#the longest paragraphs of my whole life

[mismatched-sockss]

You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

[fleetingcalypso]

Hello love! i'm absolutely enraptured by your writing. If i could, i'd love to request a Henry Winter x Reader enemies to lovers? Like an absolutely cut-throat academic rivalry that culminates in a dramatic fight and reconciliation at Francis' house? Thank you!

≋ Sometimes attraction blossoms even in the most hostile of places. I'm sure having Henry's life could only benefit from having a rival, turning his world upside down, keeping him on his toes. This is one of my longest works yet, also one I'm not too keen on, nonetheless I pray it captures your interest.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 4582 words.

≋ TW: mentions of dr*gs, consumption of alcohol, violence (Henry receives a slap in a moment of ire), Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran.

I remember when I initially stepped foot in Julian’s office: most of the words he spoke are lost in time but one thing is forever stitched in the fabric of my memory, he patted me on the shoulder as an affectionate mentor would and with an award winning smile he said, “You’ll fit right in.” It made me feel validated at the time, like I had a place in the world, a bird fallen out of its nest reunited with its family at last. He wasted no seconds in telling me how he would usually limit his students to the odd number of only five, but he could tell there was something about the way I carried myself that would not disturb the peaceful routine he had meticulously crafted.

Classes with Julian were anything but peaceful, to my displeasure, not because of him, not at all. He was a splendid instructor, I often found myself on the edge of my seat with each one of his words. With no surprise, I was not the only one placing him on a crystal pedestal. 

One single man made each class feel as though I was being tortured by demons, poked by sharp pointy tails. Each of my comments was brushed off, deemed useless and void of meaning, each paragraph, line, even a single word I read was followed by a deep voice interrupting me and correcting my pronunciation with great emphasis. Thankfully, I had found friends as well, other than a snake spiraling around my ankle, threatening to consume me whole.

The root of all of my headaches, as much as I’d love to strip him of his name, is called Henry Winter.

It’s not to say that I’d let him walk all over me. On more than one occasion, I was victorious after our heated discussions about the accuracy of a translated text or if we were to choose one of the five Greek cases over another. Following each argument his jaw would clench and he’d let out a curt “Very well, then,” before turning his head away and acting as if nothing had happened, although I could without fail notice the tension in his body. It was rather easy, for some unknown reason we’d always find ourselves sitting next to each other, so close our knees touched.

“Henry,  is there anything you’re unable to do?” One day I asked him, in Julian’s momentary absence, the question felt only natural to pose: with his expertise in various languages and his familiarity with the world in Ancient Greece being so fascinating. The taunting tone in my voice caught the attention of not only my interlocutor, but the rest of our classmates as well. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on me, some looking more amused than others.  His response came only after Bunny elbowed him, egging him on, “Ensuring you will not plague my days, apparently,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The venom he spat failed to enter my system, nonetheless it makes my gaze narrow. 

“You always know what to say.” It’s not a question this time, but an observation which he rewarded with a “Of course I do. Lack of words is for the uncultured.” Our interaction was cut short due to Julian returning, but that would not be the end of it.

That very same day, after our lesson was over we all stood to leave, his hand found the spot on the small of my back as he walked past me, as if it belonged there by birthright. Sometimes I still feel it, the memory creeps up on me in the middle of the night, it keeps me awake whilst making me want more and more of him, like a cruel, vicious, thrilling drug I am unable to have a sober day from.

Class wasn’t the only occasion of the day where we would have contrasting thoughts: once, it happened during a morning when all seven of us sat in the library, open books and notebooks scattered all over our table, “This is going nowhere,” groaned Charles pushing the wrinkled paper he was writing onto towards my direction, “Take a look at this. What do you think?” 

It stroked my ego that he chose my opinion over Henry’s and by a flying glance I noticed a slight surprised glint in his blue eyes, though he was quick to conceal it by focusing onto the fountain pan in his hand. I wasn’t the only one surprised by our friend’s choice in who should aid him in his translation. 

After a short look, the mistake was clear, “Ah, here it is. Your writing is not inherently wrong, ‘Who dares think one thing, and another tell, my heart detests him as the gates of hell,’ while it is correct, it could be worded in a different way, try: ‘For hateful to me as the gates of Hādēs is that man who hides one thought in his mind, but speaks another.’ That should flow better.” Just to be certain - and perhaps to bother him just a small amount - I turned to Henry, “Shouldn’t it?” He didn’t move for a second before humming and nodding, although I might have overheard him whisper “You’re doing too much,” under his breath. When I handed the paper back to its owner I could spot Francis with his hand over his lips, trying to mask a grin, obviously amused by my exchange with our friend.

The amount of times we’ve debated over the littlest of things, it would take all the stars in the universe to count, and it still would not be enough. 

“You’re slow today.” He whispered to me one day, when I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to answer one of Julian’s queries about the Iliad, his breath tickled my ear and sent goosebumps down the back of my neck. It's true, I was slow. Henry's cologne for some insane reason was all I could think about: his closeness to me, as much as it was far by greatly affecting my attention, it certainly was reluctantly occupying a part of my mind. “Have you considered that not every thought should be spoken out loud?” I argued, the left corner of his lips lifted into a crooked half smile, “Interesting. You could benefit from your own advice.” He said, and it ended there. It left me with something I can’t quite recognize.

Ultimately, every day turned into a competition: petty, small things that held my heart hostage, like who was the first to enter Julian’s office at the beginning of the day, who turned in an essay the fastest, whose penmanship was more aesthetically pleasing and whose comments in class were rewarded with more praise. 

Another episode in which I thought our rivalry was set in stone, from the very moment he laid eyes on me, happened during a quiet Wednesday, and we were enjoying a delicious lunch at the twins’ place. Camilla had cooked lamb chops, the rest of us had brought refreshments and some side dishes.  Henry got a hold of my chair before I could grab it, he pulled it out for me then took a seat in the chair furthest away from mine. 

In the middle of our meal, as I was diving in for seconds, Bunny interrupted the calm atmosphere that had formed by being his usual exasperating self and kicking my leg from under the table, “You know,” He began waving his fork in my direction, with his lips still dirty with food, “I’ve always wondered, whenever you look at Julian with stars in your eyes, is it because you truly care about what he has to say, or is it because you’re trying to suck up to him and get easy marks by being a teacher’s pet? He’s too old for you, you know?” From the seat next to me I swear I could hear Charles choke on his food, Richard’s jaw fell open, Francis looked positively disgusted, Camilla -poor soul- pushed her plate away, as the mental image of me being in love with our professor was plastered into her unwilling mind. The only one with no visible reaction was Henry. 

“That’s what I thought as well, at first,” He noted, dabbing his lips with his napkin, “Class with Julian is not a slice of bread even the dirty pigeons on the sidewalk can stumble upon. It is only a matter of time before you realize what blessing you’ve found.” He was a master of masking a mocking undertone in his voice, along with an air of superiority which implied that the one thing he was waiting for was for me to blow up, to storm away, pack my stuff and leave Vermont for good.

“Don’t you think assuming my inability to follow lessons with the rest of you is an insult to Julian’s ability to tell whether someone is worth his time or not? If I were him I’d be quite offended, if I can say so.”

The glare he shot at me, with his blue eyes piercing through his glasses, was enough for me to know I had won; the way he was gripping his fork, his knuckles white as ever, let me know that this was not only a win, this was one of his battleships sinking. This was war, as far as I was concerned, it could only end either with an impossible truce or until one of us was dead in a ditch. 

Not wanting to entirely ruin lunch, Francis was the one to change the subject. What he said I do not remember, as I was too busy basking in my own subtle victory to pay attention, but it did work and Henry made no further jabs at me that day. The same cannot be said for Bunny, who seemed to find it exhilarating that I would stand up to Henry the way I did and spent the rest of the day testing my patience.

Since that day, life has been notably bloodless between me and the human thorn in my side, with the occasional exception. I’ve come to notice that, when he is not wasting his time trying his best to get on my nerves, he passes as a truly handsome man. It might be something about the sheer size of him, or it could very well be the way he looks at me,his gaze permanently deeper than the ocean itself, as well as his hands, veiny and large, yet rarely rough in movements. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve spent far too many instants passing glimpses at his fingers, as they slide along the pages of books.

If I have to stand in front of a jury of Gods, though, and speak my naked truth - with no censors - I’d probably reveal that what is so fascinating about Henry is the way he is a bottomless well of knowledge about Ancient Greece. He is devoted to it, as he is devoted to Julian and in some sick twisted way I can’t help but find that veneration attractive. 

Against my better judgment, I find myself missing our banter more than anything. The way he stared me down used to give me goosebumps, it still does when my eyelids close and I imagine it.

Summer comes faster than I imagine, faster than lightning striking the Earth, and in the blink of an eye I find myself at Francis’s aunt’s house. All of us fell into a comfortable rhythm while residing here, it was a breath of fresh air compared to our daily life. Playing the piano, reading in the vast library, excursions out to the lake, we kept ourselves busy, enjoying the countryside, keeping what -at the time- felt like the biggest secret of our lives from Richard.

At my awakening I was delighted in discovering everyone else was still deep in sleep. I took it as permission to make some breakfast. I had placed two cups of coffee on the table when he made his way into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and not a single sight of his usual exhaustion on his face. Morning sunlight shines onto his skin, giving it a warm glow, he looks positively saintlike. An archangel descending from the heavens, waiting to be welcomed to my mass, just to notify me that the end is coming sooner than I expect. “I made coffee.” I said, setting a cup in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, just for a moment, before his doubt shrouded eyes met mine,  “I have a feeling you’ve poisoned this.” As he was debating whether to accept my offer, Charles joined us. He accepted a cup without a moment’s hesitation, downed it while throwing his head back, then walked off to God knows where, not like I care much.

Henry took a sip only after witnessing that it was indeed safe to do so, I did as well. As the hot liquid met his taste buds I could see him regret he ever came into the kitchen. It was coffee, yes, although unlike my cup which had sugar at the bottom of it, the one he was drinking from had salt in it. A smile tugged at my lips, “Good morning,” I said watching his face scrunch up and force himself to not spit out what was in his mouth. A puzzled look possesses my face as he doesn’t look away from my eyes, not for one second, his eyebrows scrunch while he doesn’t spill a drop of salted coffee, it all slides down his throat. “Good morning.” He replies, coldly, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. 

