#and Blitz's problems too of course
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verday · 7 months ago
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It was so important to me that Stolas was able to be sad throughout the entire episode. Usually media likes to rush a character's grief/depression/sadness. Like "Stop moping around" or "get over it already." Depression doesn't just go away. It is a persistent feeling of sadness.
His depression was also presented through various emotions/emotional states.
Lethargy
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Crying
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Anger / frustration
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Self-blame
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Not wanting company and being emotionally drained and unable to reciprocate
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We even see him Smiling / Laughing which is so important because we see that he is still in there behind the sadness and tears. His laugh is not as lively as it once but he is still capable of smiling and finding joy.
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His problems weren't fix in the end and his sadness didn't go away even if he has someone who loves him by his side (and even if he loves him too). And I think this is one of the best depictions I have seen of a depressed character in media in a long time.
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theradiodaemon · 22 days ago
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Part 1 of 2
The Ballad of the Boba and the Baguette (By @larryisnotagirl )
All right, I’m going to regale you all with the ridiculous story that inspired this comic. About 4 weeks ago, I was sitting on the couch drinking a delicious brown sugar boba tea from our local tea shop and watching a compilation of “Hilarious Ancient Vines” on Youtube. The Vines were in fact quite hilarious and during the course of the video I laughed while I had a mouth full of tapioca and managed to inhale one of the bobas. I coughed a bit and assumed like all the times before that I had something go “down the wrong pipe” that I had coughed it up and managed to have it continue on its merry way down my esophagus. Alas, this was not the case, as later that night I had very vivid dreams about choking on an egg and kept waking up gagging and coughing. I realized with horror that the boba was STILL in my throat.
Over the next few days I tried everything to get it out. Hanging upside down off my bed while coughing as hard as I could, having my partner do back blows (which he had just trained for in a first aid class) and drinking copious amounts of liquid in big gulps to try to dislodge it. Unfortunately nothing worked and I realized with increasing horror that I was going to have to tell a medical professional about this. I saw a doctor the next day and explained my issue through embarrassed laughter. She made an attempt to see it herself, but the boba was slightly too far down for her to help. I was scheduled for an x-ray, but also warned that if I still felt it there in 48 hours I needed to go to the ER to have my throat scoped.
The thought of going to the ER for this ridiculous problem and having to explain why I was there in front of who knows how many nurses and doctors was enough to have me Googling every possible tactic for getting a stuck object out of one’s throat. The best (and yummiest) option I found was bread and carbonated beverages. So one case of Bubly and a baguette later, I was ready for “Operation Abort the Boba Throat Baby”. The carbonated water is self-explanatory, but the technique for the bread is not (apparently, haha). Basically, chew a large piece of bread just enough to be able to swallow it and hope that it catches the offending object (usually a pill) on the way down. We are now one week into this ordeal btw, so I’m getting desperate. Over the course of the weekend, I ate an entire baguette in this manner and exclusively drank cherry Bubly. I was fairly sure it was successful but it was hard to tell right away since my entire throat was sore and scratchy. I opted to wait another few days before going to the ER to see if my bread and Bubly diet worked.
So how does this lead to Blitz deepthroating a baguette you may ask? In two separate conversations, one with a co-worker and one with some Tumblr mooties- I explained that I bought a baguette to help me dislodge the boba and both times the other person envisioned me using the baguette as a plunger of sorts- like using the entire loaf of bread to push the boba down to its final destination. This was absolutely hysterical to me and my brain rot being what it is- led me to saying out loud to my partner “Why does this sound like something Blitz would do?” He immediately sketched out the comic you see above.
The moral of this story is simple- DRINKING BOBA IS SERIOUS BUSINESS. DO NOT LAUGH WHILE CONSUMING.
Thank you for reading my silly but absolutely true story. Sorry it got so long, lol.
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Thank you to my partner @larryisnotagirl for the explanation of the inspiration for this comic.
PART 2 coming SOON (the story CONTINUES!)
Until then be safe and protect yourselves from rogue Bobas! 😱
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lost-romantique · 9 months ago
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Me the moment Stolitz becomes a love triangle...
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NOTHING YOU PEOPLE SAY WILL EVER CONVINCE ME THAT A LOVE TRIANGLE IS A GOOD IDEA!!
*cough* This is to address the concerns that people have been messaging me on reddit and tumblr.
~~~
Oh Stolas needs to experience a healthy romantic relationship...
The man needs friends. For fucks sakes, stop trying to get in his pants and get this man to join a fucking book club or something. He's lonely.
Don't you think it would be romantic if Stolas actually chose to be with Blitz in the end?
Why does Stolas choosing Blitz always have to involve Stolas breaking the heart of another guy in the process?
I want Stolas to experience that fairy tale romance.
They don't exist.
We can get more jealous Blitz.
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No, we are getting more "Depressed Blitz that thinks he's gonna die alone because this man has a major inferiority complex the size of fucking Jupiter."
Blitz already had his chance...
The man didn't even know he was taking a test?
Blitz needs to fix himself first before he gets in a relationship with Stolas...
Blitz needs to deal with the root of his intimacy issues, yes. However, the idea that someone has to fix themselves in order to be in a relationship is a rather ableist viewpoint I do not condone.
Stolas also has problems that prevent him from getting in a normal relationship, but that's a whole other can of worms I don't want to open.
Blitz made Stolas cry!
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STOP. IGNORING. HIS. FEELINGS.
This man has been in the verge of sobbing his eyes out in Full Moon and Apology Tour, and y'all didn't notice because Stolas didn't notice.
A love triangle will save their relationship.
Oh yes, who needs proper communication when the true answer all along was introducing a new person to the trash fire that is their problems. /j
Blitz and Stolas should just remain friends, and go find other partners.
Blitz has a body count of people he could have ended up with, but he didn't give a shit about any of them because that damn bird changed his brain chemistry so hard he went to a Party dedicated to hating his sorry ass.
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And Stolas...
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couldn't even forget about the motherfucker after going 25 years no contact. Do you honestly think he's going to get over him now after falling in love with the guy?
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I'll be blunt, these guys also have way too much history together to remain "just friends" and stay "just friends".
Do I think they need to know each other as friends first before they start a serious relationship? Of course! But I also think these guys are gonna suck at being "just friends" and remaining "just friends".
Blitz and Stolas aren't endgame.
If these idiots were not endgame, than Brandon and Viv wasted four years of ours and their time on a relationship that was never going to come into fruition.
Also, the show is about Blitz and has always been about Blitz. The reason why Stolas is such an important character is because their building him up to be this red lizard's main love interest.
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I am so tired. 😫
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awordsmith · 7 months ago
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where you came from 𝜗𝜚 s.r
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۶ৎ in which you receive a letter detailing the death of your grandfather, head back to your hometown, and wonder if you ever should have left.
katcember
who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s8 genre: angst to fluff (comfort) content warnings: proofed! not much sad angst (more sad angst if that makes any sense), death of a family member/funeral, reader's hometown is in Europe (purely for aesthetic), more plot than spencer (kind of idk) reid with warmth word count: 11.2k a/n: this was my one of my first ideas when first posting on tumblr so i really do hope you enjoy it! there are a few words not in english, but sometimes when writing in english it's easier to say something in another language because english can be really...corny sometimes...anyway ily cari !!
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The loops and curves connecting the words in that elegant font you grew up learning stuck in the back of your mind like a non-removable tumor. You could feel it. You had a time limit–but not to live. Two days. In two days you would go back to Europe, back to a continent you had thought you’d left behind years ago, a place you had thought you held no attachment to… no emotion.
Maybe, though, it was the fact that you had been gone so long, had not once gone to visit in all your time in America, and now–now your time had run out–or rather, another, no longer invisible hourglass had lost the last of its sand and someone had flipped it again, setting a new timeline in motion.
Your grandpa, your beloved nonno*–oh how you just couldn’t believe it. 
It had hit you so suddenly, your mother normally sent you letters, you didn’t mind her old ways, she was raised by the man who taught you cursive and calligraphy–with craft you thought ancient, and technology was still rather new, and she wasn’t one to conform to change.
You sighed, shifting in your seat as Hotch and the rest of the team gave the profile. The lights were too bright; you stared at the floor, one leg crossed over the other, and your arms folded. You tried keeping your focus. Yes, you were dealing with your own problems, and yes, you had just gotten the letter yesterday, but these children needed you now–and if you couldn’t be at your best with a personal issue weighing on your shoulders, could you even call yourself an FBI agent?
Emily had just left the team a month ago and her replacement wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t Emily. You desperately needed your friend right now, your soul sister. She could tell you what to do and how to handle things like this, she’s been doing this a lot longer than you, has more experience–and she understood you, at least where family matters were concerned.
“You okay?” Spencer whispered as the officers went back to their desks or collected in groups–some even leaving–probably to talk about the best course of action. This guy was going to strike again, every indication of it was there on the board.
“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling your stomach growl.
He furrowed his brows, “when’s the last time you ate?”
“Uhm,” you stood, rubbing your wrist, “I’m not sure, but I’m fine, really,” you gave him a tight smile walking over to the board, “We know he’s targeting school busses on their drop off, he’s insecure about something, his physical strength? That’s the only reason he’d subdue the bus driver in a blitz attack.”
Spencer called your name–almost as a whine–and you paused. “Look,” he said, “I don’t think the rest of the team’s noticed, so if you eat, I won’t say anything…”
You frowned, rubbing an eye, “fine.”
You’d think a look of triumph came over him, but you’d be wrong. He looked resigned, but not indifferent, it was more of a soft relief. Spencer had no idea what you were going through, you hadn’t told anyone–and you weren’t really planning on it. You liked to keep your personal life separate from work as much as possible, that’s one of the reasons you and Emily had clicked so well–you were nearly identical in that department, and, well, you both could agree Clyde was a little bit of an ass. You’d never worked directly with her during her Interpol days, but when she left, Clyde became your team lead, and–well, actually, that’s, pretty self-explanatory.
A few years in, you were able to transfer to the BAU, you’d performed considerably well and Clyde had recommended and vouched for you and–well, Emily knew Clyde, okay perhaps your connections helped a little, but was it really your connections or your skill because without your skill, you wouldn’t have been recommended now would you have?
Regardless, you had known how massive the opportunity was, which is why you’d said yes without a second thought. You joined the team two years ago, when Emily had shown no sign of leaving. You sighed, rubbing your hands together, they were sweaty and you felt sick, maybe you should try eating something.
“Alright,” you affirmed again, “come on you’re driving.”
You threw the keys that had been lying on the table next to the board at Spencer, he’d been close to Emily too, you assumed they still spoke sometimes when they got the chance as you did with her. Your mutual bond was probably–at least you considered it the most probable–reason for why you grew so close in such a short amount of time.
You were close in age, too, which you assumed added to the comfort.
Spencer took you to the closest fast food and you ate in the car devouring each bite. He asked for coffee and “real” sugar on the side, and then he sat there and watched you eat, and when you were finished he drove you back to the police station. 
The case took you to Santa Monica, California. Penelope had ushered you all into the room as soon as you’d got into the office this morning, honestly, you were expecting it, and with the hurriedness she had, you knew it couldn’t be anywhere near good–though you considered none of the cases you received “good”, this one involved children, and it seemed they were the prime target, but what you couldn’t figure out was why.
He didn’t kill all the children–in fact, in both cases, the unsub only killed three kids; it seemed as if he was targeting specific children, but they all came from relatively different backgrounds, and both schools–when considering the environment and looking at it from a geographical perspective–weren’t at all in near-to-similar neighborhoods. Even the two kids that were killed on the same bus had no connection, they weren’t friends, the witnesses said the boys stayed away from each other unintentionally, they just never seemed to cross paths and it just did not make sense.
You wanted–no needed–to figure this out, for the next potential victims–but the team had no clue as to which school he’d hit next. For this reason, Penelope was emailing schools at the masses to keep them on high alert.
“He’s targeting school buses,” you said, taking a sip of your water. “Not schools…” Spencer nodded and you asked, “Why?”
“Perhaps something happened to him on a school bus?”
“It’s important,” you agreed, “but wouldn’t that make him–like–fifteen?”
“No,” Spencer shook his head, “a fifteen-year-old wouldn’t have this much time, he’d have been caught by now.”
“The survivors say he wore a mask, he called the students by name–”
“But not their name–maybe he’s living in a delusion?” Spencer’s speaking sped up, “maybe he’s not fifteen but he’s reliving his teenage days. Maybe he was bullied and now he wants revenge?”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain going after high school kids now. Why not just go after the people his anger is directed toward?”
“Because he can’t? Maybe they’re substitutes?”
“We need to tell the others.”
Spencer nodded, you rushed out of the car and into the police station, catching Morgan, Hotch, and JJ leaning over a phone, talking to Penelope. You explained your theory and funnily enough, Penelope had just found school records that supported it. Each victim had been suspended within the past year, accused of bullying or inflicting some type of physical or mental pain on another student.
Complaints about the victims were filed by students, so now you knew your unsub had access to all this information, the question was what title did someone need in order to garner this details.
“That has to be how he’s choosing his victims,” Morgan said.
Hotch thought for a second, then nodded, “All alright, call Rossi and Blake, tell them to get here, Penelope, are you still on?”
“Running and ready, sir,” she confirmed, “All alright, give me a list of the next potential targets, all kids who have been suspended or complained about in the last year due to bullying, narrow the search to males, fifteen older.”
“Sir, do you want me to narrow the search between the two schools?”
“No,” Hotch sighed, looking each of you in your eyes, “I want the entire city–”
“Hotch–” 
Spencer’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but Hotch cut him off, “you really want to sit around waiting for another body?”
Everyone went silent and Spencer’s eyes flitted to you for a moment, almost as in reassurance.
“He’s right, Hotch,” you stepped forward, trying to push away all thoughts of what was to be expected of you in two days.
“You,” Hotch narrowed his eyes as if just now suspecting something was up with you. 
A silent staring contest ensued, though it was quickly broken when an officer burst into your makeshift bullpen. “Another body was discovered.” Your heart sunk and you glanced to Spencer for comfort, his eyes drifting to yours for the same thing.
It always just seemed a little bit more painful when children were involved. Your stomach lurched and you felt sick, wanting to throw up the food you’d just eaten. You just wanted this all to be over so you could focus on your family issues. It might have been selfish, but wasn’t that your right? You couldn’t think about this right now, you needed to find this guy before he murdered another innocent kid.
“Give Garcia the geographical point and have her narrow the search.”
Hotch directed at Spencer, turning to JJ, “Stay here, help him and Rossi figure out what career our unsub might have. Morgan go Blake to check out the new crime scene, and,” he turned to you, “Come with me.”
