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endearng · 7 months ago

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Lifeline

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x addict!reader Summary: How does one move on after seeing the lost versions of themselves on someone else entirely? WC: 8.8k Warnings: canon criminal minds violence (m-rder); pr-stitution and mentions of sex; s.h-rm; illegal substances consumption; mentions of dr-g abuse; panic attacks; graphic suicide attempt. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: This is heavily based on "The A Team", "Gale Song" and "evermore" and also Skins UK's character Effy Stonem. Besides that, I was also somewhat inspired by CM'S 2x11 and I messed up the timeline. Feedbacks are always welcome! | masterlist

"Her name's Amelia Holden. She was found in a dumpster in an alley of a neighborhood in central Richmond. Along with her, we have four women murdered within two weeks." JJ informed as she briefed the team about the case they were invited to work on.

Their reactions always were different. Aaron Hotcher remained unreadable, often asking about the local police's findings. Derek Morgan usually worried about victimology and the modus operandi. Emily Prentiss used to brainstorm details on the pictures. David Rossi was the one to make comparisons with previous cases. Spencer Reid busied himself with data, statistics and whatnot about the locality.

Speaking of which, "This is an high-end neighborhood, not to mention the obvious fact that it happened in the capital of Virginia. Based on that, one could think that the citizens will cooperate to solve this as fast as we can."

Derek sighed, "I wish I could tell you're wrong in different circumstances, pretty boy." Spencer frowned, eager to ask, but Derek was faster, "Truth is, these girls were all prostitutes. The rich won't give a damn if they go missing, which is pure hypocrisy based on the fact that they go where the money is, which is, well... in their neighborhood." JJ pursed her lips, taking another look at the evidence.

There were pictures of four girls, placed so carelessly in the dumpster that it was possible to deduce that they had been all thrown in there already dead. Not a single chance of survival. Not a single chance someone could save them. JJ felt a lump in her throat and looked away from the photos.

“It’s most likely a male.” Rossi said.

Emily nodded, asking, "So what do you guys think? Maybe this guy is murdering them because he thinks he's doing society a favor?"

"It could be, yes. When prostitutes are targeted, the main reason is misogyny, but we can also associate these crimes to other forms of hatred. It can also be related to power." Spencer answered. "Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"No, only physical violence." JJ answered. "The coroner's reports indicate that they were drugged, some of them with multiple substances. There are red bruises as well as knife scars and stabs basically all over their bodies."

"Multiple substances in their body can be a sign of addiction, but also that our unsub drugged them to make them easier to drag around." Spencer continued. “Does the lab have the substances yet?”

“Garcia is working on it.” JJ replied.

"And the amount of cuts and bruises on their bodies mean that our unsub is angry. Like, uncontrollably angry." Emily finished.

"Well, he's killed both black and white women, so we know it's not race motivated." Rossi completed Emily's train of thought. "He's been getting more and more desperate, given the depths of the cuts as he progresses, look." He said, pointing to the picture of the last victim.

Emily gulped, shaking her head lightly.

“I’d say that, given the color of the bruises, they were beaten right before they died. This unsub doesn’t keep them for much longer. Most likely, he tortures them and kills them, getting rid of them in the dumpsters. The place of disposal is rather telling.” Spencer chimed in.

"Get Garcia to look up sex offenders in that area." Hotch said. "Try to find them all, no matter what their outcome was. Close, dropped... It doesn't matter. If the theory about social cleansing is right, maybe the offender has a past history with it. On the other hand, if he's rich, he probably got away with it."

"I'll call her right now." Morgan said with a nod.

"Great. tell the Richmond PD we're getting there in a couple of hours." Hotch announces. "Wheels up in thirty."

—

Arriving in the precinct, Hotchner assigned the tasks. Rossi and Morgan would go to the latest crime scene as Reid and Prentiss looked around for possible witnesses. JJ would stay at the precinct in case something came up.

"Check this out," called Rossi. "The... instrument was big enough to go through her body, from her stomach to her back." He said.

Morgan sighed. "Intensified violence means that he's not planning on stopping any time soon."

A couple feet away, agents Reid and Prentiss talked to one of the prostitutes. "We're always here, especially at night. Some girls are here during the daytime, but you know, it's slower. Nobody wants to be seen with us." She had bloodshot eyes, a defeated expression on her features.

"Who are your usual... customers?" Reid asked, a little embarrassed to be talking to a woman who had that much expertise in a field he lacked any. A flash of worry and guilt crossed the young woman's face and she looked around as if making sure no one was listening to them.

"Don't worry, everything's classified. You're not gonna get in trouble if you talk to us. We're just trying to help." Emily said, trying to ease her nerves.

"Okay... I... The guys who work in the bank are often here. Cops, too. But they are very sneaky." She whispered, fright almost palpable in her voice.

"Did any of them ever pose a threat? Maybe too violent? Persistent?" The young doctor asked, again. She blinked at him, willing the tears not to fall.

"Most of them are just bored husbands or divorcees who want to get laid without the worry of being chased after." Looking away, she went on, "we’re the ones who can't afford to say no to the things they're into. We get the best of their roughness, so it's hard to tell." Emily gave her a sympathetic look.

From afar, you watched their interactions. The girl, whose name was Renée, looked very nervous and guilty. You approached them, looking a lot more skeptical than the emotional mess they were asking questions to. You took a look at them, took in the way they were dressed, besides the pens and notepads in their hands. The man took a second look at you, but you shrug it off, used to be perceived and not always in the best manner, given your appearance these days. “You ok, Renée?" You checked on her softly and she nodded in agreement. "Excuse me. Are you with the police?" You ask in a serene voice.

"Hi. I'm Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI," the dark haired woman answered, both of them showing you their badges. You nodded. "We're investigating the murder of women in this location."

Spencer looked at you as you inspected their faces. You wore casual clothes, nothing like the outfit Renée had on, and, for a moment, he thought what were you doing in there and how and why did you know her. It didn't make sense, albeit briefly, to him, why would someone so mundane be in that place, at that time. After a couple of seconds of watching you curiously, the pieces started falling into places, though. The crestfallen expression, dry skin and chapped lips... You were going through something.

He had a feeling he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.

That is, until you actually started talking.

"Hello," you introduce yourself. "Oh, I see. I didn’t think the locals would be interested in solving these anyway."

“Why do you say that?” Emily asked, curious to know your answer.

“I suppose they don’t like the fact that some of us are so daring to the point of going to their station to report the abuse we all go through weekly,” you snorted, voice thick with disdain, although every person in the conversation was aware that it was not aimed at either of them, “like, why are we complaining? We want to do this, we are willingly here.” Emily sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that Spencer could muster up.

“Anyway…” you sniffled. A telling sign. “How can we help?”

"Have you seen anyone violent around here? A-a new face, perhaps?" He asked, turning his body to face you properly. Emily looked at him, puzzled.

"Doctor, with all due respect, they are men. And they are paying. It’s basically a green light for all sorts of abuse, I'm sure Renée told you that much." You answered, in a much more certain tone than your friend had used.

"Did either of you recall anything about that night? The most basic detail can help us.” Emily inquired.

"Yeah." Renée answered with a quiver of her lip, clinging to you, trying to find some solace. You squeezed her shoulder lightly, glancing at her.

Sensing she might not be able to talk, you went on, "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary that night. I didn't notice they were missing until the next day. We try our best to watch out for each other. As I said, some men can be real creeps, but once you start your own thing, it's… hard” you exhaled, “for some of us to keep track of what's going on around us. Unless we run into each other again, we won't know for sure if we're actually safe." You explained, looking down at your feet. After a couple deep breaths that felt like you were inhaling the oxygen of the entire Earth, you looked back at them. Still avoiding eye contact, glancing between their foreheads, something you'd learned to do in order to escape the person you were with when you needed to.

Spencer watched you the entire time.

“I see,” the woman said, taking some notes. “Would you know if they share anything in common?”

“They usually stay in the park at the end of the street,” Renée answered, “They go there once things quiet down, and guys pick them up in their cars. The night they were… um, taken, was pretty intense. If they got kidnapped, we couldn’t even give you a license plate. We weren’t around.” Her voice dripped with pure guilt. You ran your thumb on her shoulder.

At the moment, though, there's something else entirely on your mind. Eventually, after a beat of silence, you decide to speak your mind, to expose your insecurities. Not worried about how you may look. Hell, it's been a long time since you stopped. "I'm sorry to press or if I sound too demanding. I know sometimes things get out of your control, but, uh, you're gonna catch this guy, right? I mean... we have to be here. I hope you don't think we have another choice."

As you talked, your soft voice and pleading eyes drew Spencer's attention to you with even more intensity. Your voice and mannerisms weren't something he was expecting. He berated himself after realizing how he was in the wrong by assuming you’d portray yourself in a certain way because of the area you worked in. Your voice was low, but firm. Your words were understanding, but demanding. Your posture was almost defensive, but the desperation of your tone told them how terrified you were. He couldn't help but notice the fact that you were sniffing quite often. His profiling skills were faster than himself and he made the conclusion that, given the line of your work, he presumed it most likely wasn’t only a cold.

Spencer knew, then, that you shared something in common with him. Something bad.

Again, not something he wanted to know about.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer beat her to it, "We're gonna do the best we can, Miss."

"Glad to hear that," you muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Thanks for your time.” Emily said, a gentle smile on her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as you and René left, walking arm in arm. In a safe distance from everyone else, he saw as your friend broke down in your arms and as you comforted her, even if you had your own tears streaming down your face. He had reached Morgan and Rossi when you two walked away. Emily studied his face attentively, wondering why he was so fast to assure a possible victim like that, because, one, it was unlike him to want to partake in such sensitive conversations with the ones involved in the process. Two, what kind of agent, doctor, official, profiler, whatever, makes promises before such an intricate process such as their work?

“So, did you get anything?” Rossi asked him, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Oh, yeah. Those two women said that the victims usually waited for clients in the park right down the street.” Emily said.

“I think we should go take a look.” Spencer suggested.

Searching the park, which was full of passersby and families just spending some time outside their houses, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that this case had already hit him too close to home. The violence was something that still messed with his head and he thought he could never recover from the flashes of memories behind his eyelids once he closed his eyes to sleep every night. Still, it wasn’t that that baffled him the most, but you. He knew what it was like to struggle with addiction. He had been very harsh on Emily not long ago, during a withdrawal, so he knew aggressiveness and mood swings were to be expected. You and your mannerisms, however, were totally out of the addiction bingo. The way you looked, so broken, so sick, in every sense of the word, didn’t stop you from having a polite conversation with them, even if the topic was very much concerning to you. Plus, the caring nature you seemed to have and the way you made sure to be supportive towards you and the others who, just like you, went through hell every day for the most unspeakable reasons stood out to him.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“Hey, I got something.” Morgan said as he approached the team with a piece of paper. “It says: They will not do it again.”

“Who’s they?” Rossi inquired.

“Maybe the prostitutes. The only way of stopping them is killing them.” Spencer answered, albeit his thoughts were still far, far away from the scene.

“But stop them from doing what? Causing a divorce? Being a homewrecker? Polluting the city?” She wondered out loud.

“These are all valid possibilities,” Rossi nodded, “we now know from your interview that rich men are regulars here. Maybe one of them was unfaithful and snapped after getting his divorce. Now, he might be taking it out on these girls.” He finished.