By the time everyone had come to have breakfast, whether it was a glass of wine, whiskey or any drink of their choice, Henry hadn’t moved. With him following my every move, it felt only natural to imagine he’d be scheming something, and my hypothesis would soon reveal itself to ring true, leaving me like a sailor at sea, in the middle of an impenetrable storm.

The sun burns high in the sky, then it slowly melts into the sea, showering the world in tones of red, gold and purple; we spent dawn-to-dark  in nature, feeling the blades of grass under our feet, taking turns sitting on a boat floating down the lake and resting by the shadows of the trees with books in our lap, the seraphic nature of the day could have been immortalized in a painting by Michelangelo himself, but no amount of expertise with the brush would be able to capture the unmitigated calm that reigned. 

Such a glorious day deserves to have an equally splendid ending, suggested Francis once we retired back to the house. Bottles were hastily opened, alcohol floating in glasses and finding a home between thirsty lips. Inebriation wasted no time in letting  inhibitions be on the loose. One small insignificant disagreement accounted as an act of hypothetical insubordination broke into an altercation between me and my nemesis. It went on forever, such an interminable occasion that our friends abandoned us in the kitchen and went on to enjoy their drinks in the library.

“I don’t think you should be here,” His vicious words didn’t faze me at that point, the knowledge that in his idea of a perfect world I was nowhere to be found wasn’t lost on me, “You should get in your car and drive far, far away from where my eye can’t reach.” The first two buttons of his shirt were nonchalantly unbuttoned distracting me for just a moment, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each sound caught my attention. 

“Careful my friend,” I answered, fingers growing cold from the cool glass in my hand, being gripped with an unusual stability given the wine floating in my system, his face twitched at my name for him, “It almost sounds like my very existence bothers you more than one could imagine.”

“It does. Bother me, it is. It bothers me greatly. I don’t think you should be here” He repeats. As magnanimous as I am, I am no martyr. My glass hits the table with a thud, bright red splashes onto the tablecloth as I raise my voice louder than I would like, “What the fuck is your problem?!” Never in my life had I met a human as frustrating as him, “I can’t imagine I’ve done much to you the first day I sat in that office, yet, you’ve been nothing but unkind towards me.”

“What is my problem?!” He pushes himself to his feet, his voice loud to match mine, “You are my problem!  You’re always having something to prove, buzzing about like a working insect devoted to the queen bee, it’s exhausting to even have you sit next to me.”  I’m tempted to spill my drink in his face, what a sight it would be: savory red drops slipping down his glasses and hair, wetting his cheeks and jaw until it reached his lip. Instead of that I just shove him, resulting in him stumbling a step backwards, clearly not expecting the mouse to fight back against the owl trying to catch it.

“Have you ever even glimpsed in a mirror?! You act as if you’re so all-mighty, like the rest of the world is merely ants under your shoe! It’s nerve wracking when you find someone you can’t step all over isn't it? How does it feel to have found the one person in the world that does not bow down to you?” He enrages me, in all truth. I can’t bring myself to understand why it is, that now of all times, he makes my blood boil, in more ways than one, “Does it turn your stomach upside down? Is it the only thing you can think about?” 

His chest moved for just a single, shaky breath and by now I knew I was playing with fire. If I got burned by touching the sun, at the very least it means I flew high enough to touch it. My hands moved again, ready to push him once again however just a breath before my lips could part to berate him even more his hands caught my wrists.

“You’re a parasite.” He hisses, lowering his face close to mine, by my reflection in the lenses of his glasses it is plain to see his choice of words leaves a mark, not on my face as a slap would, but on my emotions, “You’re a tiny, disgusting, parasite. You’ve single handedly infiltrated yourself in my modus operandi and I am just waiting for the moment I can finally take a moment to breathe again. Since the day you’ve set foot in that office I have, not once, had a chance to relax.” My body reacts before I can allow it to do so, the red handprint forming on his right cheek and his glasses being askew -almost on the brink of falling-  confirm that I did, indeed, strike him in a fit of rage. How I was able to free one of my limbs from his death grip I do not know, adrenaline does some wonderful miracles.

“If I’m a parasite,” My voice comes out in a low growl, “Then you best pay attention I don’t end up killing you.” The more I stand in his presence, in this kitchen, having our chests rising in synch with the slowest breaths we have ever taken, I recognize just how much we latch onto each other, how we’ve stitched our existence together with an obsidian thread the very first time we sat with our knees grazing.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He admits in a whisper I can barely hear. Had our faces not been as close as they are, I’d probably would have thought he’d been mouthing nonsense. One second he’s all I can see, with his monumental figure blocking everything else, the next he’s walking away from me, his glass of wine sits on the tablecloth, still full, untouched.

Now I know how Pandora felt as she unintentionally let the vase she was gifted almost grow empty, now I could describe in meticulous detail what a bee feels after its first and final sting.

I do not join my friends in their gathering. My chest aches with something unfamiliar, comfort certainly won’t be known for as long as I find myself anywhere near Henry Winter.

The moon has reached its place in the sky by barely an hour now, a pearl glistening onto a fabric of pure pitch-black, tiny crystals surrounding it, making sure it will never be alone forever and ever. I’ve never seen a tapestry as breathtaking as the one mirroring on the calm surface of the lake I’m strolling by to gather my thoughts. Henry is somewhat right, deep inside of me I can feel it, I’ll be the death of him one way or another. He’s the king, guiding his troops and his courtesans from the comfortable seat of an opulent throne and I’m an approaching invasion, inevitable and threatening destruction for the kingdom he has built from nothing, rooted in the deepest of sins: pride. Hubris seems to get the better of us both with each breath we take. 

My anger had settled in the brief sixty minutes I’ve spent admiring the darkness, by myself. Some fireflies with their microscopic body attempt to irradiate the entire lakeside with light, oblivious to their size or the impossibility of their mission.

Tirelessly I recount my life at Hampden, every single moment I can recall gets forced under scrutiny: “You’ll fit right in,” Julian had told me, in his eyes there lived a conviction I’ve noticed only during his enthralling lessons. I’ve only ever known him to speak the holy truth, doubting feels like going against everything I’ve ever known. In my solitude I find contentment, time flows steadily, mimicking a river in which nymphs could find respite.

“So this is where you were hiding.” A deep voice rises among the chirping of crickets, “We couldn’t find you at the house.” And just like that the incantation I’d fashioned myself in dissolves in the cool night air, joining the fireflies in their dance to please the stars and the moon. I hear him before I see him. A colorless shadow approaches me, in an impossibly inky abyss of nature, it can only be him; out of all our friends he’s the only one that can tell what bizarre chemical reactions my brain produces, he’s the only one that can read my thoughts like they were the very first lines of the Iliad, because more often than not he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

‘The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing.’ I recite in my mind as the barely human shadow only gets closer and closer, ‘That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign the souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain, whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,’ his footsteps stop behind me, he wants to speak as do I, but neither dare utter a sound, ‘Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore: Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!’ 

Unconsciously I found more satisfaction in rehearsing the words out loud, “Declare, O Muse. In what ill-fated hour, sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?” And of course, he continued them effortlessly: “Latona's son a dire contagion spread, and heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his reverend priest defied, and, for the king's offence, the people died.”  We will never stop trying to compete with each other, it is a losing battle: it’s asking the moon to stop being the unmatchable muse for romance poems, it’s asking the cosmos and all of its constellations to disappear.

“You’re not always honest,” I mumbled, disregarding if he’d consider me weak or frail, ignoring the way I could feel him burn a hole in the back of my head, “Tonight you were what I think is the most honest you’ve been in a long time.”  He’s my tormentor just as much as I am his. 

His knee grazes against mine in the instant he finds a seat on the grass, next to me. His lingering accidental touch takes a hold of me, it’s addictive. “You are a parasite.” He insists and for a moment I think we’re about to raise our voices at each other again, but then he continues with a softer voice, “You’ve latched into my mind, consuming every corner of my life and I am defenseless to it.”

“What do you mean?”

I can’t perfectly see his face in the moonlight, but if he is by any means like me as I know he is, I can consider correct the hypothesis of his pupils being dilated enough to swallow me whole. He drinks me in, like the salty cup of coffee I offered him, he doesn't leave anything behind, doesn’t waste a drop.

“You’re in possession of a great intellect. For a second in your life, put aside the countless feuds we were active participants in and figure it out. You’re hurling me into unwanted and unknown territory.” I know what he means. He could speak every language in the world and I’d still know what each word signifies, in its deepest meaning. It baffles me that he is able to discern my brilliance. He’d never lauded me so. There’s a first for everything, it seems.

“I am not a threat to your leadership, I’m not trying to be.”

He laughs at my words, to my surprise: dry and void of humor, “It’s not my leadership that’s compromised. It’s my heart and mind. While at first I found our game bothersome and quite frankly childish, I’ve unearthed a yearning for it, so influential on my being that I find myself hopelessly wishing you’d dismiss yourself from my life, with the result that I might go back to when you were not the only thing inhabiting my thoughts.”

“I won’t deny I’ve allowed myself to feel the same.” In the dim lighting we sit, I’m appreciative my confession will be the only truly limpid particle of me, I’m not ready for him to see me as I am, not yet, “I yearn for our arguments, for the furrow in your brow and your disapproving stare with each of our disagreements, most of all I yearn for your stimulating presence. Henry, you’re quite the character.”

“So are you. Impossibly infuriating, and delightfully of the essence for me.”

Our friends are waiting for us, I’m acutely aware of it, nonetheless I find myself giving into selfishness for tonight. It is a long way to go, for us two to build a bridge, but with one brick at a time perhaps it is not only a bridge we can erect, but a whole kingdom, with two thrones instead of a solitary one and no invasion to knock at its doors. If his hand slips on top of mine I pretend I do not notice, just like he doesn’t mention my head resting itself on his shoulder. The lake has never looked better, with a bright spotlight shining onto the calm surface, ripped out the pages of a fairytale. Maybe with enough time and effort the fireflies will be able to shine as bright as the moon. 