You turned to Spencer one last time, not wanting to leave him. You were always together, working together, that is. Hotch never split you up so you thought there must be a reason for it now, but why, well, you couldn’t know for certain. You shook your head and followed him out the door. He seemed to wait for you with pause, his expression unreadable, almost like he was analyzing you. You tilted your head in warning and he finally relented.
“Let’s go.”
From that point forward, there wasn’t really much of a struggle, it just sucked you had been called in so late, and that another kid had died before you caught the guy. Four kids in total, three crime scenes. The ride back on the jet was tense.
Everyone seemed to need their own space whenever you dealt with a case like this, you, well, you’d play with Spencer’s hair, if you were really tired, he’d let you lean against his shoulder or use his lap as a pillow and sleep. This time, though, you were restless and you couldn’t find the need to sleep anywhere. You knew you probably should,but…it was just too much.
You couldn’t stay seated, you paced back and forth, your mind fleeting from the case to the letter you’d received yesterday. You’d brought it with you and you hesitated only for a second before pulling it from your bag and sitting in one of the empty rows. You could feel eyes on you, though they were trying to pretend they weren’t looking.
You wanted to say you could see them, say you weren’t in need of monitoring, but you were the youngest on the team, and despite your closeness, with Emily particularly, they all cared for you, which is why when JJ slid into the seat across from you you resisted rolling your eyes.
“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of… not yourself.”
“I’m fine, JJ, thanks.” You returned your eyes to your mother’s letter.
“You sure?” she asked, “is it your mother? Has something happened?”
She motioned toward the letter. They’d gotten accustomed to seeing you read over the renaissance looking artifacts throughout the day. That wasn’t the unusual part, no JJ was talking about how you weren’t attached to Spencer’s hip, how you avoided them all almost the entire day, and how you had been so focused on the case as if you were trying to make something else dissappear.
“We’re all here for you, you know.” She reached her hand out, rubbing her thumb over it.
“Yeah,” Morgan motioned for JJ to scoot over, “we’re a family, you know.”
“Aww, I wish I was there,” Penelope said from the other side of Morgan’s phone. You wanted to scoff, but a sad smile pressed to your mouth instead. They were cornering you as if they’d planned it.
Your eyes flitter over toward Rossi and Hotch who were pretending not to listen and Blake, who was evidently really not, then they landed on Spencer’s who stood suddenly from his normal spot in the front of the jet and began walking toward you. “See, even pretty boy’s upset.”
“I am not upset,” Spencer scoffed, sliding into the seat next to you. But then he held your gaze as if trying to communicate with his eyes, “but we are here for you, you know I’m always here, and…I’m sure if you called, Emily would be too.”
You took a breath, and when it came out it was shuddering, and that was the first time crying had crossed your mind. So, you said–first in general, “My grandfather just passed, I’m supposed to leave in two days for his funeral.” You let them take it in, then, “I need time off, Hotch.”
A snort came from Rossi and the team frowned at him, but you smiled, why was he so unserious all the time? You rolled your eyes, but then Penelope spoke up from the phone in Morgan’s pocket, “if you need someone to go with you, I’d be willing.”
Your eyes swelled at her offer and you opened your mouth to say ‘Really?’ but Spencer said, “I’d go too–you know, if you wanted that is,” before you could open your mouth.
“Thank you,” you nodded, “I’d like that…and you know…it wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you came as well,” your admission scared you, what were you doing? This is the exactly the opposite response Emily would have given, but maybe you weren’t as strong as Emily, and maybe…maybe that was okay.
“When are we leaving again?” Rossi sighed, pulling out his phone, “I’ll have to check my schedule.” And with that you let loose a snort, appreciating the kindness of your team.
“Jack, Will, and Henry are welcome to come as well.” You said, “And that girlfriend of yours, Hotch,” you added, “I think I’d be able to brave my family again if I had the Guardians of the Galaxy with me.”
“What about Strauss?” JJ suddenly asked, “What are we gonna tell her?”
“Oh you let me worry about her,” Blake smiled, though you had been sure she wasn’t even listening.
“You’re from Europe right?”
You huffed a sigh, “Yes, Rossi, I’m sure we’re not cousins.”
A few chuckled as Rossi responded with a nod and a smug grin,  “Just checking.”
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You claimed the window seat, forcing Spencer to sit in the middle, though you had to climb over him multiple times to use the bathroom, you didn’t care, and neither did he…much. You thought you’d be able to sleep, but just like on the jet, you found yourself restless, and Spencer, well, he couldn’t help but ask.
The first question was simple, “how do you feel about going home?”
You laughed, a bitter expression framing your face, “I don’t know.” You were lying, though he wasn’t sure if you knew that fact yourself as you seemed genuine. The only way he knew for sure your response wasn’t what your subconscious truly thought was was by the way your lips pressed together right before you spoke, that was your tell.
He didn't know if you knew you did it, but he’d caught on to it pretty quickly when you’d first met, it had been something small, but he remembered it as clearly as if it were playing out right now in front of him. It had to do with your favorite food. Morgan had said he’d overheard you talking to Emily about how you wanted a certain order from this new restaurant because it tasted like the one you had back home, and to surprise you, he had brought it in one day and set it on your desk, brimming with energy to see your reaction.
You were confused at first, but when you saw him, you’d grinned, prying to box open, then your eyebrows had shot up and he’d asked you if it was your favorite food. You’d pressed your lips together and nodded, grimacing with the first bite, “I love it, thank you.”
Later on, he’d smacked Morgan for the first time upside the head, running away quickly after, Morgan had chased him for some time until Hotch had told them to stop acting like, “idiots,” and thst, “Jack acthas better self control than you two most days.”
“Do you have any pets at home?” He asked, watching you stretch out your arms above your head, deflating against your seat.
You smiled, “I used to have a dog, but she died before I left for university.”
“I’m sorry,” he frowned.
“Don’t be, she wasn’t really mine, but my sister’s.”
He nodded, it was early morning, everyone had gotten up way before they’d wanted to, except him. He was ready to go a bit too early, and when he’d picked you up at your apartment, it seemed as if you hadn’t slept much either.
“Hey, Spencer?” You suddenly whispered.
“Yeah?” He stared down at you as you began to move, causing him to shift until his body aligned with yours and your back hit his chest.
“Do you want to hear a boring story?” He quirked a brow, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. To the normal eye, you seemed incredibly close, strangely close–a couple kind of close, but to the team and between the two of you, it was more like the relationship Penelope and Dereck had, although instead of heaty words, it was comforting gestures like this, that, and you were always attached at the hip, you were partners with each other before anyone else, work partners that is.
“What’s a boring story?” He asked and you didn’t know if he was trying to be poetic, but it brought a smile to your face.
“My grandfather,” you focussed your eyes on the window, finding warmth in being pressed against him, his arms acting as a blanket that wrapped around you. “He was old in age, I mean, I knew that even when I was a kid, but there were times,” you shook your head recalling the moments in your mind.
Spencer kept quiet, listening intently as he rubbed circles on the exposed inner corner of your elbow.
“He would take me on adventures and back then, he seemed so young, so exceptionally immortal. It was otherworldly,” your voice got quieter as you continued, “I don’t know how to face him,” you sighed–God it seemed like all you could do for the past 45 hours was sigh.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me about the adventures.”
You paused, turning your head slightly to see him, you’d done this countless times, but for some reason, it seemed more pertinent now. More….significant, “my grandad,” you murmured, “he was my captain. That was the game. We’d go to the pier sometimes, or the forest, and he’d always have these elaborate scavenger hunts set up in advance. He really–” you blinked and breathed, “...he was really good at things like that.”
“Setting up games?” Spencer asked incredulously, but you knew it was good-natured, meant to bring the smile that had so evidently fallen off back to your face.
“At crafting and cultivating imagination.”
“Ah,” Spencer nodded, “yeah how did I miss that?”
You smacked is chest playfully.
“How do you feel about seeing your family, how long has it been?”
You gazed out the window again, there was low chatter around the plain, it was dark, the lights were off, and most people were asleep. You pondered briefly about why Spencer was still up and deigned to ask him when sunlight shone through the window, blinding you momentarily. It wasn’t a lot nor was it as bright as you were used to, and it was quickly hidden behind the clouds once more, but you smiled at it anyway.
“A new beginning,” you raised your hand, blocking the slight sunlight that filtered in now and then, not really sure what you meant.
Spencer chuckled, reaching out to grab your wris. He held it, waving it around as if you were casting a non-verbal spell.
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he whispered, “but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
“I know you will,” you replied as easily as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “You always are.”
And again, for a moment, you pondered why that was, why Spencer always seemed to be the only person–other than Emily–who was always there for you when you needed someone, why he was the only person you wanted there when things went wrong. 
It was a question that had bubbled up over the last month since Emily had left. You’d begun to lean on him a lot more, yes, but you could very well just have as easily called Emily. Spencer wasn’t lying, you knew she would pick up no matter what, but oddly, you found you didn't want to call her because–you already had the person you needed with you. And he would always be there, even if you stopped working together, Spencer would always be there.
You were sure you could call him in the middle of the night and he’d come running. But why would you want to? You shook the dangerous thought away. 
“It’s sunrise,” he said, pulling your attention back to the window. Slowly, he brought your hand to once again rest on your stomach.
“We still have about 5 hours,” you sighed, noting the time.
He leaned back, shifting in his seat, “Then we better get comfortable.”
You wondered what you’d do first when you landed, would you have so much jet lag you wouldn’t be able to see your family for some time? Would you be able to sleep? Finally? Where would your grandpa be? Probably at the funeral home. Would other family members be traveling into the city for the funeral? If they were they’d have to stay at the main house, there wewould be no other space available in the others.
You were only staying three days, and if Stauss called you in early, you’d have no choice, but to leave before that. You were able to solve one more case before you left, though you had still strained for sleep, everyone else seemed to be a little overly excited. Blake stayed to help other teams, she was new and you weren’t that close, though she didn’t seem to mind.
She was like Rossi in that department, unable to take days away from work as she ran on catching these guys. But for you, and everyone else on the team, you were sure, you couldn’t wait for your days off.
They were the closest thing you got to normalcy, that and time with Spencer outside of work, it was time in your world, one where bad guys didn’t exist, one where you could escape into the realities of a Charlotte Bontë novel, one your grandpa had gifted you before you could remember a life without it.
You wanted to thank Spencer, but you didn’t know how. You wanted to thank everyone, really, but Spencer most of all, and instead of thinking about why, of letting it plague your thoughts, you leaned further into him, rubbed your face into his soft sweater vest, and closed your eyes.
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Penelope threw her head back as she grabbed her suitcase, “where to now?” Spencer pushed her sunhat out of the way. She was in for a rude awakening, it was winter in Europe, and though most people were on holiday, that only meant the airports would be extra lively.
“First, let’s make sure we have everyone.” You began counting of heads, narrowing your eyes, “where’s Hotch?”
“We’re here!” Jack came running, Hotch sprinting after him. It was not too odd a sight, for you to see Hotch in dad mode, he normally had that look on when Spencer did something stupid or Penelope said too much on speaker–but this, oh this was gold.
Rossi snapped a photo with an old camera he’d brought along, chuckling when Hotch glared at him. “Alright,” you nodded, noting Hotch’s girlfriend slowly filling the space beside him. “Now, my immediate family isn’t that big, but the rest of the family does live in the same town, so you’ve all been assigned housemates.”
“Housemates?” JJ raised a brow.
“I’ll,” you checked the time, “explain on the train, come on.”
You were honestly surprised everyone had come, you’d invited them because you truly had thought them being here would lessen the pain, but to think that they all wanted to be here for you as well, even Rossi had come–and he hated taking vacation time. Though, the most surprising had to be the fact that Blake had actually succeeded in getting Straus to let you all come.
You stayed together, it was easy for some, though others kept getting sidetracked. You stopped a few times to look at a few shops and monuments, though you kept explaining to Penelope she’d have more than enough time later to go on her mini explorations.
You supposed it was normal though, that was how you were your first time in America–your first time in any new country or state, really. Most everyone had never been to Europe, even for you it felt like stepping into a storybook. You hadn’t been home in so long, it was like a lost memory.
Though afternoon, the day was getting dark already, and people were milling about, readying for Christmas–your heart lurched, and though you tried not thinking about him too much, you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandfather had been alone during his passing, what were his last words? His last thoughts? Rainclouds not only drew to the sky but your mind as well.
You felt more than guilty, that was the only way you could describe the horrid emotion twisting in your gut ever since you’d received the letter. You hadn’t seen your parents–your sister–face to face in a long time. It was part of the guilt of moving to America without giving them a heads up and for leaving when you knew they wanted you to stay.
Your older sister had stayed, why couldn’t you have? There really was no explanation other than you just couldn’t. It felt small, suffocating. You loved your hometown, but eventually, you knew there had to be something more out there, something more calling your name, and the longer you stayed, the more you buried that feeling, the less motivated to do anything you got.
So, you saved up during your uni days and took the first position in America you’d found, which is how you ended up at Interpol, climbing the ranks slowly but surely and eventually working with Clyde.
You reached the train station, the cool weather making everything around you a tint of blue. The benches that sat in front of the train tracks were taken up by Jack, Henry, and Will, who’d been carrying a ton of baby supplies. You paused, checked your watch again, nodded, and turned your face toward everyone again, “Alright people, here’s the plan. My family knows you're coming, one of the reasons they were okay with it is because we own a few properties and can house you all, hence your housemates, or if you prefer, hosts.” You glanced at JJ, “You, Will, and Henry will be staying with my sister and her husband. She has two kids so she’s used to the noise.”
You had thought about letting Hotch stay with your sister, but that would have just been too weird. No, instead you’d paired Hotch up with one of your cousins, who was married, but had no kids. Jack was older, no longer in diapers, and had a controlled temper, so it seemed perfect.
You relayed this information and moved on, “Penelope and Morgan, you’re staying with my aunt and uncle on my dad’s side, trust me, you’ll be thanking me–and Rossi, you’re with my aunt an uncle on my mom’s side Is that everyone then?” You looked around, nodding.
“Hang on,” Rossi held up a hand, “I don’t like the way you said that last part.”
“That’s everyone then?” You ignored him, “All alright, the train should be here–” You cut off your sentence as the train pulled into the station, “...right on time.”
 Waiting your turn to step onto the train as people made their way off, you felt around in your pocket for the letter one last time, sighing in relief when you it was still there. You grabbed your suitcase and began pulling it aboard the train when Spencer grabbed your arm and held you back. You glanced at everyone else boarding the train, making sure you had time before turning back, “Uhm,” he frowned, looking awkward, “where am I staying?”
“Hmm?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your watch again, “with me and my parents.” You said it so simply, as if it were an afterthought–as if it was so incredibly obvious that you didn’t think you had to mention it.
