#Unit Stage Part 2

[aikatsuswings]

Powder Snow Blush

[kxsagi]

Good morning, kxsagi. This is my second request and time for something funny. May I request: Blue Lock boys/men serenading Reader in the middle of the night in front of her apartment after a big argument. Cue Reader's neighbors throwing various household appliances at the boys/men. Characters: Chigiri, Yukimiya, Reo, Sae.

Bonus: Who has the perfect singing voice and who sings to the tune of 'off'?

P.S: Character list also applies to my previous request.

“𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞”

a/n: may this love find me 🧘🏻‍♀️

ft. chigiri hyoma, yukimiya kenyu, mikage reo, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei

chigiri hyoma

he shows up in a floor-length black coat, red hair slicked back, carrying a literal violin case like he’s about to perform with the tokyo philharmonic. 

stands under your apartment window like it’s romeo and juliet and dramatically tunes his violin at 2:06 AM. 

begins playing a thousand years with the solemnity of someone who’s lived through two world wars. 

whispers up at your window between phrases: “i’m sorry i called your skincare routine ‘excessive.’ i was lashing out. your serums are divine.” 

you peek through the blinds. your neighbor across the hall opens their window, yells “IT’S NOT EVEN THURSDAY,” and throws a bag of frozen dumplings. he dodges with an elegant twirl, doesn’t miss a beat. 

finishes the song by dramatically dropping to one knee, rain (from someone’s leaky AC unit) pouring down on him like it’s a movie scene. 

“please forgive me… i moisturized for you.” 

yukimiya kenyu

shows up in a turtleneck and a beret, carrying his acoustic guitar and looking like he just stepped out of a french indie film. 

stands under your window and softly croons a love song he wrote himself, called galactic destiny. 

“our energies collided in the constellation of fate...” 

his voice is breathy. emotional. you’re 90% sure he’s crying. your cat is watching with judgment. 

“i still believe in our spiritual link… even if you said my cologne makes your eyes itch.” 

some guy on the third floor screams, “TAKE THAT WEIRD SHAKESPEARE SHIT HOME!” and hurls a half-full bottle of body wash. 

yukimiya catches it, sniffs it, and smiles. “jasmine and mint... they have taste.” 

continues playing while crouching behind a parked moped for cover. ends the song with a whisper: “we were always written in the stars.” 

mikage reo

you hear commotion outside and think it’s a delivery truck. no. it’s reo... with a hired string quartet. 

four men in tuxedos are playing a sweeping instrumental while reo stands center stage, holding a bouquet and dramatically belting just the way you are, but off-key. 

“MY LOVE! i know i said you were being dramatic, but i meant it in a cute way!” 

he steps forward for the chorus and slips on someone’s garden hose. immediately recovers with a jazz hand flourish like nothing happened. 

someone yells “GO TO BED, RICHIE RICH!” and throws a keurig machine. reo ducks. it explodes behind him. 

“STILL RICH ENOUGH TO BUY ANOTHER ONE, LOSER!” 

you scream his name from the window. he looks up, eyes sparkling. “are those tears? did i win?” 

you yell, “NO, THAT’S STEAM FROM MY INSTANT NOODLES.” 

itoshi sae

shows up holding a tiny bluetooth speaker over his head, playing baby come back on repeat. 

dressed like he was pulled out of bed – hoodie, slippers, bedhead, emotionally vacant expression. 

says nothing for the first five minutes. just stands. staring. speaker held like it’s part of a sacred ritual. 

finally mutters: “you were right. i do sleep better when you’re next to me. that’s... annoying.” 

you crack your window open, about to speak. someone from 2F yells “THIS ISN’T THE NOTEBOOK, ITOSHI” and launches a broom. 

it bonks him square in the back. he grunts. doesn’t even flinch. just adjusts his hood and says, “you done?” 

still doesn’t leave. just stands there as the song loops and loops. 

your neighbor tries throwing a slipper. sae finally looks up and mutters, “you throw like my 6-year-old cousin.” 

isagi yoichi

shows up holding an ukulele, googled chords five minutes ago. his phone is literally taped to the neck so he can read lyrics. 

“uh, i know we fought. but this is me saying i’m dumb... in music form.” 

starts strumming can’t help falling in love, and it is... so bad. you’re wondering if he’s dying or if he’s just tone-deaf. 

the guy upstairs opens his window: “YOICHI, I HAVE WORK IN THREE HOURS.” 

a sponge cake hits him in the shoulder. isagi doesn’t even blink. “this is the pain i deserve. i accept it.” 

plays the rest of the song slightly offbeat, his voice cracking like a broken recorder. 

finishes with: “please text me back. i can’t sleep. i tried cuddling my pillow and it insulted me.” 

itoshi rin

shows up with a cheap karaoke mic plugged into his phone. no backup dancers. no theatrics. just deep, painful regret. 

“this is stupid,” he mutters, then starts whisper-singing drivers license like it’s a confession in a crime drama. 

he looks physically ill trying to express emotion. “i miss you. i hate that i miss you. but i do. it sucks.” 

the old man across the street throws a half-eaten melon pan and yells, “GROW A PAIR!” 

rin stares at the pastry, then at you. “do i keep singing or do i fight him.” 

“you’re doing great,” you say, sobbing and laughing at the same time. 

“... shut up,” he mutters, cheeks pink. 

nagi seishiro

shows up in mismatched slides, pajama pants, and the hoodie you left at his place. looks like he rolled out of bed, forgot why he was outside, then remembered mid-yawn. 

brought a tiny keyboard he downloaded a piano app for five minutes ago. sets it down on the curb, squats, and starts plunking the keys like a toddler discovering sound. 

“hey... you up there? i came to… music you back into my life or whatever.” 

begins playing my heart will go on, but he only knows the first five notes. loops them. over. and over. and over. 

pauses to scratch his head. “ugh, this is so tiring. can’t you just forgive me so we can go back to sharing a blanket and eating cereal?” 

your upstairs neighbor opens her window and screams, “PLAY SOMETHING REAL OR GO HOME.” 

someone throws a remote control, which hits him directly in the forehead. he blinks. “ow.” 

lays down on the sidewalk. still pressing random piano keys while flat on his back. “baby, my head hurts. also, my soul. come down?” 

you yell, “YOU’RE NOT EVEN SINGING!” 

“i know. that’s for people who want to live. i just want you.” 

kaiser michael

brings a whole speaker setup with colored LED lights. ness is standing next to him with a mic like this is eurovision. 

kaiser opens with: “i know you’re mad, but i figured you couldn’t resist a man with this much jawline and jazz.” 

begins singing perfect by ed sheeran in german. ness harmonizes. badly. 

“baby, i’m dancing in ze dark– NESS, STAY ON KEY.” 

someone from 4B chucks a rice cooker. ness screams. kaiser DODGES and CATCHES IT ONE-HANDED. “you could’ve cracked my highlight.” 

turns back to your window, still holding the rice cooker. “was that a sign you want me to make dinner?” 

you yell, “NO, IT’S A SIGN TO SHUT UP.” 

“same thing,” he shrugs, then adds, “you still love me.” 

karasu tabito

no shirt. bluetooth speaker in hand. pants look like they were pulled on during a fire drill. is clearly mid-breakdown. 

starts playing a slow jam while doing interpretive body rolls across the sidewalk. 

“babe, i know i messed up when i said your playlist was trash, but i was TALKING OUT OF FEAR.” 

tries to moonwalk. trips over a bike. recovers by body-rolling again. 

someone flings a laundry basket. it hits him and bounces off like he’s made of rubber. “GOOD AIM, BRO,” he calls. 

to you: “please. just come downstairs. i brought strawberry gummies and emotional damage.” 

shidou ryusei

shows up in a fur coat and heart-print boxers, holding a megaphone and a rose between his teeth. 

“BABY, I’M HERE TO MAKE NOISE, BAD DECISIONS, AND WIN YOUR HEART BACK.” 

starts screaming the lyrics to bleeding love at top volume. not singing. SCREAMING. 

someone chucks a blender out the window. he catches it like a football. “DAMN, YOU GOT ARM STRENGTH. WANNA JOIN MY TEAM???” 

you stick your head out the window: “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING???” 

“PROVING THAT I’D RISK BEING BLUDGEONED FOR YOUR LOVE.” 

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT.” 

“YOUR IDIOT. NOW GET YOUR SEXY ASS DOWN HERE.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n #2: @store-lover made this pic and it's perfect for kaiser's

[aliteralsemicolon]

Wait until you like me again - 18+

See part 1 | Part 2 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 3

The decision to resign puts a lot of weight on your shoulders. A takedown gone wrong makes it the least of anyone's concerns, especially Spencer’s. You’re not willing to let him back in; it feels too little, too late.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER I do not consent to my work being used to feed/train AI and/or re-posted anywhere by anybody else This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. Part 2 was highly requested and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to finish.

WARNING Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, drugs (GHB), Case details (very poorly thought out). Violence: canon typical - strangulation, drugging, guns/gunshots. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The most annoying part about making a decision in haste is the clarity of the situation when the dust settles. It’d taken Hotch just over two minutes to message you after you’d sent your email. 

From: Boss Man 🕶 👔 My office, first thing tomorrow. 

You didn’t take into account that you’d have to explain your sudden resignation to your unit chief, or that you’d need to think of a good enough goodbye to lessen the hurt of abandoning your friends. These are people you consider your found family; you’re leaving behind years worth of bonds with no proper warning or closure, in a measly few weeks. Your reasoning had to be good enough to convince them that this was for the best. 

To convince you that this was for the best. 

You’d spent the whole night in tears, racking your brain for an excuse, because ‘the person you care most about in this world and unrequited love of your life telling you that he didn’t want to see your face was a pathetic reason for discarding your life’s work. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think of adequate justification. Even as the sun rose and you made your way through your pre-work routine, nothing came to mind. 

“You can’t love me.”

Any time you tried to conjure up a defence your thoughts would wander back to Spencer. Too many words had been exchanged between you and your former best friend in the span of four months and not a single one of them properly explained why he was so butt-hurt. He loves you too much, but doesn’t want you to love him? That’s your understanding, at least. 

“Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

Since you’d left his apartment the previous night, you’d been cycling through all the stages of grief in record time. Spencer once told you that people tend to remember more negative memories than positive. He was right. You couldn’t recall a lot of your happier memories with him. All you could think about was the two conversations where he’d hurt you in ways you never imagined he would. 

You’re not sure exactly what part of you snapped at that moment, all you knew was that you were done making him the centre of your universe. Spencer Reid played no part in your decisions moving forward. He was not the reason for your departure with the BAU, a lie you made sure to relay to Hotch during your meeting with him.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Where is this even coming from?” He inquired from across you, hands folded neatly against his desk.

“I just think it’s time for me to try new things, you know?” It was a pathetic excuse, but less pathetic than the actual reasoning. 

“I try not to interfere with the personal lives of the team, but this is just so…sudden. I have to wonder if this has to do with Spencer?”

“This has nothing to do with him.” You go out of your way to avoid saying his name, suspecting you might taste poison. 

Hotch’s brow raises, as if his brain has been alerted to key information, head marginally tilting to the side like it does when he catches a lie. He doesn’t say anything, eyes narrowing in on you in stoic fashion. You feel like a petulant child that’s about to receive a scolding from their father. 

“Hon–Honestly…Hotch, I just–”

Three rapid knocks cut you off, the door to the office swinging open without waiting for a reply. 

“Sir, Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency. That case we were consulting on for Anchorage PD?” Garcia bursts into the room, slightly discoloured and more panicked than normal. “Well, five more bodies were discovered. Two of them pre-date who we initially thought was the first victim.”

“Garcia, tell everybody to meet on the jet ASAP. We’ll debrief on the flight.” Hotch orders abruptly standing from his seat. “You and I can finish this meeting later. This case is now our top priority, wheels up.” 

Emily, Rossi and Derek were already in their seats when you boarded. You secured your go bag in one of the overhead compartments and temporarily took a seat next to Derek. 

“How bad do you think this one is gonna be?” Derek sighs, dreading the horrors that await your arrival. 

“We’re up to thirty six bodies and counting. Whoever this unsub is, they’ve been at it a while. So, bad.” You answer honestly. 

“Speaking of bad, is everything okay?”

“That was not even remotely smooth.” You scoff. 

“I’m just asking as a concerned friend.” He shoots his hands up in defence.

“What happened to the days where we at least tried to mind our business. You know, at least asked each other about our weekend plans before jumping into interrogation mode.” You roll your eyes and smirk. 

“Heyyy, woah– no one’s interrogating anyone.” Derek chuckles. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

It wasn’t long before everybody had made their way on the jet, Spencer being the last one. You didn’t notice his arrival, too engulfed in your conversation. He definitely noticed you though. The sound of your giggles caught his attention the second he was in ear shot. He didn’t like how warm he felt at the sight of your smiling face. What he disliked more was that he could instantly tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile. 

He quietly made his way to his self assigned seat on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on anything but you. Every laugh that Morgan coaxed out of you bothered him. Spencer’s agony only ended once the jet had successfully taken off. 

“Alright let’s get started.” Hotch declared and everybody moved to gather around. 

With all the details laid out by Garcia through the monitor, everybody began stating facts and suggestions. You wrapped up soon enough and retreated to an isolated seat in the back of the jet. It was an almost eight hour flight, seven of which you were planning to use to come up with a solid plan to announce your departure. Life always has to throw a wrench in your plans though, because the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to you and you dozed off almost immediately. Had you any energy left in your body, you might have been privy to the eyes that were on you. 

“She didn’t say anything as to what the meeting was about?” JJ hushedly pries from her raven haired co worker in the cramped kitchenette.  

“No, but Garcia said that ‘the air in his office was really tense’.” Emily relays, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. “Did Hotch say anything?”

“No. He just gave me his usual dry look and told me to focus on the case.” JJ rolls her eyes at the thought and leans back against the counter. 

Despite being the FBI’s most decorated task force, the agents of the BAU weren’t strangers to workplace gossip. You’d just entered the bullpen this morning when Hotch frantically summoned you to his office, not even giving you time to set your things down at your desk. Witnessing the events sparked a guessing game sparked amongst the team. 

“Is it something we should know about?” Sitting across from Hotch, even Rossi succumbed to his curiosity. 

“Dave you’re not normally one to pry.” Hotch smirks, keeping his eyes on the case-file laid out in front of him. 

“No I’m not. But with the events of the past few months...” Rossi sips his coffee, staring at his younger superior expectantly. “...there’s been some talk Aaron.”

“Talk?” Hotch meets Rossi’s eyes.

“Mhm.” Rossi nods. “Apparently you’re transferring one of our two youngest members because they haven’t been able to put their differences aside.”

“I’m not transferring anyone. Where did this come from?” The alarm in his tone makes Rossi snicker.

“Office drama. You know how it is. And while you may not be transferring anybody,” he sets his mug down and looks towards where you’re sound asleep. “I’m guessing somebody is leaving. Hence this morning's meeting.”

“We’re not supposed to profile each other, you know.” Hotch sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this contained. I haven’t had a chance to properly discuss this with her yet and I think she’d prefer to break the news herself.” 

As you had predicted the case was by no means an easy one. On the first day everybody was split into groups to follow up with the M.E, victims’ families and examine the crime scenes. All the evidence and information gathered wasn’t enough to narrow the profile any more than the generic: male, mid thirties to early forties, hates women. You were now three days in with no viable leads. 

You were especially frustrated because you felt that you weren’t working as well as you could. The stress of your announcement was taking its toll, you were unable to properly converse with your team out of guilt. Hotch sent everyone back to their hotel rooms with the idea that you would start fresh tomorrow. Normally you would room with Spencer, but lately JJ and Emily have been taking turns rooming with both of you. This time you were with Emily.

“I think this may be the first night we’ve gotten to turn in early.” Emily yawns as she dramatically stretches her limbs.

“I’m just glad we got to turn in at all, for a while there it looked like we may have to pull another all nighter.” You force a giggle, exasperated.  

“You okay?” She doesn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to ask about your uneasiness. 

“Yeah, fine.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“You’re going to snap at some point, you know?” She examines your closed off posture, trying to figure out a way to get you to open up. “Something’s clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

“We’re all on edge right now. It’s this case.” You hope that you’re being convincing enough. 

“It's more than that. You’ve been distant from everybody.” Emily briefly thought back to the Ian Doyle debacle, recognising all the signs of somebody preparing to run away at any given moment. 

“I’m aware that I’m not working to my full potential–”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” She steps closer to you. “I can’t force you to tell me whatever’s actually on your mind, but I would really appreciate it if you would. I hate seeing you so…detached. Not just from us, but from yourself.”

It’s the empathy in her voice instead of the usual sympathy that finally cracks you. Tears pool your eyes and you sink to the floor. Emily sits down next to you without a word. She tries to pull you in for a hug but you push away. 

“Please don’t.” You sob. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezes your knee to relay that she understands and retracts her hand. Your discomfort with physical touch was another thing you had in common with Spencer. It was just a personal preference for you, unlike his germophobia. He was the only person you were actually comfortable with in terms of touch, but you couldn’t fault others for not respecting that boundary when you’d never verbalised it. 

“I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you guys, but I don’t think there’s any way this gets easier.” You recompose yourself after a moment. “I’m, um, leaving.”

You expect her to get upset with you, but find her unfazed. 

“You don’t look surprised.” 

“Well it’s not entirely surprising. I mean given everything that’s happened.” 

“So you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She leans back with her mouth slightly open. 

“Because I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.” You heavily exhale. 

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re doing what you feel is right for you. I mean, am I happy about it? Definitely not. But I know better than anyone why you feel like you need to do this. And it’s not a decision you have to justify to anybody.” Emily reassures you. 

“How do I tell everybody else?” You push for more advice.