[voidpacifist]

things I loved about season four of sex ed (spoilers ahead)

the amount of representation present this season. the disability rep, the queer and trans rep, how not shy the writers were confronting different trans and disability rights issues head on.

eric's arc with his religion and his gayness and how he was able to reconcile the two. this one really hit home for me as someone who is both queer and a person of faith. I love getting to see gayness have a place within faith, it just healed something for me, okay?

otis was so classically otis but he finally (FINALLY) acknowledged his own idiosyncrasies without just writing them off as being the fault of wounds in his life. by the end of ep 8 he was dedicated to making things better for himself and for other people and I'm actually so proud of him for that.

aimee's journey with healing from her SA trauma and how she navigated a new relationship with that. also I know it probably wasn't intentional but she's a very autistic coded character to me and watching her flourish as herself with isaac just did something so special to my heart. I would level cities for her.

and adam too!! him finally getting the closure he needed with eric and them communicating !!!! the scene at erin wiley's funeral when eric is able to tell adam how genuinely proud of him he is, just,,,my heart I love it when people get to heal !! also again with the unintentional neurodivergent rep, like come on - sitting undiagnosed by yourself, handsome? he's just like me fr.

I was worried the writers wouldn't do isaac's character justice, even though he was given a good arc in season three I was still anxious about where they would take it now that maeve was overseas and honestly, they didn't give him very much of a story outside of his history and who he was when he was with maeve. similar to aimee with him, I really liked watching more of his artistic traits pop out and I loved seeing him have a healthy friendship with someone. even better, I love it when the feelings he harbored for that person were mutual with no strings attached. I wasn't expecting him and aimee to be endgame but I'm absolutely not disappointed about it (you can tell he's my fav because I've written the longest paragraph about him so far).

cal and aisha and pk. need I say anything more? my only gripe is that I wish we could have had a glimpse of the three of them on a date or even see if there were other people in the polycule but that's okay !! I also just really loved cal's journey with themself and I loved getting to see them supported for their identity it meant so very much to me.

lastly but certainly not the least, I loved that otis and o ended on mutually agreeable terms with each other, it just really added to the whole theme of trying to heal and open new doors and be okay with things not being in control all the time. it was especially touching that he gave his position as therapist to her because he knew and acknowledged he had work to do on himself like !!! very rare otis w but totally welcomed. had the show continued I would have loved to see more development w him.

[c-losur3]

389 words, angst, pre established relationship, reader is accomplished, based on the world @disneyprincemuke created.

My first real try at RPF, for the Logan Sargeant fans, I’m sorry in advance. >> Additionally, if you want me to continue, I have two endings in mind. Let me know!

part 2 here!

You win. The announcers’ voices boom over the track. Your name has never felt more foreign to Logan. Perhaps, it’s not the only unfamiliar thing, and that’s the cruelest thing to him.

You up there, on the top step, starry eyes sparkling with the flash of cameras

And where was he?

Far, far away from where you’re standing now.

Perhaps he knew for the longest time that you’d just continue to rise, fallen stars always make their way back to the sky, and he couldn’t fault you for it.

You and him through it all, you promised with a toothy grin, pinkies interlocked.

The reporters are cruel, even when he can tell they mean well. Congratulating you and your feat, female world champion and broken records.

You’re happy and that made him happy. What changed, he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with.

He insists that he’s fine as you reach your respective motorhomes to pack up for the end of the year. (He’s not.)

And as you walk away, extra excitement in your step, and Seb ruffles your hair, he locks himself in his driver’s room.

You’re amazing. And he can’t fault you for shining.

But if you can win, succeed, then why couldn’t he?

Tears prick his waterline as it sinks in. The replays of your win sting. And it’s never been this way, but why does it hurt him now?

He snaps at you for the first time in your whole friendship, relationship now, this morning.

He’s apologetic immediately but your face loses the smile that’s been honed there for a while now.

He snapped about you and your shiny, amazing, champion friends. And you took it to heart, yelling back that at least they were something.

A pin drops as you realize that you fucked up. You’re sorry, you really are. Hotheadedness and youth go hand in hand, and you never meant to hurt him.

He shakes his head stepping backward as he puts on his coat, running out of the shared apartment, running away even when he feels that you were right.

He’s just a sentence in the paragraph of your life.

You’re reassured him time and time again that he’s important to you, and that his performance would never change what you feel about him, what what if it did, he thinks.

[heartfullofleeches]

FUCKING. YES.

What (some of) my ocs put you as in their phone:

Liu/Lucille (butcher/cannibal Yan): "Bambi" or "Belle/Beauty" The latter related to one of their favorite movies as a kind. If she could love her beast, you'll do the same won't you?

C.C/Saffron (Yan incubus): "Bae <3" with a string heart and flower emojis after. Will just as quickly change it to "Lil' bitch" if you ignore him long enough

Amyas (Yan cupid): "Answer immediately"

Baron (Yan demon): "MJNW" He's trying to spell mine, but his fingers are too fucking fat to hit the right keys

Maddox (Yan reaper): "Them"/the gendered variant. Simple, to the point - brings a smile to their face everytime they see it on the screen.

Alasdair (Yan Angel): "My light" Bro lights up a whole room with those eyes, but pop off king

V (incel Yan): "Kitten"

Miller (streamer Yan): "P1"

Erin (Yan Bully): "Pain in my ass" when you first give it to him. "Everything" after he finally let's his heart bleed.

Theodore (Teacher Yan): "Dear" for you, but he asks you put him in your phone as "Teddy"

Devlin (immortal Yan): "Boo (at night I think of you...)" His favorite song from that time period and what he plays outside your window.

Silas (immortal Yan): "THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE DUMBASS" He sends a lot of "prank texts" to people and almost send you a five paragraph long threat when it was meant for your boss.

Selene (Yandere housewife): "Sweetheart, My One/My Only" She gets so embarrassed when you find out.

Orion (Yandere Devil): "Prized Jewel"

Gemini/Gemini (Twin Devils in one body): "Our Missing Piece" They change it constantly, but that's what it's been for the longest

Daina (Yan Final Girl): "Rid3 or Di3"

Dea (Worshiper God): "My Universe." Stuff like that seems so small to them, but it just feels right.

Cherry, Clementine, Lemon (Yandere robots): "Master" Cherry and Lemon put hearts at the end, Clementine puts a sword

Lime (Yan cat hybrid bot): "Owner~" with a tongue emoji at the end

D.kay (Yan Murderbot): "SUNNI" (sunny) or just a long string of those heart eyed emojis

Milk Tea (Yan cow hybrid): Pet

Eggnog (Yan cow hybrid): "Bunny or J.J" The name of the rabbit plush they own as a child. Without it they aren't sure they'd be alive today. The same goes for you.

Root beer Milk (Yan cow hybrid): "Partner in Crime"

Bluebird (Former Darling Yan): "Saving Grace" or your name with a key emoji at the end.

Gus (Clown Yan): "Cutie Pie"

(And that's it for now. If there are any characters you'd like to see just lemme know and I might do a part two)

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 19: Lil' Beethoven (Ride 'Em Cowboy)

First of all, let this very important fact be known: the love I have for all three albums in the Lil' Beethoven trilogy cannot be overstated. I think I can safely call them my favourite pieces of art ever made. You know, when you look forward to something and it not only lives up to all your expectations but it's also just SO SO much more? Something about this neoclassical / dada / deconstruction of pop music / whatever-you-should-even-call-it approach is absolutely PERFECTLY suited for my tastes, and I didn't even know I was looking for something EXACTLY like this until I found it.

I think the circumstances of my first hearing of this album are pretty funny and something I got pretty lucky with actually (I often think about this with Sparks in general, as much as I wish I've known about them sooner I also do feel like they appeared in my life when I needed that the most. But anyway.) I was very eagerly looking forward to hearing it and finally seeing for myself what the genius of this album is all about. But I insisted that I can only do it through a physical format because yesss, let's make it even more *special*! The moment I've been waiting for! So yeah let's gooo, I need to wait until my CD arrives in the mail (that was one of the longest weeks of my life). And then I started to wonder, well, maybe I actually won't like it that much. To hype myself up to this extent and then be severly dissapointed - would have sucked!

Well, I was NOT dissapointed. Instead I was perplexed, confused, but also very intrigued and quite, ok not just quite, *completely* amazed already. That was the initial reaction and I think it's a rare but very beautiful moment when this happens - no need to *fully* grasp it right away, but enough to be all like "oh that was SOMETHING. I need more." As I said after that first listen (and I actually have my whole LIVE reaction to hearing LB written down lmao, that's how much of a big deal this was for me), I felt like it actually has to grow on me a bit still, gradually but surely with each next listen, rather than the 1st listen being THE prime listening experience. And that was very true! But it wasn't even gradual, it was very fast, seriously. And something very important that stood out to me right away too were the melodies - something about them, and that continues into HYL and ECOTD too. It's this classic feeling of: this always existed, or at least it feels like I've known it for years already. And as I listen more and become more familiar with them the magic still grows.

It's of course no coincidence to me that an album that relies so much on extreme levels of repetition is so addicting, even hypnotising. And once upon a time I thought that I couldn't like something that's too repetitive and therefore could be considered monotonous or "predictable". But nothing is predictable about LB actually. (Besides... ok, I'll get to that one bit later). But yeah, it's good for the brain. And it's been said before by others but this music definitely has this certain neurodivergent appeal thanks to all this, and, well, I love that aspect of it so much and I definitely relate to it on some level that goes even deeper than just song topics and instrumentation choices. It's in the structure and the fundaments of it all too.

I legally can't finish this without a dedicated paragraph to the 2004 Live In Stockholm performance because HOLY SHIT. Feeling so lucky again that all three of these albums got this treatment and we have recordings of these half-concert-half-performance-art pieces that we can now marvel at. I will say that like, a pretty big part of the sum of the appeal that LB has as an album is stored in this show and its visual and narrative elaboration on its themes. And also it's just so fun to watch! Sometimes I thought about how this might be an even better introduction to LB / this era of Sparks / Sparks in general than the actual album but well, never had a chance to test that and you know. Maybe shouldn't recommend Sparks with one of the most leftfield things there is to be found from them. Either way, very good, very important, felt like experiencing the power of LB for the first time all over again.