“We still need to figure that out.” Morgan sighed. “Hey, babygirl, we need a favor,” Derek said once Penelope picked up his call. “Can you check every upper-class man in Richmond that has recently gotten a divorce?”

“Sure thing, handsome,” she quipped, “it might take some time, though. And I know you’ll need to narrow it down.”

“We’ll keep you posted. Thanks, babygirl.”

“Always happy to help, hot stuff.”

—

Back at the station, the BAU team was surrounded by cops, sharing their findings so far. Spencer was the one to make sure that the cops would be on duty and laser focused on the areas he determined through the geographical profile. Those areas were most likely the ones the next attack would take place. He emphasized, very intently, that they needed cops especially in darker alleys and that they were looking for a male in his thirties.

Spencer couldn't shake the thought of dread that crept up on him, making him almost paralyzed. The fear of getting to the unsub, of letting him get away, of being too late, of being too early, of not being enough. Every scenario was the worst, his mind working overtime to make sure he had at least an ounce of optimism for months on end, ever since he finally managed to stay clean off Dilaudid. The cops moved around, divided between groups to start surveillance. And the dread kept building inside of him, like a crescendo of horror.

Sitting next to Emily, he decided to break the morbid silence hanging over them. “I'm sorry I lashed out on you, Emily. I don't think I ever apologized.”

Totally not expecting his words, she looked at him, wide-eyed. It took her a second to gather her thoughts and form an answer. “It's no problem. I know what you were going through.”

“Still. It doesn't change much. It's not a good enough excuse for me to treat others poorly.” He couldn't look at her, fiddling with his fingers instead.

“Reid, why do I sense you're talking about something else?”

He sighed. He was so, so tired of keeping it in, of bottling everything in, of swallowing his words so as to not make anyone uncomfortable. “I am.” He confessed, after a moment of silence.

Maybe staying quiet was less morbid than the conversation they were about to have, he mused.

“What happened?”

“That girl, today. The second one. I could tell she's having issues. The same as me, I mean. And she was so nice the entire time. She was trying to make her friend feel better.”

“Spencer…” Emily breathed out, a somewhat reprimanding look on her face. Not that he could see it. “This comparison is unfair on so many levels. First, you've seen her for what? Five minutes? We don't know what she's been through, if she has a family… There are so many possibilities. Maybe she was having a good day—”

“How does one have a good day knowing that they have very high chances of being killed?” He interrupted. A sigh left Emily's lips.

“I don't know. But you do understand why that comparison you made was unfitting, to say the least, right?”

Right on cue, to make the subject die, he muttered a “I guess.” so she could drop the subject. From afar, Spencer watched as you left a building with a glare on your face. He wondered what you were feeling and if your expression always told you off.

“There she is. Not looking happy.” Emily said, simply, not relating it to the use of any substances out of respect. She could only imagine what he was going through, being forced to watch someone she loves slowly lose themselves over something so trivial, but at the same time, dangerous as a substance.

Spencer pressed his lips on a thin line.

—

You laid there, on a big, albeit uncomfortable bed, simply enduring the sloppy, much erratic thrusts of a man who was old enough to be your dad. Grandfather, if you pushed it a little bit. Internally, you chuckled bitterly at the thought, because those two decided to want distance from you a long, long time ago. You had turned out into a person who many people didn't want to be associated with, so you kind of understood their attitude towards you. Still, it didn't make navigating through this world all by yourself any easier. In fact, it stung harder than you cared to admit, but, for the most part of the time, you were as high as a kite — your coping mechanism to shield your brain for reminiscing about the disgusting, vile man that you had to... satisfy to avoid starving to death. It was a never ending cycle. A torturous one that you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

Speaking of which, the man above you came on your stomach, meaning that the appointment had finally reached its end. You couldn't quite pinpoint if he was the first, second or even third man you've encountered that night, but you didn't care. The effects of the dope made sure you wouldn't remember them the next day. Actually, it had been a while since you had been exposed to daylight. Your routine consisted of being around all night with those men, getting home, scrubbing your skin hard enough to draw blood as you showered, trying to get rid of the feeling of the greedy, disgusting hands all over your body, sleeping all day, getting high and repeating it all over again. Some nights you didn’t have too much strength to do it all. Some days felt like they mashed together with how long it felt with the same ache, the same hole in your chest. Your life was miserable, and you often caught yourself thinking if it was worth it. And, if it was, what for?

"You're so good, princess, kept quiet all the time and shit." The man said as he pulled his shirt back on, covering his thin frame. You cleaned yourself the best you could with a washcloth. "You’re fairly pretty… If you weren't a junkie, I might take you home with me... keep you all to myself, you know?" He inquired, a smirk dancing around his features.

You didn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, you glared at him, even though he couldn't see your face, grabbed the money that had been placed in the nightstand and made a beeline to the door.

You stared at that money with burning rage. If you didn't need it so much, you would definitely tear it apart given the hatred coursing through your veins. You gulped, and it tasted bitter, and it was hard to swallow the lump in your throat. You sold yourself for something as ordinary as money, and it made you so angry because your family was swimming in it. Sometimes, you wished they would drown in it, just to see if your anger simmered down.

You weren't always like this, so... so rotten. Coming from a rich, traditional family, people expected highly from you all the time, thus, you had been an excellent, straight A's student, being the valedictorian of your class at a traditional Catholic school without your teachers needing to double check any records. You also volunteered halftime in an institute that helped old people, which made your parents immensely proud. At that time, you had gotten yourself a boyfriend, your high-school sweetheart, getting engaged to him as you started your third year at a great university, majoring in Psychology. It all went down, though, when you started struggling with addiction.

It started with lighter substances, like alcohol. You drank until you started mumbling out the words you meant to say, going even as far as embarrassing yourself and your fiancée multiple times at social gatherings that involved booze. You loved the thrill, the buzz, the lightness it made you feel, instead of the pile of anxiety that built and seeped into your very bones after being so pushed to the edge your entire life. You thought you liked your life, but after being in touch with people who had a much (what you considered to be) easier life than yours, you started to let loose. Since you didn't have any family around you to put you on a tight leash, you lost control altogether.

When your family realized what had happened, too engrossed in their own businesses and investments and money and anything that was more important than their offsprings, it was too late. You couldn't go a day without drinking, dropping out of schoolcALT without thinking about the consequences for your future. Ironically, you knew and understood pretty well the things you were going through, but battling an addiction requires a lot of strength that you didn't know where to find, since you were all alone. After all, you had pushed all your friends away, your fiancée had walked out on you and your family basically disowned you.

Left to your own devices and unable to keep a steady, serious job, despite your background, you found yourself in the streets.

Sigh.

Opening the door to your small apartment, you got rid of the clothes that began to reek of alcohol, throwing them mindlessly on the floor. You rushed to the bathroom and stared at your own reflection for a moment, noticing the dark spots under your eyes, your dry lips and the lifeless gaze that your eyes had turned into. You had lost quite a bit of weight, now looking like a dead skull, wandering around, doomed to search for any reason to continue living in a world that had been pitch black.

In the bathtub, you scratched your skin aggressively, not being able to avoid the feeling of the remnants of several unknown men, which sensation brought up the comparison that you felt similar to a person who suffers with phantom limb pain: you couldn't see their hands, you couldn't come up with anyone's face, but you couldn't avoid sensing their touch on your skin. But, unlike the syndrome, you didn't feel pain, feeling rather like needles were seeping into your skin, deep enough to reach your bones. But, like the syndrome, it felt like it was yours. Their touch, although invisible, was forever inked into your skin.

You couldn't help the tears running down your face, mixing themselves with the water that poured from the shower. Tears of both pain, disgust, desperation, regret. It was a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't deal with. As you left the bathroom, you downed half a bottle of vodka, hoping that it would lull you to sleep.

Maybe for good this time.

—

A loud banging on your door roused you from sleep. Your mouth felt dry and your skin felt even worse — it felt like it had been days since you last drank water. Maybe it was true. The loud noise made your head throb in pain. Curled in bed, you tried to muffle the sounds by covering your ears with your hands, but it was just as annoying. The person on the other side of the door seemed hell-bent on seeing you, but you couldn't come up with anyone other than your landlord, because your rent was supposed to be paid yesterday.

Getting up from your bed with a groan of annoyance and pain, you threw on a flannel you found on the floor. Opening the door, you were surprised to see your older brother.

"Y-you?" You asked, baffled. Embarrassed by your own appearance.

"It's me." He said, the usual serious edge to his voice. He said your name, hesitantly. "Can I come in?"

You didn't know what he wanted. The fact that you had been left alone for so long made your heart burn with anger and you wanted to slam the door in his face. You considered it for a moment, but it wouldn't take a genius to know that you needed someone with you, even if for just a couple of minutes, even if it was out of pity. You didn't mind. You relied on the kindness of people to get by, so what harm would it be in accepting a little more pity? More self loathing than you already had and constantly feeded inside you? You judged it impossible.

With a curt nod, you gave him space to enter your apartment. The place was a mess, clothes scattered around, curtains drawn closed, the darkness in the room not only caused by the absence of sunlight. Something somber stopped light from entering. Your brother looked around with an unreadable expression and saw the countless bottles everywhere, from the floor to the couch, not to mention the many white remains on the surfaces like the small coffee table. He blinked away tears, desolate to see you in that position. Desperate to find words. Desperate to find you again in that vessel of a human you had become.

Clearing his throat, “I… heard what's happening. I was worried so I came all the way here to check on you.”

You bit back a bitter laughter. How could someone be this cruel? Abandon you and then treat you like you mattered? It made you almost want to throw up. “I'm alive. Happy?” You couldn't help the snarky remark.

“Come on, you know I'm not like them.” He defended, not able to look you in the eye.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “If you weren't, you wouldn't have left me, too.”

“Come on, I was going through my own shit, I didn't realize what you were going through until it was too late.”

“Too late? Too late? I spent all my days wishing any of you would pick up the damn phone so that someone could come and get me before I was dead. But you're all the same. So self absorbed, so selfish, so… individualistic.” Your words were daggers, but you couldn't stop yourself from being mean, from trying to push away the only person who seemingly had an interest in helping you. Too bad you felt it was a little too late.

“Don't say that.”

At this point, the verbal vomiting was unstoppable. You sure looked like a maniac, rambling and jumping inconsistently from one topic to another, aiming to hurt him as much as they have hurt you, too. You knew what you were doing, but it felt for a moment that something else was forcing such cruelness out of your mouth. “The final blow was grandma dying, right? So you could finally pretend I don't exist. Keep doing that.”

“Let me help you.” He pleaded, coming close to you.

“I don't need your help.”

“If you don't accept it now, you're gonna spend more time wishing you had.” He said, holding your hands with his own.

“How are you going to help me? By sending me money so that I spend it all on drugs? On booze? Hah, nice one, really.”

“I wouldn't help you kill yourself.” He almost shouted, rage and sadness fighting over which would be the dominant feeling in his eyes.

“Then how? I basically just told you I'm helpless. I'm a ghost. I stopped existing a long time ago.” A sob broke through you, echoing in the walls of your dark apartment. You shut your eyes. “I don't know who I am anymore.”

Silence.

He's probably thinking everything through. Trying to find a way to let me down gently, you thought. “Let me take you somewhere safe. We'll see how it goes.”

You didn't expect that much. Despite wanting to say yes, your mouth was seemingly disconnected from your brain, so your words took a whole different turn. Instead of accepting his help, you simply stated, “I don't think I would stand to let you down again. I'm sorry.” He looks at you, bewildered, but, to you, not strong enough to put up a fight. “Can you please leave? I'm waiting for a friend.”