“However you feel most comfortable doing it. It doesn’t have to be some big announcement. You can casually break it to them whenever you get the opportunity. They’ll understand.” 

“Thank you, Em.” You genuinely smile this time, eternally grateful that she’s managed to take some pressure off your shoulders.

“Now while you’re in a mood to share…if you wanna talk about something else–” She attempts one last time to get you to talk about Spencer, sensing that the mood lightened a bit. 

“Nice try.” You laugh as you rise to your feet, offering your arms out to her to help her stand.

The following two days were a lot easier on you, mentally. You took Emily’s advice and disclosed your news individually to each team member, each of them more understanding than you’d anticipated. You were surprised to learn that Rossi was already aware, assuming that it came with being a profiler for as long as he had. Derek and JJ did try to talk you out of it initially, but accepted your decision in the end. You still had to talk about this with Garcia, but felt a lot more at ease with mostly everybody knowing.

Except Spencer.

That thought lingered in the back of your mind. You still love him, it’s not something you can just turn off. You shake it off and divert your full attention to the case. Four more bodies had been discovered and with them, a new pattern to the killings. The unsub was devolving. You and Spencer were the only ones at the precinct when the last murder was called in. Meaning you were stuck working on the geographical profile with him while the others were out chasing new leads. 

Realistically, only one of you was needed to build the profile and decided you were going to let him do it. You quietly sat in the furthest seat possible, trying to make yourself invisible and hoping that this would keep him busy enough to not talk to you. The whole week, you hadn’t uttered a single word to him unless it was absolutely necessary for the case. It was as if he didn’t exist, even if he was standing right infront of you. Spencer, on the other hand, spent the whole week prodding you for any reaction he could get. Anytime you made suggestions and he happened to be in the area, he tried to one up you.

At times it felt like he was purposely seeking you out, despite his brutal proclamation five days ago. Every attempt to rile you up failed. The most acknowledgement he got from you was a few scoffs and glares. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it, until Derek asked him point blank what his problem was. He didn’t have an answer, but now that he was aware of it he tried to go out of his way to avoid it. 

That didn’t last more than a few hours. The fact that he had to consciously avoid talking to you pissed him off, especially because he couldn’t stop. You pretending like he didn’t exist pissed him off even more. The one time he took his eyes off the board in front of him they landed on you. You were busy scribbling words in a file, trying to get a head start on your paperwork. 

“Do you plan to help at all?” He sneers, noticing that you looked a lot more relaxed than you did at the start of the case. 

You snap your head towards the board behind him. A rough venn diagram was drawn on a map of the city, small tacked notes labelling prominent buildings in the area. 

“How am I meant to help?” You question, darting your eyes between him and the board out of confusion.

“You’re asking me how to do your job?” He taunts, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

You dramatically groan, throwing your head back. 

It’s hard to believe that he’s a man of logic in moments like these. There have been far too many in the last few months. You bounce off your seat and head over to the board. Spencer stays glued in his spot and your body accidentally brushes against his as you try to get past. He watches you take off some notes and add on new ones but doesn’t register what you’re doing at first. He’s too intoxicated by your scent. His hand runs through his hair as he steps back in an effort to regain his composure. His teeth grit and his jaw tenses momentarily, he hates that you have the ability to do this to him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The pitch of his voice raises and his ears are burning.

“What do you mean?” You roll your eyes, shrugging your arms, sarcasm laced in your words. 

“Don’t try to act all dumb!” He berates, shaking his head. 

“Don’t try to act all smart.” Your eyes roll again. Spencer was slowly starting to wear down your apathy. 

“I am smart.” He scoffs. Your blood boils, this trump card is becoming too repetitive.

“Savour that, it’s the one good thing you’ve got going for you!” You finally snap. 

“You’re UNBELIEVABLE! The first time you bother to answer me all week and it’s just to argue?” He’s trying his best to refrain from yelling.

“Oh! You’ve been trying to start an argument all week and now that I’m giving in you can’t take it?! Actually, why have you been trying so hard, Doctor? I was under the impression that you can’t even stand to look at my face!”

He dryly swallows, unable to respond immediately. The reminder of his words makes him internally cringe. He never meant to say them. It was the most efficient way he could think of at that time to hurt you. Spencer hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of will power it would take to stay away from you. You seeking him out made it infinitely harder. His fake disdain was a defence mechanism, he was hiding behind hatred to get the job done. 

“YOU–”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hotch loudly cuts him off. 

Neither you nor Spencer noticed the teams return during your squabble. You’re slightly embarrassed, wondering how much they’ve witnessed. Spencer turns away from you and looks to the blank wall on the other side of the room. You look to the floor and bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Care to explain what’s going on?” He grills and you feel like a petulant child receiving a lecture from your father. 

“She wasn’t doing her job!” Spencer complains. “And when I brought it up she messed up my profile!”

“God you’re insufferable! It’s called ‘narrowing the profile’, Spencer. Maybe if you did it properly, I wouldn’t have to.” You retort. 

“Hey!” Hotch scolds.

It falls silent for a second, awkward glances finding their way around the room. Rossi breaks it first. 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were bickering toddlers instead of FBI agents.”

You make eye contact with Morgan trying to hold in a laugh and it makes you snort. 

“We will discuss this later. Let’s focus on the updates we’ve gathered.” Hotch dismisses due to more pressing matters at hand. 

“After talking to friends of the latest victims, I can confirm that they were all last seen in the same club.” JJ pipes up first.

“And the dumpsites are all less than twenty minutes away from there. He’s definitely not holding them anymore.” Morgan adds.

“That has to be where he’s choosing his victims. Did the medical examiner find anything new?” Hotch asks.

“Traces of GHB.” Emily replies. “We don’t know how he’s administering it into their systems, but my guess would be through the drinks.”

“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, mostly known as GHB, is a party drug that produces feelings of euphoria, confidence, relaxation and sociability. Side effects of GHB can include drowsiness, vomiting, mood swings, dependence, as well as more serious symptoms of unconsciousness. When mixed with alcohol the risk of overdose increases as it can cause respiratory collapse leading to coma or in extreme cases death.” Spencer’s about to continue but quickly recognises that it’s a tangent he needs to cut short. 

“Wait JJ what club were the victims last seen in?” You inquire, walking closer to the map.

When she relays the name it clicks. 

“That’s smack in the middle of the comfort zone.” You point at a small red note labelling the building. 

“So how do we catch this guy? I mean the club would be packed and we don’t know what this guy looks like. The profile tells us that he would blend in, nothing would stand out about him.” Morgan subtly suggests a string operation.

“Except for when he’s alone with the object of his rage. Which in our case would be the women he’s using as surrogates. He'd be possessive, become clingy, hold on too tight and once those advances are rejected he’d fly into blind rage.” Spencer exclaims without realising the weight of his input. 

“Yeah…but he has a very specific type.” Rossi hesitates. 

A fact that everybody had been avoiding the case because of how close it hit to home. 

You’re his exact type.

“No.” Hotch shuts down.

“Hotch, think about it. I mean this guy is not slowing down. A sting might be our best bet to stop him before he kills again.” JJ shares Rossi’s hesitation.

“It’s too risky!” Spencer blurts, making it clear he’s against the idea. 

Everyone begins to chime in with their input, but you stay silent and think it over. None of them wanted to put you in this position, but you’d seen the bodies and what he’d done to those women. What he’ll continue to do to other women if he isn’t stopped. It was a no brainer on your end. 

“I’ll do it!” You announce amidst the chatter.

It comes to an immediate halt, all eyes shifting on you.

“What?” Spencer scoffs.

You can tell that he’s genuinely surprised by the small hitch in his voice. Emily sceptically calls your name, posing it as a question. 

“I’ll do it.” You reiterate, taking care to seem as confident as possible.

“Absolutely not! The odds of this going wrong are way too high!” Spencer howls with a little too much passion. 

“Reid’s right. The unsub is way too unpredictable.” Hotch debates.

“JJ has a point, think about it!” You argue. “We know for a fact that he’s going to strike tonight. Sending me undercover as bait is better than staking out the place and waiting for him to target a civilian!” 

“Okay so let’s send somebody else!” Spencer contests, his tone prayerful. 

For a split second, you see your best friend again. He’s showing more regard for you now than he has in months and it makes your heart sink knowing it won’t be forever. Still, you try to reason with him while he’s there.

“There’s no time! I fit his type. This is our best option.”

“No, this is stupid and dangerous. You’re not going in there!” He’s gone again. 

“That’s not your call to make!” You snap. 

“Hotch no!” Spencer tries again.

“Kid, relax! This isn’t her first undercover mission.” Morgan attempts to calm Reid. “Plus we’ll all be there in case anything goes wrong.”

“Statistically–”

“For God’s sake forget the fucking statistics! People’s lives are at stake!” You loudly end his tangent before it can begin. 

“Alright, everybody calm down!” Hotch speaks up, making it a point to stare down Spencer. 

He’d made his decision and Spencer can only stare back in disbelief, too breathless to argue. 

‘Like Morgan said, we’ll be there watching over you, along with some local law enforcement. You won’t be wired, but we’ll have a fail safe just in case you need backup earlier than expected. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get to work.” The unit chief asserts. 

Before anyone can make any further moves, Spencer storms out of the room. JJ runs after him, assuring Hotch that she’ll take care of it. The rest of you break off to your assigned tasks, preparing for the operation that night. 

“Spence! Slow down!” She yells, chasing him all the way outside the precinct. 

He’s breathing too fast, practically on the edge of hyperventilating. He pushes his hair back with both of his hands, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. 

“Spence what the hell is going on with you?” JJ pants, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Me?!” Spencer yanks himself away from her. “What the hell is going on with all of you?! You’re all insane for allowing her to do this!”

“She’s a grown woman and a trained agent! This is her decision. She knows what she’s getting herself into.” JJ reminds him. 

“Well it’s not a very smart decision! She shouldn’t be making decisions this…this reckless!” He shrieks. 

“Okay you need to calm down!” JJ sternly states. 

“Jennifer, do not tell me to calm down! She’s about to make herself a direct target for a psychopathic sadist and you’re all just letting it happen!”

“So what? Should we let some innocent woman become his next target?” 

“No! I’m not saying we should– just– why does it have to be her?!” The emphasis on his last word gives him away, JJ picks up on it instantly. 

“That’s what this is about? C’mon you know better than this.” She relaxes her shoulders. “Spencer, we all care about her. We all want her to be safe. And she will be as long as we separate out feelings from–”

“Feelings? This has nothing to do with how I feel–”

“Okay stop! Stop! God!” JJ huffs with pauses between her words. “I am so sick of this! This is clearly about your feelings. The past four months have all been about–”

She smacks her hands against her face as she takes a deep breath, a display of frustration. 

“Listen to me.” She commands, exhausted from the back and forth. “It’s clear that you two care deeply for each other, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. Neither of you will talk about whatever it is that’s caused this rift– fine! But don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet now that she’s leaving?”

Spencer freezes. 

“...Leaving?” He repeats, taken off guard. 

JJ takes a moment to read his expression. 

“She didn’t tell you?” JJ mutters, still scanning his face. 

“What– what are you…” He can’t find the words, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process her words.

“She’s resigning, Spencer. She’s leaving the FBI.” JJ can’t hide how she’s surprised that you haven’t shared this with him. 

“No, that's not possible. She loves this job. Why would she leave?” Denial is his first response.

Spencer thinks over your possible motivations and can only land on the obvious. You’d only leave if you grew to hate the job. 

Did he do this? Did he make you hate it?

“We were all surprised when she first told us, I mean, it came out of nowhere.”

“We?” He rubs his temple, anticipating a possible migraine from the bomb that just dropped on him. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you guys known?” He balefully sighs, trying his hardest to not misplace his anger. 

“It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

He had no one to be angry at, but himself.

“A day? Maybe two? She told us individually. Honestly with this case I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it.” JJ honestly reveals. 

So not long. Maybe you were still making your way around to telling him? You wouldn’t just leave without so much as telling him, would you?

A few months ago, Spencer would’ve confidently answered no. Today he was sure that you would. He so badly hoped that he was wrong. 

“Spence, look, we can talk about this later. But right now, you need to make sure you’re able to stay objective. Can you do that?”

He nods relentlessly, tucking his hair behind his ears. A habit he adapted early in life. It was an indicator of the gears turning in his head. JJ gives him a few more minutes outside before guiding him back in to help with preparations. Spencer absentmindedly performed his tasks, but all he could think about was you. 

You’re leaving and he’s the only person you hadn’t disclosed this information to. Abandonment was a feeling he was all too used to, but he never imagined that you’d abandon him. He knows that he can only blame himself, but he still can’t help the irritation that’s creeping in his veins. 

Even as he straps up his hidden bullet proof vest hours later, he can’t push the sentiment away. You were setting yourself up as bait for one of the most dangerous types of serial killers. On top of purposely putting yourself in direct line danger, you were leaving without telling him. He would’ve showed up to work one day and you’d be gone.

Right now he stands just a few feet away from you and you don’t look toward him once. No one would be able to guess that you’re undercover. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to transform yourself from supervisory special agent to a regular socialite and party girl in a couple of hours.

If he could overcome the hurt he feels at the moment, he might see how breathtaking you look. Then again, you always appear breathtaking to him. Before he knows it, he’s walked right up to you. You don’t feel his presence looming behind you until you bump into him when you turn around. 

“Shit Spencer!” You jump, mostly because of the nerves from the upcoming night. 

He’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Don’t start! I’m not in the mood.” You brush him off and disappear out of sight.

It was like that for much of the preparations. He’d muster the courage to try and talk to you, and you’d walk away. Much like how Spencer would avoid you when your friendship first fell apart. 

“Everybody in position?” Hotch inquires through his ear piece. 

“Affirmative.” Morgan gives the greenlight for your entry into the club. 

You made your way to the bar, making it a point to sit alone. You didn’t have to wait long. Archie Carter, 36, cheated on by his ex fiance before their wedding. She ran away with another man because Archie failed to keep his sadistic traits hidden and it scared her off. Torturing and murdering women who looked like her was his way of giving her a real reason to be scared. 

This was all information Garcia found after it was nearly too late. He’d managed to get you on the dance floor, subtly injecting you with the GHB. You didn’t even feel him do it. To everybody else it just seemed like you were playing your part really well on the dance floor, when in reality you were struggling to stand up. You couldn’t give out any signals and he was able to slip you away into the back alley under the noses of five FBI agents. 

It was Spencer who’d found you fighting for your life against Archie’s grip around your throat. Spencer, who put the bullet in Archie’s head after being unable to talk him down. Spencer who kneeled above you, begging you to come back as he began CPR. If he’d found you any later you might’ve been gone for good. 

Pissed was an understatement.

At the piece of shit that almost ripped you away from the world. At Hotch and the team for not listening. At himself for being right. Not you though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t pissed at you. He was terrified. Both for you and for almost losing you. 

You had to stay a few extra days in Anchorage, bound to your hospital room. The team refused to fly back without you, each of them taking turns to keep you company. They all felt an immense amount of guilt but you reassured them that it wasn’t their fault. Your tongue grew tired of reminding them that this was a part of the job. Rossi joked that it was a good thing you were leaving it all behind in that case and it stung more than you were willing to admit. 

In your brush with death you came to the revelation that you didn’t want to leave, but hearing Spencer’s voice lull you back to him confirmed that you needed to. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear him talk everyday and not be the person he was talking to. It was why you had basically barred him from visiting you during your recovery there. Seeing his face was more than you could handle at the time. Not seeing yours weighed on him, because he needed to see if you were okay.

Physically, he knew you’d be fine once the doctors confirmed it. Mentally, he knew all too well of the repercussions that came with almost dying directly by the hands of an unsub. You’d been discharged and cleared fifty eight hours after you were admitted, and the team was ready to fly back a few hours later. All the signs of being less than okay were there. He recognised them as soon as he saw you board the jet. 

Besides the obvious bruises collaring your neck, there was some minor swelling that lingered. That wasn’t his biggest concern. It was the smile plastered on you when you put on your ‘I’m okay’ act for the others. Your eyes, like always, gave you away. You were already trying to sweep everything under the rug. Less than a few minutes after take off you isolated yourself in the back. You’d been doing that a lot in your recent cases. 

It irked him how everybody just let you. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to. He didn’t care how much you hate him, he was going to ensure that you came out of this truly okay. You were mindlessly staring out the window, counting the clouds, listening to the music playing through your headphones. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. You’d felt like that since you came to, in the alley. 

It took you a second to understand that you were actually being watched, turning to find Spencer in the previously empty seat across from you. 

“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” You snark, ripping off your headphones, still recovering from the small jump scare.

“Sorry.” He chuckles out of habit.

You unintentionally smile at the sound and find yourself staring in his eyes. 

“Are–” He falters as he thinks the question over in his head. “Is there anything I can get you?”

You’re taken aback, not expecting those words. You had a script prepared to waive off questions about your well being. He knows you better than that, throwing you off course as usual.

“What do you want?” You grumble, accepting that you couldn’t get past him.

“I want to know if there’s anything I can get you.” He repeats in a low tone. 

There he is again. The Spencer you know and love. Your heart threatens to leap.

“If this is to clear some guilty conscience, don’t bother.” You verbally guard yourself. “I’m fine.”

It would be a lie if he said his reasoning was completely selfless. He was hardly able to keep away from you without feeling like he was drowning, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought he may have lost you forever. The feeling didn’t last very long, he was able to revive you within a few seconds, but never feeling like that again would be too soon. 

Spencer believed in two things; statistics and facts. One fact he refused to ignore any longer is that he couldn’t live without you. He quietly opened that satchel that still clung across his torso, fishing out some pain killers and an unopened water bottle. 

“I know you probably forgot to take yours out of your bag.” He ignores your previous comment and slides the items across the table to you. 