So now, please hear my exact reasonings for why I so deeply love (almost) every single one of these songs......

The Rhythm Thief

NO song made such a big impression on me the first time I heard it as this. I might have gotten more used to it after all this time but man, The Rhythm Thief, you will always be the realest one to me. This is what made me look forward to the whole album so much and convinced me that it would be like nothing else I've heard before. And that turned out to be so very beautifully true!

How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?

I could listen to this one a hundred times in a row over and over and not get sick of it one bit. That's it, idk what else to add, beautiful and ethereal in every way

What Are All These Bands So Angry About?

Mostly I just want to direct everyone's attention to the bridge section, at the 2:26-2:52 time mark, which as far as I can say is the most heavenly piece of music ever made. Feeling like that Winnie The Pooh soul leaving his body gif each time I hear this

I Married Myself

Aromantic anthem, to me. Not that much to say actually but it's just, a very sweet and pretty song even when it might be taken as just this sort of ironic piece, I think it's this situation where a song can be taken more or less literally and it doesn't lose anything, rather the sincerity takes on a new sort of meaning? Because yes, maybe this hyperbolic situation (marrying yourself) COULD be the solution to the heartbreak of failed relationships. Ever thought about that??? Ok, stopping right here and leaving my I Married Myself analysis for another day

Ride 'Em Cowboy

My mind is blank on this one suddenly. But it's so good believe me. I love it a lot. It just has this LB spirit that makes it very addicting to listen to

My Baby's Taking Me Home

This was sort of the first Sparks song I've ever heard, or maybe that I quote-unquote purposefully listened to, and I think that's pretty important considering that it was the moment that ultimately lead to... all this. This song has always been incredibly beautiful and powerful to me, but lately it just makes me emotional to an extent that makes it hard to listen to most of the time. I WOULD sell all my material possessions for even one chance to experience this song live by the way

Your Call Is Very Important To Us. Please Hold

Earns soooo much as a live version, but even without that I think it's genius in the same way as The Rhythm Thief, and maybe the most disquieting piece here overall... If we ignore the next one maybe

Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls

Sitting there hearing the intro of this song all like "huh, this is so chill and calm... too calm..." and then being hit with, well, everything that's going on in this song afterwards was truly THE MOMENT back in the day (and re: the predictability thing. idk though, it's not like, really an issue). Later on I decided that this sort of narrative nature of the song makes it have less replayability value than the rest (???) but I abandoned that opinion soon enough, thank god. I love it how long it took me to realize that this song and the ending of MBTMH are the only times when drums appear on this entire album (I mean no, I'm not very proud of that fact actually, as the self-proclaimed biggest LB fan in my area. And The Rhythm Thief literally saying "say goodbye to the beat"... come on man). So yes, sometimes less is more! I adore this song now it's such a treat I would gladly terrorize my neighbours with it

Suburban Homeboy

Ok, I'm sorry Suburban Homeboy fans but this is the only song here that I'm not a HUGE fan of. I still think it's brilliant and an incredibly fitting ending for the whole thing - the mood whiplash is amazing as this is the only "vaguely happy sounding" song on here, per my words from months back. And what's better than yelling WE ARE THE SUBURBAN HOMEBOYS! (I'm actually awaiting today's Sparks karaoke rating reveal very impatiently lol the reveal happened before I posted this and I'm very happy about it)

One more actually, a quick word on Wunderbar because it gave us two things that we might have not been able to do without: 1) this whole album actually (the fact that LB exists because of Wunderbar giving the Maels the idea to continue meddling with this style. Up there as one of my fav pieces of Sparks trivia) 2) anddddd the 21×21 performance of it of course

[jackoshadows]

“Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.” - Arya, AFfC

I am not sure how anyone can read this beautiful, evocative little paragraph and not be hit right in the feels by Arya's very visceral longing and love for home.

ARYA STARK WANTS TO GO HOME. She's just been on the longest adventure from hell. She has traveled, seen places and new cultures. She has met new people, learned new languages. It's been the most traumatizing, harrowing experience of her young life. She has seen what power does to people, she has seen the absolute cruelty of men, the helplessness of the smallfolk.

If Arya does end up leaving Winterfell at the end of the story, it would only happen if she's forced to do so and not by choice. There's so much Winterfell in her story, in her thoughts, her emotions, in her memories of her father, in her fondness for Winterfell's people. She's never letting that go again.

Arya has been trying to go home to Winterfell, to her brothers, right from her first chapter in King's Landing. In one of the best parts of the book, she is unable to give up Needle - which is symbolic of her home, it's people, her family and Jon Snow.

Polliver had stolen the sword from her when the Mountain's men took her captive, but when she and the Hound walked into the inn at the crossroads, there it was. The gods wanted me to have it. Not the Seven, nor Him of Many Faces, but her father's gods, the old gods of the north. The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, but he can't have this. - Arya, AFfC Needle! The last link to Winterfell and Arya. The Faceless Men want her to give it up because they recognize it’s importance. - GRRM She's with the Faceless men because where else does she have to turn to? - GRRM

At the end of the series, she's going to be at the most 12/13. She has just had the worst childhood. Why in the world would she want to traverse the same path where she has experienced the worst trauma?

Would anyone suggest that after the series ends Sansa would like to do exactly as she wanted at the start of AGoT? That's nonsense right? Because Sansa has changed as a character from where she was in book one. She no longer wants any of that. Everyone acknowledges that Sansa wants to go home to Winterfell and therefore she will end up there. Why is the same not okay for Arya who also desperately wants to go home?

Arya is in a really dark and depressing place in her TWoW chapter. I want to see her get away from there and be united with family and home. And yet, again and again, we get this incomprehensible opinion that Arya is not going to be happy at home, she just wants to travel and meet new people. Makes no sense at all to me.

And then there's the whole theme of power that's explored in the series. Our main characters start off in the story as the underdogs and outcasts. They are at the mercy of an unjust and cruel society.

Jon Snow for example has to climb the ladder to the top, to effect reform and change as Lord Commander. Dany, especially as a young girl in a man's world, had to have the power to free slaves and reform Meereen for the better. Tyrion was at his craftiest as Hand of the King, involved in diplomacy and strengthening Lannister control despite being shunned by society for his disability. Same with Bran being seen as less of a person on account of being disabled. Arya is treated as being less than her sister for not conforming to Westerosi patriarchal ideals.

The point of their stories is not that they can't fit into Westeros, that they will never fit into Westeros and therefore have to fade away at the end of the story. That would be utterly nihilistic and I doubt this is what GRRM considers 'Bittersweet'.

The point of their stories is that because of who they are, because they have the empathy of understanding what it's like to be different and treated differently, because they want things to be better, because they are ambitious and reach for power and get power, they will do things different this time around and try and make Westeros a better place for all it's people.

Putting Arya and Sansa's subplots, themes, characterization and character growth side by side, the only reason someone would say that Arya's story does not vibe or resonate with leadership while Sansa's does is because of sexism.

I can't think of any other reason why readers can't visualize Arya Stark trying to help the smallfolk, as a leader with the hard power to help them, when she personally experienced and sees their suffering. What is the point of entire books of it being hammered in again and again of Arya recognizing how the kings and nobles at the top don't really care for the smallfolk?

Varys, a long term tactician, says this about an ideal king.

"Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Foremost amongst the qualities mentioned is a connection with the smallfolk. Something that is inherent and deeply embedded into Arya's 31 POV chapters. What is the point of this long story arc and characterization if at the end she's going to jump on a boat and be 'liberated' and learn new languages? She's already done all that in Braavos.

Again and again, the point is made, that a good ruler has to put the people first.

Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”  -  Daenerys, ASOS

I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?” - Jon ADwD

I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.” - Stannis, ASoS

“What is the life of one bastard boy against an entire kingdom?” “Everything."  - Davos, ASoS

What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? - Daenerys, ADwD

"Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry.” - Arya, ASoS

And then there's the North itself. A harsh place with tough people, who send off their old to fight because there is less food. Where Robb Stark only gains the support of Greatjon Umber because Greywind chews off his fingers! Where we already have an example of female governance in the Mormonts. Why couldn't Arya Stark - the Ned's little girl, Valiant Ned's precious little girl, for whom the North is marching now in the harshest winter - become a leader who wants to help her people in the same way they tried to help her?

One can try to cover it up by saying that Arya wants to fly free and be liberated and go sailing - she's already done all that and it's the most harrowing, traumatizing, painful experience of her young life. All she wants to do now is go home.

I really don't see how one can read a story that's chock full of Arya being a leader of her little pack, Arya being intelligent and strategic with a desire for justice, a keen understanding of right and wrong, compassion for her fellow man and say that her story does not resonate with leadership? I don't get it.

[dragoncookies]

Sophie is Fitz's "lacy"

Think about it! As of late in the series Shannon brings to jarring light, in the cognate inquisition scene, the jealousy Fitz has of Sophie and how Fitz puts her on a pedestal. So, all at the same time, he views her as perfect, is jealous of her capabilities and has feelings for her. I can't help but hear that phenomenon when I listen to Lacy. The lyrics in Lacy are also just so juicy and fun to analyze.

Full lyrical analysis below the cut (it's a lot, but I love doing this sort of thing)

Lacy, oh lacy, skin like puff pastry.

Aren’t you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?

Dear angel lacy, eyes wide as Daisy’s,

Did I ever tell you that I’m not doing well?

(this is the longest paragraph, I promise)

The first lyrics here set up the whole song by characterizing the subject of the song. The emphasis on calling lacy “sweet” and an angel is the narrator criticizing this person for the fact that they can never seem to be wrong, and that they just seem like an angel who always has the best intentions. Of course, these lyrics are also just literally calling the person sweet and caring in nature (most of this song has lyrics that have double meanings, which is why this song fits Fitz’s feelings about Sophie as of the latest book so well imo). Sophie is a pretty sweet girl, but most importantly she calls all the shots and doesn’t get as much flack for what she does, whether it be a good call or not. For example, Sophie was BARELY held accountable for when she let Alvar go in Legacy (not hating on our favorite Sophie, but that was a horrible choice). In Marella’s short story, Marella is faced with a hard choice and so she thinks of what Sophie would do in her place. For Fitz, it seems to him that Sophie can just do whatever she wants and not get any criticism for what she does. Where HE wants to be perfect and always do what is right, he seems to only do what is wrong, and compared to how Sophie can only seem to do what is right it is probably frustrating for Fitz. Of course, none of this is Sophie’s fault. Fitz needs to learn find peace in himself and not to make Sophie something other than mortal (I would say human but they’re not actually human are they?). Fitz cannot do this at the moment, however, because he’s “not doing well” as is said by the song. He still never fully has gotten to process his feelings about Alvar, as for the ENTIRETY of Flashback he literally had to bottle all his emotions or he would die. That’s lowkey traumatizing. 