“Oh,” he didn’t know how to feel, he was a little embarrassed, but there was something else…sick? He didn’t know, but it made him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
“Come on,” you latched your hand onto his wrist and yanked him onto the train, “before it leaves without us.”
You honestly wanted to go straight to your parent's house, but you knew you had to introduce your co-workers/friends to your family so when you left it wasn’t so weird, though the only one who complained was Rossi, you couldn’t blame him, but at the same time you found it funny. He swore up and down you had put him in this position on purpose and he didn’t find it funny–“Not one bit,” he’d said right before you left him in his room. “I’ll get you back for this,” he’d warned.
Once you’d left JJ, Will, and Henry at your sisters–she hadn’t been home, thank God, as you didn’t think you could face her just yet–you and Spencer hailed a cab and had all but drifted off to sleep during the ride to your childhood home. Your mom had been the firstborn, so she’d gotten the main house, though your grandparents never left. They had kind acted as your second parents growing up and you were incredibly close, especially you and your grandfather…and now he was gone. You bit the inner corner of your cheek, feeling like you wanted to cry but just couldn’t find the comfort to do so.
Spencer noticed, of course, that you were leaning on him, and had been the entire cab ride. When the it came to a stop in front of a large, three-story Victorian house, he hesitated before shaking you awake. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew what to do, but this wasn’t his house and this was the first time he was going to meet your parents, though it excited him, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.
You were like–his platonic soulmate, nothing had ever happened between you two and just because you were going to be sleeping in the same house, probably a few feet apart, didn’t mean anything was going to start now. Morgan slept at Penelope’s all the time and though Spencer always suspected they were more, nothing had ever happened, which meant it was possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends–and yet, here is was, palms sweating, mind running, mouth drying as he walked up the trail leading to the front door of your parent’s house.
A knock, and hushed whispers, and then the door opened, your mother standing in the doorway with a bright smile on her face. She called your name and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You wondered if your grandpa was at the funeral home still, if he was cold, which was a stupid thought, he couldn’t feel anything, he was gone, no longer here roaming the earth, telling his outdated jokes and taking you on secret journey’s, and you were no longer that little girl who laughed at his outdated jokes and believed in the magic of his secret journeys.
When you pulled away your mother, with her now thinning, grayed hair pulled into a tight ponytail and the wrinkles lining her frail face–said, “Oh, let me get a look at you.” 
She took a step back and that’s when your father came into view, “Dad,” you smiled, the feeling almost overwhelming.
He pulled you into another hug, and just when you didn’t know if you could handle seeing one more relative you hadn’t seen in ages, your grandmother shouted from somewhere on the first floor, “Is that her? Is she here?”
Your heart seized itself and you took a step back, unknowingly stepping into Spencer’s personal space. You turned to apologize, but your grandmother had already wobbled in on her two dainty legs, as quickly as she could have if in her prime. Her old crone eyes narrowed, “nice of you to grace us with your presence.” She sprinkled salt on the floor as she glowered.
“Mom,” your mother groaned.
“What?” She crossed her arms and turned her head as if she had things better to do than welcome the granddaughter–who’d left everything behind–back into her life.
“It’s fine, Mom,” you reassured as your father went to close the door behind you’d walked in, Spencer gled to your back.
Your grandmother stomped out of the room in old lady fashion. “How are you dear? Have you been getting my letters?”
You cringed, “Yes,” though you never sent one back, you did always text a message, thanking your mom for writing you, she’d only heart it, though, which left you wondering if maybe you should’ve picked up a pen and paper. “I keep them all secure in a drawer.”
She nodded, a placid smile falling to her lips, “Well, you must be tired and–” she glanced at you, then at Spencer, then at your father and held his gaze for a moment before returning her eyes to you, “who’s your…”
“Oh, this is Spencer,” you patted his chest as if that was explanation enough.
Your mother nodded, not really sure how to take it, she turned to Spencer, hoping he’d offer a little more information, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Spencer stared at her hand, contemplating and you were just about to say something about it when he reached out and shook it. Slack-jawed, you eyed him suspiciously, turning away in a huff. When you’d first met him, he’d refused to shake your hand, sure he had come a long way since then, but it still annoyed you for some reason.
“Come, let me show you your rooms.”
Your mother led you up the starcase than faded into a small stairwell, leading up to the second floor. The wood was old mahogany, though you weren’t paying much attention to it. At the end of the left hall was another staircase that led to the third floor, but even half awake you knew it was probably locked. It always had been. 
You recognized the wallpaper, a deep, forest green and you half wondered if the wallpaper in your bedroom had changed, if it had been converted into a guest bedroom. Your mother gave Spencer the guest room down the hall. You waved goonight to him before heading into your room. He paused his eyes taking in your childhood home.
It was so incredibly different from his, but it also felt…small. You were this giant, bubble of energy and a quiet town in Europe just dind’t seem to add up to your personality. He sighed and pulled open the door, you weren’t a few steps away like he had hoped, but you were close enough. He stopped himself–this was completely bizarre, even for him. This was more up–well, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t up his alley.
Tired, you’d turned in for the night, though your eyes caught on all the things you’d left behind, you told yourself you’d look at it in the morning. You were glad everyone was here supporting you, you were especially glad to have Spencer–were glad he came, but then of course he came, that was just the kind of person he was.
You turned off the lamp on the bedside table, burying your face in the sheets, finding yourself still unable to cry, but whispering, “You would have liked him a lot, nonno*.” Which was madness, firstly, why did it matter if you grandfather would have liked Spencer or not. Secondly, your grandfather was gone, and the whole reason you were here was because of that fact. Maybe you just couldn’t accept it yet and that’s why you were thinking all these weird thoughts, why you couldn't cry.
You sighed, shutting your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t dream; to face tomorrow, you would just need sleep. Sleep and a lot of quiet.
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You cracked open one eye, light trickling in through the curtains though it wasn’t bright. You left your door ajar as you headed toward the bathroom. There was soft chatter on the first floor, and you were sure your grandmother and parents were awake. The faint aroma of coffee wafted through the air and you wondered if Spencer was up too.
You didn’t have to wait long to find out as he stepped out of the bathroom just as you went to open the door. His hair was wet and he was wearing a white collared shirt under a brown sweater vest. He smiled when he saw you, though your eyes were drawn to the water dripping down his forehead. He was holding a towel, you assumed to try and dry it, though it looked if he hadn’t had much success.
“Morning.” You murmured.
“Good morning,” he echoed, stepping out of the way. “You’re parents said I could,” he motioned behind him, pressing his lips together when you raised a brow. He nodded, “hurry? I am kind of nervous.”
You snorted and shook your head, “sure thing, piccolo*.”
You shut the bathroom door behind you, feeling an airy sensation float through your body as you began pulling your clothes off.
Half an hour later, you found Spencer in his room still trying to dry his hair. “You should just let it air dry.” You voiced, tucking a lock of your own wet hair behind your ear.
He looked up when you opened the door, sighing, and setting the hand towel to the side. His hair was nearly dry, though he was trying to get the wet bits in the back. 
You huffed, climbing on the bed and sitting behind him on your knees, “let me see it.” You began massaging the now-damp towel into his hair, trying to use the little dry parts it still had left. He chuckled, jerking his head slightly when the towel rubbed a sensitive spot. You smirked, “that tickle?”
He huffed another laugh, “stop,” he called your name in warning, “I’m serious.”
You laughed, running the towel teasingly up and down his neck. He jerked and eventually jumped up, pushing you backward on accident. He launched a tickle attack, fingers jabbing at your sides, your neck, under your arms, and when you thought he couldn’t get any worse, he sought your feet, your sockless feet.
“Okay!” You snorted, “Okay, you win!”
“What?” He asked, staring down at you with triumph.
“Oh, don’t be an ass.” 
He grinned playfully, but relented, “Alright, come on, your parents probably want to see you.”
You huffed a sigh and threw your head back, the pillows coming to its rescue as you let your hands come to rest on your stomach, “do we have to?” His grin eased into a gentle smile and you gave in, jumping up, “Yeah, fine.” 
You headed downstairs, passing picture frames from past relatives. There were so many ancient trinkets that your generations had left behind, Spencer said it was like walking through time, and it honestly was. Not just because the house was built in the middle 1800s, but because everything from the wallpaper to the furniture, and right down to the people still living in it–had that reminiscent aura about them.
“Nice of you to join us.” Your grandmother said as you walked in, “And who’s this, a boyfriend?”
Your mother sent hers a warning glare before turning back to you, “good morning, please sit,” she motioned toward the breakfast table.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Spencer said taking the seat beside you, “again.”
Your mother laughed and waved a hand, “There is no need for formalities, but I do want to thank you for coming.” She glanced at you momentarily, but you avoided her eyes. You knew you would eventually have to speak to everyone again, but you weren’t ready for that yet.
“So, how long have you been dating my daughter?” Your father asked. You would have choked on the tea had you drunk any prior. Your eyes widened instead and you turned to Spencer apologetically, but he didn’t seem at all fazed, “we’re just friends.”
His smile seemed content, but your grandmother scoffed. You turned to her, almost already fed up with the little attitude that’d been present since your arrival. You knew she had always preferred the company of your sister, and she detested you for leaving without a word–not to her, but to your grandfather.
You frowned, wanting to ask about it, but you couldn’t find words that would bring the least amount of sadness to the room. 
“Are you going out today?” Your father changed the subject, turning toward Spencer. He seemed to catch on to the fact that you were uncomfortable, so he directed all his questions at your beloved pretty boy.
Spencer answered them with ease–to which you knew you’d be in debt. An hour went by and Penelope was blowing up the team group chat, asking when you were meeting up. Eventually, you knew you’d have to take her around town and to be honest, you could use a little distraction from the looming presence of being around the rest of your family when they got in this afternoon.
“When will you be back?” Your mother asked
“Not sure,” you replied, more clipped than you meant for it to be.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Spencer reassured, trying to ease the tension.
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” your grandmother poked her head out of nowhere.
You shot her a glare and said, “Is this your way of seeing me off?”
Shocked by your reply, she tutted and jerked her head away, with closed eyes and crossed arms. You rolled your eyes, whispering, “see you later,” in the softest voice you could manage.
“That was…”
You huffed, wrapping your arms around yourself, “tell me about it.”
“So…your grandmother…”
“She hates me because I left, deep down they all do.” You frowned, but no tears came, they seemed to evade you.
Spencer pressed his lips together, normally he had the perfect response for anything you said, but you never spoke about your family. You were always sure to draw a boundary, you were very much like Emily in that sense, or at least he thought so.
You took a cab to the pier, agreeing to meet at the beach seemed simple. There were a few people, mostly locals though, your hometown wasn’t a place tourists normally visited. The main reason this town was able to survive was because a lot of the residents were wealthy, and that wealth stayed in the family and–well, the families stayed here.
“Woah,” Penelope yelped at the fourth store you stopped in, “we have to look around,” she said, eye-widening. Jack and Henry were milling about together, looking at little trinkets. You recognized the shop, it was an antique toy store–your grandfather had bought all your gifts over the years from this one in particular, some were secondhand, but they were sentimental to you and you had taken a few with you when you’d moved to America. 
“Babygirl, calm down.” Morgan laughed, following her down an aisle.
“How’s everyone settling in?” You asked, turning to Rossi when he huffed and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” You leaned in, grinning.
Spencer pulled you back just as Rossi glared and called you a sadist. “We’re doing fine, your sister is nice.” JJ smiled, “she was asking about you,” she paused, waiting to see if it was an alright topic of conversation. When she realized you were waiting patiently for her to continue, she did, “she said she was sorry for not being home when you dropped us off. She wanted to catch up.”
You took a breath, your cheeks seemingly hot in the cold weather. “I know it’s not my place,” Will started, catching your eyes, “...but I…I think you should talk to her…”
You frowned at him, contemplating, then you nodded, sigh slipping past your lips, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Oh!” Penelope shouted, “Gelato, my phone says there’s a gelato place right around the corner!” 
You noticed Morgan walking up behind her when a laugh–though it sounded more like a croak–rang through your ears. “Your phone would be correct,” an old woman rounded the counter, short as could be. Her eyes bounced from face to face, settling on yours, “I told your old wench of a grandmother you’d come back. Were it for anything it’d be for him.” She sighed, “Come here, let me have a spin, my God how long has it been?”
You wanted to say eight years, but you neglected that subject and instead focussed your memory on figuring out who this woman was. 
“Hmm,” she hummed after a moment, taking a step back, her arms so incredibly bony they looked as if they might snap with the slightest pressure. Her pallor was somewhat tanned, and there were a few black spots up and down her exposed skin.
“You’re nonna’s old classmate.” It clicked, she was always stopping by the house in your earlier days, and she’d sometimes sit on the wraparound porch, sipping wine with your grandmother.
“Did you forget me already capretta*?” She chuckled as if she’d made a joke.
The rest of your group had deemed the conversation not there’s to listen in on, so they’d taken to wandering around the shop, the only one who stayed–partially because he wanted to and partially because you’d grabbed his wrist when he had tried walking away–was Spencer.
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” you murmured, “you shouldn’t call me that.”
“Oh, you’ll always be capretta* to me, you and all the others.” She smiled, her beady eyes watching you for a moment, as if expecting you to do something brash. Eventually, she said, “his funeral is tomorrow, yes?”
“Yeah,” saying it brought out a wave of pain. Your mouth felt heavy and your stomach dropped to your feet.
She nodded, “have you decided what you’re going to say?”
You shook your head, “I won’t be speaking.”
She paused, disappointment flashing across her face, “well, I’m sorry to hear that.” You pressed your lips together and began turning away, ready to get out of this uncomfortable situation, but she wasn’t finished, “you know, I’m sure he’s happy you’re here.”
Spencer watched you close your eyes, take a deep, shuddering breath, and open them carefully. He watched them gloss over and without thinking about it, snaked a hand behind your back, as if holding you to this earth would help you in some way, unbeknownst to him, it did. His touch grounded you, and you thought, another debt to be owed.
“You’re amante*,” she said right before you walked back outside.
“He’s not my–” you waved your hands but your your words faltered as she shook a cloth at you, a knowing smile adorning her face.
“Maybe not yet, capretta*.”
You sighed, yanking Spencer outside. “What did she say?” He asked as if he couldn’t use damned context clues.
“Nothing,” you responded, but Rossi raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands when you shot him a look, your eyes flashing in warning. 
The other’s finally joined you outside and you spent a few more hours acting as a tour guide. When you deemed it time to go home, you told everyone to be ready in formal attire around 8, the rest of your family would be coming in, staying at the main house as it was the last place that still had room, and a small party would ensue. Everyone only came together for weddings and funerals so they tended to make the most of it.
You weren’t really looking forward to seeing the rest of your cousins, hell you could barely face your immediate family, extended seemed a little too much too soon.