Your gaze lingers on the items in front of you, but your hands stay folded in your lap as you piece everything together. 

“You know.” You whisper. 

“Were you going to tell me?” He gulps after a beat of silence. 

“Does it matter?” You're quick to respond.

“I wanna hear it from you.” He’s just as fast. 

You look up from the leaf of pills, he’s already surveilling you. It’s a short lived staring contest because your focus shifts behind him to Hotch, who’s observing this encounter from the kitchenette on the other end. Spencer continues waiting on you for a response but you stand up, ready to walk away. It dawns on you when you see your supervisor that technically you hadn’t officially resigned yet. The paperwork never got started because this case took priority and that was a detail you needed to sort out right away.

“Don’t go.” Spencer pleads when you take your first step.

Was it a request to sit back down or to stay with the BAU? You didn’t bother to clarify, he had no right to ask for either. 

You let out a deep, exasperated sigh as you lie curled up in your warm sheet, scowling at the floor beneath you. It seemed that the universe (your friends) had it out to delay your departure as much as possible. It’s been four days since your return from Anchorage and you’ve been stuck in your apartment since Hotch dropped you off here. He’s ordered mandatory time off for your recovery, meaning the paperwork has to wait. 

You could be using this time in a more productive manner. You could be searching for a new job. And a new place to live. You should be trying to figure out where this new place would be. You never actually thought that far ahead. In your haste to run away, you forgot to plan your next steps. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do any of it until the forms are filled out. 

The ‘universe’ isn’t the only thing delaying you. 

If you really wanted to, you could have everything emailed to you. You can have it done online, but there are two major problems. The first is pretty straight forward; you’re not ready to leave. You know that this is the best course of action for everybody, but your brain and your heart are at an impasse. You’ve dedicated years to this job because you love this job. Unfortunately, you love Spencer more, which means that staying is going to drive you to hate your job. 

The other reason is slightly more nuanced and you don’t want to think about it, opting to let your impasse be the reason for your lack of motivation to do anything other than bed rotting. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’s more self care than anything. Your body’s telling you it needs to rest and you’re simply obliging. Plus, it couldn’t be that serious if you still had bursts when you had to keep up appearances. You have to be okay if you’re able to force yourself to open the front door for your coworkers when they come to check on you. You really weren’t that miserable if you managed to smile and laugh for their short visits. 

And it’s not like you’re truly rotting. You showered quite often, you actually just had your second one today. You were definitely okay if you could manage to keep up with hygiene. It’s not excessive, you need to scrub the purple away. You know that’s not how it works, but you can’t stand to look at the parts of your neck where his hands were wrapped around. If you close your eyes for long enough you can still feel him squeezing until–

You’re okay.

No, you’re irritated. The incessant knocking on your front door won’t stop no matter how much you ignore it. You were relieved when evening came. It meant that normal visiting hours were over and you could rest today. If it wasn’t any of your usual visitors then it had to be stranger. The thought made you uneasy, you hesitated to answer it at all. 

You can’t live in fear all the time. 

The door eventually opens and Spencer sees you for the first time in days. He actually tried to check on you earlier, but Penelope insisted everybody stick to her roster so you don’t get overwhelmed. The circles under your eyes were almost as dark as his, you hadn’t been getting much sleep. The swelling around your throat was almost all gone, but the bruising wasn’t healing like he expected it to. 

“Spencer…what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“I brought take out.” He gently dangles a bag of food in front of him, his voice high, but quiet. 

You can practically smell the contents of the bag, nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was your favourite thing to order on the days he’d come over for movie nights. Before Spencer showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed. It felt like a taunt, like he was twisting the metaphorical knife he plunged in your heart. It made you sick.

“I already ate.” You lie, mustering a dull smile on your face.

Spencer swallows and bites the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off you. Trying to think of the best way to call you out without causing you to shun him. 

“We can do something else until you’re hungry again.” He gives a tight lipped smile and raises his furrowed brows, like he’s pleading for you to accept his offer.

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry anytime soon.” You awkwardly laugh– well it’s close to a laugh if not for your strained vocal chords. 

“Can I come in anyway? We can put on a movie.” He’s using the voice he used to when trying to comfort you or convince you of something. Soft, low, steady. It’s a stark contrast to the voice you’ve been hearing for the last ten days. 

Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.

Tears threaten the composure you’re working so hard to maintain.

“Why are you really here?” You sigh, unable to stick with the pleasantries. 

“I told you.” He emphasises the bag of food in his hands again. “Take out. Maybe a movie–”

“Cut the shit.” You assert, harshly. “You can tell Penelope that you came to see me so she gets off your back, but please stop pretending like you care.”

“That’s…is that why you think I’m here?” His shoulders drop.

“Isn’t it?” You bite, your door now wide open as you lean against it for support. Your legs are aching to curl into your chest again. 

“No.” His reply is short and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Why? There’s nothing in it for you.” You scoff, blinking from confusion. “Unless…is this some sick game? Seeing me like this– knowing that I’m– are you trying to gloat?”

“Gloat?” He repeats in almost a whisper, the hurt in his voice evident.

“Relish, rejoice, rub it in, I don’t know. You’re the walking thesaurus.”

He can tell from your lax posture that you're amused. Your back is against your door, hands behind your back and you’re leaning forward a bit as you stare at the ground. Not caring that your words cut deep.

Is this how low you think he is?

“Why would I be enjoying this?” His hopeful smile drops entirely as he tries to understand you. 

“Call it epicaricacy.” You shrug. 

“Epicaricacy?” He mumbles in a whispered tone, like he’s trying to process what you said.

Deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others.

Your eyes roll from how slow he’s acting and you have to hold yourself back from repeating the definition out loud.

“Do you honestly think I enjoy seeing you like this?” The change in pitch stings a bit. 

“No, I don’t think you like seeing me at all.” You half smirk up at him, sadness evident in your eyes. “Which brings us back to…why are you here Doc?”

“That’s not true.” He cringes, ignoring the second part.

“Not true?” You wiggle your brows sarcastically. 

“Not true.” He reaffirms, sighing deeply. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry.” You scoff again, shaking your head.

“I know that I’ve been unreasonable–”

“Unreasonable?” The tip of your tongue rolls against the back of your teeth, bewildered at his sheer audacity. 

“A dick! I’ve been a dick.” He corrects himself, desperate to have you hear him out. 

You tighten your jaw, inhaling lightly through your nose and your brows are raised as high as they can go. 

“I was hurt. Okay? I wash lashing out, but, I–” He takes a deep breath to stop himself, wanting to get to the point. “I know that I’ve been acting otherwise but, I care about you. And when I found you back there…I just…I know what you’re going through, even if you won’t admit it. I don’t want you to go through it alone.”

Your expression softens as he speaks. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to break down in his arms, like you would have once. It’s jarring, Spencer reverting to his former self after he saved your life. The comfort swiftly bubbles into anger. All your attempts for reconciliation were met with so much hostility before. It took you almost dying for him to care. It feels too little too late. The only thing you can think of as he stands next to you is all the ways he can further hurt you if you let him. You push off your door and stand straight, giggling bitterly. 

“Spencer, go home.” You say with the same bitterness. 

“Please–”

“Go home! I don’t want your pity!” You yell. It feels alleviating. “Do you honestly think that  anything changes just because you saved my life? Do you think it erases everything that’s happened in the past few months? Because it doesn’t! Things can’t go back to how they were simply because you feel bad that I almost died. It’s not a flip you can switch. You don’t just get to start caring!” 

You're heaving and he can only stare at the ground. He knows you’re right, except for the one crucial error in your speech. 

“I never stopped caring.” He mumbles.

This fucking idiot.

Enraged, sad, frustrated, confused; all emotions you’ve been suppressing that are now fighting to show at the same time. You take a step closer to him and he meets your eyes again. You can see that he’s holding back tears, same as you. It fuels you in a twisted way. You have an opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt you and you don’t let it go to waste.

“Don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work to see your face at work, I don’t want to see it in my personal time too.” 

You can’t stay to see the effects of his words thrown back at his face, your heart’s threatening to burst from how fast it’s racing. His jaw locks from how tense he is. He knows exactly why you said it, but it’s still hard to hear. You turn around and rush into your apartment, shutting the door on his face, leaving him standing there. You don’t make it too far inside, collapsing on the wooden floor with a choked sob. 

That didn’t make you feel as good as you thought it would. You hoped that maybe if you could make him feel at least a fraction of you’re feeling, you’d hurt less. It was more than just getting back at him for everything he’s done. You were unknowingly trying to punish him for what Archie Carter did too. It didn’t make you hurt any less, but at least you felt less alone in your hurt. 

He didn’t come back for the rest of your time off. Everybody continued to follow the roster, showing up on their days and bringing you ‘get well soon’ goodies. Penelope even invited herself over for a night's stay once. You didn’t have the heart to say no, but you found yourself counting the hours until you’d be alone again, free to wallow. The only respite you got for the next week was on Spencer’s days. You could expect to be left mostly alone, only a bag of take out accompanied by an eerily fitting quote sitting outside your door. 

You hate to admit that those were your favourite days. You had a chance to breathe and he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. You gave the food away in protest and the quote would go straight in the bin (once you read it). One final psych evaluation later you were cleared to come back. Not that you needed one since you didn’t plan to stay for long. It was really just a formality. By the time you returned only a few faded bruises remained, easy enough to cover with concealer. 

“You’re back! Ooh, it’s so good to see you!” Garcia was the first with a warm greeting and a tight hug. You reciprocated to the best of your ability. 

“Good to have you back, Pretty Girl.” Derek’s second, walking you through the bullpen as you make your way to Hotch’s office.

“Enjoy it while you can.” You giggle in reply. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“I see someone can’t wait to leave us.” Emily jokes, feigning a hurt look. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s expecting you.” JJ laughs, slapping Emily’s arm playfully. 

“Thanks JJ!” You smile and they all watch you disappear behind the door. 

“So it’s official? She’s really leaving?” JJ questions through a half-hearted smile. 

“I asked Rossi and he said that Hotch is gonna ask her to stay until we find a replacement.” Emily replies, still eyeing the door. 

“How did you get Rossi to admit that?” JJ turns to the raven head, questioningly, and Emily smiles coyly giving no response. 

“Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing would end once they make up? I mean come on, we all know she’s leaving because of him, right?” Morgan looks at Spencer, who’s nose deep in a file at his desk. 

“Yeah, but we can’t help if they refuse to talk to us about it.” Emily sighs, hanging her head back. 

The three dive deeper into their discussion and you’re none the wiser from inside the cream-coloured walls of Hotch’s office. As per protocol, he’s just finished informing you of what’s next and you’re kind enough to accept his request to stay until they find a replacement. You definitely said yes because you want to make the team’s transition easier, not for any self indulgent reasons such as you not being ready to leave. 

“Just return this to me once you’ve filled it out.” He instructs as he hands you a file containing your resignation forms. 

“Thanks Hotch.” You smile, grabbing the file. 

You begin heading towards the door when he stops you by your name. 

“I understand that you’re set on this decision, but I am sad to see you go.” It’s insane how many emotions this man can get across while maintaining a blank expression. “However, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” 

“Thanks Hotch.” You playfully scoff, appreciating that even he has to try at least once. 

If one more person tries though, you might scream. It wasn’t easy, pretending that you weren’t crumbling inside. The extra pressure doesn’t make it any easier. You leave his office, closing the door behind you and approach your desk. The resignation forms are put aside for later as you still have to finish your case report from Anchorage. Part of you wanted to put it off until the last minute, the other part wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. 

“Coffee?” Penelope chirps, holding out a mug filled with the hot beverage. 

“Thanks Pen.” You smile up at her, taking it out of her hands. 

“No problem.” She smirks mischievously and trots off. 

A strange lady, but your strange lady.

Upon your first sip you almost choke it out. It was perfect. Exactly to your liking. Which would be a good thing, except only one person knows exactly how you like it. Back when you first joined, you learned how popular coffee was with all the employees. You felt out of place because you weren’t a massive fan of the drink and you avoided too much sugar because it made you feel sick. You soon discovered that you liked it a lot more with honey instead. It was a weird preference, but it worked for you, making it sweet without overpowering your senses like sugar did. 

You never declined a cup when offered by your colleagues, not wanting to dishearten them. It was Spencer who caught you sneaking honey into your cup when you thought no one was paying attention. He never mentioned anything to you, but the next time he returned with a cup to offer, you couldn’t help but the smile that adorned your face for the rest of the day. It was why you dedicated yourself to morning breakfast runs for him, memorising his coffee order as a silent thank you. Neither of you ever talked about it. 

You spin your seat around to find Spencer engaged in conversation with Rossi. You consider walking past him and dumping the beverage in the sink to make a point, but it was a welcome energiser for the dreadful task at hand. Plus you aren’t wasteful. You spin back around and decide to accept it just this once. 

When he’s sure you’re no longer looking he sets his sights back on you. A small smile forms across his lips when he sees you drink the coffee. He honestly expected you to throw it away. He feared that if he was the one to deliver the mug, you’d throw it on him. It was why he convinced Garcia to do it, bribing her by promising to buy a round of drinks on the next night out. 

“Kid, are you even listening?” Rossi scolds in an incredulous way. 

As the hours pass, your frustration grows. You couldn’t get yourself to write the details of the case. Your mind refused to think about it. You had hoped that taking breaks would make it easier, but everytime you returned to the page your head went blank.

“Need some help?” Spencer asks, spawning next to you.

“Christ, Reid!” You blurt, startled. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.” 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as if on cue. 

You glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t say anything, glancing between you and the unfinished case file, waiting for an answer. 

“No thanks.” You keep it short, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Let me know if you do.” He doesn’t. 

“You wouldn’t even be the last person I’d ask if I did.” You snark. 

“But you would eventually?” He stays calm, almost playful. 

Smart ass. 

You choose to ignore him, be the bigger person and all that. Even though he wasn’t antagonising you. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” It’s forceful gratitude. You weren’t feeling grateful, but you still had manners. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Don’t make it again.” 

“I will not.” He grins and walks away to his desk. 

You act like you don’t know he’s watching you work. Looking up often to find you stuck on the same page. Even if he knew that you know, he didn’t plan to stop. What he does know is that you’d never directly let him help you. He doesn’t care. There weren’t any new cases this week, so a ton of paperwork was to be expected. It’s taunting enough to write down details of your own assault, the extra paperwork would only add more stress. You’re too busy trying to push through the mental blockade to notice the sudden influx of files on his desk and the efflux on yours. 

What you didn’t miss was how the next cup of coffee you were offered was just as perfect as the one from before. 

“I thought I told you to stop with the coffee, Reid.” You lightly slam the paper cup on Spencer’s desk. 

He leans back in his seat and chews on his lip with an entertained smirk. 

“And I did. That’s not from me.” He’s earnest with his response.

“Oh, so JJ just happens to know my coffee preferences all of a sudden?” You sarcastically retort, crossing your arms.

“No.” He crosses his fingers across his lap. “I told her how you like your coffee when she said she was going on a coffee run.”

“And why did you do that?” You play along, unenthusiastically. 

“Because you told me to stop doing it.” He states in the most casual way possible. 

This was getting you nowhere. It was naive to think he’d let you spend your last few weeks here peacefully. Scratch that– he was being peaceful. Too peaceful. A new tactic to get under your skin?

“Stop. It.” The delivery of your words is slow and emphasised. 

“Stop doing exactly what you’ve told me to?”

You bite your tongue and glare at him. His face, shoulders, arms, everything, is relaxed. You can’t even argue with him. You take a moment to consider how bad it would be if you bashed his head in with the back of your gun. Then you take another to critique how easy it is to pass the psych evals. They should really think about the consequences of using questions the BAU wrote on actual BAU agents. 

After that day you went back to ignoring him. Any time coffee was offered you’d decline altogether. If he attempted to try and talk to you, you’d respond with yes or no for the sake of professionalism. This didn’t deter Spencer though. He gave you your space but kept a close eye on you, continuing to try and ease your burdens from afar. Exactly how he used to. 

This only lasted until the next case came in. Specifically until you were back out on the field, where he perceived you to be in high amounts of danger. You tolerated it because it gave you comfort, not that you’d ever tell him. Having Spencer by your side made it easier to deal with the reality that there’s little you can do if another incident like Anchorage occurred. 

Plus focusing your energy on ignoring him kept the flashbacks away. Or it did, until the take down. You once again found yourself in danger from an unsub, only this time the situation was controlled. All guns were pointed at the killer, except for the one that was pointed at you. The plan was simple: you talk down the unsub, take him back to the station and talk him into exposing his partner. 

Everything was going according to plan, until Spencer realised that one of the cops in the room was his partner and he was about to shoot you. Nobody understood what happened before the situation calmed down. Spencer had fired the first shot towards the dirty cop and immediately tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the hail of bullets that followed after. All you remember clearly is freezing up, clinging to the man on top of you. One moment you were screaming out, trying to make sure that he was okay and the next you were back in the alley behind the bar, fighting for your life. 

You didn’t comprehend anything until the panic attack subsided but Spencer was fine. His vest caught the bullets. Both unsubs were dead. Rossi and Prentiss came to the realisation the same time as Spencer and were quick to react. And you weren’t in the alley. You were in Spencer’s arms as he led you away from the scene when it was safe. 

When you snapped out of it the medics had cleared him of any injuries. He tried to approach you during your check up, but you shoved him away, unable to even look at him. The only thing you remember clearly is Hotch sending you all back to your hotel rooms before tomorrow’s flight back. You should be asleep right now, if not from the exhaustion of today’s events alone, then from how long you spent reassuring everybody that you were okay. 

