pushing you to the side. “Do you want me to stay or go to the other room?”

“Please stay.” 

You slid to answer the call and pressed the speaker button. 

"Y/N?” He said in a strained voice. “Can you come to the hospital right now? I really need you.” 

_______

Rushing through the hospital doors, you instantly lock eyes with Jungkook, automatically wrapping your arms around him. 

Jungkook sobbed in your arms, speaking so fast that you could barely understand a word he was saying. You could only make out Jules and soccer for the most part. Most of his words were incoherent between the heavy pants and breathes.

“I’m here, Kook. I’m here. I’m here.” You repeated. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

He held onto you a little tighter, afraid it might be the last time he could do this. “I’m sorry.” 

Pulling away slightly, you looked up at him. His eyes were full of water, making it seem like he could cry forever and the tears could never stop. With your left thumb, you caress his wet cheek, not saying a word.

When Jungkook finally has his breathing under control, he took a deep breath. “Jules had an injury at her soccer game. She ended up tripping on her teammate’s shoe laces and her body had just slammed into the goal post.”

“Did she hit her head?”

“The doctors are looking at her now. It’s worse than a sprained ankle, so she might have fractured or broken her ankle. She could have also tore her knee muscles or something as she still is growing, you know? That’s how it works, right?” He started rambling. “Oh god, what if she can never walk again? Why did I let her play soccer? What if she is in more pain at the doctors? What if they take away Jules away from me?”

“That is not going to happen,” you snapped. “I won’t let that happen.” 

“But how do you know?” 

“You turned your whole life around for Jules, someone who isn’t even your own child. You have given her everything, and the thing is, the world isn’t perfect. Sometimes it is cruel and things like this happen. But one incident, mistake, or whatever, will not make anyone take Jules from you. And it does not define you.” 

His body softened in comfort. “And I thought I had to be the one good with words.” 

You released a small laugh. “I’m an educator, bro.”

Finally, he pulled away, looking down at you. “Thank you for being here.” 

“Anything for Jules,” you said. “Anything for you.”

It isn’t hours later until the doctors come get you and Jungkook from the waiting room. The doctors explained that they performed a procedure to put wires in her ankle bones to help her heal. The surgery happened without a problem, but they had kept her for a while without visitors to monitor her and let her rest. 

They had let you and Jungkook come in when Jules had briefly woke up. 

“Y/N!” Jules’s eyes sparkled once she saw you. “You’re here.” 

“How are you feeling?” You asked sitting down to her left as Jungkook sat on the child to her right. “I’m sorry I couldn’t watch the game.”

She chuckled. “I’m glad you didn’t see me fall.” 

“It’s okay, Jules. I recorded it,” Jungkook joked, taking her small hand to his mouth, giving her small kisses. 

“When can we go home?” She asked.

“Soon,” he promised. “Soon, but for now, get some rest, okay. I want you to be okay.” 

“I’m okay,” she replied. “Can you just sing the songs for her?” 

“Not now.” 

“Please,” she begged. “I’m the one in the hospital bed.” 

Jungkook turned his head to look at you. He smiled slightly, looked back at Jules and caressed her hair. “The mp3 isn’t here.” 

They brought up the mp3 player once again, leaving you confused. “Why do you need it?” 

“I recorded your favorite book for you to listen to, so whenever you miss me, you can just listen to it.” He stared at you with his beaming eyes, not wanting to look at anything else but you. “There’s about 30 songs on there. And I sang all of them. And they’re all about you.”

_______

hi i want to apologize because it has been SO LONG maybe 2 years(?) that i have written. tldr; i struggled during undergrad but now i graduated and will be taking a gap year and want to continue writing :) 

it is crazy how i started this in high school and now i have graduated college! my writing has gotten so much better i promise. but also sorry because i want better and too young done asap so not proofread and not written the best it could be 

[nicki0kaye]

random Kallus hc inspired by someone else's post #2

man he's gotta hate that he lost his bo-rifle to fucking Thrawn

like so the moral of the Honorable Ones to me was Kallus realizing he has nothing of value in his life--he has TWO personal items to his name; this fuckin glow rock and his bo-rifle which he has just learned is his by right. Regardless of what he did to Lasan, regardless of all the awful reasons he should never be accepted by any of his enemies, that fucking bo-rifle is his and no Honor Guard of Lasan can argue otherwise. There are a lot of reasons he turns on the Empire, but this is where it starts. The realization his life is so small and so empty, and he just limped back to it. Why? Why is this life worth living? And with more research, it stops being a selfish desire to ditch and becomes an informed hatred of the Empire, BUT

lets go back to that kernel of rebellion. Kallus' life is small and empty. He's got a Rock and Bo-Rifle. That's all that defines him outside his identity as a ISB officer.