You thought about hiding up in your room, you hadn't had much time to take it in yet and you thought it might help.
Relatives started arriving around 7:30. Spencer had wandered down to your room and knocked, though you could hear the hesitation in it. “Come in,” you said, sitting up.
He walked through, shutting the door softly behind him. “So this is where I find all your secrets.” He chirped, an easy smile settling on his face as joined you on the bed, leaning back. “It’s pink,” he noted.
“Hey,” you said, “the wallpaper came with the room.”
He huffed a laugh, his eyes catching on a few blankets stacked neatly on a shelf linear your bed, “are those your baby blankets?”
“No,” you laid back down, the lamp at your side dimming slightly. “I think I stole those from my sister.”
He smiled, “I wonder what it’s like to have a sibling.”
You smiled, recalling all the idiotic fights you’d get into, how your parents would send you two to your room until you, “learned to love each other”. “She’s older by a few years,” your voice carried through the silent room, though it was lively on the first floor. You suddenly remembered you had a third, but you couldn’t recall a single memory of you being allowed there as is had always been locked.
“Do you want to talk about her?” He asked after a while.
You debated, on one hand, it might be good practice for when you spoke to her, on the other hand, what would you even say? You had no idea how she’d been these past eight years, what her life was like. What could you say and so you said, “ask me about her.”
He hummed for a moment, falling on, “why’d you steal the blankets?”
Your lips pressed together and you tried piecing together an accurate depiction of the event. “Well, she’d got them on a trip with our grandmother. My grandfather and I had been on an adventure, I think we were in the forest, I can’t remember,” you sat up and pushed yourself off the bed, walking over to the dresser and bending down to the shelf that held the blankets.
Spencer sat up, letting his eyes follow you, he felt warm, not anxious. Though his mind was working slowly, he found he didn’t mind. You seemed to calm everything down for him, it was a sense of comfort he hadn’t known he’d needed until you came into his life, and his headaches from before had slowly ceased the closer the two of you got.
“This one,” you held up, “was originally hers.” You brought it to him as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed, his feet sprawled around you. You didn’t think twice before stepping in between him, but you had never done that before and it caught him off guard. You had never been in such proximity when you were both wide awake, and you certainly had never faced each other like this.
Nevertheless, he didn’t mind–in fact, he was finding it increasingly obvious that he preferred you to be as close to him as possible. He ran a hand over the smooth ruffles of the white blanket. It was pleaded with light pink embroidery. “You should give it to your daughter.” He heard himself say, though his throat went dry right after. 
“You think so?” You found yourself wanting to be closer to him–as if I’m not close enough, you scolded yourself.
“Yeah,” he looked up at you, and gosh–it looked like he wanted you, and gosh–you felt your heartbeat speed up.
Your body moved on its own, stepping forward, loving the way his legs close together to entrap you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dropping the blanket down beside him. You lifted your knees onto either side of his waist and sat in his lap, his arms snaking around your hips. “Hi,” you murmured, a nervous–almost hesitant–expression falling over your features.
His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes, but he managed to force out a, “hi.”
You bit your lip and it drew his gaze instantly, you could feel his heart palpitate in his chest, almost as fast as yours. His eye fluttered close and his head fell back when you ran your hands through his hair. You didn’t know what you were doing, you told yourself multiple times, unsure of why this was happening–now of all times, oh your sweet nonno! Forgive me, you pleaded.
You angled your head forward, ready to do the one thing you’d knew your subconscious had been wanting for God knew how long, but then a knock sounded on the door and Spencer’s eyes opened once again.
“Who–” you cleared your throat, “who is it?”
“Uhm,” a nervous chuckle came from the other side of the door, “it..it’s me.” Your sister. You cursed, glanced at Spencer, then with an apologetic look, unraveled yourself from his embrace.
You walked toward the door, trying to fix your nettled clothing in the process. You took a breath and paused, then opened the door. Your sister stood there, tall, lean, and elegant, as you remembered her to be. “Hi,” she smiled, tilting her head.
You smiled back, trying your best to not give away what had just been going on–what the actual hell was just going on? You wanted to contemplate it more, wanted to ask yourself what the hell you thought you were doing–but refrained from doing so in the moment.
“Can…can I come in?”
You tensed, your eyes darting behind you and Spencer stood, throwing you an understanding glance. Your sister took a step back as he left the room, eyes following him as he disappeared somewhere down the hall. You swallowed and shifted out of the doorway, “come in.”
She raised an eyebrow but kept quiet upon you lifting a hand. 
“How have you been?” She asked once you shut the door. 
You thought about your answer, settling for, “good,” because you had been good, you had been very good, up until you got that letter.
“That’s good,” she responded, looking around the room, smiling, “you know, mom kept it just the way you had it when you left.”
You nodded, yes, you had noticed that, but you weren’t sure how you felt about it just yet.
“What’s this?” She walked toward your bed, where Spencer had been not a minute ago. She picked up the dainty blanket and sat down, steering clear of the part that had been undoubltey rumpled by Spencer. “Oh,” she said as if just recalling, “it’s the blanket I gave you.”
Your eyebrows scrunched together, you distinctly remember you stealing it from your room and hiding it when she had come asking if you’d seen it.
She laughed, apparently recalling the same thing, “I knew you had it back then,” which came as a surprise to you. She bit back a smile as she began folding it again, “nonna told me to let you keep it.”
Your eyes widened slightly, “did she?”
“Yep,” your sister popped the ‘p’.
“Hmm,” you hummed.
“What?” She asked, setting the blanket aside.
“She’s become batty.”
Your sister’s eyebrows rose, “how do you mean?”
“She’s been nothing but brutal to me,” you frowned, crossing your arms.
Your sister’s eye crinkled like she was about to laugh, “wow,” she said instead, “you’ve been gone so long you must have forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?” You scoffed.
“That’s how she’s always been,” your sister shook her head, mumbling your name and something else incoherent before turning to look back up at you, “I hope you visit again, that this isn’t some one off thing.”
You pulled away, your walls instantly going back up and your sister sighed, clearly noting the mask of an expression. “You always did that when you were a kid, you know.”
“Did what?” You furrowed your brows.
“Fold into yourself,” she waved her hands, “I don’t know how else to explain it.” She huffed, “you know, we really miss you, everyone. My kids,” she started, tears thrreatening to break loose, “you nieces and nephews–they don’t even know you.”
You looked down and for a second you weren’t sure what she was talking about, but then you remembered that yes–you were a zia*, your sister had children, three of them, and you hadn’t met them once.
Guilt wrapped itself around you like a veil, “I’m sorry,” you heard yourself saying, your face contorting as if you wanted to cry, wanted to express how remorseful you felt, but didn’t know how to.
“You’re just like her,” she threw her head back as a few tears ran down her cheek, “I think that’s why you were closer to Nonno*. You and Nonna* are too alike, you’re both so damn stubborn.” She huffed a laugh and for a moment, a sliver of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.
“I think love my best friend,” you found yourself admitting, maybe it was your way of trying to reach out, to tell your sister you were still you.
“That guy that was just here?” She grinned at you, “yeah, the family has been talking about it, Nonna* said to expect a wedding within the next year.”
Your face fell, embarrassment taking over, “what? Why? That old bat!” You scoffed, standing, “I can’t believe her, I’ve only been here–what? Two days? If that? That crazy old woman,” you marched toward the door, “Well?” You called to your sister, “are you going to back me up or what?”
She stared at you for a moment and then slowly, but surely, an calm smile crept onto her face, but her eyes were ones of storybook villains,“yeah, sure.”
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The day started gloomy, though when you met Spencer in the hall, it became just a little less than that. You weren’t feeling like yourself, though you weren’t actually sure what self you were referring to. 
JJ had messaged the group chat that she’d be late because Henry had an accident right before they set off to leave. You thought about messaging your sister, but it felt weird, you weren’t used to initiating conversation with your family, so you didn’t, although you did plan to speak before the funeral.
You wore simple black attire, as did everyone else and you caught yourself holding onto Spencer’s hand tighter than usual, almost as if he’d leave you too, and you couldn’t have that. Your heart studded in your chest once you saw the coffin, it was closed, of course. It had been open for the hearing, but that had occured before you’d landed.
You couldn’t move forward. You told the others to go on and after making sure you were okay, they did, “but you’re not allowed to go,” you’d whispered, almost to yourself.
Spencer had squeezed your hand, whispering back, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Your family gathered around the casket and the sacerdote* stepped forward, reading off a few of the retellings your grandmother had no doubt written down with the help of your parents. You noted a few other, non-related spectators, probably friends.
A few of his favorite songs were played and then your mother said a few words, followed by your grandmother, and finally your sister. “Are you okay?” Spencer pulled you closer by your arm.
You pressed your lips together, watching the coffin being lowered into the grave. “I don’t know…” and when you swallowed, you found your throat dry and for the first time since the letter, you not only found yourself wanting to cry, you found it was almost within reach.
The ceremony ended and relatives began dropping dirt into the grave, you thought to say one last prayer before leaving, but you didn’t want anyone to see you. You turned to Spencer and let go of his hand, “I just…” you turned away, pressing your lips together as you eyed the fresh grave.
He smiled sadly, but he nodded; he always seemed to be able to understand you no matter how silent or how loud you were. Maybe that’s why you loved him, you couldn’t be sure. There were so many things you loved about him–gosh you loved him. The revelation was like a wish from a birthday candle being answered.
You stepped away and Spencer watched as you pushed through the crowd. Hotch and the others surrounded him, questioning stares ever-present. “We should give her some time,” he said after seeing you hesitate, then sit near the makeshift headstone.
“What’s she doing?” Penelope frowned, watching you shift in your spot on the wet grass.
“Saying goodbye,” Spencer was the only one to respond–he was also the last one to retreat.
You didn’t know how to begin, you hadn’t spoken to him in eight years. You were scared that he was angry at you, but then again, you knew that couldn’t be the case, yes you knew he was gone, but what if his spirit was still here? What if he couldn’t move on because he had unfinished business and it was your fault?
You stopped yourself, since when did you believe in superstition? That was your parents…and Rossi; not you.
You sighed, running your hand through the grass, deciding to start as if he were still there, trying not to sound too guilty.
Nonno, you began, I–I’m sorry, you shook your head, I know, I know I should have visited. I know– a single tear fell down your cheek and you paused to wipe it away, shocked by your own emotions. “Forgive me,” you whispered.
“You sound like a crazy person,” you jerked your head to the side, eyes landing on your grandmother.
You huffed, eyes narrowing as you sniffled and wiped another tear that had fallen. “You’re one to talk.”
Your grandmother shifted, as if uncomfortable, and then she moved forward, more brittle than you had noticed the first time. “I’m not going to sit down,” she said after a moment, “don’t let my looks full you, I’m not how I once was.” She grunted as she stood beside you.
“Yeah, well, your looks aren’t fooling anyone, so.”
“Ouch,” she laughed, but it sounded like a wenches cackle. “Oh nipotina*,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a complacent smile making its way onto her wrinkled face.
You sat in silence, comfortable or not, you were glad she had stopped talking, you didn’t know what to say to her. In your opinion, you had never really gotten along with your grandmother, this wasn’t reconnecting with your parents or sisters or even your zia* and zio*, this was…new territory altogether.
You frowned, “listen, child,” and you did, you perked up, you could listen to her talk, that would be easy, you just hoped she didn't expect a response. “Your grandfather loved you, he never stopped talking about you.” You smiled, but then it faltered. You had abandoned him, hadn’t even deigned to visit because of how guilty you’d felt…
“He knew,” you whispered, heart racing. 
You heard your grandmother sigh. “I thought as much,” she frowned, staring at her husband's grave as if she could bring him back by will alone. 
“You did?” You hadn’t left without saying goodbye, not to him at least, that was one thing everyone had gotten wrong, your grandmother knowing had never occurred to you because you were sure your grandfather kept it a secret. Why else would the entire family have blown up when they’d realized you had left? When they’d realized it was too late to stop or convince you otherwise–because by the time everyone else had found out, you were halfway across the North Atlantic already.
“I always thought it was strange how he never said anything about it.” A grim smile tugged her at her red-painted lips.
“Nonna*, did I make the right decision?” You asked, surprising even yourself.
She sighed and you thought she might say ‘I can’t tell you if it was right or wrong’ or something a normal grandmother would say, but your grandmother wasn’t normal, she was an old bat, probably the same one you’d turn into at her age and she said, “You’re damned right you were wrong.”
Your mouth dropped, taken aback, and then you burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you tried wiping your tears, “oh you’re such an old bat,” you sighed.
“I knew you always called me that behind my back,” she harumphed, jerking her head away and crossing her arms like a child.
“Oh come now, Nonna*,” you stood and reached out the touch her shoulder.
She huffed and dropped her arms, eyes darting around your face in what seemed to be concern. “You were wrong for not telling the rest of us, you had your parents worried sick, and your sister too.” Her frown deepened, “even me.”
You nodded, “I know, but nonna*,” you sighed, wanting to explain yourself, but she held up a hand. You raised a brow, almost saying huh, so that’s where I get it from, out loud.
“Your grandfather always said you were meant for something greater, that your heart wouldn’t allow you to stay in this town the way ours allowed the rest of us.
“No, no nipotina*, you were not wrong for leaving. This town, this family? Yes, you come from here, but there,” she nodded her head toward your co-workers, (or friends, you were honestly still deciding), “with them, that is where you belong now.”
You smiled, finding acceptance in her answer.
“And your friend,” she rolled her eyes when she said it, “well, I expect the wedding to be here.”
You huffed a laugh before turning, catching Specner’s eye, and when he waved your heart swelled. “We’ll see,” you started walking away.
Your grandmother trailed after you, throwing her hands up and shouting, “incovalato*! You insolent child!”
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a/n: ahhh i can't wait to write my next fic because i already know waht it is. i don't want to give spoilers, but just know you're going to see dad!spencer !!
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@darkmatilda @theylovemelody
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hazbinshusk · 1 year ago
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blitzø x succubus!reader. when blitzø picks a fight with you over your job, the two of your end up in a screaming match. but when tensions between you break, the two of you do what you do best... fuck each other's brains out.
featuring: slut-shaming out of insecurity, misogynistic language, dom!blitzø, orgasm denial, an unsubtle reference to hazbin hotel.
anon request. 2k.
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“Fucking Christ, you’re a dick!” you snap, storming into your apartment. You make to slam the door behind you but Blitzø catches hold of it before it can meet the frame and stalks in after you.
“Of course I fuckin’ am!” he bites back, tail snapping behind him like a whip. “You go out and act like a fuckin’ whore and I’m—”
“Excuse me?” you spin on your heel, eyes blazing. “What the fuck did you just say?!”