You couldn’t sleep. Not when so many thoughts were occupying your headspace. This is the second time Spencer’s saved your life, in the span of roughly a month. The first time he’s put his life in direct danger to save yours. Had it not been for his vest he would be dead. The more you linger on it, the angrier you’d become. You were also wearing a vest, you would’ve been fine. What he did was unnecessary and reckless. 

What if the bullet missed the vest? Entered through the side? What was he thinking?

You were mentally fighting the urge to barge into his room and yell at him for his stupidity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. What happens to him is not your problem anymore. You aren’t going to let your guard down just because he’s an idiot.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, Reader almost dies, Reader and Spencer are pissing me off, bc they’re so dumb, angst, hurt no comfort, Reader gets a little revenge.

AN - Before you comment ANYTHING, there is one more part. It’ll be posted a lot sooner than this one was. Writing this made me realise how limited the English language is. There’s only so many words to use and ways to write them. If either part sounds repetitive at times, it’s not my fault!!! Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

If you comment you garner good karma for yourself and that could lead to you meeting MGG someday (I’m not liable if this never happens), think about that... 

Thank you for reading!

[merrybloomwrites]

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment. 

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things. 

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets. 

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself. 

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you. 

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you. 

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says. 

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day. 

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week. 

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh. 

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it. 

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting. 

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you. 

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact. 

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled. 

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it. 

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved. 

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected. 

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day. 

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks. 

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening. 

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds. 

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys. 

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds. 

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you. 

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully. 

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it. 

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family. 

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place. 

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said. 

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details. 

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure. 

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved. 

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad. 

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it. 

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back. 

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness. 

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things. 

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine. 

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest. 

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.  

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say. 

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies. 

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch. 

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful. 

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time. 

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you. 

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home. 

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together. 

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood. 

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it. 

“I need to be held,” you say. 

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile. 

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

[reasonsforhope]

THANK FUCKING GOD

"The Supreme Court on Thursday [June 13, 2024] unanimously preserved access to a medication that was used in nearly two-thirds of all abortions in the U.S. last year, in the court’s first abortion decision since conservative justices overturned Roe v. Wade two years ago.

The nine justices ruled that abortion opponents lacked the legal right to sue over the federal Food and Drug Administration’s approval of the medication, mifepristone, and the FDA’s subsequent actions to ease access to it. The case had threatened to restrict access to mifepristone across the country, including in states where abortion remains legal.

Abortion is banned at all stages of pregnancy in 14 states, and after about six weeks of pregnancy in three others, often before women realize they’re pregnant.

Justice Brett Kavanaugh, who was part of the majority to overturn Roe, wrote for the court on Thursday that “federal courts are the wrong forum for addressing the plaintiffs’ concerns about FDA’s actions.”

The opinion underscored the stakes of the 2024 election and the possibility that an FDA commissioner appointed by Republican Donald Trump, if he wins the White House, could consider tightening access to mifepristone, including prohibiting sending it through the mail...

Kavanaugh’s opinion managed to unite a court deeply divided over abortion and many other divisive social issues by employing a minimalist approach that focused solely on the technical legal issue of standing and reached no judgment about the FDA’s actions...

While praising the decision, President Joe Biden signaled Democrats will continue to campaign heavily on abortion ahead of the November elections. “It does not change the fact that the right for a woman to get the treatment she needs is imperiled if not impossible in many states,” Biden said in a statement...

About two-thirds of U.S. adults oppose banning the use of mifepristone, or medication abortion, nationwide, according to a KFF poll conducted in February. About one-third would support a nationwide ban...

More than 6 million people [in the U.S.] have used mifepristone since 2000. Mifepristone blocks the hormone progesterone and primes the uterus to respond to the contraction-causing effect of a second drug, misoprostol. The two-drug regimen has been used to end a pregnancy through 10 weeks gestation...

Biden’s administration and drug manufacturers had warned that siding with abortion opponents in this case could [have] undermined the FDA’s drug approval process beyond the abortion context by inviting judges to second-guess the agency’s scientific judgments. The Democratic administration and New York-based Danco Laboratories, which makes mifepristone, argued that the drug is among the safest the FDA has ever approved."

-via AP, June 13, 2024

--

Note: A massive relief and a genuine victory - this will preserve access to the medication used in 2/3rds of abortions last year, for at least another 2 years. (Probably minimum time it will take Republicans to get their next attempt before the Supreme Court.)

Still, with this, a sword that has been hanging over our heads for the last two years is gone. There will be a new one soon, but we just bought ourselves probably at least 2 years. The fight isn't over, but this is absolutely worth celebrating.

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 705, part 2: The Moonberry Surprise.

It's true, the Moonberry Surprise moment, it is my fault

I hope you can forgive me for my sins. Hahahaha.

Ok, let's talk about this little sequence. But first, some... context?

Ok, so, Dragon Prince was my first job as Storyboard Artist, before coming to DPR I was working as a Storyboard Revisionist in Lego NinjaGo Crystalized. So I applied to Dragon Prince with not hopes that they will hire me, and when the offered my the job I was in awe.

So basically, I arrived to work in season 4 as a Junior Storyboard Artist. They gave me little sequences during season 4 (I was mostly helping my unit director with revisions) they gave me more during season 5 and 6, working on my strengths, emotional moments, long talking sequences and some combat. You know what was not there? comedy, because it was not one of the things I knew well how to do. But after a year and a half working in the show, I was seasoned enough to be a proper Storyboard Artist, not a rookie anymore. So they finally assigned me a comedy sequence.

I was terrified. Today after years in the industry, I can say that I am not scared of comedy anymore. But when I read the script and I realized that they were expecting a big comedy moment from me , I knew I was in trouble. But as they say, "you fake it until you make it" I took a deep breath and smile to my unit director like "Of course I can do this!"

But ok, lets talk about the sequence. We start nice, with the moon fam enjoying some time together. Was an opportunity to work with Runaan and Ethari, and that is always cool! I love how Ethari is just happy of everyone being there, and Runaan just wants to kill Callum (in an affectionate way, like he is just a protective dad, you know, a no nonsense dude)

So yeah, they talk a little and Rayla handles Callum a slice of Moonberry Surprise. Is like this almost mythical dessert that is said tastes like nothing else in all Xadia. And Callum is so excited to try it!

So, the script did not call for anything you saw in that sequence. The script instructed to reveal the Moonberry Surprise like something out of this world, and then have Callum almost having an epiphany when he tries it. My first idea was to have Calum almost levitating on his seat while eating it, while the rest of the moon fam looked at them in confusion. But during the launch of the episode (this is the stage where directors and in the case of DPR writers, tell SB artist what they want for every sequence we will board, we pitch ideas, and so on) was more clear to me that they were expecting something more of an "out of this world experience". Like the "I love books" moment that Callum had on season 5, episode 2, but on steroids.

So I was ok, lets make it as trippy as possible. So we have this fast zoom in into Callums face, that lead us into this "dimension of flavor" he is being transported to.

And he opens his eyes and he is floating in this space of color and flavor, his spirit being lifted by this experience.

He is experiencing all this flavors, eating this huge blue berries (this was my Unit director idea, Thanks Katherine!!), when something catches his eye. A figure, looking to him from the above, almost like a god.

And Callums looks up, revealing... this:

So, I have a really particular sense of humor (not unique, because I feel a lot of people share it, particular because really specific things make me laugh a lot). I was born late 80's grew up on the 90's with all the weird cartoons and anime of that time. For me adding muscular arms to things is the best joke ever.

This is peak humor to me:

So I was like, what if, Callum does the Titanic spinning thing, with a muscular slice of pie? So I did that... And I was SURE they will reject it.

So I finished my roughs, and I sent them to my Unit Director. She was "this is so stupid" (in the best way) so, she added some placeholder music, and send it for review from the directors, while both of us were expecting to have it rejected.

A couple of days after, our Storyboards Supervisor was like "WHO DID THE MOONBERRY SURPRISE SEQUENCE??" And I was like "me?", and he was like "Aaron LOVED IT!" and I was like "?????" so, yeah, was approved.

So yeah, that is my legacy, I guess. I am Runaan in this shot:

So well, those are all my sequences in episode 705.

Sorry again for being responsible for the birth of that thing. But that is my son now, and I kinda love him, even if he looks like that....

Next post will be my last! So yeah, stay tunned for my last post about my boards in The Dragon Prince, episode 708!

[intrusivethoughtsblog]

How to be a Solar Punk (And a Leftist) ☀️🌱:

1) Stop buying fast fashion and boycott.

I use Depop, Etsy to support small businesses, and you can purchase from small businesses or organizations via other channels. You can also transform your clothing. If a t-shirt is too small, make it a crop top or wear a long shirt underneath! Also look up boycott lists (e.g. BDS movement list) so you know which companies you can or cannot support.

2) Censor and Spread.

Carry around a sharpie or a tube of paint to cover ignorant (e.g. racist) graffiti and scribbles. (I’m not going to refer to it as art). You can also spread information via graffiti.

3) Reuse and Recycle.

I use grocery bags as garbage bags, tin cans to hold things, boxes from online orders, you can even get more creative and make pins out of bottle tops!

4) Get involved physically (if possible).

Volunteer to help people who are lower income, get involved in “beautifying” the community (e.g. displaying the cultural backgrounds of the community, gardening, and protesting).

5) Get involved online.

I sign and repost GoFundMe campaigns, donate what I can, and post information regarding current events. Don’t be apolitical. This is a leftist ideology.

6) Educate yourself.

Go to trusted sources to educate yourself on facts regarding certain matters so you can dispute false claims. There are many PDFs online, podcasts, and overall resources you should take advantage of to increase your awareness and to also help develop a better understanding of those who need your help. Education is what will set us free.

7) Support your local library.

There are so many resources and programs they offer that people are not aware of. And because people are not aware of them they are shut down and underfunded. People who can’t afford computers need to have them available free at cost. Not only to enjoy them leisurely but to do things like job search. Children also have reading assignments which brings them to the library, seeing activities and programs they offer children will help to cultivate a love for learning. The next generations are our future.

8) Learn languages and about cultures.

Certain issues are not limited to certain communities or areas. We need to unite in order to make an impact that will enact change. You will also understand how to positively influence certain people that would otherwise not be receptive due to a different communication style.

9) Take care of your mental health.

“A sick person cannot help a sick person.” -AA saying

You also need to take care of yourself because, simply, you are valuable. Being healthily selfish exists.

10) Be confident.

We unfortunately have to enter spaces that will make us uncomfortable and it will be difficult to be vocal, but it is necessary. In this area, focus on practicing efficient communication methods and building your self-confidence.

11) Confront your own bias.

Everyone is biased in some way shape or form. It is our job to rid ourselves of these biases. Take moral inventory (as they say in 12-step programs) and analyze areas you need to work on.

12) Credit artists and writers.

Being an artist and/or writer should not be a struggling profession. They are an integral part of our society. It’s easy to forget, especially when we take so many screenshots a day, so keep this in mind! I sometimes forget so I can attest it’s not the end of the world but it is a good habit to form.

13) Be anti-A.I.

It is not possible to incorporate A.I. into a leftist environment. It inherently promotes late-stage capitalism.

13) Be a good human. :)

Please comment what I missed! Thank you for reading.

Flag credit: @Starwall@radical.town

[aikatsuswings]

Sherbet Polar Bear

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 5

Summary - Lando's pov on everything that's going on.

Warnings - angst, dickhead Lando.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Lando's pov.

Lando knew from the very beginning that the two of you could never be just friends with benefits. His feelings towards you were too strong, and it was only a matter of time until he asked you out officially, knowing that you felt the same way.

Well, that was the plan. Unit Magui came back into the picture.

Your relationship wasn't exclusive - there was never a conversation about getting with other people, not that Lando had done so since you'd started, but all it took was a moment of weakness to unleash the terror of the next few months.

It was Singapore, like 3 months ago. You weren't at that race and Lando had just won. High on adrenaline from a much needed win, a familiar presence stood by his hotel door as he got in from the circuit.

He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her there. They'd fooled about in the past, but nothing came of whatever they had going on. He won't lie though, at that time, when they broke off, it hurt him more than he let on. Whether it was just the fact that once again there was no one to come home to, or something else, he couldn't say. And it wasn't soon after that you jumped into the picture, so all his woes about Magui were quickly forgotten.

Anyways, he'd invited her into his room, and one thing led to another, and the two of them fucked. He internally kicked himself the second he slid a condom on and buried himself in her. And the high - well it wasn't a high. It was anything but. All he could think about was you, and how much more incredible you were. Lando had kicked Magui out straight away, the guilt eating at him for betraying you, though he didn't have the guts to come clean.

Fast forward another 3 months, and this time she showed up at Lando's apartment in Monaco. He thanked the gods that you weren't there when she did, because his world came crashing down when she broke the news about being pregnant.

He wasn't ready to be a father, hell he wasn't ready for her to fall into his life so easily, but the more he thought of it, he really didn't have a choice.

And when it came to you? He thought it better to have you cut out completely because he couldn't bare the thought of being around you when you couldn't be together.

Seeing you in Monaco one evening had all of Lando's feeling towards you rush up to the surface. It was a no brainer, no matter how wrong, that he dragged you to his car and fucked all of those said feeling into you, knowing he would never get another chance.

He'd so wanted to come clean, tell you the truth, but again, he didn't want to see the look in your eyes when you learned of his betrayal. So he made up a lie. That he and Magui were giving it another shot. That he wanted to give it another shot with her.

He could tell you were hurt, trying to hold it together in front of him, and as much as he tried to say the words pregnant, or baby, he got stuck in his throat, and once again, he'd rather usher you out as if he didn't want you. He thought it would be easier if you hated him.

Then came the McLaren event in London a few weeks later.

Lando was caught off guard when as the elevator doors opened to reveal you standing there, looking beautiful as ever. He couldn't help but let his eyes roam over your body, feeling his cheeks heat up when he caught a glimpse of your cleavage.

It wasn't until Magui snapped him out of his trance, and when she kissed him, he went with it, not sure how he'd survive the few minutes with the girl he used to 'see' (?) and the girl he's seeing. He knew he was being a dick, doing this in front of you. But he was afraid, as always.

Lando had hoped to catch you before the interview on stage. He wanted to clear the air in the hopes of things not being so awkward, but of course there was no time. So he held his breath as he walked on, and somehow your presence calmed him, and the interview went on without a hitch. Ironic, he thought. But he wasn't complaining.

At some point later that night his eyes caught you and Magui. The sight didn't look pretty. It looked as if you both you ready to knock the other out, he intervened. And of course, being the asshole he was, he acted like a bitch towards you. He had no idea where the adrenaline came from, but before he knew it he was throwing words and questions to you.

''I'm in love'' the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, and honestly? The look in your eyes could have killed him. This time, he knew he message up. There was no taking back his words, no going back.

He wasn't sure why he followed you outside, but again, his brain and body were on autopilot even though his heart was on another dimension. He made you choose, the bastard. And his heart broke a little more when you revealed how you'd already lost him.

Lando so wished he could pull you in his arms, beg for your forgiveness even though he didn't deserve it one bit. But he chose the easier route, his plan was he make you hate him, wasn't it? And he actively had no choice and needed to move on from you, so he stuck with it, and watched you walk away.

It was no surprise the night was spent wallowing, an annoyed Magui at his side, but he made the conscious decision to come clean to you. Only then would he be able to fully let you go, and concentrate on his new relationship and baby on the way.

He woke up the next morning and the first thing he did after showering was make a beeline for your room. Don't ask how he knew your room number.

Was it a mistake to just barge in? Maybe. Because the sight of you when you opened the door was one he wished he'd never see; you, in another mans' tshirt, legs barely covered. When when he saw who it was that shuffled in the bed, Lando felt a rush of anger flow through he body. Out of all the men in this world, you chose another racing driver, and that did unimaginable things to him.

He knew he had no right to react the way he did. You didn't deserve a disgusted look thrown your way when you whispered his name. He could see the hurt in your eyes, but Lando knew, before he said something he regretted, he needed to get away from you. But his feet were planted on the ground, stuck. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but each time the words got stuck in his throat. It wasn't long until you slammed the door on his face, and he didn't blame you. So he walked away, shoulder sagging, a mix of emotions roaming his body.

The weeks following that were the hardest for Lando. He'd hated how he tret you, how he talked to you, reacted as seeing you move on from him. Did he really think you'd stay single forever after he dumped you? No. You were too switched on for that. And you deserved someone a thousand times better than him. Didn't sting any less though.

One night, as Lando had flown back to Monaco from Spain and was driving back to his apartment, he somehow managed to end up driving to your place. He didn't plan on coming here, hell he didn't even know what he'd say to you. But his legs dragged his ass up to your floor and taking a breath, he knocked.

He heard shuffling instead, praying you were alone, praying Mitch or any other guy wasn't here.

For whatever reason you let him in, and he found himself sat on your couch, his nervousness turning him into a dick again.

Finally, he broke the silence with a chuckle, quoting you, and catching you off guard.

''There really isn't anything to say..yeah..easy for you to say, what with fucking Mitch so quickly''

''Lando seriously, grow the fuck up. How is it okay for you to move on, and not okay for me to?''

''Move on from what? We were nothing, it was just sex''

Lies. He knew every word leaving his lips were lies. But he wouldn't, couldn't correct himself.

He knew his words crushed your heart

''Yeah, exactly, it was just sex, so why is me fucking Mitch at the minute a problem? you said, voice like stone.

''You're over reacting'' he sighed, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair.

''Am I? You're the one who wanted to talk. So talk''

He stayed silent.

I'm sorry

''Like i said, i have nothing to say. You're the one who decided to stop...the sex, whatever..so why are you here?''

Lando's eyes found yours with a look you couldn't place, anger? hurt? pleading? you weren't sure.