Defeated, he walks out the door.

You don't notice the paper with his number left on the kitchen counter. When Renée shows up, dressed in a skin-tight red dress, she sees and runs her finger on the note as if it could save her from every single risk her life could show her.

—

"We found another body."

Amidst the research and data analysis required to provide the profile, Spencer Reid got easily lost on his obligations and far too focused on his duties in order to help people as fast as he could, which was why he was seemingly terrified of one of the local officer's voice.

At the crime scene, the found body was once Renée Woods. Spencer watched from afar as the coroner examined their body and as Derek and Emily searched frantically for anything they could do to help, whether it was examining the crime scene or simply talking to the assigned legists. Spencer, unlike them, stood still. Muscles unable to make any movements besides clenching his hands in fists so tight that his somewhat long nails almost cut through the sensitive skin.

How would you take the news?

What if that was you?

The thought went as quickly as it came, because, from afar, he watched as you showed up, looking skeptical, but soon becoming hysterical once you recognized her, even from a certain distance. You could tell it was her by the clothes she was wearing. You cried hysterically, screaming as if someone had torn apart your heart with their bare hands, sobbing as if you couldn't breathe unless Renée was walking the Earth. A cop touching you, instead of soothing your turmoil, only served as a fuel to the fire raging through you. Sadness, anger, desperation, panic, everything flooding your chest, ragging your breath. You pushed the man away, trying to find a way to enter the crime scene.

Spencer finally was taking control of his body again. Approaching you, calmly, as if you would attack him too if he got too close and too abruptly, or worse, you’d run away, he made his way to you. Noticing your red-rimmed eyes, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d do your best,” you said in a broken voice, looking him in the eye. Defeated.

Silence. All the noise seemed dull, distant, far away. You were in a bubble.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wide eyes looking at his confused ones. Right now, talking to you felt like whiplash. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to accuse or blame you. Fuck,” you cursed, bringing your hands to your eyes. “Can I do anything to help? I can… I can try.”

Unbeknownst to you, Emily Prentiss watched your interactions with a puzzled look on her face. You looked and acted so distraught that she felt the need to approach, mindful of the damage the words from an enraged, saddened close friend of a victim would do. Unable to stop her own feet, she approached you. Spencer wouldn't utter a word. You looked nervous, looking from her to him and obsessively trying to wipe your tears that seemingly had their own will to run on your face.

"Can you come with me?" She offered, handing out a blanket for you. You looked at her and amidst the mixed feelings that the grief started etching into your eyes, you could give her a grateful glance.

By her side, you looked at Spencer, who was still frozen in place.

"I'm sorry..." You whispered, looking at the ground.

He looked straight ahead. Once you were with Emily, he glanced your way with a pitiful look on his face.

—

Days passed. You were in the precinct once they called Renée’s family to break the morbid news. You watched as her mother fell to her knees once one of them told her what had happened to her daughter. You heard the chanting of "I failed, I failed, I failed..." endlessly. And by endlessly, you mean it is still haunting you to this day.

For three days, all you did was escape reality, whether by sleeping or doing drugs. Your brother's contact sat still on the kitchen counter, collecting dust and meaning hesitation from your end.

On the fourth day, you were sober for a couple of hours. You opened the curtains and despite the darkness still loomed around, it felt better. It burned, but in a nice way. As you stared at the note in the counter, untouched, Emily Prentiss knocked on your door to let you know that they were close to catching the killer. His profile was complete, it seemed. Something about a man in his 40s taking out the frustration of his parents’ broken marriage because of his father’s infidelity and his own divorce because of his affairs. Cyclic. Looking at your wrecked state, she told you all about him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked as Renée’s mother chant still echoed in your mind.

"First, I thought you needed hope. Second, I was thinking you might recognize him.”

Needless to say, she was right. Your lungs burned at each breath you took, and, in that moment, you decided you would try to be strong. Stronger. Renée’s face came to mind. You had nothing left to lose if you exposed a few rich men. Thanking Emily, you said softly, your tone contrasting with the vile nature of your words, “You said he dumped the girls in a specific place, right?” She nodded. “I don’t know if anyone told you about this one place, but they take some of the girls there. It’s kind of off-radar”

As you gave her the location, her surprise betrayed her usual composure. “No, nobody did.”

“Do you think it could be helpful?”

—

You found yourself in one of aforementioned building’s room along with Dr. Spencer Reid, as sort of your protector, while the others patrolled the building and the people who came and went, and the local cops lurked around downtown, in the park. You felt nervous, reminiscing about your last interaction with the man. Taking a deep breath, you sat down on a chair. “May I ask you something?” You inquired, carefully. He hadn’t talked much to you unless it was information about what you knew and what he needed to know. He nodded at you, turning his attention to your figure. "Do you like your job? I only ask because... you know... nobody really likes this job."

"... I do, yeah." He muttered, albeit not the whole truth. It was gruesome, but he thought he could manage. Besides, you didn’t need to be exposed to even more disaster. It was bad enough as it was.

"I don’t know if you know or acknowledge this, but not many people choose to do this. It's more of a last option, the one you really don't wanna take." You justified, even though you didn’t quite know why.

You supposed it was the embarrassment that came with being with a man who knew what you did but wasn’t with you to do that.

Understanding flooded his features, a soft "I understand." making its way out of his lips.

"Thanks." I say with a tight-lipped smile. "It means a lot."

He nodded. "You keep fiddling with your necklace."

"It's a locker, actually. It's a picture of me and my grandmother. I don't wear it when I'm.. um... Anyway, it's kinda sacred to me." You chuckled, gripping the accessory tighter. “I wore it today so that it would give me the strength needed to help Renée. And myself.”

He glances at you as if he wanted to know more. After a beat of silence and deciding that it was enough, "Do you have a good relationship with her?"

"I did. We were very close, but she passed away last year, sort of giving my family the free pass to cut me out entirely. I believe they think that I was the one who killed her, my life choices and whatnot."

He furrowed his brows. "You didn't choose this."

"In a way, I did. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop. It's just that... It felt good not to have so much pressure on me, you know? I felt finally free... but what did it cost me? A safe relationship, my education, my family and friends… They never gave me a chance, not even to explain myself. I needed help. Thus far, I have had company my entire life. I didn't know how to exist. Then one of those girls helped me, but I realized that she was struggling to pay rent and I needed to do something, not just sit pretty and be high with the money I had left.”

His silence was unexpected.

In reality, it was caused by the cliché of watching your life passing before your eyes took over his mind. He remembered being drugged by Tobias Hankel, he remembered the needles puncturing his skin and the relief he felt from the entire situation once the substance started running through his veins. He remembered taking Dilaudid from his abductor’s pockets and he remembered staring at his own reflection in the mirror and finding a stranger looking back at him. He remembered being given a chip of sobriety even though he wasn’t sober for that long. He remembered thinking of himself as unworthy as he became more and more dependent, especially when he couldn’t even disguise how affected, how it changed him. Looking at your defeated face, he muttered, “I understand. It changes your perception of things and yourself.”

You could act oblivious and assume that his knowledge of the topic came from books, but you don’t see that expression on just anybody’s face. You felt sorry for him. Sensing he didn’t want to talk about himself any further, even if, in your opinion, wasn’t nearly enough for someone who had battled something as deep as an addiction, you decided to respect his wish. You talked about yourself instead, hoping to give him something, someone to relate to, as you desperately wanted for yourself. “I wasn’t always like this.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” His voice held that tinge of something you couldn’t quite describe, something distant, but so close at the same time. He saw himself in you, almost if he was talking to himself.

He might have had Penelope check your background. Something about the lost potential resonated deep within him, and it made him all the more anxious to be close to you, to repair something he hadn’t been the one to break. As he looked at you, all he could see was someone in dire need of something, someone to grasp onto. “How does one manage to move past all that?"

Despite the will growing and boiling inside of him, he couldn’t just come up with a magic solution to cut through the darkness surrounding you. "Honestly, I don't know." You couldn’t see when he gulped.

"It's a long way from home. At least, for me."

For a moment, you looked at each other, mouths shut, not a single beat of sound around you. You looked at him, searching for answers and for someone to relate to. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the silence hanging over you like a fog. He wasn't trying to seem disinterested or unkind, but he felt as if his curt phrases weren’t enough to calm your heart. He spoke again, his voice softer, offering a hint of deeper sincerity, "Sorry, I..." he trailed off, unsure how to convey his thoughts without making the situation more hurtful. "I'm sure you can manage it with the right people."

Your grip on your locket softened, letting it fall close to your chest once you let it go. Looking at him, a soft melody started playing in your head.

Patience.

“I’m sorry,” you said, earnestly, which made him look at you with recognition. “Thanks for talking to me. It’s been a while.”

I missed this feeling.

—

After a few moments, the BAU team had captured the man before he could collect another soul. Everything happened so fast. In one moment, you were in a superficially verbal conversation with Spencer. Despite the shallow nature of the words exchanged, digging deeper, the interaction was filled to the brim with meaning, which made you rethink a thing or two. You shared that much with him.

“Goodbye.” He said, simply. To you, he was not one to speak much. “You’ll be home by spring.” I can’t wait ‘til then, he thought.

“Goodbye, doctor.”

Next thing you knew, as you got home, all by yourself, you decided to reach out for your brother. Telling him you needed help, that you were pessimistic but that it would be foolish not to at least try.

Days at rehab went on as smoothly as they could, considering you were suffering with withdrawal. Your behavior and emotions swayed like waves on a lake surface on a windy day. Deeply unstable, your mind was forced to remember all the hell you’ve been through on a daily basis for the last sad months of your life. Grieving for the version of you you could have been, for Renée, for your sense of self, self-respect and whatever you had lost during those dark times. Often, your hands trembled, you felt cold in a warm, cozy room and there were times your skin felt ablaze, not to mention the whirlwind of thoughts that made your head hurt. You missed feeling numb.

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you.

Still, there were afternoons that you would sit on the porch of your bedroom and simply take in the surroundings. The green grass that was taken better off by the employees like it was someone’s first born. The other patients who walked around and closed their eyes as they felt the sun kissing their skin for what it felt like the first time in years. The trees that casted shadows on the grass so that some of them could lay beneath them. The breeze that engulfed your figure and gently touched you, unlike you had been treated. The immense sense of belonging to this existence, of not longer being a stranger to your own life. You would take deep breaths and your lungs wouldn’t ache like before. You pictured the two reasons responsible for making you take the decision that brought you to this place sitting next to you. You held what was left of one of them between your fingertips.

The sudden and constant mood swings made your attitude change at breakneck speed.

Tonight, taking a quick break from the notebook you were scribbling on, you took a look around you. At that moment, everything around you was spinning. You couldn’t breathe, feeling as if the hands that touched you in the past stopped you from inhaling oxygen altogether. You shut your eyes closed and tried to breathe in like the doctors had told you to when things got too hard — it was not working. Panicking further, you stumbled your way to the ensuite bathroom and took a good look at your reflection. You felt shivers running down your body, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach as you desperately tried to turn on the faucet to splash some cold water to your face. Unsuccessful, to say the least.