“You go out there and throw yourself at these fuckin’ Envy cock-sleeve cunts and—”
“It’s my job, Blitz!” you shout, outraged. You toss your bag on the couch, ignoring it when it bounces off the cushion and spills its contents onto the carpet. “I serve drinks, I laugh at their stupid jokes, and I distract them from the game just enough to fuck up their chances at the pot! That’s it!”
“Distract ‘em with your fuckin’ tits in their face?!”
You scoff, an ugly sound, shrugging off your jack and tossing it aside. Your uniform is admittedly reminiscent of the Playboy Bunny look from up on Earth, except with a skirt and thankfully without the ears. You tug at the bowtie and collar your wear irritably. Sure, it was a little ridiculous, but it fit into the décor of the casino, and the Overlord in charge paid well. Plus, he cared enough about his workers that the clientele rarely took their ogling too far.
And outside of the Lust Ring, that’s really the best a Succubus can ask for.
“What, now you have a problem with the fucking uniform?” you snarl incredulously. You’re not sure if you should be flattered or even more outraged that Blitzø actually has the audacity to check you out now that your outfit is on display. “You were such a fucking fan a few weeks ago!”
“Fuuuuck you!”
“No, fuck you, Blitz. This is the best job I’ve had in years, I make great tips, and you’re not gonna make me feel shitty about it!”
Blitzø’s hands are balled into tight fists by his sides, his jaw set into a poisonous, angry line. “That’s because those fish-fuckers think they’ll get a lap dance outta ya if they flash their fuckin’ wad at your dumb cunt—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Your hand comes up automatically, and Blitzø catches hold of your wrist before your palm can make contact with the side of his face. The two of you glare at each other for a beat before his mouth is on yours in a rough, hungry kiss. Blitzø groans into it, his other hand coming up to the side of your face, fisting in the hair by your ear. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, ignoring the way you try to tug your arm out of his grip. His hand is so tight on your wrist that you can feel the bones ache.
He presses you back against the arm of the couch, pushing his knee up between your thighs. You moan when he releases your hair to grab at your waist instead, urging your hips into movement and grinding you down against the muscle of his thigh.
It takes you a moment to remember your fury, and you push a hand against his chest, shoving him away from you. “Fuck, Blitz! You can’t just call me a whore and then—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, kissing you again, his teeth grazing your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Motherfucker, that’s hot,” Blitzø growls, wrapping a hand around your throat and pulling your back against his chest. You turn your head and his mouth meets yours in a messy, torrid kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You whine into it, breath catching as his other hand comes up to clutch at your breast, squeezing the flesh roughly. You’re sitting on his lap, skirt pulled up around your waist, underwear gone. Blitzø has his tail wrapped possessively around your waist, keeping you against him, and his hand comes down to scratch claws over the flesh that curves between the bands of his tail. They leave lines of red against your skin – claiming marks. “Do it again.”
You nod obediently, eagerly, rolling your hips slowly over his lap. It grinds your soaking, naked cunt over the bulge of his erection, still trapped in the confines of his pants. Blitzø snarls at the feeling of it, hand tightening around your throat enough that your breath catches and your eyes roll back.
“Needy little slut,” he hisses in your ear, pinching your nipple, hard. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Uhn… Blitz…” you moan, eyes squeezed closed, as his fingers lift your skirt further and rubs at your clit. “Fuck… Fuck, I wanna cum…”
His hand is immediately withdrawn, both hands instead taking hold of your waist and forcing you to still against him.
“I bet you fuckin’ do,” Blitzø snickers as you curse your frustration, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat. Your eyelids flutter and your brow furrows at the feeling of it, your cunt throbbing. Blitzø grazes his teeth along your shoulder, his voice rough, husky. “Bet you wanna cum all over this cock, don’t you?”
You whine despite yourself, need outweighing dignity. Still, your mind continues its chant of fuck you as you try once again to grind down onto his lap. Blitzø pushes you off him just enough to remove the temptation, and you hear his pants unfasten, hear him groan as he fists his cock in his hand. He strokes it, the back of his knuckles brushing against your lower back with every movement.
“Say it,” he orders, and the breathlessness of his voice mirrors your own neediness. Still, he doesn’t cave, retaking hold of your thighs and holding you flush against his lap. You can feel his erection against the cleft of your ass. “Say you want me to fuck you like a good little slut.”
“Fuck you, Blitz.”
“Say it,” he repeats, teeth digging into your shoulder for a moment. It makes your eyes roll back. Or maybe that’s the way his claws clutch at your thighs, moving up the soft flesh just enough that his thumbs brush against the edges of your cunt. “Say you want my thick fuckin’ cock to fuck you right in your sweet, tight little pussy.”
The spade of his tail slips between your thighs to tap against your clit, and you buck under his grip. Your head falls forward, eyes squeezed shut. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
You mean to scoff, the sound strangled as he grinds his cock up against you. “If this… fuck… this whole thing is about your goddamned ego, Blitz— fuck…”
He growls into your throat, shifting his hips and sliding his cock up between your thighs. The length of it teases over your clit, and your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes screwed shut as you try to steady your breathing. Blitzø continues to tease his tongue up the side of your throat, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your pulse point. He sucks, tasting the blood that wells up under his fangs, marking you with a bruise.
“Say. It.”
“Fuck me,” you gasp out, wriggling your hips in an attempt to make the head of his cock slip into your dripping cunt. “Please, Blitz… I want you to fuck me.”
“Fuckin’ finally,” he groans, fisting the base of his cock in one hand and lining it up with your hole. Your breath hitches as the head of him slides into you, and you moan brokenly as he retakes hold of your hips and jerks you back down onto his lap, his cock filling you in one hard, brutal thrust. “Shiiiit…”
“Holy fuck, Blitz,” you moan, reaching one hand up and behind you to grasp at one of his horns, turning your head to kiss him again. Blitzø lets you, using it as a chance to adjust to the feeling of your tight, wet heat around him. The kiss is messy and hungry and he hisses as you catch his lip between your teeth.
He presses his forehead against yours, hands so tight on your hips you’re sure the bruises they leave will bare his fingerprints. “You’re gonna fuck yourself on my cock,” he tells you, a growl rumbling under his words, voice tight. “And you’re gonna tell me just how fuckin’ good it feels, got it?”
You nod quickly, embarrassedly needy, and Blitzø’s hands relax enough for you to begin rolling your hips over his. You don’t ease either of you into it, immediately taking up a pace that reflects both your need and your frustration with his bullshit. The imp continues to curse against your skin, and claws leaving tracks over your thighs.
“Oh, fuck, Blitz…” you moan, voice high-pitched and reedy. You wrap an arm around his neck, grasping at the back of the sofa to help you bounce yourself on his cock. “Oh, fuck, you feel good…”
“Damn fuckin’ right, I do.” he groans, fingers finding your clit again. He pinches it, and you whimper, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “Tell me who gets to fuck you, bitch.”
“You do,” you reply obediently and he grins, teasing his fingers over your clit ruthlessly as a reward. You seize up, your body tightening as an orgasm breaks inside you, tightening around him as your cum soaks his lap. Your voice comes breathily. “Just… just you.”
“Christ, baby…” he grunts, a break in the tone he’s been using with all night. The desperate lilt to his voice makes you shudde. “Just me.”
“Just you,” you repeat, eyes rolling back as he fucks himself up into you. “Fuck… it’s just you, Blitz…”
Blitzø pushes you off his lap, wrangling you forward so you’re bent over the coffee table, his hips hammering into yours. You moan, loud enough that you hear one of the neighbors pound their fist on the wall in the hopes it will make you shut up.
“’Cause you’re mine.” Blitzø snarls, claws digging into your hips. You clutch at the edge of the coffee table, his thrusts hard enough that you can feel the table shifting on the carpet. His tail wraps so tightly around your thigh that you can feel pins and needles beginning to throb through the muscle. “Fucking mine…”
“I’m yours,” you agree, and you can feel your cum slick on your thighs and your mouth hanging open dumbly as he fucks you. “I’m yours, Blitz. I’m yours, yours, yours…”
“Satan’s fuckin’ ass!” Blitzø shouts as he cums, thrusting into you one final time so hard that your legs give out and you collapse onto the table. He falls against your back, cock sliding out of you and cum dripping down your thighs. “Shiiiit…”
You take gasping breathes as you try to calm down, and you’re sure Blitzø can feel your heart hammering as he presses his face against your spine. The corset of your uniform suddenly feels too tight, your ribs aching beneath it. “Fuck…”
“Fuck is right.”
“Can you…” you gesture blindly towards the corset’s ties. “I can’t…”
You feel Blitzø nod before he pulls back, his claws finally releasing your hips in favor of loosening the strings holding your corset in place. You exhale heavily as soon as you feel them release, holding the corset against your waist as you sit up.
“…We don’t need to talk about what just happened, do we?” you ask cagily. The two of you haven’t ever even approached a conversation about how serious this… thing between you is, and the idea of starting now, still dripping in…
“Nuh-uh,” Blitzø shakes his head so emphatically you’re almost surprised you don’t hear it rattle.
“Thank fuck,” you sigh, letting yourself collapse back onto the table. Blitzø snickers and you smile, punch drunk, as he smooths his hand over the marks he’s left on one thigh. Your throat still throbs where he bit you. “…You know they’re gonna be pissed at work about all these marks you’ve left on me.”
“Good.”
“Asshole.”
“Yooooooou love it.”
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ethereacals · 5 months ago
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SO AMERICAN <3
CHAPTER 7: BAD IDEA, RIGHT?
synopsis: Remus grows attached to an american exchange student from Ilvermorny
pairings: remus lupin x american!reader
cw;, foul language
series masterlist
a/n: do you guys like the new banner???
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"EMILIA DRUGGED REMUS WITH AMORTENTIA." James concluded, his hands landed firmly on your shoulders as you processed the information.
"W-What?"
"It's clear! He's been all over her instead of you!"
"Doesn't mean he's drugged." You sniffed.
"You don't have to believe me, but you will soon." James announced, leaping out of the broom closet and marching his way over to where ever he was going.
"James- James!" You chased after him, frantically clearing your tears.
"James, what if it’s too late? What if he actually—"
"No. No way. This isn’t Remus. This is some twisted potion-induced fantasy that Emilia cooked up. He would never—"
"But he thinks it’s real. That’s the problem." "Then we make him see reality." James insisted, as you ran down the hallways.
"We have to do something, but we can’t just barge in and scream ‘you’ve been drugged’ at him." You reasoned, already out of breath.
"Why not? Sounds efficient to me." James turned his gaze towards you. "Because that’s how people get hexed, James." You deadpanned. "Fine, fine. Who do we tell? Sirius?" "He’ll want to murder someone." "Yeah, I’m counting on it."
"James! You cannot murder someone! Last time I checked it was illegal." You scolded, and right before James was about to respond, you heard the most sickeningly familiar laugh.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
Exactly who you needed.
"There's our guy."
"James? James!" You were getting increasingly more confused.
"Oi! Lockhart." James yelled, catching the boys attention before slamming him up against the wall.
His posse scattered in a fearful blitz.
"What the-"
"What's your damage, Lockhart?" You spat, replacing James as you pinned him to the wall.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about-" Gilderoy writhed under you.
"You had sixth year potions last year, didn't you? You know how to brew Amortentia, don't you?" You accused, unbeknownst to you- James was incredibly impressed.
"I- Maybe-"
"A fucking maybe doesn't cut it! Yes or no?"
"Y-Yes! Yes I- I did! I do! W-What's this about?"
"Don't play dumb, dipshit. You helped Emilia Sallow drug Remus!" You nudged him farther into the wall, pressing your wand against his throat as he quivered.
"M-Yes! Yes- I did! S-She said that-that she would make one for me to-to drug y-you when sh-e finished this course!" He admitted.
"I knew it!" James cheered, and you released Gilderoy.
"Fuck off, Lockhart, and if you're smart- you'll never speak to me again." You threatened, as he scrambled to his feet and dashed away.
James clapped, as your adrenaline skyrocketed.
"That felt good."
"Good? That was bloody brilliant!" James smiled widely, grabbing your hand and tugging you away from the scene.
A plan was underway, a big one.
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"WE NEED TO GET HIM ALONE, BUT Emilia is glued to his side." You eyed Remus and Emilia, as you and James sat together in the Great Hall. "He's even sitting with her." Sirius mentioned.
"I couldn't tell." You deadpanned, fists clenched.
"What's the plan?" Peter asked meekly.
"Just- waiting until Emilia cracks, we need to find an antidote though." James answered, though he sounded a bit uncertain of himself.
"You could ask someone who's knows a great deal about potions?" Lily suggested, and Sirius had an idea.
"You could talk to Reggie! He knows tons." Sirius urged, and James' head went into auto-pilot.
"R-Regulus? I'll go talk to him!" James got up- quicker than he should have according to the confused looks on his friends faces.
"I-I mean... I guess I'll go talk to him.." James sank back down in his seats.
"I'll go talk to Slughorn, but don't worry, I'm great at being discreet."
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"PROFESSOR, DO YOU KNOW OF ANY antidotes for someone who is-hypothetically-under the influence of a love potion?" Slughorn turned to you, his brow furrowed.
"Hypothetically? What is this for, Ms. L/N?" He questioned.
"Well- We have that whole project on the subject. I felt it would be a good addition to my presentation." You smiled, and he nodded.
"Ah, of course. I do enjoy seeing my students so passionate about something I teach." He prided himself, as he led you to his desk.
"You would need Wiggentree bark, crushed bezoar and essence of dittany. Cures it like a charm, every time it's been tested." He smiled, turning back to you as you mentally noted what ingredients you were to be using.
"Perfect, thank you very much, Professor." You turned to leave, the second stage of your plan complete.
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"REMUS... CAN WE talk?" You stuttered, you hadn't spoken to him since potions.
"You don’t have to check in on me, I’m fine. You should be worrying about James, not me."
Oh, for god's sake—enough with this ‘I’m fine’ shit! You’re about as fine as Peter is at lying!"
"I don’t have time for this."
"You always used to have time for me."
"Things change." Remus spat.
"No, they don’t. You change under a full moon. This? This isn’t you. And you know it." You urged him.
"I… I love Emilia."
"I never said anything about Emilia."
"I love her." He pushed.
"Do you? Or do you just think you do?"
"I—I don’t know! It’s like—I think about her, and it feels right, but then—then I see you and it—" He stopped himself abruptly.
"Then what?"
"Then it feels wrong."
"Then fight it! Before it’s too late."
Remus looked at you, his eyes full of something deep and pained—something real. But just as quickly as it appears, he shoved it down, his body tense.
"I need to go." His voice barely above a whisper.
Without another word, he turns and walks away, his posture rigid, leaving you standing there, fists clenched at your sides.
"We don’t have much time." You thought.