''Lando'' you pressed, standing up, hoping he'd get the hint and leave because you were this close to breaking down.

''Magui's pregnant''

The words came out like word vomit. This was not how the conversation was meant to go, but he couldn't help but feel a weight off his shoulders lifted. At the same time, he needed to leave. He refused to see you break down because of him, in front of him, the selfish coward.

So, like always, he walked away, closing the door for your apartment behind him as he leaned against it, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

It was the baby he was mad at. Hell, he didn't know know if he was mad. He was just overwhelmed. Too much was happening too quickly, and in the process he'd lost the person he cared about the most.

Exhausted, Lando made his way back home, sighing when he opened the door to see Magui, fuming.

''What?'' he asked, sounding defeated.

He chuckled sarcastically.

''As if I wouldn't find out about your....detour, to her house'' she spat.

''It's not what you think'' he threw back, not having the energy to continue with ridiculous conversation, so he walked past her.

But the night didn't end there.

It was the beginning of the end for Lando and Magui...

A/N - quick little pov on Lando's side. Didn't really come out as great as I'd hope but hope y'all still enjoyed it? Let me know in the comments!

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164 @xoxomansee @hurtblossom @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @msimpala-67 @jxnellat @chlmtfilms @abq654 @ernegren @stav2004 @myformula1addiction @ayap4paya @l0nelyhe4rts-club @callsignwidow widow-cevans meglouise00 @hoeforsirius @hahdb8 @cmleitora @oscahpastry @maxv33rstappen @saythename-sm @htpssgavi @xoxomansee @anayaverse @rendezvoushn

[arciam]

Underrated JayVik moments/lines (18/∞)

"I was supposed to die."

(I can NOT get over how absolutely livid he looks.)

I always did wonder what precisely Viktor meant by that.

Because although we are led to believe that the main reason for his ire is that Jayce broke his promise to destroy the HexCore, not only would this line be entirely unnecessary for that, but this is the line that sees the focus fully on Viktor's delivery and expression (whereas his comment on Jayce's broken promise is instead "shot" from behind, with the focus falling squarely on Jayce's reaction).

All this - and adding to it how inherently striking a statement it is to tell someone you were supposed to die in the first place - goes to put a much heavier emphasis on this line over the other one, really. But why?

I believe it is because (though their parting was likely already inevitable at this point due to additional factors such as the HexTech weapons) it is in fact a crucial part of what informs Viktor and Jayce's disconnect in this scene. As I see it, one of the various ways Jayce goes wrong here is in dwelling on the HexCore and interpreting Viktor's disapproval as solely targeting Jayce's failure to "cling to principle", when the scene direction already told us he was supposed to have paid closer attention to the line above instead.

So, since the show insists - let's unpack this, I guess.

To me, the key to understanding is the question I posed in the very beginning; the question of which of Viktor's two possible deaths this line is actually referring to - his prognosed death by disease or his de facto death in the explosion (neither of which Jayce was "supposed to" avert by using the HexCore). And after some consideration, I think the answer is this:

It makes precious little difference to Viktor - and a world of difference to Jayce.

Let's take a look at the situation from their respective points of view:

"Promise. Me."

When Viktor made Jayce promise to destroy the HexCore, it's not like he wanted to die (even his suicide attempt was more of a bid to escape his guilt and despair than a death wish), but he was coming to terms with the inevitability of it. He may not know that he has only hours left to live here, but at this point, what's the difference really?

And then, something extraordinary happens:

While we don't get to see it, it is heavily implied - both by the way Viktor saying "We have to make it right" is played over the image of Silco reading Jayce's request for parley, and of course, by how he and Jayce end up presenting it to the council together - that this negotiation for peace with Zaun is a joint endeavour.

After all of the lonely struggles Viktor fought over the course of acts 2 and 3, he spends his final day working united with Jayce the way they used to be, and his final moments seeing his people be granted independence through his and Jayce's own efforts.

With him dying - or at least being knocked unconscious - instantly in the explosion, this was the "roll credits" moment of Viktor's life, and he would never have to learn how everything went to shit.

If your death was inescapable anyway - what moment could have been more beautiful to leave the stage?

...Only to wake up in a body horror nightmare, standing less than human before the person you needed to trust more than anything having broken his promise to let you die on your own terms.

"I was supposed to die." - Why did you put me back here just because you could?

"Okay... Okay. I promise."

When Jayce promises to destroy the HexCore, he doesn't want to, but he would hate to deny Viktor's plea even more. And I do genuinely believe he would have gone through with it, too.

However, imagine how exactly Jayce is interpreting what is being asked of him in this moment. To a staunch optimist like Jayce, while a devastating blow, this is not the end of all hope. This is not a DNR.

In a way, it is merely a "back to square one" - the prospect of spending however many months remain working urgently to find a different solution, perhaps. But more importantly:

It is the solace of still having those months.

(If nothing else, then just to prepare emotionally. As someone who lost her father to illness young, believe you me when I say that having the time to prepare for what's coming is invaluable.)

Jayce is not imagining the death he is unwittingly promising Viktor here to be a sudden, frantic thing. Bloodied and dirt-streaked amidst rubble and smoke, his body cast aside and broken against stone like another piece of furniture that happened to stand in the way of the blast.

Jayce is not imagining ever looking at Viktor's corpse in a state that suggests he never mattered at all.

And Jayce - no matter what Viktor thinks his promise should entail - did most definitely not promise to be able to keep his head cool and his heart detached in a situation so far removed from anything he was ever expecting to handle when he gave it.

"I never asked for this!" - It was never fair of you to ask me for this!

Speaking of fair: that's another thing I want to touch on real quick.

Because even though Viktor acts like it should have been a matter of course for Jayce to accept Viktor's death, I have often wondered what Viktor wouldn't have been willing to do if their roles were reversed; if it was Jayce caught in the blast instead. (After all, Viktor knows he is a doomed man, but not Jayce. That's not how it's supposed to go.)

Now, I don't know that he would have gone full Singed, but luckily, we don't have to know. The show tells us exactly what Viktor would do to save Jayce's life, over and over again if need be.

Forget breaking a promise - how about breaking the very fabric of time and space itself? I know we often talk about Viktor as being the one "doomed by the narrative", and while that is true, make no mistake:

For whatever it's worth, Jayce was "supposed to die" too.

If not in the snow storm, then perhaps by his own hand, or through the Glorious Evolution. All of which Viktor simply... refuses to let happen, cosmic integrity be damned.

Long story short: In Jayce's defence, your Honour - Viktor is equally unwell about him.

Additional thoughts I didn't know how to include:

The idea for this entry is very closely tied to this video edit I made (although in a classic "chicken or egg" situation, I wouldn't be able to say which inspired which first), so if for some reason you'd like to see these themes put in a music video format - there you go.

For more on "Jayce is the one doomed by the narrative", please do read this meta by @zecroswe. While I don't agree on every detail, I absolutely see the vision and highly recommend giving it a read.

I've been wanting to expand on Jayce's POV on the necromancy thing ever since part 2 (where I said Viktor "knows that Jayce broke his promise to destroy the HexCore, but not of the wide-eyed desparation with which he scrambled for any way at all to save Viktor"). On that post, @luciansuir made a comment that I really want to include here because they kinda nailed some of my thoughts all the way back then:

Jayce fumbled so bad that he pulled excuses like “maybe the HexCore wasn’t so bad, maybe Heimer was wrong” Man how was that ever about the features of HexCore? Of course Viktor was convinced that you experimented with his death and treated him as a sample. Just tell the truth that you were so desperate and couldn’t bear the thought of losing him

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/7½/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20

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[vingtetunmars]

Unlisted

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin accepts a bounty from Captain Teva to track down a mysterious fugitive hiding in the lower levels of Coruscant. Things took a left turn when his son took a liking to her.

Part 2 / Part 3

Tags: Enemies to Lovers-ish?, smut (18+) in later part, Grogu plays matchmaker, set after season 3, slow burn, pre-relationship, star wars content that may or may not be canon. I think both are equally emotionally unavailable. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: Din Djarin have been plaguing my mind, and this turns out to be a longer fic than I anticipated, sooo...yeah.... If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 4k

masterlist

You kept your head down. Not just metaphorically, either — the hood stays up, shadowing your face like a curtain drawn on a stage you no longer wish to perform on.

Down here, in the belly of Coruscant, the sky was a myth. The higher levels sparkled with hover traffic and clean storefronts, but the lower levels — Level 1313 and below — were where light came in flickers. Neon buzzed overhead, casting pale blue veins down crumbling walls. You slipped through the crowd like a whisper, unnoticed, which was how you like it.

Your boots splashed through puddles that hadn’t seen sunlight in years. A vendor hollered about fried mynock skewers behind you; someone screamed further down the street — no one turned their head. It was just another day.

You reached the alley behind the scrapyard, the one that still had an access panel no one’s noticed. A sharp knock in a three-beat rhythm, and the door opens — you’ve greased enough palms to keep that privilege. Inside, your makeshift workspace waits: scraps of old droids, power cells half-drained, a busted protocol unit whose vocabulator you’ve been repurposing as a signal jammer.

It's not pretty, but it works. And that's what matters.

You slid off your outer cloak, revealing the belt of tools at your hip. Plasma cutter, sonic wrench, home-built pulse bomb. You always carry more tricks than anyone expects. That’s probably the only reason you’re not in a cell. Yet.

You were just about to reroute a power coupling when you felt it — not a sound, not a shadow, just presence. A change in the air behind you.

You turned, fast—

—and he was already there.

Silver beskar, unmoving. The T-shaped visor locked onto you. He hadn't made a sound, not a single footstep. You stumbled back a half-step.

"You're a hard one to find," the modulated voice said.

Your hand moved before your brain did. A flashbang slipped from your belt — you hurl it down, shielding your eyes as light erupts.

You didn't wait to see if it worked.

Your legs were burning, breath tight in your chest, but the alleys blur past in streaks of shadow and neon. You darted through steam vents, leapt a fallen droid chassis, and ducked into the narrow crawlspace between two shuttered stalls.

For a second, all you heard was your own heartbeat.

Then — the low, mechanical thud of boots on metal.

He was still coming.

You pivoted out the other end, slammed a panel shut behind you, and vaulted up onto a maintenance ladder. The climb was fast, practiced. You’ve done this route before — knew you’d need it someday.

Tonight was that day.

You reached the catwalk above, drew your sonic wrench, and twisted it until it whines with unstable energy. Footsteps hit the ladder behind you.

You didn’t hesitate. You turned and launched yourself off the catwalk — straight at him.

Mid-air, you jab the wrench forward. It connected with his pauldron and lets out a crackling burst that should’ve dropped anyone else.

But he wasn’t just anyone.

The impact staggered him, barely. He gripped your wrist mid-strike, wrenched your arm sideways, and you cried out — but you twisted with it, slammed your knee into his ribs, planted a boot against his chest, and shoved off hard.

You both hit the ground — you rolled, he lands heavy.

You sprung to your feet first, palm a smoke charge from your belt, and slammed it into the floor. White haze erupts.

You vanished into it.

You could hear him coughing behind his helmet — the charge is laced with an irritant, non-toxic but disorienting. It bought you seconds.

You moved fast, ducking under hanging cables, burst through a flickering doorway—

—and hit a solid wall of beskar.

He must’ve flanked you.

You striked first — a knife from your boot into your hand in a blink. You slashed low, aiming for the thigh joint.

He blocked it with his vambrace, grabbed your forearm, and swung you around. Your back crashed into a pillar. The knife clattered away.

You were gasping, arm pinned, struggling — and then you felt it. The snap of a cold metal cuff around your wrist.

You froze.

His grip tightens for half a second, then loosens — not out of mercy. Just efficiency.

“You done?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

But your glare could burn through beskar.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The walk back to the Razor Crest was silent, save for the shifting of your boots against the metal of the landing pad. You were still cuffed, and you’ve stopped struggling — but The Mandalorian doesn’t relax. Not yet.

He had enough runs to know that quiet didn’t mean safe.

You didn't say a word, just kept your hood low and your jaw set like you were chewing on the galaxy’s worst secret. He didn’t ask what it was. That wasn’t his job.

He got the puck from Captain Teva three rotations ago. No chain code, just a vague directive — female, human, operating out of the lower levels of Coruscant. Wanted alive. High payout.

“New Republic’s nervous,” Teva had said, crackling through the holocomm. “No official charges I can find. No open case file. Just… pressure from the top. Someone wants her quiet.”

The Mandalorian had asked the usual questions. What’d you do? Who are you?

Teva had shrugged. “I don’t know. Hell, they didn’t even give me a name.”

That was the part that stuck with him. No name, no record, no crime listed — but a full-system alert and credits on the table.

Which meant whoever you were, someone high up wanted you gone without questions.

He’d taken the job anyway. Credits were credits. And he had mouths to feed.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Razor Crest creaked as the ramp closes behind him. He tossed your gear onto a bench — gadgets, explosives, tools that look cobbled together out of junk and genius. Then he guided you toward the carbonite chamber.

You froze when you saw it. “Seriously?” you muttered, voice raw from running, but steady. “You’re freezing me?”

“It’s the safest way,” he said flatly.

“For who?” you snapped. “I won’t run.”

He hesitated. Not because he believed you — but because you looked him in the visor, and there was something behind your eyes that didn't match the bounty he was told to expect.

You look tired. Sharp, but worn down. And more than anything, angry. Not reckless — cornered.

“I’m not stupid,” you added, quieter now. “You’d catch me again. Just… don’t freeze me.”

The Mandalorian glanced toward the carbonite controls. It would be easier. Safer. Less complicated.

But he had already seen how resourceful you are. If you wanted to escape, you would’ve tried already. You could have blown yourself and half the alley apart with that last trick you never used.

“I’ll cuff you to the bunk,” he said.

You nodded once. No snark. No protest.

He almost preferred it when people are mouthy. It’s easier than silence like this — silence that carries weight.

He cuffed you to the narrow bed in the small bunk area and shuts the panel behind him. Then he climbed up to the cockpit and sets a course for Adelphi.

Grogu coos softly from his seat, eyes wide.

“I don’t know either, kid,” The Mandalorian mutters, sinking into the pilot’s chair. “Something’s off.”

He didn’t say it, but he knew: this is the kind of job that never stays simple.

The hum of the engines has settled into a steady rhythm — low, comforting, like a lullaby wrapped in metal. You sat cuffed to the bunk, legs stretched out, back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling.

The Razor Crest was old, rugged. Not like the sleek, polished ships you used to know. It’s held together by care and stubbornness, and judging by the wear on the walls, it’s seen more battles than peace.

You breathed in slowly, finally letting your shoulders drop. You were not in a cell. Not frozen. That’s something.

Then you heard it — a soft patter, like tiny feet on metal.

You looked toward the corner, squinting.

A small green creature with wide eyes and bigger ears stands halfway down the ladder, blinking up at you like you’re the strange thing in the room.

“…What the kriff?”

He tilted his head.

You sat up straighter, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. He toddles down the last few steps, round eyes locked on yours. No fear. Just curiosity. And maybe… sympathy?

“I didn’t know he brought pets,” you muttered, watching him wobbled closer. “Or... children?”

He stopped just out of your reach, still staring. Then, slowly, carefully, he lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers.

You raised an eyebrow. “That a hello, or a warning?”

He cooed.

You blinked, a short laugh escaping your throat before you could help it. “Alright, you’re cute. That’s illegal.”

Before he could get any closer, the sound of metal boots clanking on the ladder echoed down from above. You glanced toward it just in time to see silver beskar descend — slow, heavy, with purpose.

The Mandalorian stepped into view just as the kid reached your side. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Grogu,” he said sharply, voice low with warning.

The little one startled but doesn’t move.

“I told you to stay in your seat.”

Grogu looked back at him with the most innocent eyes you’ve ever seen on a living thing. You watched the standoff, entirely entertained.

“Kid has taste,” you quipped. “And a better sense of company.”

The Mandalorian didn’t answer you — he walks over and scooped Grogu up gently but firmly, holding him under one arm like a wayward satchel.

“You shouldn’t be near her,” he muttered to the kid, glancing at you.

“Her is right here,” you said, raising both brows. “And I’m not gonna hurt him. Honestly, didn’t expect you to have a soft side.”

His helmet turned toward you.

“He’s not part of the job,” he said simply, climbing the ladder with Grogu in hand.

You smirked after them. “Didn’t say he was.”

The panel slid shut behind him, sealing you in again. You let your head fall back against the wall and smile to yourself.

So the bounty hunter has a kid.

This just got more interesting.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been in hyperspace. Time feels like sludge in a durasteel box, but the constant thrum of the engines and the gentle sway of the ship made it bearable.

What makes it better was the small, green creature who kept sneaking down the ladder like he owns the place.

The first time after the initial scolding, he was sneakier. You heard the soft squeak of feet before you saw the ears poke around the corner. This time, you didn't say a word — just gave him a little nod and a smirk. An unspoken truce.

Then came the second visit. And the third.

By the fourth, you were sitting cross-legged on the bunk, cuffs clinking quietly as Grogu sat on the floor in front of you, trying to mimic the motion of one of your tools using only the Force and a very determined face.

You glance toward the closed panel overhead. “He’s gonna come down again and scoop you up like a misbehaving tooka, you know.”

Grogu just gurgles.

“Right,” you sighed. “Rebel spirit. Should’ve known.”

The panel opened. Speak of the devil.

The Mandalorian climbed down the ladder, visor landing on the pair of you instantly.

“Grogu.”

It was the same tone as before — firm, quiet, expectant. Grogu’s ears twitch like he’d been caught drawing on walls again.

“He’s not doing anything,” you said, raising your cuffed hands. “Just hanging out.”

“He shouldn’t be near you.”

“Why? You think I’m dangerous?”