The feeling grew as time went by. You couldn’t stand the discomfort and the memories and the feeling of being inappropriate to go back to living in the real world again. For a moment, you quieted your struggle. You gave in. You glanced at the mirror and although the tears blurred your vision, you were able to wonder if that was your opportunity of finally having the control of your life back. Maybe it was for the better, you thought as you reached for the small blade you secretly kept on the bathroom window. As you started feeling dizzy by the lack of oxygen, you couldn’t help but to think back to the interaction you exchanged with Spencer before you thought of accepting your brother’s offer. Picturing his face, of himself as a person and as a professional, you thought that, for a moment, he was a reflection of all that you wanted to be, all you wanted for yourself.

The blood that gushed from the open cuts of your arms, that drained from your body, felt like the catharsis you needed from all the mishaps that had taken place in your life. As you watched it dribble down your skin and as it stained the floor, you took a deep, difficult breath, feeling lightheaded. No thoughts swarmed your mind anymore. A sob, from both the dull sting of the cuts and of your difficulty breathing, echoed through the bathroom.

No!, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you.

Finally taking short puffs of breaths, you kept thinking this was it. That it was for the better. That nothing could save you, nothing could stop the blood from cleansing you and taint the floor in the process. You finally shut your eyes as the tears never ceased to flow from your eyes, feeling hands squeezing your arms where you had drawn vertical lines with the blades. From that moment, everything around you felt mixed, the swaying of a vehicle, the alarmed voices, the brightness behind your eyelids. You never opened your eyes. You couldn't bear to open them and still be here, facing the people who were doing their best to help you.

As you lost consciousness, you finally found peace, your mind finally quieted down, the hands stopped touching your body. You thought you managed a weakened smile in your state.

;

Spencer, much like you, didn't keep much track of the time as it passed, for the things in his world happened too fast and burned too bright. As he approached his desk in the bullpen and he was reading through some emails, dread adorning his features and panic setting in the pit of his stomach as he read your brother's name on the screen — whose contact he had gotten after you were admitted in rehab — and the news he was sharing.

;

You didn't know how much time you had spent unconscious. You didn't have any dreams. You didn't have any thoughts. You were completely numb, as if you were surrounded by a bubble that protected you from anything that could possibly happen.

As you opened your eyes, you recognized a hospital room, wires and needles and the unmistakable smell of that place. Looking at your arms, you noticed the bandages that hid the scars that were certainly forming by now, if the dull ache was anything to go by. When you slowly felt reality creeping in, you didn't dare to look up, afraid to find a judgmental or angry look on someone's face. You focused solely on breathing, too frightened of your surroundings.

You gulped and your throat felt so dry that it almost scratched, which made you erupt in a fit of coughs. That drew the attention of a person sitting right next to you, which you hadn't noticed, too preoccupied with someone's reaction.

Slowly looking up, you found Dr. Reid’s face. You couldn't quite begin to read his expression, as his eyes were full of relief once he saw you were still alive. Hanging by a thread, but still alive. You didn't bother to speak after he silently held a bottle of water with a straw on it for you to drink. Neither did he. At least for some amount of time.

“I didn't know how bad this could get. I mean, I do know, but not because of the reason you probably think. It's not just because I have to study human behavior, but also because I was abducted and drugged,” he started, losing the bravery that it took to look you in the eye. “I know you have nothing to do with this. And that it makes me sound very selfish, because, um, I'm here talking about myself when you are so fragile and so broken, but it's just because I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to not recognize yourself. When we talked in that room, for the first time, I felt alive. I felt seen. I felt like I had finally found a little, small, fleeting piece of myself that had wandered too far once I was… addicted.”

You just took in his words. You already knew why he related to you so much, but hearing him talk so freely and unabashedly about his experience made you somewhat perk up. “I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” You managed to mutter in a weak voice.

“It depends on what you think you're going to do now.”

“It's a lot of work.”

“Not if it's you.”

“How could you possibly say that?”

“I know a little about your background. My friend looked you up. You looked promising.”

“Yes, past tense. Now I'm just this… vessel of a human. I don't think I have blood, let alone the guts to face the world after this.”

“I'm not calculating your worth on your accomplishments or on the person you used to be.” He sighed, softly.

“Do I even still have worth?”

“Of course you do.”

“Don't waste your breath on me. How could you be so sure?”

“I just do.”

Little did you know, Spencer Reid was not one to pry where it wasn't welcome, but he spent every day letting his mind run to you. He couldn't help but think about you and whether you were actually doing good after the decision you decided to share with him. That was how he found himself having some unsent letters that were soon ripped and thrown away. Telling you about him, wondering about you, wondering if you two could relate on different topics.

“Would it be weird to ask you to trust me on this one?”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

For the first time in years, you had a sincere smile on your face.

—

The next day, you woke up to a letter addressed to you, which you knew who it was from.

Your lifeline.

This pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

☆

Part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #writersontumblrs #spencer reid self insert #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #personal fav <3

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tinesleftnipple · 3 months ago

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JITD is headed towards subtextual romance line between Luo Wenzhou and Pei su

(if not more)

The adaptation up to ep 8 has stayed true to modu as much as they are able to - at this rate a romance subplot is inevitable.

In modu, lwz and fei du start off as "rivals" that both like tao ran. In JITD, that has shifted - pei su puts more attention on lwz from the very beginning.

Pei su zooms in on lwz and not tao ze

Pei su folding parking fines into little boats (the "zhou" in "luo wenzhou" means boat)

In ep 3 cafeteria scene, the core of pei su's speech about change is him hinting to lwz that he yearns for a sense of security/stability. Pei su knows the only constant in this world is "change", but he's talked to his therapist about it. The end of this scene is very telling:

The only constant left in Pei su's world is lwz.

From a story structure pov, a 30-ep show can be split into 5 sections where every 6 episodes marks a turning point (throwback to Word of Honor where every 6 episodes had a romantic scene) . We see the first turning point in ep 6. The first case is complete, and at the same time the leads resolve their misunderstandings.

Modu is split into 5 parts. Zhoudu's relationship progresses at the end of each section. JITD should on some level parallel this progression:

Julien - misunderstandings absolved

Humbert Humbert - flirting

Macbeth - lwz confesses

Verkhovensky - feidu confesses

Edmond Dantes - your honor they love each other

#jitd #justice in the dark #guang yuan #i am starting to go down the rabbit hole of psychoanalyzing these characters the same way i did zzs and wei qian

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bladedweaponsandswishycoats · 2 months ago

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Justice in the Dark and the Art of Translating Vibes (or: Why the drama's kabedon (ep. 18) is actually the novel's car kiss (ch. 75-76))

I've been mostly burying myself in the material rather than reading what anyone is saying on social media but @lunarriviera said I should share this, so here goes.

I really like the way the creators of Justice in the Dark worked really hard to translate emotional beats and preemptively plan for censorship, and I think it does something interesting because it moves parallel moments around to where they need to be given the exercise in translation that an adaptation must perform.

Spoilers for both Modu and Justice in the Dark versions below!

The main one I want to talk about here is the kabedon/wall slam that takes place when they go to investigate the crime scene where Feng Bin was killed.

Obviously, the scene as it appears in the book at that moment in the plot would not have made it into the drama in a million years, even if censorship wasn't the way it is:

So it is a given that there was not going to be an interrupted wallfuck in the drama, and the creators were well aware of that. In many dramas, the usual thing to do would be to say "well, we'll try and do as much as we can, perhaps a generous shove would be allowed."

But JitD didn't do this. Instead they looked into the origin of the interaction and considered where the characters stand at this point.

Previously, a similar divergence already occurred at the point of the car kiss/Fei Du passing out at the front door that happens in episode 13 after having gotten dehydrated and low blood sugar from being sick in the aftermath of Zhou Huaixin's stabbing. The kiss, likewise, could never have been shown in this particular reality. To compensate, the creators of the drama made Fei Du's state during the car ride worse, and likewise heightened the severity of the reaction when it happens.

First with the car ride, in which Fei Du is arguably worse off in the drama. (And I really recommend rewatching this bit, both for the filming and the incredible music they gave this little mini-montage):

Then when Fei Du collapses, in the drama they make him actually fully fall unconscious:

The novel version, Fei Du IS out of sorts, and the general progression is the same, but they do also make out in the car before Fei Du gets out and I think it is reasonable to say on that basis that he's not quite as obviously out of it as in the drama. Likewise, he never fully passes out:

So what happened here is that the creators turned it to their advantage; recognizing they can't have the kiss, they decided to crank up the angst/whump and make Fei Du even more messed up (which, let's be honest, is almost as good). What's more, it is an option that was not available if they had been able to do the kiss. So, in a sense, they have adapted to their constraints and provided us with a "two cakes" option.

This is a good example of what I mean by the translation/substitution. Another one is the way they substitute the flashback childhood fever scene since they cannot do the forehead kiss in the very next set of scenes. But I think folks have probably talked about that already, and it's not the one I really wanted to get to.

So now for that: the kabedon at the start of case 4 (or Verhovensky/Doestoevsky/the Yufen School case, whatever we're calling it). This was the passage I quoted at the start of this post, and it, like the car kiss, could never have appeared in the drama.

And here the drama team again did a translation, but in this case it takes into account not just the novel parallel at this moment in the case/plot, but also the relationship progression for each the novel and drama.

Specifically, in the drama, as stated, there was no car kiss. In addition, the novel sequence puts two other important and relevant sequences between the car kiss and this scene: Fei Du's first and second nights out of the hospital. The first night is the one that involves blanket-burrito Fei Du being handcuffed to the bed and the non-consensual hairdrying (glorious moment), the second involves their first fuck, which takes place the next night, after Fei Du has gotten up for water and interrupted Luo Wenzhou reading Lao Yang's testament, and Luo Wenzhou telling Fei Du that he can't explain everything to him yet, so please give him a few days. I won't go into the excellent translations that do occur in the drama condensed single night of that sequence, but suffice to say, when drama Luo Wenzhou wakes up covered in photographs from Luo Guosheng's crimes 20 years ago and Tao Ran's urgent call, in the novel he's waking up in Fei Du's arms. And so later when Zhoudu are going to the Lovers' Mirror on the crime scene date, this is the first date after the first fuck—in the novel.

Meanwhile, in the drama, there has instead been much yearning and a sleepless night where I am certain they were both horribly desperately wishing they were in bed with the other—but they weren't. (Aside: yes I do also love the other interpretation that the filmmakers were gesturing towards them being together with overlapping cinematic effects, but I'm setting that aside for now, what can I say, I like multiple interpretations, I contain multitudes etc.) Thus this moment is not the same moment as it is when it happens in the novel.

What moment is it?

It's the car kiss.

As far as the relationship beats, Zhoudu are still at the heightened point of tension without much physical contact that their novel versions were at during the car kiss.

And that—that kiss was initiated by Fei Du.

(Aside: yes, I also agree with the perspective that Fei Du was trying to get rid of him so he could go have some quality basement time, and he knew that kissing him would make Luo Wenzhou aroused and flustered and furious—and probably he'd storm off. But people can have multiple motivations and he DID want to kiss him too.)

Anyway it is here (apologies for the long screencap):

What does that sound like?

Yep. This is actually the car kiss.

Tbh I don't care at all who tops and I think it is a boring thing to argue about, but I started thinking about this because I was wondering what the writers in the drama were doing and at first glance this was a surprising scene if watched with the novel equivalent in mind. I was convinced that there's no intentional choice made to invert/reverse anything, because in all other matters the creators have been paying an incredible amount of attention to trying to follow the novel in spirit and vibes even when they cannot do so literally. So why would this suddenly be an outlier?