Fitz is just not doing his best, simply put. 

Ooh, I care, I care, I care.

Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time,

Watching, hidden in plain sight.

The emphasis on “I care” reveals that the narrator is pained by the degree to which they care. They don’t want to care as much as they do, but still they’re always watching and needing to know more about the “lacy” that they loathe. Fitz doesn’t want to let his jealousy affect his friendship and his feelings for Sophie as much as they do.

Ooh, I try, I try I try,

But it takes over my life, I see you everywhere,

the sweetest torture one could bear.

Fitz really does try. He’s always saying he’s working on himself, and he does. Yet, the progress isn’t instantaneous, and the rate at which Sophie’s success conflicts with his own is greater than the rate at which Fitz tries to manage his feelings. Fitz’s entire life is supposed to be about being the greatest and the most “perfect” elf there is, but when Sophie comes in and starts to fill in all those standards, it can’t help but conflict with Fitz’s pursuits in an ugly way. So the lyrics "it takes over my life" and "I see you everywhere" are pretty fitting. 

Yet, Fitz wants her. He wants to spend his life with her. Fitz admires her and can’t help but develop feelings for this pretty girl who was a breath of fresh air from his life of perfection (though distorted by the warped view elves have of romance because of the matchmaking system). So, torture though it is for Fitz to watch Sophie take his place as the greatest, it is sweetened by the fact that he’s watching someone he admires (matching the lyrics "the sweetest torture one could bear). 

Smart, sexy lacy, I’m loosin’ it lately

I feel your compliments like 

bullets on skin

Coming from someone above you, compliments can feel untrue, and when you’re jealous of that person who is above you, those compliments can just feel painful. 

Before Legacy, Fitz and Sophie were on the same page, and their relationship with each other was great, too great. Fitz also seemed be more useful in past books in the series, but as of late he hasn’t been very useful (as Rayni joked about in the beginning of Stellarlune. It was funny but also I felt bad for Fitz). 

Sophie starts to ghost Fitz during Legacy. Then when Fitz tries to find Alvar by searching through Cassius’s mind (bold, Fitz), Fitz finds out Cassius was playing him the whole time! Cassius was never really going to tell Fitz where Alvar was, but Cassius had no problem letting Sophie know. Sophie was just better than Fitz in that she could search Cassius’s mind and that she found Alvar. In a single day, Sophie did both of Fitz’s projects for him. Then Sophie reveals in book 10 that actually she has feelings for Keefe, so even romantically he isn’t good enough. Ouch. As of late, Fitz is loosing control of his perfect facade and of his ability to control his life, and so in turn he spirals inside and looses control of all the little things he used to be able to control about himself. 

Dazzling, starlet, Bardot reincarnate, 

Well aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist?

While Sophie isn’t aspiring to be an actor, she is aspiring to be a “star” in the sense that she’s the symbol of change and she’s aspiring to be something great (referring to the lyric “starlet”). From the moment she entered the lost cities, Fitz's pride in life, everything he was made to be and told he had to become, starts to be fulfilled by this talented girl named Sophie. She begins to overshadow Fitz in a lot of ways during the series, like how she ends up in the nobility (Fitz's dream job) or ends up finding Alvar (something Fitz has been trying to do for months and months). So the judge-y tone in which Olivia sings “well aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist?” are a pretty great way to represent the contempt Fitz likely seems to feel.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care

Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots

You got the one thing that I want

The simile of “like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots” describes a feeling emotional turbulence. Which, in relation to Fitz, is fitting since he likely feels strongly about his current relationship with Sophie. The beginning scene of Unlocked actually details it. When Keefe could feel Fitz’s emotions, Keefe said he felt, “Sadness. Nervousness. Regret. Loneliness. Plus a hefty dash of anger” (idk what page number). He really does like Sophie, their friendship is priceless. 

The lyrics “you got the one thing that I want” have a double meaning. On one hand, Sophie is the one he wants. She stole his heart (and now she broke it, oops). On the other hand, she has leadership, a position of power that makes Fitz secretly so jealous. All these conflicting feelings surely turn his stomach up in knots.

Ooh, I try, I try, I try

Try to rationalize, people are people

But it's like you're made of angel dust

These lyrics convey that the author struggles to view this person as a normal human being because they’ve idolized this person in their mind. 

What is also frustrating is trying to be rational about someone when you’ve idolized them. In the cognate inquisition it was revealed that Fitz viewed Sophie as this strong, fearless and perfect leader. Now that it's become a problem, he has to try to see her as a normal elf, full of flaws (just like everyone), but it's hard for him to let go of the expectation of perfection he’s lived under his whole life.

I’ve often wondered if that’s why he views Sophie the way he does. Maybe he’s just been projecting his own need to be perfect onto her, and has been falling for the Sophie in his mind that would please his Vacker family instead of the real Sophie. 

(bridge)

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh

This doesn’t have to do with the lyrics above (it's just “oh” so not much to go off of), but the way Olivia sings this whole song is whispery and angelic, but strained, almost as if she’s fighting herself. She’s singing a song about an ugly flaw in a beautiful way, painfully unearthing the jealous side of admiring someone on top of condemning them for being seemingly perfect. Fitz himself is this image of perfection. He’s the epitome of elven culture. He’s a beautiful, ethereal elf, who has the most perfect life and does everything right. Yet, his flaws are such a stark contrast in comparison. The way Shannon has written him has a heavy emphasis on his struggle to work on his flaws. His whole character sort of symbolizes the elven world, in that it's so pretty and perfect on the outside but broken and hiding horrors inside. As the elven world crumbles throughout the series, so does he. 

An angelic song about one’s own flaws is very fitting for him, I'd say.

Lacy, oh lacy, 

it's like you’re out to get me. 

You poison every little thing that I do.

This last, whispered bit of the song reveals the true loathing. For every lyric before the this point, any feelings of true loathing were braided into comments of adoration. Here, however, it is confessed that the author is scared of the way this “lacy” threatens them. This “lacy” really effects them, she poisons the authors life. The speaker feels targeted by lacy’s success, like it's a personal attack, and to the author it is personal. This “lacy” makes the author feel smaller in comparison. It's a deeper, hidden self loathing. The author is jealous of lacy’s perfection because the author loathes themselves for not being perfect like lacy is. So everything the author does seems to be disgustingly unworthy compared to what lacy does. 

This is how Fitz feels about Sophie in a sense. Maybe not as strongly, but certainly Fitz’s subconscious desire and pressure to be perfect generates feelings inside him that parallel what Olivia Rodrigo describes here. 

Sophie is Fitz’s “lacy”. 

Lacy, oh lacy,

I just loathe you lately,

And i despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you.

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.  

Fitz never used to feel this way about Sophie, at least not to the degree that he feels now. As things have shaken out, he’s been loathing her. 

This is something that likely frustrates him, because he likes Sophie. She’s his best friend besides Keefe (debatable). Nobody wants to be obsessively jealous over someone they love. Yet, this obsession with Sophie, the reasons that he is jealous of her, are also why he started to fall in love with her, and pretty hard. This is why the lyric “I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you” goes so hard (excuse my un-academic language). His mind is poisoned by the need for perfection that growing up as basically elven royalty, as a Vacker, conditioned him to. He has a spoiled mindset, he’s used to getting what he wants, and for things to go his way (relating to the lyrics "my rotten mind”). Maybe he just wants to get Sophie out of his head, maybe he just wants to stop feeling for her the way he does. 

Maybe he just wants Sophie to stop being the thorn in his heart that she has likely, unfortunately, become because of his "rotten mind". 

(none of this analysis is Sophie or Fitz hate. We love Sophie in the household, and we also love Fitz in this household)

[roomwithanopenfire]

1, 2 & 10 for the fanfic writer ask!

Thanks for the ask!!! (from this ask game)

the last sentence you wrote

“Ngk,” I reply, pulling the blankets over my head.

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

Nobody's allowed to hold me to it but the other day I had about three paragraphs of Humdrum POV in me that I wrote down. Will anything come of them? That's to be determined...

10. what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

All of my long fics have rotted at least 3 months on principle. Let me see which one is the longest...

My COBB fic was first created Feb 2023 but i didn't start working on it in earnest until like Feb this year. So that's a whole year. I'm pretty sure that one's the longest, but Proof of Life had a similar amount of fermenting time.

[saintescuderia]

How To Become A Writer?

Responses will vary. They all won’t answer you.

It happened when I started working full-time.

It’s interesting that — as soon as Teams calls and spreadsheets became a reality, the adjoining tabs open would have Google searches on how to become a writer. 

The very question: how to become a writer? It’s funny to think that Google could’ve provided an answer to something writers themselves has been struggling to answer for the longest time. Every single Paris Review Interview provides a different response — albeit they all share the same trait of being philosophical, artistic and not at all straightforward. 

The only straightforward thing I could find on how to become a writer was the Google-sponsored website of Medium. It seemed like this was the updated version of early 2000s blogging and Wordpress. 

I had tried Wordpress. I had also given up on Wordpress. 

And so I tried Medium. I shortly gave up on Medium. 

It wasn’t due to the same reasons, though. Wordpress was confusing and isolating. Medium was easier and you already had articles to read before you noticed the little button to write your own. However, therein lay the problem: Medium gave me nowhere to hide. Was I fully ready to embrace it? Was I ready for my life to change? Eevery word I put out there has to be perfectly selected and crafted in my own original way that I am changing lives with each paragraph. No matter the fact that I don’t even know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. I just know that I need to do it. 