He didn’t answer. He just crossed the room and gently scooped Grogu up again. Grogu let out a protesting whine, tiny arms reaching toward you as he's lifted away.

“Maker forbid someone wants to be my friend,” you muttered, mostly to yourself — but you didn't miss the way the Mandalorian paused at that.

The visits didn’t stop.

Over time, Grogu got bolder. He sat on your lap. Tugs at your sleeves. Tried to mimic your expressions. You started talking to him in low tones — nothing personal, just stories. Jokes. The occasional grumble about hyperspace.

You learned quickly that he likes to coo when amused and tilt his head to manipulate you into silence. He was an expert.

At one point, you held up your cuffs and shook them lightly. “These really ruin the vibe, don’t they?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, then turned to the ladder.

“Don’t even think about it—” you started.

A few moments later, you heard the Mandalorian climbing down again. He stepped off the ladder, helmet tilting in that what now way.

Grogu was standing beside you, one hand lightly on the chain of your cuffs. He looked up at the Mandalorian and lets out a pleading whine, eyes huge, gesturing with tiny fingers like he was explaining something very serious.

You shrugged one shoulder, as much as the chain allows. “I told you. He just wants a friend.”

A long beat.

You couldn't see his face, but something shifts in the air — maybe in the set of his shoulders, maybe in the way his helmet lingered on Grogu.

Finally, he sighed — that kind of sigh that sounds heavier than it should.

Then he moved. Keys in a code. The cuffs popped open with a metallic click.

You stared at him, rubbing your wrists. “Didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Don’t make me regret it,” he muttered, already turning back toward the ladder.

Grogu gave a pleased coo and nestled back into your lap like he’d just won a game only he was playing.

You glanced at the little guy. “You’ve got him wrapped around your tiny fingers, don’t you?”

He just blinked up at you, innocent as ever.

You leaned back against the wall, cuff-free, your first real breath in hours escaping you.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It was a rocky descent.

You were strapped into the jump seat in the hold, with Grogu curled beside you in his floating pod, blinking sleepily as the Razor Crest cuts through the atmosphere. The landing thrusters groan in protest — this planet wasn’t exactly known for friendly ports.

The Mandalorian appeared at the top of the ladder, helmet reflecting the blue-green light of the planet below.

“Stay on the ship.” he added.

Grogu lets out a soft coo, like he disagreed.

You shrugged. “Fine. I like it here. Cozy.”

He paused at the top of the ladder. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt his stare. Measuring.

Then—

“You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“There’s a bounty. Quick grab. I don’t want to leave Grogu alone.”

You glanced down at the kid, who seems entirely unbothered and was now nibbling on a snack he absolutely did not ask permission to eat.

“And I’m your trusted babysitter now?”

“If you run, I shoot you,” he replied evenly.

You sighed and got to your feet. “That’s fair.”

You were walking slightly behind Mando, hood up, hands tucked in your coat. Grogu floated between you, his pod humming softly. The outpost reeks of oil and sun-baked metal. A couple of locals eye you warily, but the gleam of beskar kept them at a distance.

“Who’s the target?” you asked under your breath.

Mando taps a puck. “Rolk Tenek. Rodian. Wanted for arms smuggling and ditching New Republic probation.”

“Aw. A real gentleman.”

The bounty’s signal led to a rust-stained scrapyard on the edge of the city. You spotted movement near one of the larger hulks — a Rodian hauling crates into the back of a shuttle. No guards. Sloppy.

“I’ll circle around,” Mando said.

You nodded but hesitated. “Wait. He’s powering up the shuttle. You sneak in, and he’s gone the second you step out.”

“I’m not asking for advice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Just don’t get mad when I save your ass.”

He vanished around the right side of the yard.

Predictably, all hell broke loose.

You hear a crash, followed by blaster fire. You dart behind a stack of old droid plating just as a second Rodian — a lookout — emerged from the scrap with a blaster raised.

He spotted Mando and fires.

You were already moving.

Your hand dipped into your coat and pulls out a small, disk-shaped gadget. You twisted the edge — click — and rolled it across the ground toward the attacker. It hummed once, then popped with a bright burst of light and a short-range EMP pulse.

The Rodian’s blaster fizzled.

By the time he looked down, you were on him. A kick to the knee, elbow to the gut, and he went down hard.

You looked up just in time to see Mando haul the main bounty — stunned and grumbling — out of the shuttle. He freezed when he saw you standing over the unconscious lookout.

You lifted both hands, mock-innocent. “Didn’t run.”

The bounty was in carbonite. You were back in the hold, wiping dirt from your sleeves. Grogu was curled beside you, clearly impressed.

Mando descends from the cockpit.

“You had a clean shot at the door,” he said.

“I know.”

“You could’ve taken the shuttle.”

“I know that too.”

A pause.

“Why didn’t you?”

You shrugged. “Because that idiot had a blaster pointed at your head. And because I didn’t feel like stealing a junk pile with bad shielding.”

Another beat of silence.

You glanced up at him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t say it. Of course he doesn’t. But after a moment, he crosses the hold and tosses something your way.

A ration pack.

You caught it one-handed, raising your brows.

“A meal and no chains? You’re really starting to spoil me, Mando.”

He said nothing as he walks back to the ladder — but you swear you hear the faintest huff of breath through the modulator. Maybe a laugh. Maybe not.

But it was a start.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The bounty was delivered. Fuel was loaded. Grogu was fed, and now he was curled up beside you on the floor of the Razor Crest’s hold, content and snoring softly.

You leaned against the wall, rolling a hydrospanner between your fingers. Mando sat across from you, still in full armor, arms resting on his knees, helmet tilted slightly downward like he’d been staring at you too long and didn’t want you to notice.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Who are you?”

You looked up. “That’s not a very nice way to start a conversation.”

He didn’t respond. Just waited.

You sighed, twirling the spanner. “If you ask me questions, can I ask you questions too?”

“No.”

You smirked. “Then I won’t answer yours.”

“Fine.”

Silence.

Then, after a long moment, he shifted. “This isn’t a game.”

“No,” you said, watching him carefully. “It’s not. But if you want something from me, you better be willing to give a little too.”

His visor stayed locked on you. And then— “One for one.”

You nodded, serious now. “Deal.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Why is the New Republic after you?”

“That’s two questions. You want motive or context?”

“Motive.”

You paused, glancing at Grogu’s sleeping form. “Because I found something I wasn’t supposed to. Something that makes them look very, very bad.”

His silence was all the answer you needed — he wasn’t surprised. Just curious.

“My turn,” you said. “What’s a Mandalorian doing babysitting a green gremlin?”

“He’s not a job.”

That was all he gave you.

You raised a brow. “So he’s what — your son?”

“…Something like that.”

That was more than you expected. You softened a little, eyeing the tiny creature curled up like a seed pod.

“Your turn,” you said.

“How’d you find it? The thing that got you hunted.”

You shrugged slowly. “It was a routine audit. I worked in records verification — nothing flashy. But someone filed a data-wipe request with all the wrong clearance codes. Sloppy.”

“You were a bureaucrat?”

“Please. I was a thinkerer in a sea of paper-pushers. But yeah, I had access to archives most people don’t. I followed the glitch and... found an encrypted list.”

“What kind of list?”

You hesitated. “A roster of old Imperial loyalists… still on New Republic payroll.”

That made him shift. Just slightly.

You leaned forward. “That’s when they came after me. Scrubbed my ID. Flagged my face. Marked me as hostile and told everyone I’d gone rogue. Leaked false charges — weapons theft, sabotage, conspiracy. All fabricated.”

He didn’t say anything.

“My turn again,” you said quietly. “Do you ever take that thing off?”

“No.”

“Not even to eat?”

He didn’t respond.

You stared at him a beat. “How do you brush your teeth?”

Still no answer.

You grinned. “I’m going to assume you just let Grogu do it for you.”

He leaned forward again. “What else did you do, besides ‘records verification’?”

You sighed. “Before the New Republic? I was a slicer. Not for the Empire — I wasn’t that dumb. But I made systems work for the people who needed it. Protected vulnerable data. Fixed supply routes. Rewired droids to stop attacking civvies.”

“So you were a criminal.”

“In the same way you are,” you said coolly.

Another beat of silence.

“…I know how to break things,” you added. “But I know how to fix them, too.”

He didn’t reply. But something in his posture had shifted — a touch more open, less stiff.

You looked at him. “My turn again.”

He didn’t stop you.

“How come you trust him?” You nodded at Grogu. “You don’t seem like the trusting type.”

There was a long silence.

And then — “He saved me. More than once.”

You looked at the sleeping child again. “Yeah. I can believe that.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. And neither did you.

Then, finally, he spoke again. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?”

“If I let you go.”

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know. I was just trying to stay ahead of the bounty boards. Find someone who’d believe me. But nobody wants to admit the New Republic’s a mess. They just want to pretend it’s better than what came before.”

He was quiet.

You met his gaze — or the visor, at least. “You believe me?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Fair enough.

But something had changed. You could feel it in the air between you. Not quite warmth. But no longer cold suspicion either.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said finally.

“Neither are you.”

Grogu snored loudly, and both of you looked down at him.

You smiled faintly. “He’s not gonna let you keep me cuffed forever, you know.”

“…We’ll see.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Mandalorian sat motionless in the pilot’s chair, gloved hands resting loosely on the controls. The stars outside streaked by in endless white-blue trails — peaceful, in a way. Deceptively peaceful.

He hadn’t slept.

He told himself he was keeping her around to learn the truth. To weigh what was lies and what was fear talking. That was what a bounty hunter should do — verify the puck. Decide what to believe, who to hand over.

But he’d already made a mistake. He hadn’t put her back in cuffs.

He’d told himself it was temporary. That he’d lock her back up once the next stop came.

And then Grogu had started bringing her things.

He glanced toward the nav screen, though the course hadn’t changed.

She had her reasons. Her story. A believable one, if not convenient. And part of him wanted to write her off as just another fugitive lying through her teeth.

But he knew the type she’d talked about. The ones still walking free in shiny New Republic uniforms. He’d seen it himself — the Empire’s rot hadn’t been cut out. It had just been repainted.

If her story was true… if that list really existed…

He exhaled slowly. This wasn’t what he signed up for. Teva had only said she was a wanted slicer with a long list of tech-based crimes. That she was dangerous. That she’d run. Not a word about internal leaks or conspiracy.

Grogu would be asleep beside her by now. Again.

He should’ve carbon-frozen her. Should’ve done it the moment she stepped aboard. But something had stopped him.

And now?

Now it felt like the line he was supposed to walk — hunter and target — had started to blur.

He leaned back in the chair, the weight of the beskar pressing heavy against his chest.

She was still a bounty.

But he didn’t want to turn her in.

Not yet.

And he hated that he didn’t know why.

Part 2

—comment if you want to be added to this fic taglist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello miss Raven! This is just a "for fun" question. We've all seen the idol outfits for the 5th anni, yea? Imagine if they were actually idols in their own groups and everything! What would you call each group?

*SLAMS HANDS ON DESK*

I’m so glad you asked so I have an excuse to sprinkle in details from my idol AU—

HEART5

The /s/ in HEART5 is replaced by the number 5 to represent the 5 members. The HEART can be interpreted as coming from Heartslabyul, or it can be read as the 5 united hearts of Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce.

They can form card suits with their hands as part of their collective branding, haha. Or maybe they all have different ways of forming hearts with their hands? Fans can mimic the hand signals of whoever they stan.

Riddle’s probably very strict with his members and inspects their outfits + fixes them before they march onto the stage. (Trumpet accompaniment!!) In my idol AU, I like to think that he, Trey, and Chenya had their own little indie group (WoИd3rs) before Mrs. Rosehearts found out and made them disband 😭 (because she wants her son taking a more traditional route in the idol industry, ie signing with a major label). Everyone else followed to support him.

K\\\ngdom

K\\\ngdom is a play on the word "kingdom" because... well, assuming YOU-KNOW-WHO is the leader, he wants to assert that he's the one in charge. The three slashes in place of the /i/ are meant to resemble the claw marks typically associated with Savanaclaw. (Diasomnia’s group uses the slash mark too, which Leona is bitter about.)

bcjswbjwnzlss Just imagine them at a concert… “We are K\\\ngdom, hear us ROAR!!!” Rebellious vibe, drums to emulate stomping or a stampede? Maybe they even call their fans herbivores (even though that’s more of a Leona thing than a Ruggie and Jack thing), lmao 😂 Ruggie might call’m kittens? Jack thinks it’s embarrassing… Not Leona entering the entertainment industry to give the royal family the finger though/j 💀 Ruggie’s shameless; anything for the money.

I see Cheka being super excited to hear that ojitan is an idol. He bothers Kifaji to take him to concerts and then sneaks off backstage to surprise his uncle. Poor Kifaji has a heart attack seeing his second prince with his chest out all the time. (Leona casually tells him he’s just “making use” of his best assets + “this is how the industry works”.)

s!ren*z

s!ren*z is a fanciful version of "sirens", as in, the mythological figures (sometimes depicted as bird people, but in this case, it refers to the fish people variant) who sing to lure and drown sailors. The ! is supposed to look like a pen and nib, and the *z is meant to look like the flourish at the end of a signature.

I like to imagine that the twins used to be a jazzy duo (2weels) and Azul was their manager. They eventually bullied him so much that Azul joined as their third member to show how “easily” he can outdo them! Jade and Floyd thought this was really funny, so they formally rebranded and have been s!ren*z ever since.

dbjsvskskw. THEY CAN CALL FANS ANEMONES (lol reference to book 3)!! Azul likes to keep track of their stats and merch sales after every major event, I think he gets an adrenaline high from seeing those big numbers. His ego swells significantly from all the attention and approval he gets from the public. Unfortunately, Azul and Jade constantly have to cover for Floyd going off-script mid-show.

OASI2

OASI2 has its roots in the word "oasis"; Kalim wanted the group name to sound refreshing and fun, like hitting a source of water in the middle of the desert! It's also a callback to his UM. The 2 refers to the number of members. When paired with the /s/, it kind of forms a heart (though Jamil insists the /s/ is meant to be a snake, not the other half of a heart). The /s/ being the snake in the center is also symbolic of how it's really Jamil keeping the performances together.

I picture Kalim’s entire family coming out with light sticks to support him. Najma is more tsundere with her support. She’ll wrinkle her nose and insist it’s weird to hear people thirsting for her brother (but secretly she’s happy for his success).

I think they’d have very extravagant performances www Smoke, fireworks, bombastic music, fancy dancing, even the magic carpet can cameo. Kalim can toss gold and jewels into the crowd! Jamil struggles to keep him from going overboard. Both of them are great at dancing; Jamil’s the rapper.

{fair}est

The {} on either side of the word "fair" is meant to resemble the intricate frame of a mirror; "fair" within that frame is a reference to how the Beautiful Queen asked her mirror who was fairest of them all. The -est outside of the {} mirror is symbolic of their drive to be the best. The entire group name being in lowercase is deceptive; they may seem demure, but don't underestimate the power of their beauty!

A group with very strong visuals. It helps that they have THE Vil Schoenheit as its leader and center. Does modeling work on the side. Their collective sura is so strong, they sometimes seem untouchable. In strong rivalry with Neige and the Seven Dwarves’ group, EtSno yes, I stole his in-universe fan club’s name and just smushed it together/j, whose tagline is “Someday, my princess will come.”

It would be neat if they incorporated other languages into their songs, since Rook has his French and Epel has his hometown’s dialect. They could truly go global!

Ch∀r0N

Ch∀r0N is a reference to Charon, the figure in Greek mythology that ferries the souls of the dead to the Underworld, Hades' domain. The inverted A is an emoticon's mouth, which the /o/ is a 0 (zero). Together, 0 and N looks like "on", but in binary, 0 means "off" or "false". Incorporates tech and coding into the name!

Very unique-sounding. They can incorporate electronic bleeps and boops + synthesized voices. Their shows are amazing displays of light and sound, carefully manipulated by tech. Jcvsjwjowwk Idia being too socially anxious to actually show up in-person to perform 💀 so he just projects a 3D model of himself up there with Ortho…

Parents are their biggest fans. Mrs. Shroud shows up and screeches “OR-KUN!! IDY-KUN!!! IT’S MAMA!!”

D + KN/GHTS

The D in D + KN/GHTS stands for Draconia, so the name is the one dragon plus his three knights. (Ironically, this works on a meta level because Malleus is often a "standout" or lone figure.) The slash in KN/GHTS is to invoke the image of a sword cutting down those who threaten their leader and liege. Their fans can probably be called Draconians, the same as what the hardcore Malleus fans in canon are called.

In an idol AU… Malleus definitely has to rank #1. (Leona is always hounding him and trying to knock him down from that spot 💦) People are just drawn to his mysterious aura, but he’s always surrounded and guarded by his group members. Perhaps Malleus went into music because that’s how his mother showed his love to him—through her lullaby. He wants to share the magic of music with the world. So haunting and somber, he captivates with his voice alone.

Sebek is still Malleus’s biggest fan. Buys all the merch. Hypes his liege up by encouraging their crowd to scream as loud as they can. If Silver falls asleep mid-performance, they still gotta keep it going without him. Lilia puts the boys through hellish practice routines.

[blackstarlineage]

List of notable slave revolts in the Caribbean during the Transatlantic/European Slave Trade. These Slave revolts emphasise the collective struggle for liberation,

unity, and self-determination:

1. The 1638 St. Kitts Slave Revolt: Enslaved Africans resisted early attempts by European colonizers to dominate the island. This uprising showed that from the very beginning, Africans refused to accept their dehumanization and fought to retain their dignity.

2. Barbados Revolt of 1649: Africans in Barbados challenged the plantation system, laying the foundation for future resistance. This revolt demonstrated the shared struggle of African people across different colonies.