And thus my proposed answer: It's not. It's absolutely in line with the translation strategy they've been pursuing in other scenes previously, but it is complicated by the divergence in relationship progression between drama and novel, the consequence of which its equivalent emotional/horny moment falls at a different plot moment.

The drama kabedon is the novel car kiss, not the novel kabedon.

#justice in the dark #modu #silent reading #jitd spoilers #modu spoilers #luo wenzhou #fei du #zhoudu #jitd #jitd meta #modu meta #justice in the dark meta #this would have been better with more gifs #but the 10mg tumblr file size limit is my villain origin story so we shall have to live without #(unfortunate fate of the poor bastards who decide to befriend me: i will fill your dm's with 30mb gifs whether you want them or not)

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whoopsyeahokay · 5 months ago

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October Moon

summary: So, Claire had been working with Mr. Anderson, you and Xavier hadn't been speaking, the Homecoming dance had been on the horizon, and no one had been any closer to getting answers. But, hell, you and Wally had made progress in...other ways.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.1

Aurora chatted merrily at you as she drove you to school, the sun shining and the radio playing upbeat Top 40 hits between the DJs' too-cheerful morning banter. You weren't listening, had too many things on your mind to pay attention to what was outside of your skull, and stared blindly out the window.

The stink of Aurora's tea was suffocating. You'd drank the same tea for years, had smelled it every day in the kitchen, yet now you couldn't stand it. Especially after having smelled something so similar on the breath of those sacrifices.

It'd been a week since the theater. Since Aiden had somehow forced everyone through the farmhouse door to show them—you—the truth of what'd happened to him. You hadn't shared what you now knew with anyone in your family, too afraid of being asked questions that would lead Ginny or your mother to your involvement with Wally and the other ghosts.

You'd considered only sharing what you knew about Maddie, but had quashed that rather swiftly. That would've led to the same kind of trouble. Possibly worse since the threats in Maddie's case were corporal and could actually hurt you.

While Mr. Anderson was no longer a threat (had probably never been a threat), Claire had taken his place. Simon and Maddie spent the past week stalking her around school to see if they could figure out how she tied into Maddie's missing body.

Although you'd put together that the symbols surrounding the school were related to the Something-Something of Dagda—officially named The Emerald Order—you didn't have enough evidence (that was: none) that Maddie's ghostliness wasn't more than what had been responsible for shining a light on what was wrong with Split River High's metaphysical world.

While Simon and Maddie had been tracking Claire, you and Wally had taken to the computer lab most days after school to research the history of the town. It wasn't where you'd wanted to start, but you had little else to go on where the Something-Something, Amelia, and Anabelle were concerned.

Figuring any information was better than none, you'd tried to piece together what could've been related to the Something-Something's movements throughout history with what Wally had learned about the cult during the Satanic Panic.

A meathead jock that ghost was not. His mind was still sharp and the knowledge he'd accumulated back then had flowed out of him as if he'd read about it that morning. God, he was hot when he was spouting facts about an evil society of occult abusers.

Between handsy makeouts that'd been entirely Wally's fault, you and he had discovered that Split River had once been a colonial town, named something completely different. The school stood where one of the first churches in Wisconsin had been erected. Wood and plaster and starving pilgrims for a congregation. The old town had succumbed to a horrible fate, because of course it had, and then fast forward through another questionable event and, bingo bango, the school was built.

Coincidence? You and Wally hadn't thought so. And though you couldn't say for certain that the symbols had been there on Christmas Eve 1784, the event itself fit the Something-Something's modus operandi.

You would've convinced yourself that the symbols were all that remained of the Something-Something. Nothing in your research at home or the research you did with Wally suggested the cult was still operational.

Except. Follow the lines, Christopher Nears had instructed Wally who'd then relayed the order to you. You'd tried that and the results had been less than fruitful. You'd found the basics. Places of birth, marriage certificates. Death dates. September 23rd, 1925. How could you follow the lines if the lines had continuously changed?

Amelia and Anabelle had literally turned into new people and you had absolutely no idea what identities they'd slipped into after they'd reentered the world as teenage girls.

If it hadn't been for the fact that you remembered hearing Amelia's named when Aiden had been killed, you wouldn't believe the presence of the strikingly high population of ghosts within the school were related or something to worry about. Just an unfortunate accident due to bygone ceremonial procedure that hadn't been tidied up in the aftermath.

Unfortunately, however, you and Wally and everyone else agreed, Amelia or Anabelle or their successors were out there and likely had plans for Split River High's dead...

Apparently, your silence had become too much for Aurora who'd turned the radio off to ask, "Are you okay? You haven't said a word all morning."

As the car turned into the school parking lot, you still weren't fully aware, the stink of Aurora's tea trickling into the crevices of your brain and making you drowsy.

"Hey, are you listening?" Aurora waved a hand in front of your face.

Finally, you blinked, shook your head slightly and looked at her, "What?"

Aurora pulled into the drop-off zone, put the car in park, and shifted to face you. "Are you and Xavier still fighting?"

Yes.

And no.

Band practice on Saturday had been tense and awkward, but you and Xavier had made it through without Hana or Lucas or Eli commenting on it. Of course, they'd probably been pretending with everything in them that nothing was wrong for the sake of tomorrow's performance.

Whatever. You hadn't had to spin another yarn and Xavier hadn't had to confess to cheating on Maddie to your face, so win-win.

Neither of you had even attempted to speak since, barely making eye contact when you happened to be in the same space. Mathilda had informed you that Xavier had been spending his free time with Sandra Nears, which had caught you off-guard, because what? Why?

"Sort of," You finally said, tilting your head back against your seat and closing your eyes. "We're not fighting but we're not talking," you summed up as you rolled your head to the side to look at Aurora.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Ajay step tentatively up to the driver's side. Hands in his pockets, gaze soft, peering at Aurora like a long-lost friend.

And, as it had been yesterday when Aurora had driven you to school, she simply sniffed the air, frowned in thought, and then shooed you out of the car with a final statement. Today's was, "You guys will be fine. Things feel a lot bigger at your age than they are. Trust me."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Rory, you nailed it." You muttered, climbing out and giving Ajay an apologetic look. Part of you understood why Aurora wouldn't acknowledge that she sensed Ajay. The Golden Rule and a lifetime of family gospel.

But.

But...there was a twist in your gut as you watched her drive away, the stink of her tea clung to your hair and clothes after you'd had to sit in it for the fifteen-minute journey. Thankfully, yesterday you'd had a late start so Aurora had already finished her tea before getting in the car.

"She didn't say anything, did she?" Ajay asked when he came to stand beside you, solemn as he stared after the car.

You didn't reply for a moment, pondering it. "She probably doesn't want to risk it. Our family takes keeping secrets very seriously," you shrugged.

Ajay glimpsed down at you, "You mean like you kept your magic a secret from us?"

"Connectedness. And no. It's different." You said, head tilted as you really gave yourself a chance to think about recent events.

Why didn't anyone in your family talk about the ghosts? It wasn't as if the ghosts were around to listen (apart from Dead Grandpa John). There'd been some excuse made, like Dead Grandpa John might reveal your family's abilities to other ghosts and then, oh no, the house would be swarmed, stormed, squalled.

But. He wouldn't. Would he?

Up until Maddie's disappearance, that excuse had made sense to you, but now, in the wake of everything that you'd experienced, it didn't.

You sighed and rocked sideways, knocking your shoulder into Ajay's arm. "She remembers you," you assured him, grinning, "She brought home Bollywood Grill on Tuesday."

"That's not offensive," Ajay rolled his eyes though he snickered, clearly amused by the thought that Aurora's cravings were dictated by the smell she associated with him.

"I'm just saying, she obviously sensed you."

Ajay hummed, stood for a moment longer, and then, "It doesn't feel like it did," he conveyed. "The air is thicker around her." When you gave him a confused look, he shrugged, "I don't know how to explain it better than that."

"Fair enough," You supposed. "It's probably the smell of that tea clouding everything. I swear to God, it just takes over." You looked up at Ajay helplessly, "How did I ever like it?"

"I used to love black olives," Ajay said, "Now I can't stand them."

Skeptical, "You also suffered probably the biggest trauma known to mankind. I bet my tastebuds would change, too."

"Fair enough," Ajay parroted with a fond smile.

As you and Ajay turned toward the school, Simon jogged up to meet you, nodding his head cordially at Ajay before telling you, "I followed Claire home yesterday—"

"Terrifying."

"—and she stopped at Mr. Anderson's again. She waited outside his place for twenty minutes before she gave up. He never came out."

"Yeah, probably because he was with Andrew."

Your uncle had returned to town the same night Mr. Anderson had been arrested. Slept on the fold-out couch in the den now that his room in the basement was no longer available. He'd even helped post Mr. Anderson's bail.

You hung your head and confessed, "I feel kinda bad."

Simon's lips twisted and he sighed, admitting, "Me too." And then, "But the school's dropping the charges so long as he pays everything back, so that's good news, right?"

You hummed as you considered that, "I guess so. I just... I feel like we blew up someone's life for nothing, you know?"

"It wasn't for nothing." Ajay said, reminding you that, "If he hadn't been arrested, Simon would've handed him back his phone. You guys wouldn't have found out Claire was working with him. Or...doing whatever she's doing with him." He grimaced. "God, I hope it's not creepy."

"Same." You and Simon chorused.

"Where are you with the cult?" Simon asked you as he watched in fascination as a group of students made room for Ajay's presence without realizing that was what it was.

You snorted, "Buttfuck nowhere. I've been trying to find similar rune rituals in my family's library, but things like that are considered—"

"Black Magic." Ajay interjected.

"The Dark Arts." Simon supplied.

You rolled your eyes, "Forbidden. Guys. They're forbidden."

Ajay grinned, "Like Black Magic."

"And the Dark Arts." Simon added.

"I hate you both."

You and Simon parted ways at your lockers with a promise to catch up at lunch. Ajay lingered for a moment longer, mind as distant as his gaze.

"Still no sign of Mina?" You asked quietly.

Despite everyone assuring you that last Friday's events weren't your fault, you carried the guilt of it all the same. Those had been your memories, Aiden had been your brother. And if Mina, like the others, had been pulled through the door, it was possible she'd never come out. Or that she'd seen something so heinous, she'd gone into hiding.

"Not even a glimpse," Ajay reported, mouth weighed down at the corners, "I've looked everywhere...it's like she vanished."

"We'll find her."

Ajay pressed a tight smile to his lips and nodded in thanks, but you could tell that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't believe it. Eventually, he cleared his throat and changed the subject altogether, informing you, "Wally's outside. He's doing drills."

You chuckled, "Ah, yes, the big game's tonight."

"You'd better be there," Ajay warned with a slight glimmer in his eye, "He wants his girl to see him bring the Bandits to victory." For the last part, Ajay impersonated a hyped sports commentator and then a roaring crowd, shaking his fists in the air like he'd just won the Super Bowl.

You guaranteed, "I wouldn't miss it for the world," because you wouldn't.

A kid at Christmas, Wally had been amped since Monday, pulling you onto the field between research to show you how to toss the ball well enough for him to practice catching. It'd been fun, although you'd refused to admit it.

Every time you'd stubbornly announced, "Sports are sooo dumb," he'd read through you and had tackled you (gently, playfully) and tickled you until you'd submitted. Laying under him, giggling, before he'd stop, breathless, grinning, and gaze into your eyes, lean down, brush his lips to yours—

The fact was you were looking forward to it. To the game, to the celebration, to the dance; it would be a welcome reprieve from the rock and the hard place you'd been caught between.