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GRYFFINDOR WAS hosting a large party after their quidditch win against Hufflepuff, and most students 5th year and above were in attendance.
"Do you think their gonna show up?" James leaned over towards you, Sirius mirroring him on your other side.
"We can only hope?"
"Oh, speak of the devil." Lily muttered, as Emilia came strutting in with Remus as if he was on a leash.
The snake sauntered over to Gilderoy as they held a pleasant conversation, before James sauntered over to a large table in the center of the common room.
Sirius also took action, pulling Remus aside and into their dorm room as "shit was about to hit the fan" according to Marlene.
"Attention everyone!" James shouted, actively gaining attention from his peers.
"I just wanted to congratulate my mind-blowing team, on another win!" The Gryffindors erupted into applause and cheers, just as James shushed them once more.
"I just have one question-" He added, his loyal crowd waiting in suspence.
"Emilia, you look great tonight." He started, and her face lit with shock.
"O-oh? Really?" She batted her eyelashes.
"How long have you been drugging Remus Lupin?"
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tune in next time on; so american
@hisparentsgallerryy @lydpop @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @thequeen0fhearts @yourlittlefries @jsprien213 @liviessun @wandasbitch22 @michtellch @hellokitty-girl666 @bmyva1entine @n1ght-vngel @anehkael@wolfstcr @assorted-knives @mrsblackx @moonyswifee @sunset-toast @sammyreid @wsplalala @msfandomsblog @yimthesynonym @flowerytombx @rubyinthebooks @cattleray
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cute-little-fly · 7 months ago
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Every day I understand more why some people have trouble with watching Helluva.
A lot of details and characterizations are not explicitly shown, but are shown indirectly and you need to rewatch and dig deeper for yourself and catch those details.
I won’t enter into the debate of wether that is good or bad storytelling. Is just a way to do it, for some people work, for some don’t. That’s it.
One recent example: some people was puzzled why Blitzø saw a family with Stolas and Octavia, and they think is Out of character he wants that.
However, with small details they have shown that was Blitz’s driving force since the beginning. But even himself didn’t realized until now that he has opened his heart.
Examples:
If he was trully a cold blooded asshole he wouldn’t have adopted Loona. Never never… he would have adopted a more aggressive and deathly hellhound if he really only was there for the business. Immediately seeing her as his daughter for no reason.
Like, all his façade is just bullshit just bc of that… but I will tell you something else.
When we see his backstory at the circus we see how his life was. A family circus… a family business… having an office for a circus=having his family in better work conditions. He recreated this in his adult life.
Adopting people on the way because he connected with them. Of course, he brought Millie to the team because how amazingly good she is. But don’t you think he also felt a connection with her too? An special one? This is shown while they are fighting. He enjoys fighting with her. Wrath imps culture circules around fights. This is a way they bond. He wanted her there because he felt a connection.
With Moxxie was the same. The exact same thing. He is just there adopting people he feels this connection with to recreate the circus.
Now, the next step for that would be expand that family with his current SO and his daughter; because his wish hasn’t just been having the circus family kind again, he have always wanted a romantic partner too. He has been months regretting having lost Stolas. Months to think about what could have been, about how he is the person he loves and probably could have formed a family with if having the chance.
People are just not willing to think if they are not clearly shown something. Also, is an indie cartoon so they don’t have much time to show things and they need to progress the story.
But essentially the problem people have with HB is that one.
They have a problem with Millie because she is not directly shown having things outside the main cast because she isn’t usually focused. Her backstory episode was also an important Blitzø episode, so they think is as simple as saying: all her development revolves around men. As if Blitz’s development didn’t revolved around the people he cares.
They don’t think is important to her character that she is the one keeping them together in hard times. They don’t think this relates to how sometimes she doesn’t feel seen. She is the best in assassin but still… she doesn’t feel seen.
She was a regular assassins when she met Blitzø. She wasn’t one considered special or anything. Blitzø was the one who saw that potential and saw HER!
This is why he is her bestie.
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chaifootsteps · 4 months ago
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What’s funny about mastermind to me, is that it’s pulling its trump card (pardon the phrase) way too early. The fact the main “relationship” was so fucked that it took literal life or death stakes to frame it in a positive light is funny. Or at least it would be if it wasn’t sad.
She couldn’t write a one-to-one conversation for character development (which even fans tried their hand at and in my opinion did much better), no, it had to be a grand Broadway display with stolas as the centre of attention, with blitz insisting he’s not worthy…. And of course every important figure in all of hell has to witness the ship get together, because the otp is that important 💀
One problem is, as a writer you can only pull a “and he saved him right before he was about to die, shocking everyone!” type scene very sparingly. A life saving moment to fix a personal conflict over and over and over again will get extremely stale.
Without question. Just gonna drop the painfully relevant BoJack clip again.
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ruumiinlaulaja · 7 months ago
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So I rewatched Mastermind, specifically the court scene. It's interesting to observe this near constant back and forth between Andrealphus and Vassago. It's quite obvious they know each other. But it's unclear how well they know each other. Just how deep is the connection between them, I wonder?
When we first see them, Andre hasn't even started talking yet, and Vassago is already glaring directly at him. Andre might be looking at Vassago too, it's hard to tell, but it feels significant that they’re directly opposite from one another, on the opposite ends of the room. At this point nobody knows Andre is going to be in the spotlight, but Vassago certainly seems to pay attention to him. Therefore, he absolutely knows this bitch and he knows he's up to something. There is history between the two of them.
The "okay, Vassago, shut the fuck up" line is the most obvious implication about their familiarity. I also find it interesting how Vassago is the only one standing up to Andre and has no problem challenging him or yelling at him. And yet, after Andre's emotional burst, Vassago pretty much dismisses him, apparently knowing there's no point arguing with him. This also implies there is deeper familiarity between them.
After Blitz blurts out ”if I wanted to kill Stolas I would have done it myself” and unintentionally incriminates himself, Andre is looking directly at Vassago to see his reaction. And he smirks. At Vassago. Nobody else. Why does he need to convince Vassago of all people? 🤔 Sus. Also, when Satan sentences Blitz, it’s interesting how they show Andre and Vassago and their reactions almost back to back like that.
Idk it all feels very intentional. It feels like there’s a small story being told through these small details. At least to me it feels significant, because these moments show how they notice each other and watch each other throughout the whole scene, even when neither of them are in the spotlight.
So, what's up? Are they frenemies? Enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies?? Lovers to enemies and back to lovers??? Ugh just fuck him and shut him up, Vassago.
Of course I might be reading too much into this (probably because I'm pretty desperate to see my silly ship together lmao), but I certainly hope the connection between them is more than ”they know each other from goetian social functions”.
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Also, why confirm them as gay if this detail is not going to get explored in any way? Sure, the subject of their sexuality can be handled in many ways (and potentially never get "explored" in canon, as characters can just exist as gay without it being a big deal), and it certainly doesn't have to automatically lead to romantic storylines. I just find it interesting how out of all the goetias it's these two specifically that have been confirmed as gay (in addition to Stolas) - and Vassago's sexuality got confirmed before he even appeared in the show. Surely, that has to mean something?
....please?
tl;dr: I’m going to be really sad if there won’t be any sort of established (past or future) relationship between these two in canon. I really want to see more scenes between Andrealphus and Vassago.
tl;dr2: I really want them to fuck.
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ldrloversblog · 7 months ago
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In defence of Vivziepop and the women of HB
I’ve been seeing a lot of people criticising and bashing Vivienne for the way she writes her female characters compared to her male characters and to an extent fans and the antis are correct and their criticism is valid but it’s reached to a point that the fans and the antis are being more misogynistic than the person the claim to be a misogynist (Viv).
They are always blabbering about how she can’t write a woman who isn’t mean, evil, emotional and has no depth or a sad backstory. I believe that most of the times people forget that Viv is not the sole writer of the show, yes she is the creator but she is not the only one in the writing room she is not the only one who has control over the story and the characters there is whole team involved.
“But all her female characters are mean without reason”. Wrong there are reasons why they are the way they are.
Verosika is the way she is because of Blitz. In AT we learned that when she finally mustered up the courage to confess her love for the person that was her boyfriend and presumed bodyguard at the time (since she is a pop star) left her in the middle of the night without an explanation and stole her credit card which he maxed out on horse riding lessons. Ver isn’t a bad person just because, she is that way cause of heartbreak, hurt and betrayal. She even had his name tattooed on her arm that’s how committed she was.
Barbie Wire, a child with an abusive father turned to addiction and alcohol and we know that she still keeps on using because of a freak accident that killed her mother, burned the circus, left her and Blitz’s best friend disabled for life and scars than can never be healed.
Loona an abandoned child that grew up in the orphanage and every time she got adopted she got turned back due to her temper and problematic teenage behaviour. Of course someone who was never wanted as a child and treated nicely isn’t gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. Despite all that Loona has come a huge way from being the always mad, defensive and socially awkward hellhound we met in ep.1.
Octavia, one of the most if not mischaracterised and wrongly hated character of the show. The first time Octavia is shown to us she is a child that has a terrible nightmare where she can’t find her father anywhere. From that alone we can understand that Octavia is someone who’s afraid of being abandoned by the only person that she can find comfort in. Her parents constantly scream at each other and most of the time ignore her (whether it’s intentional or are too wrapped up in their own problems and goals) and never try to communicate with her properly or explain the whole situation. She is not a spoiled little princess who’s always broody and “emo” and annoying just to be, she is 17 a very vulnerable age at which she needs the two people that are supposed to take care of her in the world the most but she doesn’t and she feels that she never had them cause she never mattered, the only thing that mattered were their petty fights and duties. Via is allowed to feel hurt by her parents actions and lack of care and is right to confront them for their shitty behaviour towards her her whole life. She needs time to process what’s going on and come to terms with her own emotions and situation. If she doesn’t want to hear what Stolas has to say right now then that’s the right thing for her to do now. The love and trust she has for him is so strained and it’s gonna be a while before he can make up for his mistakes.
Stella is another character that the fans and antis complain that is evil (or cartoonishly evil which is boring as they’ve said after the last episode) because Viv has always to make her women unlikeable and stupid. Stella and Stolas were forced into the same fate without their consent at the age of 10 and have been miserable ever since. I like Stella I’m not gonna lie she is not the best written villain and we don’t know why she is the way she is but what we know is that she really hates and resents her husband and doesn’t really care for her child unless it’s to manipulate her against her father. Cartoonishly evil or not, she is entertainingly stupidly evil for someone driven by her hate and big ego, a narcissist that’s always right and above everyone else but what she doesn’t understand is that her brother is holding the strings and plays her like a puppet so he can do his own bidding in the disguise of getting rid of her husband. Sometimes villains don’t need to have a heart wrenching backstory, someone or something that made them evil some people are just evil either by them themselves or their environment. There are 2 more seasons left of HB im sure that the writers sooner or later will give us a good explanation as to why Stella hates Stolas so much and wants him out the way.
Millie a Wrathian who thought that she was good for nothing but killing people and being “the muscle”. Millie (as seen in GF) worked by herself taking jobs to survive and make a living until she met I.M.P and became a part of a team, a family that taught her that she is more that just a machine to kill people and is now the best version of her self. Married, happy with her career choices and I can’t wait to see how s3 will handle the unplanned pregnancy plot because there are a lot of things on stake here.
Why do we as fandom always have to demonise women for the smallest things and baby men for the horrible and wrong things they do and have done to others? Why don’t you give the same energy to Paimon, Cash and Crimson? Neglectful and abusive fathers? Striker? Who preaches about how royals are the worst thing to happen to imp kind but the moment he is paid by a royal to betray one of his own he’s quick to take it and run? Blitz? Who until recently never apologised for the bad things he did and ruined so many people’s life’s? Stolas? Neglects his own child in favour of his lover and stuck in his own foolish fantasies in the process losing whatever little faith Octavia had in him, obliviousness to see past his nose and his (not purposefully) prejudices?
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iamnmbr3 · 3 months ago
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I reread the conversation between Tom and Dippet about staying at Hogwarts for the summer, and I got the impression that it was the first time they talked about this possibility, which is odd because it's 1943 and this would be his 3rd summer since the Blitz (which lasted from September 1940 to May 1941, but the threats of bombings after that was very real).
It could be because the Diary doesn't know what happened in this conversation and is making it up from previous conversations, or this is genuinely the first time Tom asked to stay over the summer. If it was the first time, there are two possibilities:
He tolerated staying in London/wherever the orphanage was evacuated, but now he can't anymore.
Previously, he had arrangements to stay at a friend's house during the summer, but those arrangements have fallen through.
If it's the second option, the arrangements could've fallen through because:
The friend was Myrtle. (...Oops...)
He had a falling out with the friend. (Perhaps he was hoping to get adopted by the family and they said no? Perhaps the falling out was the straw that broke the camel's back and made him obsess over his biological lineage and open the Chamber of Secrets?)
Well presumably the Diary would know what happened in conversations prior to when it was made, just not after. From a Doylist POV, the answer is that JKR is bad at world building and didn't really think about this. But it works from a Watsonian perspective too because Tom is not someone who likes to show vulnerability to others or who is used to seeing adults (or anyone really) as a source of help or support. His life has taught him that any vulnerability he shows will be used against him. he probably saw begging to stay as a last resort.
I doubt he had a friend to stay with given that he was in the 'bigoted rich purebloods who hate muggleborns and poor people' despite being a destitute orphan with no social standing and seemingly no magical parentage to point to. The invitations for summer visits were probably not rolling in. (Alphard: but couldn't we-? Walburga: NO). I think things just got so bad that he was at his breaking point and asked for help even though he (correctly) believed it wouldn't do any good.
I do love the idea though of him having been friends with Myrtle just for the added depth it gives her death - which I do think was an accident because killing her in that place at that time just caused him problems. Either she died with no involvement from him (which is what I tend to think) or he detected her presence and told the Basilisk to look at her so she wouldn't witness him opening the Chamber. In either case though, it wasn't his plan.
I like the idea that he ends up destroying all the people he gets close to. I headcanon that he and Hagrid were kind of friendly (both orphans, both at the castle over holidays) before Tom ended up pinning the Chamber fiasco on him as a last resort to save himself.
And I also like the idea that Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were not exactly friends of his, but maybe a bit in awe of him and more friendly to him than most of the orphans who downright hated him. Unfortunately that day in the cave he did just a bit too much magic in front of them. He tried to use his powers to make them forget, but he didn't really know what he was doing and he permanently damaged their minds (and also erased any memories of friendship they had). I mean, if he'd wanted them to die then he could've just left them there. Dumbledore said they wouldn't have been able to get to the cave OR BACK without magic so clearly Tom is the one who brought them home safe, even though that led to him being blamed for what happened to them because they said they had been with him.