3. The 1675 Curaçao Revolt: Enslaved Africans, many of whom were from the Akan and other warrior societies in West Africa, plotted to overthrow the Dutch colonists. This revolt highlighted the persistence of African resistance traditions, even in exile.

4. Tacky’s War (1760, Jamaica) :Led by Akan warriors like Tacky, this revolt was deeply rooted in African military traditions. It was a call for liberation and unity, showcasing the resilience of African cultures under enslavement.

5. Berbice Slave Rebellion (1763, Guyana): Under Cuffy (Kofi), enslaved Africans controlled parts of Berbice for over a year. This Pan-African hero envisioned an independent African-led society in the Americas, directly challenging European colonialism.

6. Coromantee Wars (1765–1766, Jamaica): Enslaved Akan Africans led revolts against British plantation owners. The unity of African warriors in organizing these rebellions demonstrated the spirit of Pan-Africanism.

7. 1773 Grenada Revolt: Africans resisted their French and British oppressors, reflecting a Pan-African vision of collective liberation and defiance against European exploitation.

8. The First Maroon War (1728–1740, Jamaica): Maroons, descendants of escaped Africans, fought the British for autonomy. Their victory in establishing independent territories was a significant Pan-African triumph.

9. Haitian Revolution (1791–1804, Saint-Domingue): The most powerful expression of Pan-Africanism in the Caribbean, this revolution united enslaved Africans and free people of color. Leaders like Toussaint Louverture, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, and others overthrew French rule, ending slavery and creating the first Black republic.

10. Bussa’s Rebellion (1816, Barbados): Bussa, inspired by the African tradition of communal resistance, led this uprising against British slavery. It echoed Garveyite ideals of self-determination before their time.

11. Demerara Rebellion (1823, Guyana): Led by Jack Gladstone and Quamina, this revolt sought freedom for Africans in British Guiana. It reflected a broader Pan-African consciousness and the demand for dignity and justice.

12. Baptist War (1831–1832, Jamaica): Also known as the Christmas Rebellion, it was led by Samuel Sharpe, who united enslaved people under the banner of Christian and African liberation. This revolt hastened the abolition of slavery in the British Empire.

13. The Second Maroon War (1795–1796, Jamaica): Maroons resisted British incursions into their autonomy, preserving their African-rooted systems of governance and solidarity.

14. 1837 St. Lucia Revolt: Enslaved Africans rose up against British oppression. Their resistance embodied Pan-African ideals, rejecting the colonial domination of their homeland.

15. Trinidad Slave Revolt (1838): Enslaved Africans on the brink of emancipation staged a revolt, demonstrating their refusal to accept anything less than complete freedom.

16. 1733 St. John Slave Revolt (Virgin Islands): Enslaved Africans, many of whom were Akan, took control of the Danish colony for several months. Their strategic unity reflected a Pan-African ethos.

17. Leeward Maroon Wars (1730s–1740s, Antigua and Jamaica): These wars involved guerrilla tactics by escaped Africans who maintained cultural and spiritual links to their homelands.

18. Martinique Revolt (1833): Enslaved Africans rose up against French rule, signalling the unity of Black people against colonial oppressors across linguistic and cultural divides.

19. Santo Domingo Resistance (1795, Dominican Republic): Inspired by the Haitian Revolution, enslaved Africans rebelled, resisting both Spanish and French colonial systems.

[zerooclockbaddie]

Friendly Match: Part 1 of 2

Summary: You and JK have been friends for a few months. You first ran into each other at your boxing gym and had become fast friends. At least you are trying to keep those boundaries, as you’ve dubbed Jungkook as off limits because of his idol status. But does Jungkook know he’s off limits?

Idol! Jungkook X BlackfemReader(Plus sized reader)

Warnings: Smut(filthy). Mutual Pinning. Reader is oblivious of JK’s feelings at first. JK is obsessed with Reader including her body. JK is a munch(cunnalingus). Sparring.(Manhandling, wrestling, Judo). Dryhumpping. Choking(HAHAHAH). Rough Sex. Dirty Talk. Reader has a potty mouth, but so does JK. JK is a little shit as is reader. Gym Sex. Semi-Public Sex. Dom JK. Sub reader (Likes to put up a fight though). Bratty Reader. Reader gives off independent black woman vibes. Reader gets frustrated and overwhelmed does cry a bit. Slight Noona Kink(if you squint). Slight Angst. Language barrier is there but vibes. (Will add as the story progresses.)

*Glossary for Korean can be found at end of chapter.*

With a sigh you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself and continued your trek home.

Today hadn’t gone that great for you and every single thing that could have gone wrong, did. It first started off with you waking up to your charger no longer working so your phone only had half of its charge. Now this wouldn’t have been a big deal normally, but today was one of your long days so your phone was a necessity.

Secondly you had to take a cold shower, as the boiler in your apartment unit decided to go out. With the weather getting colder you started turning off your heating system a bit more to save on the utilities bill. Turns out doing that in the dead of winter in Seoul wasn’t the best idea, as the damn things pipes had frozen.

Thirdly while at work the town hall meeting quickly turned into a crisis meeting when the CFO reported that the social media team posted about a future project that was still in its last stages of contract review with a partnered client.

Absolutely nobody was supposed to know about it yet, let alone the public. The post had immediately been deleted on the company website, but by that time the damage was already done. And even though the mistake hadn’t been done by your team, everyone felt the consequences of that fuck up. As all management was now required to sign off on every little thing that needed to be submitted.

With everyone in crisis mode the only break for the day had been a working lunch and you only had time to stuff your face with what you could get from the cafeteria. You couldn’t even run to the store to grab yourself another charger like you had originally planned that morning. You of course had tried borrowing a charger from your coworker but you were that lone iPhone user in a sea of Samsungs.

During your sorry excuse of a lunch you had received an email from your landlord stating that your boiler needed to be replaced, but it wouldn’t happen until Tuesday. Today was Friday, meaning you would be without hot water for 4 days.

However the final tally that had officially turned this day from a little bad to ALL bad was finding out you would have to stay later at work than you originally planned. You were going to work overtime today so you had already come to terms with that. But with the newest demands of the management team you had to stay back and wait to approve every project and procedures for submission before Monday. You couldn’t even take work home as with the recent leak all remote activity was temporarily suspended.

By the time you left the office you were only able to catch one of the two buses you needed to take home. Korea’s public transport stopped running at 1am. Sure you could have called a cab home, however with your phone being dead you had to walk the last 3km home.

But not before stopping at the convenience store to grab another charger. Or two. You will not be caught slipping again.

Now with everything that happened today this walk home should have helped to clear your mind. And normally it would have. But it only made you realize that you wouldn’t be able to relax in a hot shower when you got home. In fact you probably should figure out where you would be staying instead because there was absolutely no way you were going to survive the weekend and then some with no running hot water.

When you finally entered your apartment you were shocked to find that it was ice cold. “What the hell?”

Slipping off your shoes, you step a few feet into your entryway. Frowning you slowly began to realize that your floor heating system wasn’t on. Grabbing your slippers from the shoe rack you dropped them to the floor and quickly shuffled them on.

Making your way to the bedroom you dropped your things onto and over the back of the couch. Hitting the light switch you peered at your thermostat in confusion. Clicking on one of the up arrows you watched as the thing just continues to flash numbers at you. Something that happened this morning when you realized your hot water wasn’t working.

And with that it was as if a light bulb went off in your head and you couldn’t help but throw your head back in defeat. The boiler controlled all of the hot water, meaning the heating system for your floors. Your apartment not only didn’t have running hot water but also no heat. No heat in the middle of freaking winter.

You lean against your wall and groan, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Your vision began to blur as frustrated tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Closing them you inhaled deeply refusing to allow them to fall. Everything was just a lot right now, but you weren’t going to let this break you. “It’s fine…it’s fine.”

You hold your breath for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. You repeat this step a few times until you can feel your heart rate slow and the overwhelming feeling dissipates. Sniffling you pushed yourself away from the wall and wiped your eyes dry.

“Seriously fuck today.” You chuckle mirthlessly as you shrug off your jacket, dragging your feet to your closet you proceed to come up with a game plan. As you got changed into your lounge wear you tried to ignore the fact you hadn’ showered yet, but you refused to lazy around in your work clothes. You could mentally hear your mother fussing about how outside clothes don’t go on the bed.

While changing you made a mental checklist of things you needed to do. ‘First charge your phone, then figure out a place to stay for the next few days.’

Your stomach gave a violent rumble as you walked back into your living room. “Okay phone, food THEN figure out the living situation.”

——

About twenty minutes later you find yourself wrapped in your coziest throw blanket finishing off a cup of ramyeon while your phone charges on the arm of the couch. The spice of the noodles hits your tongue and you couldn’t help but groan in happiness.

Since moving to Korea you have begun to understand the sudden appeal of instant ramyeon. Yes you had the instant cup noodles back in the states, but nothing really could beat the taste of Korean cup noodles for some reason.

Staring down into the red liquid you narrow your eyes in suspension. “Why are you so addicting…” Though your newfound suspension didn’t stop you from taking another bite.

Your phone buzzed to alert you of a text message, and you glanced at the screen while in mid-slurp. A familiar bunny emoji greeted your eyes and you couldn’t help but smile around the noodles.

“체육관?”

Finishing your bite of noodles you put down the cup on your coffee table and reach for your phone to type back a quick reply.

“What no hi first?”

You watched the ellipsis appear then disappear before a message popped up on your screen.

“안녕. 체육관?”

You rolled your eyes, but stared at the message for a bit. Even though it was late, going to the gym wasn’t a bad idea. You could shower, plus let some of this pent up energy out against a bag.

Typing out a quick reply you run to your bedroom to get yourself together.

“콜 I can be there in 30”

On any normal trip to the gym you’d take the time to choose your fit. But right now your focus is on durability and comfort. A pair of black leggings and compression sports bra. After adjusting the straps you reach for a baggy sweater and throw it on over your head, the ends of the sweater resting at the top of your thighs.

Stepping into your en suite bathroom, you grab a few hair ties and began the routine of securing your coily hair up in a relaxed updo; a hairstyle your older sister liked to call ‘the pineapple’ and you put another hair tie on your wrist. With hair as thick as yours it was always a good idea to carry a spare.

Exiting your bathroom you stop by your closet to collect your pre packed gym tote. Grabbing your gym shoes you stuff them haphazardly into the tote and head to your nightstand to do the same thing with your water bottle.

You can hear your phone going off from its place on your couch. The familiar text tone alerting you of a new message.

Bag secured over your shoulder you grab your phone and charger, making sure to dump the cord into your bag, doing the same thing with your wallet. With your hands semi free you unlock your phone to view your recent message.

“I can pick you up.”

You declined the offer but that instantly had your phone ringing in your hands. Hitting the green circle you also put the device on speaker.

“You live on the opposite side of the gym. It doesn't make sense for you to come get me.”

“But it’s late and the buses aren’t running.” You hear his gruff voice sound over the speakers of your phone and you had to ignore the way your body immediately warmed. This man was off limits and had been the moment he walked into your boxing gym.

———Flashback———

Your lesson was finishing up with your coach and you were working on the bag and was only focused on finishing out the last few reps.

“당신은 일찍 왔습니다, 정국아.”

You heard your coach call out to the person who you assumed just walked into the private gym but you paid them no mind. Instead the moment your last punch landed on the bag you collapsed to the floor mats dramatically in an exhausted heap.

“제가 해냈어요!”

Your coach and the newcomer both chuckled at your display which had you grinning from your place on the floor. You could hear your coach talking more but you didn’t quite understand their conversation. Your Korean was extremely basic, including your grammar. Besides you didn’t really try as it wasn’t right to eavesdrop on others conversation.

Sitting up you crawl your way awkwardly to your gym bag against the wall. Your boxing gloves and arms make the short trip difficult. But you were stubborn as you desperately needed a drink of water. Reaching your hydro flask you popped it open with your teeth and took the most generous pulls from your straw. Groaning when the cool water hits your throat. Room temp water is better after a workout as your body can absorb it easier, but ice cold water turly hits differently .

Putting the bottle down you start working on taking off your gloves. You hear footsteps approaching and you thought it was your coach so you turn to him, but for one it wasn’t your coach. Instead it was someone else entirely. THE Jeon Jungkook of BTS.

“안녕하세요.” You watched as the man shyly bows to you and you quickly scrambled to stand to return his greeting.

“아..안녕하세요.” You awkwardly stuttered back. He proceeded to fire off fluent Korean to you and you were unfortunately only able to catch a few words. You were better than this. Truly you were, but your brain could barely function because of present company. “Umm…I. 저는 한국어를 잘 못해요…죄송합니다.”

The man laughed softly and switched over to English, or at least what English he could speak. However, through the small interaction you were able to find out that Jungkook also took lessons at your gym. He was a bit more advanced than you as he has more training years under his belt. But he still praised you on your form.

———Present———

That meeting had happened well over 8 months ago, your Korean though at the time being basic and his English also the same, you two had become fast friends. Mostly you two hung out at the gym together or you had invited him over for a small LAN party to play Overwatch with some of your friends back home. Of course you never told them exactly who they were playing with. Your friends weren’t that big into Korean music so it was easy for Jungkook to get away with it. But with his demanding schedule it was hard to find time to hang out. Though that didn’t mean you two didn’t talk.

Your text message chain was covered in meme’s and funny TikTok videos you both had sent back to each other over the months. And you two would FaceTime as often as you could. It was an easy friendship. One you had to constantly remind yourself to not take it any further. No matter how attractive, sweet, funny, and annoyingly cute Jungkook was. His status made him off limits. Besides you figured with his job as an idol, he had to constantly deal with people throwing themselves at him. You didn’t want to do that to him, so you made it your mission to never cross that line.

“I’m a big girl Kook, I can take a cab.” You speak into your phone, as you enter the gym’s address into the Kakao taxi app.

“But surge hours.” You heard him whine through the phone. Without even having to see his face you could see the pout and frown combo your friend was no doubt sporting right now. “It is, but it’s already ordered and I’m not wasting money canceling.”

“…완고한.” You didn’t exactly know what he said, even with your Korean having improved but there were still words you didn’t know. But what you did know is that you should take offense to it.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You hung up on him and dropped your device into your bag, and while you were at it you reached for the gym shoes and quickly put them on. Followed by your coat.

Your phone was buzzing violently in your bag to alert you of a phone call, but you ignored it. If he wanted to insult you then he could deal with being ignored for a few moments. You had to head down anyway, your taxi was almost here.

—-

Your coach was actually in the process of leaving for the evening when you arrived. Because the gym was private, sometimes the man allowed some of his VIP clients to use the facilities after hours. By VIP clients what that really stood for was Jungkook. Coach had given him access a while back due to his schedule. And because of your recent friendship with Jungkook, that had meant that by proxy you had access.

“ Y/N아(야) 혼자 운동하기?”

You dropped your gym bag by the wall as you bowed in a greeting to your coach.

“아니요, 정국이 여기 오는 중입니다.”

The older man hummed in acknowledgement at you and advised you to clean up after yourselves when you both were done. You watched the older man wave goodbye to you and you bowed to him wishing him a goodnight.

Now alone you made your way to the sound system and plugged your phone in. You didn’t often get the option to get control of the aux. It was always a first come first serve type of situation. Opening Spotify you hit your workout playlist and the familiar beat of your favorite song comes blasting through the speakers.

With your music now playing you walked over to the side of the gym that had a few yoga mats available for use. Grabbing the thickest one you unroll it and begin a series of warm up stretches. You’re laying down onto your knee for the pigeon pose when Jungkook comes storming in.

“야! 누나!”

You lifted your head and turned it towards the huffing man and stuck your tongue out at him. During your cab ride over you kept ignoring JK’s calls and at first you were just doing it until you got settled into the cab. But the man had started to blow up your phone so you continue to ignore his calls now for the hell of it. All though you were kind enough to text him you were at the gym.

“미안해요.” Though you said it politely, your tone was giving the exact opposite. You watched him roll his eyes and turn around to drop his bag and water bottle next to your things even going as far as discarding his shoes. With his back turned, you allowed yourself a little time to glance over his appearance. He was wearing his typical oversized shirt and sweatpants in his trademark colors. Black. The outfit was simple, but the black seemed to make his tattoo sleeve pop even more.

And his hair, god he started growing out his hair not too long after you two met and it was just so perfect. You wanted to run you fingers through it, hell even braid it and you didn’t even know how to do that. Shaking your head you stare ahead and focus on your warm up. You switch over to the other leg, your back facing him.

With your attention now off of him, you failed to notice the once over he gave your figure. Nor did you see the way his gaze lingered a little longer on your ass.

Jungkook’s fingers flexed a bit as his thoughts began to get away from him. For months he has been dreaming about your ass, your thighs, your chest and don’t even get him started on your belly. He knew you were self conscious about your weight and you had talked with him about it multiple times. And multiple times he had told you there was absolutely nothing wrong, but he did offer to be your gym buddy, help you on your days when you didn’t have the best mindset. And because of this your friendship had grown to what it was today. But Jungkook desperately wanted more and he has every since he first met you.

Your ass had him hypnosis when he had witnessed you crawling across the gym floor. With absolutely no ounce of shame Jungkook had asked his coach about you immediately. The older man might have judged him but Jungkook gave no fucks, especially after he heard the moan you let out when drinking your water. Fuck at that moment he understood why Army always cheered when he would take a water break during concerts. Your plump lips wrapped around the straw made his cock twitch to life in his sweatpants. Jungkook was already so down bad that the possible language barrier between the two of you didn’t even occur to him until after you both started talking.

“So how was your day?” Your voice calling out to him sounded slightly strained as you switched into deep lunges. He was lucky the music was loud because the noise that fell from his lips sounded feral. That pose made your ass look straight up appetizing. Clearing his throat Jungkook turned his back to you when he noticed you started looking over and occupied himself with his hand wraps.