"Tell him to be in the gym in half an hour," Ajay said as he gave you a quick side hug, dutifully checking to make sure the coast was clear. He then sauntered off to join his fellow Group members to prepare for Wally's big night.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was halfway through a set of burpees when the connection between you and him exploded in his chest, causing him to almost fall flat on his face. Thankfully, he caught himself and snapped to his feet, wiped his forehead with a towel that he draped over his shoulder, and turned to watch you walk onto the field.

Fuck. You looked good. You always looked good, but today you looked particularly edible. Short skirt, curve-hugging top, hair tied up to show off the soft slope of your neck. He licked his lips and openly stared as your hips swayed with every step.

Wally was keyed up, he knew, because of the big game, but so much of it was also the time he'd finally been able to spend with you without constant interruptions and secrecy.

You and he had even had the chance to test your Traveling ghost on the barrier. How you'd tried to step across the invisible line only to wake up in your body on the school side. The reverse had garnered the same result. It'd been fun despite the outcome and Wally reveled in spending one-on-one time with you.

"Hey pretty girl," He said as you got close enough for him to hook his arm around your waist and yank you into him. His eyes went heavy and dark, his hand sliding down your back to the curve just above your ass, "You come to see me workout?"

You blushed so pretty, pink cheeked and Bambi eyed. "I came to tell you that you have thirty minutes before you gotta be in the gym," You replied, a sweet little smile on your lips that Wally wanted to bite. "You're getting your sweat all over me," You complained, scrunching your nose up at him.

Wally leaned in close, nipped your earlobe, his voice low and husky, "Don't pretend you don't like it, baby." His hand slipped lower to sneak under your skirt while his lips grazed the soft skin on your neck. He heard you gasp, your body arching into his, and he grinned victoriously.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Clark," You advised in a light, breezy tone, leaning back to look him in the eye. "I have class in ten minutes."

Wally pouted, "I don't even get a kiss?"

You laughed, head thrown back, beautiful, "Fine, one kiss, but then you'd better freshen up and make an appearance. I hear there's a banner you're responsible for."

"There is a banner," Wally agreed with pride. "And balloons." He narrowed his eyes in thought, "And I'm thinking of a crown of sparklers."

"Because that's safe," You scoffed playfully.

Wally shrugged, "Can't get more dead." And then he dipped his head and captured your lips with his, the connection between you like fireworks behind his ribs.

He kissed you until you and he were breathless, rested his forehead against yours, willing his body to cooperate and calm the fuck down otherwise he didn't know what he'd do.

Well, that was a lie. He totally did. He'd pin you to the grass and remind you of the effect you had on him. Twice.

"Fuck, baby," He murmured before he licked into your mouth and kissed you hungrily, hands gliding over your waist and hips and lower.

You broke the kiss with a whimper that went straight to his cock, petitioning, "Class. Test. Seven minutes." The connection flared as if it refused to believe that that was a good reason to stop things from progressing.

Unfortunately for the connection, Wally was raised a gentleman and offered, "I'll walk you to class, pretty girl," letting you go with a pinch to your ass cheek and a boyish grin.

"You wanna carry my books, too?"

"And see your teacher freak out when they appear out of thin air?" Wally chuckled, "Absolutely."

He didn't do that. He knew better than to mess with the status quo. But he still enjoyed the banter between you and him as he walked you to the third floor.

"You're coming tonight, right?" He asked just as you and he neared your math class.

You stopped and turned to him, "Of course I am. And, I have a surprise for you. So you have to meet me before you get on the field, big guy."

Wally perked up, "A surprise?" And then he recalled the surprise you'd brought him and Charley yesterday. "Is it Max's?" He asked, excited.

Max's Diner had been his favorite spot when he'd been alive. An old-school greasy spoon even in the '80s. Wally's parents had worked there when they'd been teenagers; it had been how they'd met. The diner held a special place in Wally's heart and he'd almost cried when you'd presented him with his go-to order: Double cheese burger, extra pickles, extra fries, and a large Coke.

"Not quite," You said with a wince, "but I think you'll like it just as much..."

"Then I can't wait, baby," Wally said, glancing up and down the hall before leaning in to press his lips to yours once more.

It was turning into an addiction. And since he was going to get caught up in game prep and might not see you for the remainder of the day, he took his time, impressing everything he felt into that kiss and smiling when he heard you release a pleasured sigh.

"You suck," You groused when he finally released you, "I'm going to fail and it'll be your fault."

Wally smirked, admittedly proud of himself, yet he maintained, "You'll be fine, you've got this. We went over everything three times yesterday and you got everything right."

God, there was that blush he was starting to love so much, "You are a good tutor. Even if you can be distracting."

"Get in there and kill it, baby," He encouraged, winked, watched as you disappeared into the classroom, and then he turned to head to the gym as instructed, fantasizing about what your surprise later could be.

However, as the connection between you and him dimmed, his senses flooded back in beyond how you felt and tasted and...smelled—he caught a whiff of something off-putting and familiar.

Pinching his shirt, he brought the fabric to his nose and sniffed.

Heady.

Floral.

Like licking soap.

Without a second thought, Wally spun around and rushed into the classroom. The teacher was already behind his desk correcting another class's tests, the room study hall hushed as everyone read over their test sheets. Wally hurried to the back of the class where you were sat, hunched over your sheet with the eraser end of your pencil between your teeth.

The connection between you and Wally prompted you to glance up before he even reached your seat. Your eyes widened when you saw him approach in a panic, but you otherwise remained still, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. He crouched beside your desk, gaze supplicating.

"Why do you smell like that?" Wally asked in a whisper though no one else could hear him.

He watched you surreptitiously sniff your hair, make a face of revulsion, and then write in the corner of your test sheet, Aurora's tea which you erased as soon as you knew Wally had read it.

Wally swallowed, nervous, and looked back at you, "I smelled that in the cellar the night Aiden died." He explained, "It was on your breath. And in one of the glass things I picked up."

You stared at him for a split second before taking a deep breath and raising your hand. Wally had no clue what you were thinking as you slid out of your desk, leaning most of your weight on your other hand that held the back of your chair.

"Mr. Davis?" You said, and Wally was shocked at how weak you sounded, like you were—oh. "Mr. Davis, I don't feel well, may I please be excused?"

Mr. Davis stood and scrutinized you, brow deeply furrowed, "Are you sure this can't wait?"

You shook your head, took one, two small steps and then, whoops, fell forward. Or, your body did. Your ghost remained upright, freaking out at Wally, "You're sure it was the same smell?"

Wally nodded, his eyes on your unconscious form on the floor. "Did that hurt?" He had to wonder, watching your curvy goth friend, Mathilda, hurdle over desks and demand everyone back the fuck up!

"Probably. I won't feel it until—"

And there you went, back into your body as soon as Mathilda's hands were on you to check you over. The class was in chaos, your classmates shifting and hovering over your limp form. Mr. Davis instructed someone to fetch the school nurse and three students took it upon themselves to do the honors.

By gentle degrees, your eyes fluttered open and you came to, looking for all the world like you'd genuinely fainted due to some unknown affliction. A sad Victorian child, pale and weak.

Oh, you were good, Wally mused, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

You sat up, blinked at Mathilda and then at Mr. Davis, and again asked to be excused. Nurse Laine dashed in and fussed over you for a moment until she discerned you could stand on your own two feet.

"No need to call an ambulance," she said when you'd answered a series of questions she'd posed. "Probably dehydration or stress."

To be on the safe side, Mr. Davis dismissed you. Mathilda seemed to think that meant you and her, but, thankfully—for the sake of the ghostly investigation—Mr. Davis told Mathilda to take her seat and concentrate on her test. You sent her a grateful look and a frail wave before stepping into the hall.

Wally accompanied you to the nurse's office where you were given a glass of water and orders to lay down on the sofa for ten minutes. He sat on the ground, back against the bottom of the sofa, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"You just dropped like a sack of potatoes, baby, what were you thinking?"

Peeking out from beneath the cold compress Nurse Laine had handed you, you noticed she'd left the room to speak to someone in the hall.

Free to answer, you justified, "I was thinking that someone told me they smelled a gross tea I grew up drinking the night my little brother was killed by a woman wearing my friend's dad's body." You sat up to give Wally a significant look, "What else was I supposed to do without possibly failing that test?"

Wally conceded that that had been the best way to leave and avoid a bad grade or accusations of cheating.

"Next time, maybe don't do something that'll leave a bruise," Wally said softly, reaching up and brushing the backs of his fingers down your cheek where a red mark was blossoming into a bruise from the angle at which you'd hit the floor.

"No promises," You grinned.

Ten minutes later, Nurse Laine cleared you and gave you a note to give to the secretary to dismiss you for the rest of the day should you feel you needed it.

Wally wished you could use it just to spend that freedom with him instead, but you reminded him that Mr. Martin would be heavily involved in the rest of Wally's day and that might not go down so well.

Hey, Mr. M, this is one of now three living people who can see us that we lied to you about. Also we're investigating Maddie's not-death because, guess what, she's not dead.

Not that Xavier was talking to anybody (Wally didn't mind, he still hated the guy). Simon, on the other hand, was fun to talk to. A real bro with a quick mind and a dark sense of humor. Loyal as hell to Maddie which Wally appreciated. Xavier should've taken notes.

Regardless, Wally agreed, "Yeah, let's not do that."

He led you into an empty classroom where you and he could brainstorm what the hell that smell meant, if it meant anything, which...it had to, right? He was quickly learning everything was connected in some random way, no matter how absurd.

"You're sure it's the same smell?" You wanted to know, propped against the wall, thumbnail between your teeth.

Wally leaned in close and breathed in your hair, "Yeah, exactly the same. It smelled a lot stronger in the science glass than it does on you now, but it's identical." He confirmed.

A few beats as the gears turned in your head, "Aurora drinks that tea. And Nanna. Dave, too. And, honestly, I haven't noticed anything off about anyone. They're all still them. Not disoriented or drugged up or in a coma." You said, appearing to have trouble connecting the right dots. "I drank that tea for years."

"It could mean nothing," Wally rationalized, "Maybe there's an ingredient missing that was in the stuff I smelled versus what's in your family's tea, who knows."

He saw you process that and then admit, "When I was in that...memory or whatever, the kids Amelia and the others transferred into...they smelled kind of like it." Your gaze caught Wally's, brows knitted in worry, "It wasn't exactly the same but it was close enough. Really flowery. Like—"

"Licking soap?" Wally finished. "I don't wanna be that guy, but I have a feeling it's related."

"Fuck." You groaned, pressing your fingertips into your eyes. "Do we think the cult's back and selling rancid, probably-poisonous tea?" To, what, fund their next big scheme? ... Possibly.

Stepping into your space, Wally took your hands in his and lowered them, kissing your forehead before resting his against it. "It's worth looking in to. Think you can ask who your family's tea dealer is?"

"Yeah. I'll ask Nanna later," You murmured and Wally could tell you were overwhelmed. "Do you remember any of the ingredients you saw on the shelf?"

"Yeah, a lot of them." He leaned back and searched your expression. "Want me to write them down for you?"

You nodded, "Yes please."