He just acquired the Rock. He's been living with bo-rifle as his single defining trait for maybe a decade at this point. It's an extension of his beef with Lasat in general, which started on Onderon when one blew up his first Big Boy Mission. It makes sense he'd fixate on such a traumatic event but it's not JUST that. You don't get to have personal hobbies or a sense of fashion or really any kind of identity within the Empire outside who you personally want to fuck up. Kallus chose the Lasat and got fucking spiteful about it, which led him to the Siege of Lasan, where he won his bo-rifle.

but like, it's more than that. It isn't just hatred--if it were, I don't think Zeb would have gotten to him. I think that Kallus has had a buried respect for the Lasat for a long time, if only because of how much time and effort it took to win and then become proficient with the bo-rifle. Then there's the layer of it being the only true outlet for identity he's allowed. THEN there's the fact the bo-rifles are a Force weapon. They've got kyber crystals inside them. And I personally subscribe to the idea that everyone can sense the Force, thus be guided by the Force, it's just that not everyone can recognize what is intuition/one's own emotions and what is the Force, nevermind having an ability to influence other shit with the Force.

What I'm trying to say is I wanna believe Kallus bonded with his bo-rifle in a cosmic way. He is the Warrior, hunting the future; the Force always had plans for his ass and saw that a Force-conductive weapon made its way into his hands, that he then spent years becoming deadly with. That fucking weapon is connected to his soul.

and he lost it to Thrawn.

Thrawn didn't beat him in a fight while Kallus was armed with his bo-rifle, but he super beat his ass in a fight. Even if Kallus could argue he didn't earn the bo-rifle, Kallus couldn't retrieve it before having to gtfo. It's still somewhere on Thrawn's stupid ship--my assumption is that Thrawn goes and adds it to his collection of stolen artwork.

Regardless, Kallus doesn't have it anymore. This thing he poured what little identity he was allowed to maintain, years of hard work and practice and countless battles where he relied on it to keep him alive as his primary weapon, nevermind a Force connection, anyone would become attached to a weapon after years of service. This reminder of Lasan, this piece of history, its fucking gone now.

I don't think he'd think he's allowed to mourn that, considering all he's done, but you can't logic away your feelings, and now he's with a group of ppl who actively find that kind of coping pretty fucking unhealthy. At some point he's gonna have to process what that weapon meant to him and its not gonna be pretty.

imo, he gets a tat of it on the forearm of his dominant hand. He'd think about it for a long time but only go through with it after finally discussing all his mixed up feelings with Zeb, who would super approve of him paying his respects to a sacred fuckin weapon this way. It was his, by right, by soul, by will of the Ashla.

[flyingpurplepeopleprogrammer]

Let's talk about thoughtlessness and brainlessness:

It's a broad topic, so I want to be clear that I'm not lumping the blissfully mindless in with mushin or the wannabe brainless bimbos, but there is a common thread.

See, so many of y'all aim for those spaces and then - like the dog that caught the car - have no idea what to do when you get there. You get that fleeting moment of peaceful, free, empty, or dumb and then... Whoops. Where'd that thought come from? It's a tragedy.

Now don't get me wrong, you can play with that: degradation for not even being able to not think or fractionation in the form of rapidly switching between here and nowhere - there's no shortage of options.

But think about what you're actually doing for a moment. Your brain is a finely tuned noise generator, a veritable idea generating machine that's evolved and sophisticated over a bazillion years and you're trying to make it not do, like, it's Thing. It's not trivial. Is it distracting thinking about how terribly affected you'd have be to be able to just stop thinking like that?

If you really want to be mindless and stay that way, then you've got to look at things a little differently.

People who are mindless don't just have their brains turn off. They're just doing a different kind of thing - experiencing a different kind of focus. Some folks get it through exercise or meditation. Others chase spirals. If you want to float in mindlessness then you need to give that lovely and clever brain of yours another way to be.

And since the intelligence play crowd will feel left out otherwise - I should say that that's how you get to be a silly little puddle, too, but to address that I need to put on my wholesome educator hat for a second:

People our society calls stupid or dumb are very, very seldom so. They've got the same kind of clever brains as everyone else! Most of the time - and that's the "most" of a person who habitually never says always - they're just caught up in what we decide are the wrong kind of thoughts. Maybe they missed some vital prerequisites. Maybe they really, really confidently believe that this or that line if reasoning is off limits to them. (Looking at you, shitty sexist math teachers.) Whatever the reason, even the most vapid creature is going to show you that they're quite clever and quite able to learn if you put them in an appropriate environment, and if you listen to "stupid" long enough to understand then you'll usually find they make perfect logical sense. It's just that their logic might be missing some vital pieces of information.