The imposter syndrome got to me. No matter the inherent desire to do this — something existing since the days of waking up 5am before school to write fanfiction — I just couldn’t stay consistent. 

During my brief Medium interlude last time, I did see a trend. People would try to build their following through writing consistently for 30 days. 90 days. It didn’t really matter. They ahd set a goal and wrote — and posted — consistently for that alloted amount of days. 

I read some of those posts. They weren’t all life-changing. They weren’t philosophical or even artistic. But they were straightforward. They were here, I did it. It’s not great, but I showed up and did it anyway. If I think about what is missing from this, it’s that very thing. To get just get over myself and write badly because bad writing is inevitable. 

So, here is my own 30 day challenge. I'm documenting this not just on Medium but also on the website that has had my back since the inception of my personality as a whole. Tumblr.

It may be odd to think that I am using Tumblr as a means to post my work and start to build up a portfolio, if you will. Tumblr's day has passed and it gave the likes of Rupi Kaur her platform back in 2010s - we've moved past that!

Sure. Neil Gaiman is still on here.

Also, unlike Wordpress or Wix or any of those other sites, the 10+ years I've spent on this forbidden 'hell-site' means I actually know how to use the damn thing. If we're going to embark on the journey of writing everyday, at least give me the past of least resistance. I know Tumblr.

Because, really, this is all so I can get out of the ivory tower that is every writer’s self-doubts and insecurities. Who knows, maybe I’ll start to figure out just what it is to be a writer. 

(It also helps that F1 is back. That may or may not be a coincidence.)

[otakusheep15]

The Obey Me fandom is back at it again lol

This is probably the longest post I've ever made, and I honestly don't know why it got so long to begin with. As a brief summary, someone on Reddit insulted Levi, talking about how he's a creep and no one would like him if he existed irl, and they said we need to raise out standards. However, they didn't ever mention how none of the brothers would be good people irl. Also, this is a fictional game with fictional characters who aren't real to begin with, so all of their argument is kind of invalid. And this is my response. The Reddit post is under the cut in paragraph two.

For those of you who want to know, the full post (excluding these two) is a total of about 15 paragraphs. Some are longer than others, but most of them are pretty decent lengths. I know not many people will read the whole thing through, and I get that. If you go to the Reddit post, most people in the comments do a better job of making these arguments in fewer words, so I'd recommend that if you'd prefer.

Update: they deleted the post, but you can still see the comments, so you can have a basic idea of what was said.

So, basically, I saw a Reddit post about Leviathan. Now, for those of you who don't know, Levi is my favorite Obey Me character, so I was naturally interested in this thread. The original post was about how no one would like Leviathan if he wasn't a hot anime boy. Like, if he weren't conventionally attractive, most people would see him as a pervert, a creep, and a weirdo. Then, the post ended with saying that we should raise our standards if we like Leviathan.

Full link here if you wanna take a look for yourself. Most of the comments on that post kind of said what I'm about to say now, so if you don't wanna read all of this post, I highly recommend reading some of the comments, as they do a good job of explaining most of my points.

Anyways, this whole post just completely misses the point of not only Levi's character, but the entire Obey Me game as a whole. The OP specifically goes and attacks Levi for his personality, but, in reality, if any of the brothers were real people or not conventionally attractive, they would be some of the worst, most hated people I can think of. All of them have their own red flags and bad personality traits, but that's part of the fun. The game is a form of escapism that shows us idealized versions of these people that would usually give most people major icks. I'm gonna go over just a few of my own personal icks with each character just to give y'all some examples, but just know that I'm not attacking anyone's fave, I'm just trying to make a point.

Lucifer has a very dominating personality. He acts like he's the most important one in the room, and he does his best to control you, the player. In a few interactions with him, you're not given the option to say no to his advances, and it makes me (and some others) uncomfortable. Plus, he has this whole thing about how he fully believes we can't love anyone more than we love him, which is a weird mentality. If Lucifer were real, he would be seen as one of those creepy guys who try and manipulate you into a relationship and then fully expects you to listen to whatever he says at all times. That's not attractive, that's creepy and a major red flag, at least from my perspective.

Mammon is way too overprotective of the player. Whenever we try and interact with one of his brothers and/or another character, he constantly cockblocks us and forces out of a romantic interaction. In real life, this behavior would be a red flag on so many levels, and it would just be seen as downright possessiveness. That level of possessiveness is not attractive. Not to mention, Mammon has a major money problem. He's constantly in debt and gambling all of his money away. He has a straight up addiction to gambling and spending money, and that is not healthy. Plus, he always seems to have beef with someone over money, and it's usually us or one of his brothers who has to bail him out of it. That's not attractive, and no one in real life would want to date someone with this much trouble with money.

Since Levi was the main focus of the Reddit thread, I'm going to skip him for now and come back later because I have some points I'd like to make.

Satan has severe anger issues, and I think we all know how well that translates into a relationship in real life. He very easily has the chance to become an abuser of some kind, especially a violent one. Not to mention, Satan has horrendous amounts of daddy issues, and that's all he can talk about half the time. These two things are a terrible combination, and it would not work out well in real life. If Satan ever got angry at a partner, who knows what he could do to them. He also has a bad habit of bringing in stray cats without any warning. These cats could have diseases, they could be violent, or they could be someone else's cat entirely. But he'll refuse to part with the cat, and it'll be pretty hard to get him to let it go. This last part is more speculation than anything, but he also seems like the manipulative type. Like, he's very intelligent, and he seems like he has the ability to easily manipulate someone if he wanted.

Asmodeus is very flirtatious, and he flirts with a lot of people. Look, I love Asmo so very much, and I will defend him with my life, but I'm making this point because it's necessary to my argument. Asmo would be a cheater in real life. He'd be a huge cheat, or, at the very least, he's want some kind of open relationship. Now, I'm not bashing on open relationships. However, I don't think Asmo would effectively communicate properly enough to have a healthy open relationship. He'd go out without telling you, hook up with people without telling you, and I could even see him try setting you up with other people without your permission. Not to mention, he's famous, and he has a lot of fans. Sometimes, he puts those fans first instead of you, and that can make anyone jealous. Not to mention, he has a habit of being very vain and attention seeking. he also prioritizes himself above all else, including you. He always compliments you, but then ends it with something along the lines of "but you're still not as cute as me," and ruining the whole compliment. This type of guy in real life would been as a playboy and a self-centered asshole, and no one wants someone like that.

Beelzebub eats way to much, and he's constantly running down his family's food supply. He also has a habit of spending way too much money, but it's usually food-centered. Again, this is just mere speculation, but Beel also seems like the type to be rude to waiters if they mess up his order or don't have a certain food he wants. It's already canon that he has pretty bad anger issues, and sometimes they can even rival Satan's, so it isn't much of a stretch to believe he would get angry at wait staff for something like this. Honestly, I can't think of many other icks I have with him, and he seems like one of the least problematic brothers to me, but feel free to talk about your own Beel icks if you have any.

Lastly, Belphegor literally killed us. Like, yeah, most of the brothers have threatened to kill us or have come close at some point, but Belphie actually succeeds. And, in real life, if you die, you don't come back, so Belphie is already the worst one in real life. But, let's move past that. He is so lazy to the point where he refuses to get out of bed half the time. He's constantly falling asleep in the most random of places, and it is downright impossible to wake him up sometimes. Plus, he also tries to drag us down with him, thereby keeping us from being productive and missing important events. Belphie is also the youngest child, so he's been spoiled his whole life and just automatically assumes everything he wants should be given to him without him working for it. For the record, I'm not saying every youngest child is like this, but Belphie certainly is. He can also be quite the manipulative guy, using his youngest privilege to pretend like he's all innocent and whatnot.

So, yeah, overall, all of the brothers easily have their own icks that would make them terrible in real life. However, I do want to circle back to Leviathan. I will admit, just like his brothers, Levi does have his own icks I would dislike in real life, but the one's OP brings up aren't even icks. They're traits that most introverted people have, not to mention Levi is heavily autistic coded and has many traits that line up with how people with autism act.

Their first point is that the way Levi talks about idol groups is creepy or weird. They then cite a quote from him complaining about how an idol group he likes that's known for being cute suddenly dropped a new music video that looks much sexier. Then OP says that Levi has not right to get mad over what an idol group chooses to do. However, Levi has every right to get mad. In fact, most people get mad whenever a group they like decides to change directions in some way. I mean, we all saw what happened when One Direction broke up. And, if you actually look at how Levi reacts, it's really not that extreme of a reaction. With how OP treats his words, you'd think he did something horrible like go online and spread hateful and misogynistic words about the group like so many creepy otaku men tend to do. But, Levi doesn't do that. He's simply just expressing his dislike of this new route to a friend. That's a very healthy way to express negative feelings, and he's doing it well. He even says that he's still gonna support the group and just see where it goes from there. He does nothing creepy or weird at all in this interaction.

And right after that, they bring up the fact that this is a fictional game. Their exact words are "I know this is all fictional and whatever..." and the ngo on to say something else. With that one phrase, they completely contradict their own argument. The whole point is that this is a fictional game with fictional characters. Levi isn't real, and none of the others are real, so there's really no point in getting hung up in their personalities like this. The only reason I did was to show that none of them are perfect and we shouldn't target just one without taking the others into account as well.

Then they say that no one would be gushing over him if he were real and that he's cringy, creepy, and weird. However, most of his traits are just those of an introverted, autistic person with bad social skills. He likes anime and video games, and he likes talking about those interests and interacting with his fandoms. Yes, he lacks a filter, but that's not creepy, that's just bad social skills. Hell, I tend to lack a filter because I have trouble reading the room sometimes. I am both introverted and mentally ill, but no one would call my behavior creepy or cringy. I just have trouble socializing, just like Levi. If he were real, he would just be an awkward guy who needs help figuring out social cues. He's not as creepy or perverted as people make him out to be, especially compared to characters like Lucifer, Asmo, and even Mammon at some points.

Finally, they end their argument with saying that if he weren't pretty or an LI, he would be the most hated character in the game. Except, he already kind of is, because this is how most people tend to think already. Many people fail to understand that lots of Levi's traits are just him being social awkward and autistic. If fact, he rarely even pervs on the player because he's too shy, meaning we have to initiate most of the more heated scenes because he won't do it himself. He's not a perv, he just lacks a filter sometimes.