With a gentle smile and soft eyes, "I got you, babygirl," Wally assured. "I'll give it to Maddie to give to you." At your adorably lost face, Wally said, "Like you said, Mr. Martin is gonna be heading my hype committee and will probably want me around for my input all day. Maddie, on the other hand, has a habit of disappearing at random."

You chuckled, "Gotchya," and drew Wally into a short, but very hot kiss. One that got Wally's everything running. He moaned against your lips, hands trailing down your hips to your thighs then under your skirt, pressing you more firmly against him.

"You gotta stop doing that," He said with a heavy exhale.

"Doing what?"

Wally nipped your lower lip, flicked his tongue to soothe the sting and kissed you dirty and deep before telling you, "Making my goddamn brain melt."

You giggled and told him in no uncertain terms, "Definitely no promises..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Derek wasn't prepared for how his day was unfolding. Thank fuck for Darcy Behr and her cosmic timing, because he didn't think he could handle his father's bad mood for another second.

The man might've earned his sobriety chip, but two relapses later and yielding to old age, Douglas Anderson now suffered for his sins. Wet brain, they called it. A kind of dementia that could've been prevented.

Douglas had fits, tantrums, ranted about experiences he'd never had when he mistook the movies he watched for memories he'd lived. He wasn't a bad man. No, really, Douglas had never been a violent or aggressive drunk. Happy and friendly. Just neglectful because he truly didn't understand how his actions affected his wife or son.

Now, personality corroded by years of alcohol abuse, and Douglas did one-eighties at the drop of a hat. They didn't last and could be easy to ignore, but sometimes Derek was in juuust the wrong headspace, and, kaboom; he needed to get the fuck out of the house lest he did something he'd regret.

Today, Darcy had appeared like the answer to a prayer, had rung the doorbell seconds before Derek would've exploded, and had swanned around him, into the living room, where she plopped down on the sofa and told Douglas to, shut up, old man, you're being a menace. With a twinkle in her eye, of course. That was how they'd always been with each other. Bickering and caustic.

"Thank you, Darce," Derek said, shoulders sagging in relief.

He fixed her a cup of instant—lots of cream—and delivered it to her while she helped Douglas navigate Netflix. Derek was able to get some paperwork in order in another room while they watched a movie. It wasn't exactly a break, but he'd take what he could get.

Until, that was, he heard Douglas' voice climb in volume. He hurried into the living room to find Darcy quickly pausing the movie, trying to calm Douglas down as he ranted, his face red, eyes wild.

"This town is fucking cursed." He spat, shrunken body vibrating in his armchair, "It's Hell itself. You can't get out of here! No one gets out of here if your blood is in the soil!"

Darcy shot Derek an apologetic look, motioning to the movie. The scene was paused on some graphic image of grotesque pigskin masks nailed to trees. A low-budget movie about cults or witches or curses, Derek didn't know. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, rushing over to Douglas to crouch beside him, hand on Douglas' leg.

"Dad, it's okay." He tried, expression neutral, "That place isn't real, it's just a movie."

"Sweetie, I tried to tell him," Darcy murmured, wringing her hands, looking nervous and uncomfortable as Douglas dismissed Derek's words entirely and launched into another heated tirade.

"You don't know anything, boy. This place is haunted. Ghosts everywhere. You can't see them, but they're there. In the shadows. In the ground. You come to this town to die!" Douglas ranted, not making sense.

Derek nodded at Darcy, an indication to get Douglas' medicine from the bathroom cabinet. She was gone and back in a flash, moving faster than her old body should allow, likely prompted by the unhinged scene Douglas was making.

Douglas grabbed Derek by the collar and pulled him in, stronger than Derek remembered him being in awhile. Spit on his chin and a sinister gleam in his eye, Douglas snarled, "You've had your head so far up your ass you can't see it. Ever since your foreign friend died. You were always a little bitch, but I never thought you were stupid."

Derek yanked himself out of Douglas' grasp, let Darcy take over in giving Douglas one of the pills to calm him down, get him drowsy. Derek retreated to the kitchen and held himself up on the counter, breathing like Meredith Chung had taught him. One deep inhale. Hold. Hold. Hold. One long exhale. Repeat.

Darcy came in a few minutes later, "He's quiet." She said it with sympathy, and Derek felt her boney hand on his back. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this. He's not the man he was."

"Yeah." Derek said, had nothing else to add.

"He loves you." Darcy assured, though she sounded remorseful, as if she didn't quite believe it anymore. "You're doing a good thing, Derek. Staying with him. He'd have no one else if it wasn't for you."

Derek stayed silent, and then, "He has you."

"That's not the same. I'm not family." He heard the subtle smile in her voice when she said, "Family is everything. Especially in these twilight years." Kinder, "It's hard when that shift happens and you find yourself having to take care of the ones who took care of you. But it's worth it in the end."

"I hope so," Derek muttered.

He straightened, gave her a tight smile and then wandered back to the other room to collect the paperwork he'd been sifting through. He tucked what he needed into a folder, checked in with Darcy to make sure she was able to stay for another hour, at least until the nurse arrived, and then walked out the door.

He groaned when as he turned around, none other than Claire Zomer stood at the bottom of the porch steps.

He was not in the mood for this.

"Hey. Why haven't you answered my texts?"

"Claire...you need to leave right now." He implored, noticing another car parked down the street that he recognized.

Claire didn't budge. "What'd you tell the cops?"

"Go home, Claire."

"Tell me." Then, her expression twisted in what Derek could only describe as fear. "I need to know what you said."

Derek had had enough of the bullshit. All of it. He needed to put it behind him if he was going to move forward.

"I told them the truth." He said. "That I took that money to pay off my dad's debt. And that's where I was the night Maddie disappeared, with my father."

Claire glanced away, shamefaced.

"Is that alright with you?" Derek demanded, feeling less inclined to hold it together. When Claire didn't say anything, "Cool. Can I go?"

As he made his way toward the car down the street, Claire called after him, "Did you say anything about me?"

Internally, Derek got in her face and screamed. Outwardly, he turned to face her, petty, digging, "You know what? I don't remember." And turned back, quick-stepping his way to Andrew's car.

He slid into the passenger's seat, head falling back on the headrest, and he released a weary sigh.

"Who was that?" Andrew asked, watching Claire get back into her car through the side mirror.

Derek rolled his head to the side and gave Andrew a pleading expression, "No questions?"

Andrew snorted, "It's nothing illegal, is it?"

"Fuck, no." Derek sat up straight, alarmed, "Nothing like that."

Andrew peered at Derek for a moment, smiled, "Alright, buddy, I believe you," then pulled into the road.

Derek pulled the rolled-up folder from his back pocket and opened it in his lap, reciting what he'd put together for Andrew to judge. They were on their way to see Andrew's niece's husband—a fucking mouthful. Dave. If Derek wanted to put the scandal and Split River behind him, he needed to sell the house, and Dave was apparently a top dog realtor, willing to do Andrew a solid and help Derek without commission.

He didn't know how he was going to explain it to his father. Or Darcy. Or anyone. But Split River had taken everything from Derek, including his dignity, and he was ready to make his life in the town past tense.

💀___________________________

PROLOGUE - PART TWO

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Kristian Ventura #Simon Elroy #Spencer MacPhearson #Xavier Baxter #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Moon

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dangermousie · 4 months ago

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The way this episode progresses, from the prologue when he family won't give her chicken soup as he overhears helplessly (!!!)

To midway through when he makes soup to feed her but claims it's leftover (as is his usual modus operandi; when he does all these nice things but invents excuses to her why it's not truly for her.)

To the ending, when he admits THIS IS JUST FOR HER aaaaaa. This is the first time in present timeline we've seen him actually being forthright that he's doing something just for her because of her to her etc etc. And I think it's because the longer they are together, the more comfortable he feels to admit his heart to her - he's not damaged the way she is but he's also been wounded so it takes time. But also - she so needed it. To be explicitly shown with no room for misunderstanding that even if she doesn't think she's worth cherishing, someone else does.

#cdrama #zhang ruonan #the first frost #bai jingting

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dragonbornphoenix · 11 days ago

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For @drarrymicrofic | prompt: slander words: 135

Modus Operandi 👨‍⚖️

Harry flinched as Hermione materialised next to him.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” he stage whispered, earning a slap upside the head. He grinned.

“How’s it going?” she asked, taking the seat reserved for her.

“Excellent!” Harry's enthusiasm was palpable. “First came slander; we progressed to libel, went back to belittling, and now they’re at the trash talking stage!”

“And shitposting. Blaise is on fire!”

Harry snorted. “Who’s doing Ron’s?”

“You need to ask?”

Hermione inclined her head towards George, who was typing furiously with an impish smile on his face.

“How long can you stay?” Harry asked, keeping one ear towards the imaginative insults their husbands were hurling at each other.

“Until the end. I cancelled my last meeting; I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

“Brilliant!” Harry said, gleeful. “Popcorn?!”

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry microfic #drarry squad #chaotic friends #ron and draco are best friends #but they will never admit it #imagine them in suits #meow #who said law can't be fun #I blame my job #dragonbornphoenix writes

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rigelmejo · 1 year ago

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Modu chapter 5. I love this scene. Fei du hams up the flirting so much, then when he's invited in he's not ready to take it. And Tao Ran takes that moment to let fei du down gently. But really, this scene says so much about how fei du uses flirting and other actions versus what he'd most like to.

不知道，一个字太少了，过度解读容易误导。”费渡一笑，“陶然，到你家了。”

陶然回过神来，这才意识到自己和他讨论的太多了，他推开车门正想走，忽然想起了什么，又回头问：“你吃饭了吗，上去等会，我给你下碗馄饨。”

费渡明显一愣，目光有一瞬间滑开了：“你邀请我去你家？不怕进展太快了？”

他虽然把话说得很暧昧，人却坐在车里没动。

“不想来就说不想来，反正你也不差这一口。”陶然握住车门，微微弯下腰，“手伸出来。”

费渡莫名其妙地伸出手，陶然掏出一把东西塞进他手心：“你想投入一片大海的时候，最好的办法是换好衣服，自己下去游两圈，而不是死抱着个救生圈在旁边泡脚——你并不想掰弯我，别再胡闹了，哥回家了，你回去开车慢点。”

费渡沉默地看着他走进有些老旧的筒子楼，低头看了看陶然给他的东西。那是他早晨送花时候夹的卡片，香水味还没散净，还有一把奶糖。

#lb #modu progress #modu #progress

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blueishspace · 8 months ago

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Hero Villain God 5

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

It started with wanting to find a place to live in, you know that such things are important for humans and you certainly aren't going to half ass this and roam around or something.

Now, how a human acquires one of those houses, you didn't know. You should have probably researched it or something...but you didn't really want to and in the end you ended up not needing to since apparently mortals put up ads and one was just the one for you: A man in search of a roommate.

You never had a roommate before and It's not like you had any better places to look into so you made a decision to just try it because, why not?

The man from the ad, a certain Mumbo Jumbo, looked like he was one bad day from nevrosis when you talked to him for the first time... It would have probably been better to introduce yourself via call or text instead of just walking to his house and knocking on his door... oops, oh well... He looks like he would have been extremely akward anyway.

The apartment itself is not particularly special, not that you expected anything different, but you don't really care about how it looks as you don't need anything. As for the roommate... Well it would be a waste not to, he just looks so fun.

"I'm in, where do I sign?"

"It's fine if you don't - Ah? Wait really?"

Was he expecting you to dislike it? Isn't you liking his whole objective? Ah, weirdo.