“Busy, had a few schedules, but I have the next couple of days off. How was yours?”

He heard your huff of frustration and he glanced over his shoulder. You looked peeved. Actually now that he was looking at you, he could see how tense you truly were.

You moved into a butterfly pose and started bouncing your knees against the mat. “It fucking sucked. I had to get a new charger because my old one quit working in the middle of the night. Plus my boiler broke, also work was overwhelmingly stupid. I had to stay late and unfortunately I missed my last bus home. I had to walk the last couple of kilometers.” In the middle of your rant you had abandoned the stretch and had begun listing off your grievances by counting on your stiletto manicured fingers.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed more and more as you ranted off to him about your day. You were speaking extremely fast so he was hyperfocusing on the way your glossed lips moved making sure he was picking up every word. Since meeting you his English has improved rapidly. So much so that even Namjoon noticed. But his brain still needed to work overtime to translate your words, so his hands stilled, pausing in his hand wrapping, the purple wraps hanging awkwardly between his fingers.

“집에 걸어갔어요? 온돌이 고장났습니다? Wait….You can’t stay at home with your heat not working 누나.”

You nod your head in agreement with him.”I know, I’m going to look at a hotel to stay in tomorrow. It’ll be fixed on Tuesday.”

”Stay with me.” He was not going to let you go back home to a cold apartment. It was starting to snow when he had pulled up to the building earlier. He watched as you blinked owlishly at him for his statement, your head tilting in confusion in a way he found extremely cute. But he needed you to understand that he was serious.

“I’m serious. Stay with me until your 온돌 is fixed.”

You waved your hands back and forth in front of you and shook your head. “That's sweet of you, but no, it's okay I can stay at a hotel.”

Jungkook shook the purple wraps off his hand and let the fabric fall to the floor by his bag before making his way over to your form. “If you insist on staying in a hotel, fine. But at least come back to mine for the night.”

Your brows shot up in surprise at his sudden approach. You really did find it sweet that he was offering his own home for your benefit. But staying the night with Jungkook even if it was for platonic reasons felt like it was crossing a line. You smiled gently at the man as you declined once again.

“Y/N, just for tonight. It was snowing when I got here and you live on the 5 floor. There is no way you would be comfortable at home tonight.” As if to prove he was serious Jungkook had kneeled down to your level, his wide brown eyes staring deeply into yours.

Your vision jumped back and forth between his eyes before looking away to think. Okay so he had a point. Your plan had been to stay home for tonight and find a hotel to check into the following morning. When you left your apartment the thermostat had shown 12 degrees Celsius. Now with it snowing you could only imagine what the temperature would read.

You cross your arms over your chest and begin to nibble your bottom lip as you got lost in thought. Would it really be okay for you to accept his offer? You’ve never been to his house before, sure he’s been to yours plenty of times, but it was easier to sneak him into your apartment. Jungkook had literal people stalked outside his home 24/7 always hoping to catch a look of the idol. “I..don’t kn-“

”I won’t accept no for an answer Y/N” Jungkook steels his gaze when your eyes shift back to him at his declarations. It didn’t make sense for you to go back home. He had two guest rooms available. He would truthfully prefer you sleeping in his own bed, snuggled up close, but that could come later. He watched as one of your eyebrows ticked upward and an expression he dubbed stubborn defiants took over.

Dropping down fully to the floor Jungkook crossed his legs and settled in for the long haul. Once you had that look on your face it was always hard for him to change your mind. Sometimes he would just give up and let you have your way, but he refused to do that this time. It’s for your own good and his peace of mind.

“I’ll be fine Jungkook, it's for one night. Hell it's like literally just a few hours at this point. I won’t freeze to death.” Though you said this, a miniscule part of your brain did wonder if it was actually possible.

“Aren’t you anemic? You’ve been complaining about how cold you’ve been feeling lately.”

Your eyes shifted to the floor with his statement. So yes you did get cold super easily. You had never been the type of person to sleep with socks on, but more nights you found yourself doing exactly that. In fact your fuzzy sock collection had grown quite quickly over the last couple of months, but you felt that was largely due to the man right in front of you.

“I can’t ask you to d-“

”You aren’t asking, I’m offering.” Jungkook watched as you bite your lower lip and your brows scrunch closer together. He could see your mind physically searching for a way to decline his offer. You might have hung up the phone when he had called you stubborn earlier, but you really were. He admired how fiercely independent you were, but he wanted you to also understand you don’t have to be with him around.

“Y/N, I have a spare bedroom you can stay in for the night. You can sleep in a warm bed and I’ll even make breakfast. I make an amazing egg sandwich.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but the corner of your lips did tug upward into a small smile. You were tempted to say yes, but you still were worried. “ You won’t get into trouble for me spending the night?”

You watched as Jungkook’s eyes dip down your frame and back up to your eyes. And your body warms uncontrollably at the gesture. “누나 I’ve had people crash at mine before.”

You sigh a bit in frustration because that’s not exactly what you meant. Yes you are sure he has had people over, but what about women? You didn’t want him to get into trouble with his company over this. A photo leaking of a woman sneaking into his home in the middle of the night would be a horrible scandal. No matter how innocent it is. “Okay but have you ever had a woman do it? I don’t want this to get you into ‘any’ kind of trouble.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to arch his eyebrow, he watched as you stared at him in genuine concern. He could tell now that what you were really worried about was the possible scandal this could bring, and yes there was a chance you could be caught coming home with him. But he didn’t care about all of that. He was a grown man and he wasn’t going to stop or be afraid to live his own life because of that.

Staring at you for a little longer something else started to occur to him, how innocent did you think he was to not having had a woman stay at his place before. Grinning, he placed his hands behind him and leaned back onto his palms, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to spend the night with me Y/N.” He said as he cocks his head to the side chuckling softly.

You scoff and look away as the warm feeling from before moved to two places. Your face then down to your lower belly. You know he didn’t mean it the way he said it, but you couldn’t help the way your mind wandered. The fantasies you’ve buried deep into the back of your head started coming to the surface.

You feel a nudge against your knee and look down to watch Jungkook’s foot return to the floor. Without hesitation you reach forward and push the man back by his shoulders. “Eww don’t touch me with your feet!”

Jungkook bursts into a giggling mess as he falls back to the floor in a heap. You aggressively started rubbing the back of your hand over where his toe sock covered foot touched. ”I’m definitely going home after that stunt.”

You started to stand but jungkook was faster. Your wrist was within his hand in seconds and he gently pulled you back down to your seated position. At least that had been the plan until gravity set it. Your had corrected your balance trying not to fall into Jungkook, but the man didn’t want you falling to the floor.

You landed awkwardly across his lap. His thighs digging slightly into your stomach. You feel one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on your waist stabilizing you. “I’m sorry 누나.”

Jungkook was in absolute heaven. You were laid across his lap in such a way that your ass was almost directly in his face. He had caught you in a way that he could feel exactly how soft and warm your body was against his own and loved it. But he could only hold you against him for so long.

As you began to sit up you felt Jungkook’s hand move from your waist to the other side of your hip in assistance. His hold firm and strong, your heart couldn’t help but flutter. You plop down next to him and you watch as he looks you over clearly checking for injuries. “I’m fine Kook, I practically crushed you. I should be the one saying sorry. Are you okay?”

Jungkook reached over and flicked your forehead. “You could never 누나.”

You hiss in pain and lean away from him rubbing your forehead. Glaring at him past you hands. “Ow, what as that for?”

Jungkook just gives you a look. One that you clearly understand. No negative remarks towards yourself were allowed. Something you both had talked about multiple times.

You watch as Jungkook stands up and stretch his hands high above his head. It took all of your willpower not to drop your eyes to his crotch. “You’ve been practicing Judo with 선생님?”

You continue to pout as your rub your forehead still a little miffed and mumbled a soft yes.

“Then let's spar in the ring. You win, I’ll drive you back home. I win, you stay with me tonight. “ What he didn’t tell you was that if your place did turn out to be too cold he was going to drag you over to his anyway.

You slowly come to your feet next to him, frowning at him deeply. “How is that fair? You are literally a black belt.”

Jungkook smiled cheekily at your comment. And leaned a little into your space. “Scared?”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand on his cheek pushing his head away from you, “No, I’m being realistic.”

With the momentum of your push he dramatically falls into the direction of the elevated ring tucked into the corner of the gym.

You watch from your place next to your yoga mat as Jungkook slides into the ring and stands up only to lean down on to the black boxing ring ropes, his full weight bouncing lazily on them. “If you can pin me once, you win. But if I can pin you 7 times. I win?”

You walk towards him and place your hands on your hips, your neck tilted back as you look up to him. “I only have to pin you once?”

Jungkook bobs his head up and down in confirmation. You had only been practicing Judo for the last month or so. But your coach had said you did show great promise for it. Which didn’t surprise you in the least. What he didn’t know is that you and your siblings pretended that your living room was a wrestlemania arena when you were growing up. Stone Cold Steve Austin was your literal childhood hero.

“Fine.” You agreed to his terms and started toeing off your shoes. Then your socks as an afterthought. Honestly the deal was a good one. You didn’t really have faith in abilities but 1 out of 7 were good odds.

To be continued…

Next<

Glossary:

체육관: Gym—안녕. 체육관: Hello(informal). Gym—콜: Deal(ex:You have a deal.)—당신은 일찍 왔습니다, 정국아: You came early, Jungkook—제가 해냈어요: I did it—안녕하세요: Hello(Formal)—저는 한국어를 잘 못해요…죄송합니다:I am not good at Korean, I’m sorry—…완고한: Stubborn—Y/N아(야) 혼자 운동하기: Y/N (ending depends if your names ends in vowel or a constant), working out alone—아니요, 정국이 여기 오는 중입니다: No, Jungkook is on his way here—야! 누나: Hey(informal) Older sister(for male)—미안해요: Sorry(formal)—집에 걸어갔어요? 온돌이 고장났습니다?: Did you walk home? Is the ondol(Korean thermostat) broken—선생님: Teacher.

Please let me know if this format is clear enough to understand.

[blackbird5154]

𖤐 Encyclopedia of Terzo 𖤐

I've been thinking a lot about how the personality of Papa III was created. Tobias set the basic framework, the archetype, the cliché from which he drew. But the real implementation of Papa was on stage, where his image developed through improvisation. Some things were conceived on purpose, some were invented on the spot, some came out unplanned, due to circumstances. Papa turned out to be as lively and unpredictable as life itself. In many senses, he lived on stage.

Thanks to the research of concerned fans, there is quite a lot of material. It occurred to me to collect them in one post for those who want to get acquainted with the canonical image of Terzo. This catalogue uses materials from two users, Cityofmeliora's and myself. You can use them for fanfiction or just for your own amusement. So, allow me to introduce Papa Emeritus III!

Cityofmeliora: Transcriptions and facts

Radley @cityofmeliora has an academic degree in Terzo Studies. He did a great job watching probably 100% of the Terzo videos and bringing us some interesting insights about his personality from the Terzo mines.

▸ notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

▸ Terzo's mom was mentioned twice

▸ quotes on Secondo and Terzo's age gap / the Emeritus brothers having different mothers

▸ TF on the archetype of Papa

▸ about Terzo's height...

▸ Terzo's sweet tooth 🍰🍫

▸ Secondo lied about being able to speak Swedish, and Terzo lied about *not* being able to speak Swedish

▸ according to the Nameless Ghouls, Terzo is better than Secondo because he has hair and is "less smelly" 😂😂

▸ TF breaks character a little too much and accidentally makes it canon that Terzo has a child 💀👶

▸ Who is Mysterious Spectre?

▸ transcript: Terzo's first concert - Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

▸ transcript: Sweden Rock Festival (June 4, 2015)

▸ Terzo lying about his knowledge of Swedish AGAIN!

▸ Terzo talking about his mom <3

▸ Papa Nihil taught his sons to sing

▸ Terzo hates it when people are bad at clapping 👏👏👏

▸ Terzo knows he's always yapping <3

▸ Terzo is hard of hearing 🦻

▸ Terzo did WHAT in Poland? 😳

▸ Terzo totally not bragging about his Grammy 🙄

▸ Terzo + children 🥰

▸ Terzo had eye infections???

▸ "And it is very important that you respect the fact that there are kids and there are"

▸ Terzo thinks 'Cirice' is a sad song

▸ Terzo getting angry

▸ Terzo's fucked up sore throat voice 🤒

▸ Terzo mentioning Secondo 😎

▸ Terzo mentions his parents 🧑‍🤝‍🧑

▸ Terzo + family 👪

▸ Terzo + being old 👴

▸ Terzo saying quesadillas are his favorite food 🧀

▸ Terzo is NOT a fluent / native Italian speaker 🤭🇮🇹

▸ Terzo + musical instruments 🎹🎸🥁🎺

▸ Terzo hates it when people pronounce "Meliora" incorrectly ☝️🤓

▸ What does terzology know about the overthrow of Papa III?

▸ sad, sad Terzo + 'If You Have Ghosts' 🌙

▸ Terzo is "an isolated kind of guy"

▸ Terzo's clothes are too big for him 👖

▸ Terzo talks about Ghost visiting Philadelphia the same week as pope francis ✝️

▸ Terzo + poor balance + falling ⚠️

▸ TRANSCRIPT: Terzo talking about the Nameless Ghouls during "If You Have Ghosts" (acoustic version) interlude 🎸🎸🎸

▸ Who is Bp. Necropolitus Cracoviensis

Blackbird: Observations and analysis

My modest contribution to terzology was an attempt to summarise observations and look inside the head of the mysterious Papa III.

▸ Part 1: Terzo's responsible attitude to work

▸ Part 2: The jokes about height

▸ Part 3: The relationship between Terzo and Secondo

▸ Part 4: The ideas behind the birds and the bees speech

▸ Part 5: Terzo's other beliefs that he broadcasted

▸ Part 6: Terzo and his loneliness

▸ Part 7: Terzo is referring to Cartesian philosophy?

▸ Part 8: Papa lll's special kung fu

▸ Part 9: Terzo tried to unite the Church

▸ Part 10: Terzo was a socialist

[elwenyere]

I've been reflecting on the parallels between 1.07 and 2.09 (as visualized in this beautiful GIF set) and what I take away from the placement of these scenes in the overall structure of the show: specifically the way both of them occur right after Cassian has taken part in one of the big set pieces for resistance (the raid on Aldhani and the massacre on Ghorman).

Echoed in the conversations with Maarva and Bix are two recurring desires for Cassian: (1) he wants to be able to choose how when and how he leaves, and (2) he wants to reaffirm to himself that he has everything he needs to take care of the people closest to him. On the level of the psychodrama/individual-character origin story, I can see how both of these responses are entangled with what happened to him as a child on Kenari, and then again when he's incarcerated after Clem's death (having his choices taken away by a force larger than him and thus being unable to protect his family). On the level of Andor's meta-narratives about what organized resistance requires, I can see how both of these desires speak to difficulties in navigating between individual and collective social consciousness (we have to fight knowing we will not see the end of the fight, and we do that because we recognize we need each other to be free, and no one's free until everyone is).

I think there are a number of ways to read what claims the show is making by staging a recurrence of 1.07's "I'm walking backwards into my narrative; I was trying to walk out" structure in 2.09, and YMMV on which you find most satisfying: (1) trauma is necessarily repetitive and cyclical; (2) the commitment to collective struggle is not a one-time decision but rather must be remade continually; and/or (3) it's vital to the mode of resistance Cassian embodies that he never achieves total certainty - not only because, historically, people working for justice never know in the moment whether what they're doing is going to work, but also because, diegetically, his doubt will be as important to his resistance work as his conviction.

With regard to claim (1), I think it's really interesting that in 2.09, the same episode where Cassian is expressing his intention to be done with Luthen and Draven and to leave to Rebellion, he describes himself to Mon as one of the last "survivors of the raid on Aldhani." He doesn't say "we pulled off the Aldhani heist" or "we were on the Aldhani crew together"; he frames himself as someone who survives larger actions when other people don't. There's an echo there to how he describes himself as "one of fifty survivors" at Mimban and the way Maarva describes him as the sole survivor from Kenari - of the look on his face when Melshi asks him how many men he thinks made it out of Narkina and Cassian says "not enough."

And for me it's that learned link between being subsumed by a larger unit (the family, the prison, the militia, the Rebel Alliance) and being prevented from doing something individually very consequential (like going back in time to save Kerri or Maarva or Brasso) that forms the hinge connecting the interiority of explanation (1) to the more structural and ideological levels of (2) and (3). Cassian is a character who's had major choices about how to live his life taken away from him, both in ways that are idiosyncratic to his own trajectory and in ways he shares with a huge number of people living under fascism; and Andor demonstrates how embracing the collective struggle against the latter involves a renegotiation of the need for individual agency sharpened by the former. For me, a central effect of the show's decision to sustain the tension between those desires rather than resolving it is the suggestion that both qualities (Cassian's willingness to give his all in pursuit of collective liberation and his value for individual autonomy) end up being crucial to the decisions he makes in Rogue One. Without his commitment to the cause, he would never have been in the position to help get news to Yavin about the Death Star plans. Without his need to exercise his own judgment and make/allow for autonomous choices, he wouldn't have been ready to buck the chain of command and help lead Rogue One to Scarif. In other words, I think it's possible to read Cassian's behavior in arc three of season two both as a personal trauma response and also as another stage of a dialectical, always-unfinished struggle to navigate the poles of individual agency and collective action. Andor tells a story about how all the things Cassian gathers along the way - everything he already feels and knows, as Maarva says via Brasso - prepare him to be a force for good, including the impulse to set aside more abstract objectives to refocus on the need to protect the person in front of him.