And, honestly, this whole paragraph they stuck at the end: "Also: I’m well aware that ppl already think he’s creepy, but this is addressing those who excuse it all because he’s pretty, or loves you. Like please raise your standards. Also your free to have your own taste in men, this is not to make fun of people who like Levi. This is about levi himself, and if he looked totally different, things would not be how they are now." was just straight garbage. If we raise our standards for one, shouldn't we raise them for all? Meaning we wouldn't like any of them because they're all terrible.

Sorry this was so long, and thank you to anyone who stuck around and read it all (probably no one). I just get really mad whenever someone comes after Levi like this.

[severeweatheralert]

Things I learned while writing two novel-length fics in the space of nine months

Or, advice I hope might be of someone use to someone out there, but all brains are different so YMMV. Ironically, this is probably the longest tumblr post I've ever written. Do let me know if you got something out of it!

Planning

You don't need to know every single plot detail at the start. It DOES really help to know roughly where you're going, plotwise and thematically, so it feels less like you're running straight into the great unknown and more like you're headed to some destination. Even if you don't quite know how you're going to get there, yet.

You don't need to know every single character detail, either. Favourite song? Favourite food? I couldn't name my own, let alone my characters'. What is important is a general idea of what makes them tick. What do they want? Why are they here? How do they think? (and if you do introduce details, save them in a notes file someplace, so you can easily find them later).

Outlines are great. Outlines are not the law. If you come up with something that works better than the thing you'd originally planned? Change it.

Scene setting

Remember that you're writing fic, not a movie script. That means you don't have an effects team to pay and you can make the entire environment do whatever you want. Forest fire on the horizon to match your characters' mood? Do it.

Trust that your readers' imagination works. You don't need to describe every single detail to set a scene effectively. Just pick out a few that give off the mood you want, and leave it at that. (Setting dependent, of course- a scifi setting will need more description than a classroom or a hospital room, where most people will have been in their life at least once). This goes for character descriptions too.

Sprinkle scene descriptors through the dialogue/action instead of starting with a whole paragraph of exposition. You'll pull people in quicker.

Research: if you're setting your fic in an existing place, it helps to do (some) research and incorporate that in the work. Simple things like incorporating the name of an existing retail chain or a highway makes your setting feel a lot more real. Google Maps is great if you're writing in a country you've never been to. Just hop on streetview.

Drafting

If you're trying and failing (multiple times) to write a scene, ask yourself if there might be a pacing reason for that. Is the scene necessary at all? Are you trying to start too early in the scene? What are you trying to establish with it, and could that maybe happen elsewhere in the story?

If you get stuck on a phrase/name you haven't picked/word you can't think of/detail you haven't yet researched: put something like [NAME] in brackets. Then keep going. You can come back to it later and you don't need to disrupt your writing flow.

Turn grammar and spell check off. Run a spell check when editing but don't get haunted by the little red line while drafting. A lot of the time its suggestions are bad anyway.

When writing dialogue-heavy scenes, it's sometimes nice to get the actual dialogue out of the way first, then come back later and add actions or descriptions in between to pace the dialogue.

Sometimes you'll have to draft a scene multiple times before it feels right. This is painful, but ultimately okay.

Feel like you should write but don't really want to? I like to set a timer for like 20-30 minutes, give it a go, and if I'm not into it by the time it goes off I'll go do something else.

Editing

Let a section sit for at least a day before going back in to edit. Give your brain some time to forget some of it. You can still draft the next bit in this time!

Sometimes it helps to set the text to a different font or to paste it into a different text editor. Trick your brain into thinking you haven't seen it before, basically. If you're brave, you can even use the editor of whatever website you're posting to.

This is when you run the spell check. But remember: you're allowed to mess with grammar and use words that the spell check says don't exist. "He deadpanned" is a perfectly understandable dialogue tag, for example.

Use a thesaurus! I like powerthesaurus.org because it has a dark mode. The main thing to remember is that you're using it to find synonyms that may fit your meaning/the mood better, not to find more complex words. Especially useful if you find yourself using the same word over and over in a section.

Practical things

Brainstorming on paper works WAY better for my brain than brainstorming digitally, for reasons unknown. Plus you get the fullfillment of using up a notebook.

Have a scraps folder for deleted scenes. Don't actually delete them! You can scrap them for good lines later.

Especially for longform work, keep notes. Things like repeated lines, relevant plot details, things you want to incorporate in future chapters: keep them somewhere where you can find them.

For writer's block: sometimes you need to let a story simmer for a bit. I like going for hikes or chewing on my plot in the shower.

I like having two WIPs with vastly different moods at the same time. One in posting stages, one in drafting stages. That way if I don't want to work on a very moody WIP, I can switch to the other and still get something done.

If you're writing longform work: you'll improve over time. Try to resist the urge to go back and edit the first chapters once they start grating at your perfectionism. Especially if you've already posted them.

Don't write the whole thing in one document if it's longer than ~10k. I like SmartEdit Writer to organize my fics. It's free.

Uploading

I'd recommend having a few chapters' backlog before you start posting. This way you a) know you like the fic enough to keep working on it for more than one chapter; b) have some backlog in case writer's block strikes or life gets in the way of writing; c) can go back and edit in foreshadowing or edit out plotholes as you discover them.

If you have (and want to give) a lot of content warnings, keep a list while you're writing the chapter, so you don't have to figure it out last minute before uploading.

Your works' stats (kudos/hits/subs/comments) say nothing about the quality of your work. This one is hard to internalize.

[thawthebeez]

on today's episode of What the Hell is Tumblr Use Thawthebeez Going Crazy Insane About?

PROMISES IN HAIKYUU

specifically this one:

you know the one. the good ol' "I don't care how shitty the toss is, if it's sent my way, I'll hit it" said by none other than Hinata "I keep my promises" Shouyou.

now, in the midst of my monthly season 4 rewatch, i was reminded of the super tense points at the end of the Inarizaki vs. Karasuno match, including the one where Hinata uses his foot to score a point, which isn't the first time he's done it, but i'll be using it as my prime example anyway because i feel like the mood is less "omg he used his foot to score how crazy is that" and rather more of a "HEY GUYS LOOK AT THE CRAZY INSANE BOND BETWEEN THESE TWO CHARACTERS"

Let us begin.

Alrighty so we've got ourselves a pretty sticky situation here. The scores are tied 25-all, and letting Inarizaki get the point would just put the pressure back on Karasuno so it's best to avoid that. They're all getting pretty tired, it's taking more energy to get to places, reactions are delayed, all that.

So, Kageyama goes to set the ball and...

It kinda flops. Unfortunate, yes.

and To Be Fair, if this was ANY OTHER GUY this would have been a point lost for Karasuno. Easy. Literally no questioning that. If this was a toss to Tsukishima or Tanaka or Asahi or LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE, that ball would have dropped.

but it doesn't.

Because it's Hinata, that ball stays in play. Hinata picks it up anyway because this is a toss for HIM. Not getting it up would be breaking a promise.

now, a promise like this isn't too insane, but the timing of which it's made IS. that promise is made just after Tsukishima airs out all of Kageyama's dirty laundry from his middle school days, talking about the whole "no one was there" thing (which leads into the "no one was there" / "i'm here" interaction that literally make me explode every single time without fail).

to paraphrase in a Very Normal way: "my tosses were too fast and demanded too much and so the ball just dropped and that was the most traumatic thing to ever happen in my life second to my grandpa dying" followed by "okay Cool. whatever. I literally do not care actually (soz abt ur grandpa tho </3). you could set the ball to the other side of the school and as long as it was addressed to me i'll get it. i do not care. just toss to me pls i beg" and that's that. boom. promise made. will never be broken. ever.

And then there is, of course, the other promise that is "One day I'll win and stay on the court the longest" that gets established in the first episode and is KEPT and just. ugh. i love how this show establishes promises and no matter how crazy they may seem they're always kept.

I'm also just really normal about the way kghn exist and function in General. i swear everything they do is so insane to me THEY ARE INSANE. like the way their relationship is built on a foundation of trust that never even needed to be there in the first place, and the way that they've kept age old promises (like the one i mentioned in the previous paragraph and the fact that it took TEN YEARS for Hinata to finally make up on it), and the way they keep count of all their little competitions, and the way Hinata has always accepted Kageyama for who he is, flaws and all, and the way that Kageyama made a toss for Hinata that would let him fly as high as he wanted to (whenever i get to that part where they mention that most tosses are "setter sets and spiker meets that height" but point out that Hinata and Kageyama's attacks are always "spiker jumps and setter tosses to meet that height" I GO ABSOLUTELY WILD EVERY SINGLE TIME) OUGH i am so so so normal.

[erebosblue]

welcome to: I never post but I kinda want to sum up how I feel about (616) Peter Parker.

so, like. I've tried to do this many times and always end up coming short of fully explaining myself because I have ✨𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈.✨

note: I have done an ass ton of research over my couple years of loving Spidey, but that does not mean I know everything. if something sounds wrong, it might be! I'm just a 17 year old idiot who got attached to an absolute mess of human being.

note #2: I am trying not to make this all about how much I dislike MCU Peter, but it will come up from time to time so just be aware of that.

first and foremost, I want to talk about comics as a whole. a lot of choices around characters have less to do with what a character would actually do and more what a writer wants or general comic/societal culture at the time. every character will be different depending on the writer and you're gonna make your own interpretation of a character from what you like. that doesn't mean certain things can't be out of character, just that a comic character can vary quite a bit depending on the person. that's part of the fun of comics tbh.

what I'm trying to say is that if my character analysis doesn't feel like it's what you read, it very well might not be and that's okay. Peter is a character that's been around since the 60's. he's developed over time and will continue to as time goes on. like, for instance, how he's changed from a high school kid trying to get by to a mid-to late twenties mentor for Miles (1610) and Gwen (65).

alright onto more interesting points. and actually a kinda heavily debated topic. whether Peter is a naturally good person or not. mainly this is just about his origin and how he really just straight did not care. honestly, part of the reason I really like how the comics did his origin is that he's not an self-absorbed prick. (even though it would be reasonable if he was considering he was 15.) he's more,,, jaded.