And of course he clearly quite likes Snape but ends up killing him. So yeah. In that context I do like the idea of him having been friends with Myrtle but then being the cause of her death, even though it's not actually my personal interpretation or headcanon.
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fancyfeathers · 4 months ago
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Burn it Down got me into rewatching the Young Justice League again and now I'm hooked on it. I forgot how much of a little shit Dick was, and of course, Wally, my love🥲
And now because of your fic, I can't stop imagining Songbird and the others in the episodes too and inserting them in the narrative, but with the first season's timeline, they must be children yet, so
Imagine an episode when one of the Young Justice League's mission is just to babysit the League's kids while their Darlings can't. What sounds as an easy mission at first turns into a whole episode and half of them having to run themselves ragged to keep an eye on the kids because they're so intense and active and refuse to take their orders.
(I know in your canon Barry's daughter and Superman's don't develop their powers until they're older and they don't know each other yet, but it's a silly What If)
Burn It All Down Spoilers!!!!!
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Well actually the start of Burn It All Down is just after the start of season two of Young Justice so we will be seeing bits of the show soon. But I think it is so funny to me for the YJ team being begrudgingly allies with the kids, like in season three Songbird helping shut down the meta human trafficking ring or going to Santa Prisca herself to investigate the League of Shadows and fighting and losing against Lady Shiva. Or Hex help fight Child in season four after he finally learns how to have more control over his powers. Or like at the end season four when Wally dies and Blitz tries to help but… well I’ll save that for later.
But I definitely love the idea of the YJ team baby sitting the kids, like obviously this would not work in the canon of Burn It All Down, like like season one team babysitting the kids, it is absolute chaos. Like placing the kids at around six to ten range for the sake of this post, Songbird and Hex being the oldest and Blitz being the youngest and everyone else falling in between.
Songbird was definitely that annoyingly smart kid when she was a child and she cannot stand being babied by her older brother on the team, Songbird was twenty times worse than Dick was as a child, like the the Justice League’s first impression of her is being carried by the scruff of her neck like a cat because she tried getting into things she wasn’t supposed to and she cannot be left alone.
Supergirl was an absolute angel as a child and given how season one Conner was, she would have polar opposites to him. Like she was the sweetest little girl with cute little yellow dress and pigtails, like she is so small compared to Clark that it is almost hard to believe that she is the daughter of the Superman. But if they met as children, her and Songbird would be joined at the hip.
Huntian would kinda be traumatized as a child because remember he saw his entire family die in a boat crash as a child. So if the team was going to baby sit him and the others it would be really hard for him to let go of his new moms. He was a quiet child, definitely a book worm, so him and Artemis probably would get along, sitting and reading to him to sleep, all curled up in his blanket and I think he would definitely have a sheep stuffed animal, if you know you know.
Blitz can physically not be let go of or else she’ll bolt, even if she does not get her speed until her teenage years, she is still such a problem child. God forbid that in this AU she gets her powers earlier, than Wally would just have to be carrying her all the time unless he has to chase her down.
Hex is definitely a well behaved child, clinging to Zatanna’s side like he supposed to. Honestly he was a fairly normal child, I like to think that he was a sleepy child so just half the time Zatanna is just carrying him around because he is napping.
Aquaman’s son, or his hero name Pisces, is such a shy little thing. Like just him hiding behind Kaldur'ahm half the time because he is the one person he knows from home but eventually with a little bit of nudging he warms up to the other children. I also think the idea of Pisces having a cute little kitten yawn as a child is like adorable like at the end of the day when it’s time to go home, Kaldur has to carry him all the way from how exhausted he is.
Martian Manhunter’s adopted daughter, or her hero name of Dreamcatcher, is also another very well behaved child. M'gann doesn’t even have to worry about her younger cousin because of how sweet she is. But also just Dreamcatcher and Supergirl being friends immediately, like just imagine Supergirl giving one of her stuffed animals to Dreamcatcher.
Then Hal’s twins are so mischievous as children, like carbon copies of the Weasley twins. Like they cannot have the twins and Blitz in the same room together because chaos will ensue. Like honestly the team has no idea how Hal does not loose his mind, probably using the power ring to his advantage to take care of his two chaos children.
But thinking about the canon of Burn It All Down, there is a way the team could babysit the kids, well babysit is a sweet way of putting it, getting caught is a more appropriate word for it. Like it is only for a short while since powers are coming in and at this point the children could be at risk since they put themselves into the public light and they could be caught and used against the Justice League. Like inhibitor collars and kept in the Watchtower while they figure out a better long term solution…
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helluvahusker · 7 months ago
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Heyyy I wrote a lil post-mastermind fic for y'all 👉👈
Read on AO3 or under the cut
Stolas had not been sleeping well. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, he was simply too tall for Blitzø’s couch, so besides for his first night on it, when he’d conked straight out due to the stress and exhaustion of almost watching Blitzø get executed, almost getting executed himself, and then instead losing his entire livelihood, powers, and his daughter, he hadn’t been able to catch more than a few unrestful hours a night. 
The New Couch
[Psst! The layout of Blitzø's apartment can be found in this Tumblr post.]
Still, he’d rather die than complain. Blitzø had been relegated to a fucking beanbag chair as his bed and he seemed to be sleeping just fine. He appeared chipper as ever, if a little more subdued and gentler, while Stolas spent all his waking hours struggling to focus through a thick fog. He was taking up Blitzø’s sleeping accommodations and he had nothing to show for it.
It was due to Stolas’s sleep deprivation, that when an enormous crash shook the apartment and he peered over the island to see Blitzø coughing and waving dust out of his face, he was sure that everything must have caught up with him, and he was hallucinating. 
"Ta-da!" Blitzø said proudly, holding his arms open in a dramatic L shape to present his new uh. Couch. It had landed partially on top of the old one, sending splinters and stuffing flying. Well that explained the dust. 
"Why did you get a new couch, Blitz?" Stolas asked, his feathers already ruffling agitatedly. "The one you've already provided me with is fine, I don't wish for you to go into trouble-"
Blitzø waved him off impatiently. "Shut up Stolas, anyone with eyes could see your feet dangling off the edge of that thing. Besides, I was due for an upgrade anyways. I solved the problem by snagging a pullout couch from one of our victim's houses. It has a queen sized mattress all folded up in there, plenty of room for your fancy ass to spread out with room to spare, capiche?"
Stolas capiched. Blitzø had gotten tired of the fact that his bed was not big enough for the two of them and had gotten them one that would be. How silly and rude of Stolas to be accusatory about it.  
“Right,” he said. “That makes sense, yes. But why in Hell wouldn’t you move the old one out of the way first?” 
Blitzø at least had the grace to look sheepish. “Okay, maybe it was more of a spur of the moment decision. I saw the pullout, I thought it would be nice for you. Look, I’m not a genius like you or Moxxie, you can’t expect me to think everything through. That would fuck up my whole-” he flailed his hands some more. “-thing I’ve got going on.” 
Stolas did love Blitzø’s whole “thing” so he refrained from arguing. It was already done, anyways. 
“If I still had my magic I could help move the old couch away,” Stolas lamented. “I’m so sorry, Blitz. You’ve done such a sweet thing for me and I can’t even repay you.” 
“Hey!” Blitzø leapt towards him, vaulting over the room divider and taking Stolas’s dainty hands in his own. “None of that. You don’t owe me anything, alright? It’s okay, Loonie can help me move the couch when she gets home and I’ll portal the old one away, easy peasy no harm no foul.” 
It was rather odd, Blitzø appeared to be… blushing. Stolas blinked. That couldn’t be right. 
The next second Blitzø got distracted, noticing the novel that was placed open face-down on his kitchen table. “Oh hey! You were reading? That- that’s great, Stols.” 
Blitzø smiled at him so disarmingly, that now Stolas was blushing, quite obviously. 
“Yes, you picked a rather good one, actually,” Stolas said. In fact, it was so good that this was the first day he’d felt up to doing anything other than sitting on the couch staring aimlessly at the TV. Lucky thing, too. He glanced down at their hands, which were still joined, and gave Blitzø’s a squeeze. “Thank you for that, Blitz.” 
“Of course,” Blitzø said, and withdrew his hands, definitely blushing. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to do or say next. That was ridiculous, of course. Stolas had never met anyone, imp or otherwise, who always knew exactly what to do or say in any given instance more than Blitzø did. 
“Did you have a good day at work?” Stolas asked, ready to invite Blitzø to sit down with him so that they could talk until Loona returned. 
To his disappointment, Blitzø’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, I was totally in the middle of a hit! I left M&M stranded in the human world! Fuuuuuck me.” He grasped Stolas’s face gently and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be home soon with Loona, kay? Just hang tight, enjoy your book.” And then with a flash of a portal, he was gone. 
Stolas was left blinking after him stupidly. He raised a shaking hand to his cheek and touched the spot where Blitzø had kissed him. 
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The second time Blitzø came home, he did in fact have his daughter in tow. Stolas watched, feeling useless, as they worked together to lift the new couch off the wreckage of the old one. He caught Blitzø’s expression of relief as he fished his horse blanket out of the mess, somehow still entirely intact. Once the new couch was clear of all the wood shards and ripped cushions, Blitzø rubbed his crystal and a portal appeared under the old one. They all watched it fall away into an unidentifiable living room, presumably the one Blitzø had gotten this new piece of furniture from, because it was conspicuously missing anywhere to sit. 
“There!” Blitzø clapped his hands together proudly once the portal had closed. “All done, thanks Loony! I’m sure Stolas and I can figure the rest of it out.” 
Loona just shrugged, already halfway through the doorway to her room. 
Blitzø looked up at Stolas, who was hovering awkwardly in the space between the kitchen and living room. “Wanna see if we can figure out how this thing unfolds?” 
It wasn’t too difficult. There was a handle under the seat cushions that, when pulled, somehow expanded out into an entire bed, as promised.  
“I guess we can just leave it out like this all the time, for now,” Blitzø said, rubbing his chin. “Business is picking up. Soon I can probably find us a two bedroom, so you can have your own space. But this’ll do for now, right?” 
It struck Stolas as odd, that Blitzø wasn’t prioritizing his own space. Perhaps he just meant because they were both in the living room. 
“This is more than enough,” Stolas said, realizing he’d almost been silent for too long. This time, he moved forward and took Blitzø’s hand in his own. “Really, Blitz. Thank you.” 
“Oh. Uh.” Stolas couldn’t possibly be imagining, both of Blitzø’s cheeks were turning mismatched shades of pink. The imp swallowed. “Really, Stolas. It’s no problem. It’ll make me feel better if I know you’re getting a good night’s sleep.” 
“That’s so sweet.” Stolas paused. “Darling,” he added, just because he needed to see what would happen. If he was allowed. 
Blitzø’s eyes widened. “I- oh. I- uh. Yeah.” He backed away, pulling his hands in towards himself protectively. “I have to make dinner.” Now he paused, and contemplated Stolas cautiously. “You wanna help?” 
Stolas’s feathers fluffed in astonishment. “Yes!” he said, then tried to tone down the enthusiasm, in case Blitzø found it off putting, like he had so many times before. “Ahem, I mean, I’m afraid I’ll be starting from an almost completely beginner standpoint, but yes, I would love to assist in any way I can.” 
Blitzø threw him an odd look. “Well alright, you didn’t have to use so many words about it. But-” he added, before Stolas could go and get his feelings hurt. “I kinda like that you did. Now get in here and we’ll get choppin’.” 
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Well as it turned out, Stolas wasn’t entirely useless without his powers. He proved to be absolutely average at kitchen-related activities, which seemed to match Blitzø quite well, as he gave Stolas gentle and thorough instructions full of dozens of tips and tricks he’d picked up over the years. 
Still, the imp absolutely bragged to his daughter about how Stolas had helped make the food. 
Even stranger, her reaction had been a borderline-impressed, “Oh shit, not bad,” before retreating to her room.
Stolas beamed at both of them, not because he believed it was anything special but because it genuinely wasn’t bad, and that was good enough right now. He was feeling so proud of his amateur cooking skills that when Blitzø offered for him to come into IMP tomorrow - Stolas had been showing great interest in how his work went, the first real interest he’d felt in days - he almost said yes. Hesitated and thought about it deeply, chewing his lower beak and nearly going cross eyed. 
In the end though, he sighed and looked away and asked for a few more days
Blitzø took one of his hands within his own and held it in his lap until Stolas looked at him. 
“Hey,” Blitzø said gently, “A few days is way sooner than never. I want to make sure you’re really feeling up to it before I drag you into I.M.P.’s mess too. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better, even if it’s not all the way yet. Take the time you need, okay?” 
“Okay,” Stolas whispered, his eyes once again darting away from Blitzø’s. 
Blitzø drew back and started gathering up their empty dinner plates. “You should go change, birdy. Almost time to try out that cozy new bed of yours.” 
“Oh! You don’t want to teach me how to do the dishes too?” Stolas asked, mind short circuiting at the thought of sharing a bed with Blitzø again. But like, in a good way. “I helped make, I should help clean.”
Blitzø considered that. “How about you wipe down the table? Just take a damp rag to it, clean rags are in that drawer over there.” He motioned to the drawer.
While Stolas peered in the drawer, Blitzø got started on the dishes. The actual rule of the house was whoever used a dish cleaned it, but Blitzø usually ended up doing Loona’s anyways due to her dislike of being outside her room. He didn’t mind washing Stolas’s too. 
A long arm snaked around him and Blitzø would have jumped- except he’d been keeping track of exactly where Stolas was, and it felt almost natural as Stolas held his rag under the faucet for a few seconds to dampen it, his stomach feathers brushing the back of Blitzø’s head. No, instead Blitzø found himself frozen, not wanting to disrupt the moment. 
Stolas didn’t seem to notice, stepping away a moment later and turning to wipe the table in long graceful strokes, humming the prettiest little tune Blitzø had ever heard. He spent way longer wiping the table clean than Blitzø would have, but that was probably a good thing. Most of the time Blitzø didn’t even bother wiping the table down until it started grossing him out. 
“What shall I do with the dirty rag?” Stolas asked, his voice barely audible above the rush of running water and the sudsing of soap on dishes as Blitzø scrubbed them. 
“Just leave it, I’ll rinse it and hang it to dry when I’m done,” Blitzø said, glancing over his shoulder. So he caught the look of confusion and then understanding that dawned as Stolas understood that the laundry situation was a whole lot different here than it had been at the palace. 
“Alright.” Stolas’s hand landed feather-light atop Blitzø’s shoulder. “I’ll go get ready for bed, then. See you in a bit, darling.” 
Definitely unrelated to Stolas touching him and calling him sweet things, Blitzø’s hand jerked, and he accidentally sprayed himself with water. Stolas’s hooting little giggles drifted over his spluttered curses as the owl backed away to get ready for bed. 