But how did that help you, dear reader, be a silly, giggly object? I'll tell you: you want to learn from them. Silly enlightenment isn't not having a brain; it's letting your brain wander over to play with things that don't matter. The version of that you dream up well be your own, of course: you might picture your ideal silly self replacing serious smartness with lustful daydreams and 47 palettes of makeup. Or you might see yourself fixated on what's really, truly, blissfully important to you - less valley girl, more devoted thrall. Or, well- the options are endless, as are the ways to keep yourself wherever you want to end up.

Some folks don't really have a problem with any of that, mind. They just slip into whatever headspace they wanted and their clever brains keep entertained in the background - possibly even by delighting in watching themselves tumble face first into decadence.

For the rest of us, though, what's important is that you don't despair if your first brushes with an empty head are fleeting. There's a set of skills to be learned, and if you spend a little time exploring where you want to end up and what it looks like to stay there then it can be a lot easier.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

PJO TV SHOW (and book) SPOILERS beneath cut!!!!!

What follows is simply a bunch of my nonsensical responses to the first 2 episodes in no particular order; I really cannot explain that any other way I’m afraid

“Whose side are you on?” “Hers, always. She’s my little sister” JUST RIP OUT MY HEART WHY DON’T YOU

Mythomagic. Mythomagic. Mythomagic.

Sally saying not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero and not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster - THE FORESHADOWING??? THE REFERENCE TO BOOKS THAT ARENT EVEN BEING ADAPTED YET IM LOSING MY MIND - Also, the justice for Medusa in this was absolutely gorgeous and so well done because it didn’t black and white anyone as just a hero or just a villain but very well highlighted the woven and layered morality of a very complex web of stories, personally I’m mostly a Medusa defender but give me a good quality, well written Perseus retelling and you could probably convince me otherwise I think the point of many of these stories is that there is never a true victor and nothing is ever as easy to understand as a hero and a monster. I’m getting distracted now but hey let’s keep going, I really love Stone Blind by Natalie Haynes, which very strongly labels Perseus as the monster and Medusa as the victim, but I also think there is an argument that Danaë’s plight was diminished/overlooked in it and I would be open to hearing opposing views on that. Since I’m in this tangent I should add I don’t study classics I am just a fan, so I’m not the expert and would generally expect others to know more than me so get it out there I’m eager to learn. Anyway, Percy Jackson (sorry for the tangent)

Percy saying he thinks he’s made real friends I WANT TO CRY

They softened Gabe up quite a bit, or at least I thought they did maybe you guys think otherwise, but I wonder how his death will come across in this case(????)

I actually really like that they had Annabeth clock who Percy’s father was and push him into the water instead of it being Clarisse shoving him into the creek and stumbling upon it by accident, because it really heightened that idea of her being six steps ahead

I think the conflict between Grover and Percy was interesting and I’m intrigued as to how easily it’s resolved with the quest coming up, and on that point am I right that Sally making Grover swear to protect Percy was a new addition? Because I’m guessing that if the conflict between them is still heightened then that’s going to be the logical reason Grover uses to get into the quest, but also they made a big deal out of that and I kept expecting her to request he swear it on the Styx but she didn’t, I wonder if it was meant to be implied (?) or maybe I’m just reading into it

There was less Annabeth screen time than I was expecting but every second she was on screen was PERFECTION

The casting could literally l not have been better I love them all omg

I was kind of surprised they didn’t confirm Percy’s dyslexia and ADHD in the first episode and instead had Luke mention it because I always thought that Percy had already been diagnosed long beforw he call to camp but maybe I misremembered that (?)

THE D’ANGELO REFERENCE YES - like I know it wasn’t about them but it has to be intentional right?

The blink and you miss it Kane Chronicles reference amused me I haven’t actually read all of the Kane Chronicles yet but I really should

WAS THAT BLACKJACK!!!!!??????

I’m guessing that mechanical monster Percy saw out the window was reference to the bulls in book three sorry I can’t remember what they’re called, and with that the doodles in his notebook YES!!! I noticed a cyclops, Medusa, the minatour, and what I think might have been the hydra but I haven’t rewatched yet so stay tuned for possible correction on that lol

I love camp so much! The cabins are incredible and the interior of the Hermes is so much nicer than I imagined whilst still maintaining a kind of overcrowded atmosphere, I love it.

“You are Poseidon’s son” “I am Sally Jackson’s son” y’all don’t understand I almost screamed oh my good lord yes yes yes yes yes

Also, sassy Percy