Peter was a social outcast his whole life. he didn't make any sort of friend until Freshman year. he's also super traumatized. his parents' death is kinda over-looked a lot, but it was shown that it really set in action his fear about everyone around him dying that has only gotten worse from, well, just that happening. he's shown in younger years to help people, and even in Freshman year he puts his safety on the line to make sure his bullies don't get stabbed by his friend, but he also kinda just,,, doesn't care.

personally, I really like characters that are inherently good people, but are limited by trauma making them apathetic. (ahem me with a male P3 protag icon.) not all trauma responses are loud or easy to fix. it's totally reasonable for Peter to close himself off from a world that has only been cruel to him, but the fact that moves past this? yes, it took a tragedy, but sometimes you need something big happening to realize.

Peter is inherently a good person, but he's also,,, short-sighted at times. he can royally fuck up because he was trying to do the right thing and just really missed the mark. but I honestly thinks this makes him more likable. intent doesn't change the affect, but if you're a vigilante, you're gonna fuck up from time to time. he's always been a hero grounded in reality and I don't think that makes him any less of a good person.

speaking of trauma, the fact that he hated working with other heroes for the longest time is mwah chef's kiss. mans did not make a real friend until college so, like, of course he's gonna have problems trusting other heroes. (especially since most heroes have tried to kill him but that's neither here nor there.)

this is one of the times I will be ragging on MCU Peter so skip to the next paragraph if you don't want that. there are many reasons not to like MCU Peter wanting to be an Avenger so goddamn bad, but one of the ones that irk me so much is the fact that it just gets rid of so much character development. 616 Peter had to learn how to trust heroes, to trust people, with something as serious as his life after being tormented by basically everyone that wasn't his caretakers. he now works with heroes just fine but like??? it's been a long ass time you can't just skip all that.

anyway, moving on. another thing I just fucking love about 616 Peter is how he is just a ball of fucking rage. this is basically never explored outside of 616 but it is genuinely one of my favorite parts of the comics. this man has been put through so many things and he is just so. done. like the canonical reason why him having Venom is a bad idea is because Venom specifically will go feral when their host is pissed and Peter is, to state again, a ball of rage.

like, yes, sometimes he doesn't kill because ✨moral compass✨ but more recently a lot of the times he hasn't is because The Giant Web That Holds The Entire Multiverse Together Said No.™️ I could make a whole post about how much I adore Spider-Totem stuff, and I just might, but my point is Peter is just done with shit and life in general and I love it.

this is so rambly and not gonna go over everything I want it to, but I'm gonna get powering on until I have to go to bed.

I also genuinely love how even though they will never come out and say Peter is any sort of queer of way, he is so queer-coded. his relationship with many of his male friends is fruity as FUCK and Peter straight wore a crop top with the word animal across it and booty shorts. (if you've never seen it, let me treat you.)

this hasn't even covered half of what I know I want to cover so let me speedrun some points before I literally pass out.

Peter "I'm partial to clones" Parker and his relationship with Kaine and Ben is my favorite relationship dynamic (/p) in all of 616. the fact that they are just absolute bastards to each other but only they are allowed to be. no one else can touch the others.

Peter's closest hero friendships being Daredevil, Wolverine, Johnny Storm (I can't remember his hero name right now I think I'm officially losing it,) and Deadpool is so fucking good. he just loves someone that he can argue with and that is also my ideal friendship. just absolutely besties and fuck with each other but will absolutely kill for each other.

I love Peter being a teacher and/or mentor SO MUCH. please I need more of it, no one appreciates how good of a teacher he is and it's mean. :(

his guilt. man as someone with an awful guilt complex I just,, adore his so much. the way that every other character is like "woah dude chill" is just so fucking funny to me as he mentally just shuts down because oh god how dare he not be perfect.

unrelated but the fact that Miles can tell the difference between how Peter and Ben talk is literally one of my favorite facts. like that says two things.

Miles knows Peter so well that he knows the way he talks and

Peter and Ben have become such different people that they talk with different speech patterns and/or in different tones of voice.

personally, I headcanon that Ben rambles more and talks in a higher register but kyldktdoy this is off topic- (I should make a Ben post too.)

okay, I'm delirious, the point is: Peter is a really interesting and good character and I love him so much. I personally resonate a lot with how he handles trauma and I think it's well done. but stldykd that's just me.

I'll add on later because I know I have more to say.

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

Symptoms of ADHD: what they say vs how i experience it edition

Losing things Never losing anything because i never move anything from its Spot. Things like phone, wallet, keys and water bottle have designated Spots where I'm careful to leave them so i don't forget where they are

Struggling with organization I looooove organization but i think there's something wrong with these organization systems i use... They keep falling apart after a week or two 🤔🤔🤔 (hint: it's me. Hi. I'm the problem. i struggle with organization)

Having a hard time waiting Having a hard time NOT waiting. I've got something going on at 4? There goes the rest of my day. I'm just sitting around waiting for 4. Don't know what to do with myself in the meantime

Easily distracted Very difficult to distract, actually. I get started on something and i lose track of time, lose track of bodily cues, tune out all other distractions and do it for hours. If i need to stop, it's hard and frustrating. ...On the other hand, sometimes i have to do multiple things at once (play a video game while watching TV for example) in order to relax.

Impulsivity Incapable of making decisions because i don't know how to prioritize things and i have poor emotional regulation. I have to think about something for days first, or make a spur of the moment decision that may not be the best one

Sensory sensitivity Swinging wildly between "if this music isn't loud enough to permanently damage my hearing then what's the point" and "if even one person talks to me when there's So Much Going On (socks feel wrong, I'm a little cold, have to pee and a conversation is happening near me) i will commit a war crime". I like to be able to control the level of sensory stimulation around me and it's stressful when i can't

Interrupting Trying desperately to remember what i wanted to say and hoping the conversation won't move on before i can say it, but being too polite or nervous to interrupt

"time blindness" or not being aware of time passing Being HYPER AWARE of time passing because i do Not want to be late! Better not be late! I know exactly how long it takes me to get ready for something. How much time is left now? How about now?

I say this because i didn't think i could have ADHD for the longest time, since i didn't see myself in the classic symptoms. The way the diagnostic criteria is understood is still pretty biased in favor of the ADHD presentation of boy children. People who are getting a late diagnosis have lived their whole lives dealing with it and will have Systems in place to guard against it (like me with losing things). It's good to be aware of when you're compensating for a struggle you have by doing something different with your life. It's great you're accommodating yourself! But if you don't notice those things you may not realize what you're struggling with, you know?

Here are the symptoms that helped me decide to seek a diagnosis.

Can't seem to start things. Even things i want to do! I'll sit on the couch for hours willing myself to get up and get a snack.

Can't get my brain to hold onto things. I'll see a long paragraph, or I'll be sitting through a meeting, just desperate to pay attention, and i can't. It slides right out of my brain like water off a duck.

Sometimes i feel like i WANT to stop paying attention to something and i CAN'T. I'm annoying everyone in my life; I'm annoying myself; but I'm still thinking about it no matter what i do

Fidgety. But like, in an adult way - I'm bouncing my leg, playing with my pen, doodling etc but i just can't sit still

I forget about stuff i can't see. That may be hobby supplies, that may be bills, that may be people i love.

I really, really struggle to do stuff when it seems like it's going to be unpleasant or a lot of steps. Opening emails when the person involved is probably upset, paying bills when i think it's going to be a lot of money, returning an online order, doing a chore that i know will be smelly... It's almost insurmountable.

I put off things that are hard for me until i have the energy. Sometimes I'm waiting weeks or months.

Having a hard time finishing projects i used to be excited about. Somewhere in the middle, the novelty wears off and my motivation peters out.

Anyway. I hope the general understanding of ADHD gets better so that people who need it can get a diagnosis and treatment! Things have been so, so much better for me since i started getting the treatment i needed.

Like, yes i have to plan my approaches to things in specific ways. Yes i have optimal times to do stuff and times that are not optimal. Yes i have a grumpy half-hour when my meds wear off every day. Yes I'd prefer to be able to do things without taking medication. But the pros vastly outweigh the cons and mostly I'm really grateful that there's something out there that allows me to actually do what i want and need to do, do things that are unpleasant or confusing, and intentionally place my attention where it needs to be. That's been a game changer.

[gretchensinister]

4, 28, 52, and 86?

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

It has to be the mostly-unformed ideas I have for a sequel to A Draught of Light, that would focus on fire and water (change and restoration) and start building towards...something. Some grand unified theory of magic in that universe. Maybe. This would go along with pushing the whole thing into original fiction. And now, yes, I am suffering from deep existential dread realizing how long it's been since I wrote A Draught of Light.

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

Notes? We were supposed to be using notes? No, no, I do have notes, sometimes...

It depends on what's easiest to hand. If I'm typing the actual story, notes just go right at the end, with enough space separating them from the part I'm working on so I don't look at them all the time. I know I did handwritten notes for The Doors of Perception. Now that I'm an adult who can use my phone whenever I want, I take notes in the notes app sometimes, which is actually the least convenient thing when I actually need to look at them later, but helps me not lose lines that won't be needed till the end. There's a dialogue sequence in the last chapter of Incarnation that started in the notes app.

52. how many unfinished ideas/stories are you working on at the same time?

I don't like switching between projects as much as I used to, so I would say, like, two that I consider being actively worked on. If this starts to include things that I want to write and have at least something written down, it goes up to maybe 6 or 7.

86. which season best matches the mood of your wip(s)?

This is an interesting question! The WIP I'm closest to finishing is set in the fall, but I don't know if it's a fall mood. The POV character is living a kind of life that makes them feel alienated from things like natural seasons. The artificial control of their environment is actually fairly significant, now that I think about it. This thought will be useful in editing, I think.

The WIP that is just barely a paragraph right now, that one I think is going to be like, late summer/early fall when, let's say, the days are warm enough to swim and the nights are cold enough to want to be cozy. Good times to make somewhat questionable decisions out of love (?), angst about them, and continue on even while definitely being old enough to know better.

Thank you for the questions!