When he’d finished cleaning everything up and gotten himself into his own pjs, Blitzø tiptoed into the living room, hoping that the new mattress was so comfy Stolas would already be in snoozeland, but no such luck. Instead, it appeared Stolas had deliberately waited up for him. He was sitting up, the edges of his feet still too long and dangling off the edge, and he smiled when Blitzø rounded the couch and entered his line of sight. 
The smile dropped just as quickly as Blitzø headed over to his beanbag chair and curled up in it. 
“What are you doing?” Stolas asked. 
Blitzø looked at him quizzically. “Going to sleep? Why, do you need something?” 
“No! No, I- Well, I…” Stolas seemed to be struggling to find words, frown lines creasing his face unpleasantly. Blitzø’s heart dropped. Fuck, and today had been going so well for him. 
“Is it the new bed?” Blitzø asked. “I’m sorry Stolas, human mattresses are just shorter than you, I wish I could afford a goetia-sized one, but-”
“It’s not that!” Stolas interrupted, louder than he meant to. He just couldn’t tolerate Blitzø being so apologetic, so- ugh. Best to be straightforward about things, even if that hadn’t ended up so well in the past. 
“I just thought that you would be sharing this new bed with me,” Stolas admitted, twisting his fingers tightly in the horseshoe blanket. “I mean, it is big enough. I don’t wish for you to not have a real bed because of me anymore.” 
“That’s really nice, Stolas,” Blitzø said, his voice oddly hoarse, “but I can’t.”
Stolas raised an eyebrow, voice coming out sharper and bitchier than it had in weeks, maybe months. “And why the fuck not?” 
Blitzø shot a nervous glance at Loona’s door before turning a glare on Stolas. “Because I won’t be able to keep my fucking hands off you,” he hissed.
“No one said you had to,” Stolas shot back, lowering his voice to match Blitzø’s out of respect for his daughter. “Besides, you very much haven’t. Why start now?”
The imp’s face went blank. “What do you mean?” 
Stolas made an impatient noise. “Oh come now, we’ve held hands more in the last few days then we did for the entire duration of our arrangement. Earlier today you kissed me on the cheek, and,” Stolas could feel himself blushing, thinking about the vague ghostlike memory of his first night here, “I’m quite certain that wasn’t the first time.” 
A look of regret and longing passed over Blitzø’s face. 
Stolas took it upon himself to draw back the covers invitingly. “Please come to bed with me, darling. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can just cuddle.” 
Blitzø huffed, like this wasn’t something he’d been dreaming about for weeks and struggled out of the beanbag. “Absolutely not,” he said, climbing into the bed, settling beside Stolas and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “If we’re doing this, then we’re gonna talk.” 
“Very well.” Stolas reached under the blanket and tangled their fingers together. “Would you like to start or shall I?” 
“I will.” Blitzø’s voice was definitely not shaking, not even a little bit. “I’m glad you’re here and I don’t want you to leave. That’s all. Anything else you want, it’s yours. We go at your pace. Just-” Blitzø’s hand squeezed Stolas’s. The imp wasn’t looking at him, instead staring straight ahead, like he couldn’t bear to be seen while saying something so vulnerable. “-Keep me in the loop about what you’re thinking, okay? I promise I’ll believe you this time.” 
“I promise I shall try to be understanding and reassuring if you don’t,” Stolas replied, his throat tight. 
He understood better now, had had that month to reflect on Blitzø’s initial reaction that dreadful full moon, and now these precious days in Blitzø’s apartment, learning more about just how much they both hated themselves. 
But not each other. They’d both clearly been wrong about that. 
“I am happy to stay with you,” Stolas continued softly, “for as long as you’ll have me. I’ve known for a while now that you’re it for me, Blitz. As long as you know that, I believe everything will work itself out.”
Funny, how optimistic he felt about it. There was something about being called after desperately during a near-death experience, followed by being wholeheartedly welcomed into someone’s home that just… helped quiet all those pesky voices that were always telling Stolas no one could ever love him. 
He’d been ready to die for Blitzø, and Blitzø had been ready to die for him. 
“You’re it for me too, Stolas,” Blitzø said. He’d clearly been following a similar line of thought, because his next words were, “if you ever try to die for me again, we’re going to have a fucking problem, got it?” 
“I understand,” Stolas answered, because that was something he couldn’t promise. 
But neither of them had died. Blitzø had taken care of him instead, and now maybe Stolas could do the same. At least until the next big problem - and there was sure to be a next big problem, whether that be how to get Octavia back, Andrealphus or Satan seeking them out again, or something else entirely - reared its ugly head. 
“Good,” Blitzø said, aggressively snuggling up to Stolas’s side. “Good talk. Now go to sleep.” 
“Yes dear,” Stolas said lightly. He bent his neck and pecked a tender kiss to the top of Blitzø’s head. “Sweet dreams.” 
When he turned on to his side and curled around Blitzø, drawing his knees up to his stomach, all of him fit perfectly on the mattress. He could feel himself melting quickly into sleep, all that tiredness catching up with him. 
Blitzø buried his face in Stolas’s long-missed chest fluff and threw an arm over him, and a leg for good measure, keeping him close.
The bed could hold them both, and nothing was going to keep them apart now. 
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theadhddimsenion · 6 months ago
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You something i have come to realize about my boy blitz?
That while yes he I'd rather infamously bad at receiving love he is certainly great at giving it!!
I mean we all saw how he was in sinsmas doting on his boyfriend for nearly the whole episode! And then there's the many examples of him bettering people's lives without even knowing like.
Breaking moxxie out of the joint and unintentionally becoming the much more healthy father and authority figure moxxie needed.
Giving millie the recognition she desperately needed and making her feel valued and special for the first time in her life. Not to mention introducing both her and moxxie to each other.
Giving a deeply troubled teenage hellound with a severe anger problem his only bed and refusing to give up on her even after being physically assaulted by her.
And of course finaly giving stolas the best night of his life and showing him he does have a say in how he's treated and doesn't have to stand around taking everyone's crap.
But the problem is that this isn't just out of genuine kindness and generosity but also because of his infamous self hatred.
Blitz is someone who very clearly was raised to believe that his worth was not based on what he decided but on how much he could offer to the other side of the relationship. That's why he so often prefers transactional relationships to anything else and why he thought the infamous full moon disaster was because he wasn't pleasing stolas enough.
This brings us to veroskia and while her baseless claims of him being bad at head are dead and buried as they should be they are actually in a weird way close to correct. What I mean is veroskia had it backwards. He does too much recpoacting and not enough receiving.
What she doesn't understand is blitz is stuck believing that he is unworthy of any kind of unconditional support and he is only worthy of giving it so when she tried to love him back he panicked, believing that the price for trying accepting unconditional love is losing everything and those who you care about burning alive adding ptsd to his long list of issues and so he ran to the one thing that had always brought him comfort and wasn't tainted by his dark memories, horses and the rest is history.
So yeah blitzs arc so far is about him learning that it's OK for him to accpet emotional support and doing so won't make anyone abuse him or burst into flames like what happened to him in the circus and more over refusing to let himself be loved upsets more people then getting close to them every will.
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the-awakened-insomnis · 4 months ago
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Blitzbee kid #3 Tataira
He is mostly seeker save for his 4 optics, which he keeps hidden under his visor most of the time. He is arguably the friendliest out of his siblings but that doesn't mean much when you actually compare them. While his twin got their grand-sires' coloring, Tataira got his grand-carriers'. It actually made Bee cry for a while but neither of them remembers that. Equally hot-headed as he is passionate, Tataira is the middle child and Twin/Sparkbrother to Osmia. He's as tall as Blitzwing and his brother but he's bulkier. This affects his flying somewhat but he still pretty dam fast. He hits the heaviest and combines his fighting style with the firepower he inherited from Blitz, he will quite literally rain down fire on his enemies. Or people who have pissed hm off.
He's the middle child and the moral compass that keeps his siblings from going too far. Although it IS fun at times to watch his siblings ruin some assholes' life. He prefers to work hard and have fun while doing it. He managed to instill this work-ethic into his siblings when he found out how they were truly struggling.
As a child he was cautious of the Autobots when they first showed up and only got involved when Osmia wouldn't stop provoking them. He warmed up to Bulkhead first, seeing as Bee and & him close and Tatairs clung to Bee. Through Bulk he interacts with Wheeljack, who let him ride his shoulders as he worked in his lab, even helping using his firepower. Somethings would explode and it was a literal blast, this only fueled his love for arson and explosives. Much to Bee & Blitzs' dismay... At least he has a creative flame!
As a teen, his personality is very similar to how Bee used to act before the war really got to him. This reminder stabs at a few bots, epically Optimus and Elita. Cliffjumper feels the most strongly about this, this has led to him interacting with Tataira the least. He didn't understand why until he was much older. He didn't think it was far and called his uncle out on it, even THAT reminded Cliff of Bee.
As an adult he lives on Cybertron and works in repair & construction, using his fire to weld all manner of steels together. As a seeker he can reach places most can't. Not to mention his strength and speed, carrying heavy cargo with quick timing. He's made a few friends this way and hangs out with them outside of work. Of course, he makes time for his family and visits as often as he can. Hoping to do right by his family and the bots who have come to trust him.
He deals with the same problems his brother and sister face when dealing with the fractions. Being a hybrid, a seeker, or just being his parents child. He's got a kill-em-with-kindness attitude to all but once in a while he'll torch some poor fool and dare you to do something about it.
He's not really focusing on his love-life, though he wouldn't mind someone by his side. Maybe something more stable than his parents but definitely with that same strong love.
It's not easy and there are days he misses Earth. But he can't sit in the past, not when there's a future that needs to be built. Everyone is giving it their all, so he will as well.
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flower-boi16 · 1 year ago
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Bring the thunder down
Well time to give my thoughts on the latest episode.
POSITIVES:
-Seeing callbacks to previous episodes in season 1 was pretty nice
-Holy shit Verosika development? HELL YA!!!! I'm just going to say it; Verosika is the best part of the episode hands down. I like that we get to see a real side of her beyond just being a one-dimensional bitch, her being friendly towards Stolas due to seeing him, and how SHE felt when she was hurt by Blitz.
And she deeply empathizes with people who were also hurt by Blitz and holds this party so people can cope with their experinces for how Blitz damaged them, a place where they can all get together. Viv developing a female character...? That's insane! Verosika feels like an actual person in this episode, not just a one-dimensional bitch.
-We don't get a rushed resolution to Blitz's feud with Verosika like we did for his feud with Fizz, which I am very happy for. I liked how they handled the reletionship between the two here,
-The development for Blitz here is genuienly great...? Like, the episode does a good job of showing him finally realizing how his actions have hurt others, and shows him trying to play victim here in the final scene of the episode before accepting that HE IS THE PROBLEM. And it's now the begining of him finally deciding to grow and become a better person, which is probably going to be a major arc in both season 2 and the rest of the series.
-The characterization here for Blitz is also great. Again it shows him playing the victim here because he's too much of an asshole to accept how he might have hurt others, until he realizes how his actions actually affect those he hurt. He feels genuine remorse now for his actions after the song that Stolas' sings on the stage.
-SPEAKING OF THAT SONG NUMBER; I have some issues with it when it comes to Blitz victim blaming but for the most part it's not bad. The visualls during it look quite nice and the singing is really good. This also serves as a good moment for Blitz as a character; as he sees that actually did, genuinely, have real feelings for him, and it helps Blitz realize all the mistakes he's made throughout his life and how his actions have genuinely hurt others.
-The episode, generally, does a good job of showing how Blitz's actions have hurt others.
-The finale scene in the episode is fantastic. Like I said we get some great development for Verosika and some insight on how she felt when Blitz ran off, characterization for Blitz and growth with him finally realizing his mistakes and the begining of him growing as a person. The voice acting from the two especially sells the emotions in it.
This episode has a suprising amount of good stuff in it when it comes to Blitz and Verosika...unfortunetly there are still some issues.
NEGATIVES:
-Unsuprisingly the Stolas stuff here is awful. The episode constantly frames him as another one of Blitz's victims who was hurt by him which just shows more Stolas victimization. Whopee. The begining scene is especially awful when it comes to this. The thing that really gets me is the line "since when have I ever looked down upoun you", like, dude, YOU CONSTANTLY BELITTLE HIM THROUGHOUT THE FIRST SEASON. OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO THINK YOU LOOK DOWN UPOUN HIM.
And then he says that Blitz is like Striker which is fucking stupid.
(though tbf Blitz is deffiently an ass in this scene so I can get Stolas' perspective to a slight extent, but some of the framming here and dialogue is still questionable)
-Speaking of that begining scene, its...eh. It has the issues with Stolas victimization as I already talked about here but then there's the fact that they used Blitz not telling Stoals about Striker as a way to create cheap drama. YAY! Also this...never gets resolved in the episode btw.
-The stage scene where Stolas sings his "motherfucker" song is good enough in terms of development for Blitz but since Blitz isn't in the wrong here for not believing Stolas loves him it still come across as another instance of Blitzo victim blaming to a slight extent. I already expressed my opinions multiple times about why Blitz is not in the wrong for not thinking that Stolas has real love for him so I'm not gonna repeat myself here, but I'm really sick of the Stolas victimization in this season and I just wish the show would stop pretending that Stolas is the victim here.
-The conversation the two have after the song isn't an awful scene but still shows Stolas victimization. Again, more Stolas victimization and a lot of the dialogue from Stolas here really seems to point to this. Like the scene has Blitz apologize to Stolas and act like the latter deserves better than the former because the former was soooo mean to him UwU, and it just. Ugh. And then the episode has Stolas whine about how he just wants someone to care about him and I'm just like. Viv. You aren't going to make me sympathize with this stupid fucking owl. You just can't.
-The episodes seems to be implying that Blitz has feelings for Stolas...? Huh???? Since when??? And also why does Blitz even have feelings for Stolas to begin with? Like everytime Stolas and Blitz interact Blitz always shows physical discomfort around Stolas, why tf is he suddenely interested in him NOW???
-How exactly was Verosika able to know of Stolas' reletionship with Blitz?
-Blitz decides to go into the party WITHOUT A DISGUISE. Like he takes one eventually but why didn't you bring one to begin with...?
-Is there no one guarding the entrance to this party? Because Blitz should have not able to get in here.
-Blitz comeing in without a disguise doesn't bring any attention for some reason???
This episode was...actually kind of good. Like, I'd say this is probably the best episode of season 2 so far. It mainly suffers from more Stolas victimization and some very weird plot holes and the out of nowhere development of Blitz getting feelings for Stolas but there is genuinely fantastic stuff in here that's good enough to make the episode at least a 7.5/10, hell maybe even an 8. I could forgive a small amount of plot holes if there's enough great stuff in the story and in this episode there is.
So ya, I actually kind of enjoyed this one.
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