"Yeah yeah, really"

"O-oh! This is great!"

This man contains so much anxiety... You laugh a bit, you know It's a bit rude but you just can't help it.

... There is another reason you decided to go trough with this though, innocent as he may seem this guy is secretly a supervillain!

It wasn't that hard to look into his mind considering mortals rarely ever have any sort of mental defenses and see everything you need to know. At first you didn't know why a villain would want a roommate considering how counterproductive it is to have a potential witness so close to him but you don't need to look into his mind to realize he desperately needs to save money.

You did look into his villain persona just to be extra sure this wasn't a trap and he wouldn't try to stab you and accidentally reveal your divinity or something...It would be pretty akward.

Luckily the Boogeyman, weird name but you respect the hustle, seems more of a hacker-inventor type of villain and stabbing random people just doesn't seem fit his modus operandi... he's more of a mad scientist then a stabber and he's not going to be able to drug you anyway since you are a god...

This doesn't stop you from saying "You know, earlier the newspaper said they are sending a bunch of the top detectives to catch Boogeyman" and watching him tense up and sweat profusely.

Unfortunately trying to get him with a "What do you do for a living?" didn't work out, at least he had the foresight to prepare for that specific question...that being that he works with machinery and electronics which is technically not a lie considering what you know of Boogeyman...

You on the other hand did not share the same foreshight, luckily you already had a persona you wanted to try out and this was the perfect occasion to introduce her to the world..

"S-So, what about you? What do you do?"

"I am a singer, It's still a work in progress however"

"R-really?! That's...nice? What's your stage name? If you have one of course I wouldn't want to assume!"

Oh that, you already had one in mind! One that just screams talent! And fame.

"Oh It's Ariana, Ariana Griande!"

Munbo looks confused but he also looks like he is trying very hard not to speak... Not unusual for what you seen of him but still unexpected...Why?

"What's wrong?"

"O-oh! Nothing is wrong! I was just surprised It's a feminine name- Have I been misgendering you this whole time!?"

Oh right, when planning that name you forgot one thing... Human gender... So annoying.

There are a bunch of way you could explain it to him, you could say that It's an inside joke or something or you could try to explain how you view gender without revealing to him that you are a divine being older then gender itself or you could try to identify with one of the thousands labels mortal use... But you have already done the first two and you don't really want to make it too complicated for him. Who knows how much he can handle?

So you go with option four:

"Oh yeah, It's because I sing while in drag"

"Oh! That's cool!"

...

Hmmmm... Maybe you can try it out really quickly...

"I don't have the outfit here right now but I could sing something for you."

"R-really? Uh! Are you sure"

"Would I be asking otherwise?"

"U-uh Go ahead!"

It's been a while since you have sung to someone like this but singing has always felt calming to you... ...You begin singing to him of a soldier, a poet and a king. (Of a hero, a villain and a god).

*End of Chapter 1*

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #Hero villain god au #ariana griande

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caba-111 · 7 months ago

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how common are the worms from your lizard world in, like, large cities? do that have the same/similar rights as lizards, or is there bias or something?

There are only like... ~30 free Worms out there. Each one is unique and Worm Watchers, something of a subculture among artificers, can name each one by sight alone.

With so few worms, It's big news when a new one appears. The first thing a Free Worm deals with is a thorough inspection by the local authority on ancient and unusual things. Once they've been inspected and documented, worms are technically free to go. In practice, worms have no idea what to do, and they're almost always taken in by whatever community they wandered in to.

---

In The Heartland, worms occupy a nebulous zone between people and weird wildlife. They're treated somewhat like neurodivergent lizards, which is to say not very well. Some progressive families attempt to integrate them with varying degrees of success; otherwise, they make for very conspicuous (and economically useful) nameless.

The Federal Family and its successor have also taken guardianship of several worms. These "Government" worms are better cared for and treated slightly more like people, but for the most part, they're academic curiosities, and being an academic curiosity is every bit as lonely as being an outcast.

---

The Temple States generally agree that worms are agents of Heaven, but what that means is up for debate. Are they a representation of the perfects' wisdom, or their scorn?

Regardless of the symbolism, the Temple States are overall the most equitable. They believe that a person's capabilities are a gift, and it's their duty to help people express them. Worms aren't... the same sort of person as lizards.... but the general principle is the same, and the priests make a genuine if imperfect attempt to accommodate them. Unfortunately, the standard exams aren't really suited to non-lizards, and it's hard to have a normal social life when people think you're some kind of divine being.

---

In Duhr, if a bug or a rock is considered people, a being that can walk around, make decisions, and communicate with others is very much people. For that reason, respecting worms' agency is theoretically Duhr's modus operandi, but things are messier in practice.

For one thing, most Duhra are absolutely terrified of running afoul of the spirits of ancient technology. The fact that worms are made of ancient technology makes many people deeply hesitant to interact with them.

Worms' other problem, given their difficulty learning lizzer language or understanding lizzer social dynamics, is that they tend to be reliant on self-appointed translators and handlers. Some of these "guardians" are genuinely interested in helping them. But others are simply in it for a cut of the profits, the worst being exploitative and openly abusive.

#cabatext #the shell

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aspiringtrashpanda · 6 months ago

Text

My Nightbringer Season 3 Thoughts

Alright. Here we go. I have so many thoughts and I needed to write them all out. Please do not proceed past the cut unless you have completed Nightbringer lesson 60, for LOTS of spoilers lie ahead.

FIRST OFF, I want to acknowledge that this is being written prior to reading lesson 60 HARD because I have to finish lesson 59 HARD first and I need to yap.

SECONDLY, I want to say that I am not hating on the writers here AT ALL. Nightbringer has always been a slow burn. It was set up that way. The writers were absolutely forced into a corner here and had to wrap a long story up speedy quick and they did what they could in a short period of time. As someone who loves long fics and slow burns, I like to think I understand where they were trying to go with the story, and I do genuinely feel like the overall point of the Nightbringer season 3 art makes perfect sense, but the execution leaves more to be desired for a multitude of reasons.

So, let’s get into it.

WHAT WORKED

THE RAD SCIENCE FAIR

This may be a controversial opinion, but I believe the Science Fair was a great inclusion as it mirrors the progression of the human world over the years. Hear me out: considering we are spanning thousands of years here, it’s worth looking at the mentality of the human race over history. For a long time faith in your chosen religion was considered the answer to most troubles, and only in more recent history have we seen a shift towards a reliance on science and modern technology.

It is important to note that I am an atheist, though I strongly believe in freedom of religion. I’m drawing from basic observation here, and am not well-versed in the details of religion and science, but I do think it’s fair to say that we as a species have gone from believing illnesses to be due to demonic possession to looking for a more scientific reason why we’re coughing up blood. THUS, I think the Devildom Science Fair is a cool way to show this progression, but it leaves one problem: We don’t know the Celestial Realm’s views on all of this. See the next section on WHAT DIDN’T WORK for more on this.

The Science Fair did present numerous opportunities for light shenanigans with the cast that hint to other things going on, which has been Nightbringer’s modus operandi since the beginning. There is absolutely an issue with pacing here, however, but I will cover that later and again, not the writers’ fault. Regardless, the Science Fair started off strong. We had a great brotherly moment with Asmodeus and Leviathan, Mammon managed to win by still doing things his own way, and Satan shone in Beelzebub’s arc (RIP Beel, I’m so sorry.) Not to mention the slow reveal that something is going on with MC’s powers due to the time jumps and that there is unrest in the Devildom by those who don’t agree with Diavolo’s values and projects as the stand-in leader of the Devildom. We got a lot of information in between the lines, which is what Nightbringer does best.

On top of that, if the goal of the Science Fair was to a) introduce the biology component with the genes to aid in returning Simeon to exclusively a human, and b) culminate with the whole power imbalance that has the moon wanting to… fuck the MC or whatever, idk, changing the order in which the subjects are presented would have been beneficial. See the next section on WHAT DIDN’T WORK for more on this.

SIMEON'S ARC

It was clear from the moment it was revealed that the MC was returning to the original timeline that Simeon would be in the spotlight in Nightbringer season 3. Simeon’s corruption arc (or redemption arc) was executed well for the most part. Simeon’s motives and desires were in line with his character, and there was growth in his decision to try and work towards becoming an angel again, because he would still be part of the group regardless of his species.

Simeon saying “To me, it’s not so much ‘what I am’ as ‘who I’m with’ that matters” is a great way to summarize his little character arc. We’ve seen him thrive in caretaker roles (with Luke, of course), but it’s important that we acknowledge how badly he’s always wanted to be a part of the family the brothers have made for themselves. By refusing to become a demon, he’s fulfilling a caretaker role by providing company for Luke and Raphael, but he’s doing it on his own terms, understanding that he is loved no matter what.

It was cute watching the cast worry so much about Simeon, and really give their all to try and help him. The explanation in Lesson 58 that the Ring of Light purified the demonic energy from Simeon was very important, because at first I was just like… Simeon, you can’t just say you aren’t going to be a demon anymore and be cured. It doesn’t work like that, honey. BUT THEN AGAIN, we don’t know that because we have no idea how ideology in the Celestial Realm has changed over the years. This ties in perfectly with one of the main goals of the Science Fair, and how it would have worked well if executed better.

RAPHAEL'S ARC

Oh, sweet Raphael, you were absolutely supposed to be integrated into the intimacy system at this point in the initial planning. I’m sure of it. I don’t have too much to say on this, other than that it was some nice exposure on how lonely the Celestial Realm is. Which makes you wonder: is the Celestial Realm pretty empty or is Raphael simply mourning the loss of his closer friends? Again, there have been thousands of years since the brothers fell to now, and yet Raphael hasn’t made too many important new relationships in the Celestial Realm? Is there a lack of angels? Is this because of science being considered treasonous to Father and it’s increase of relevance in the modern world?

Questions aside, it was really nice to get a spotlight on Raphael and how much the rest of the cast mean to him/how much the rest of the cast care about him (lookin’ at you, Mephisto).

WHAT DIDN'T WORK

PACING, FORESHADOWING AND CHARACTER SPOTLIGHTS

Big sigh. Let’s talk about the devil elephants in the room right now, shall we? The last 5 or so lessons in this season were SO RUSHED, it was laughable. Multiple characters got completely bulldozed by the looming end of the season, and it was so frustrating as a Leviathan fan to get hardly any quality time with him (sorry to Belphie fans too, my goodness). Again, this is not the fault of the writers at all, but I would like to present that the season should have ended with the fallout from Raphael’s breakdown in Babel.

In my personal opinion, the main goal of season 3 should have been to return Simeon to human status, and the main goal of season 4 should have been to address the power imbalance due to the time jumping. As I mentioned earlier, Obey Me! has always excelled at providing information and foreshadowing between the lines. If the Devildom Biology and Devildom Studies competitions had been held earlier in the season (ideally after the Devildom Information Science finals), with outcomes indirectly related to Simeon’s genes and the magic of the moon, it would have noted something like genetics and historical magical surges in a manner that would foreshadow what is to come, hinted through shenanigans like with the trip to Meowcao. Then, season 3 would end with Raphael’s meltdown, Simeon deciding he doesn’t want to be a demon, and the Science Fair being put on hold momentarily for everyone to catch their bearings. Starting in season four, we could add so much more about MC’s protective magic surges, with Belphie and Satan inching closer to the truth about the time travel, and the magic balance being thrown off in the Devildom. Then, the entirety of what happened in lesson 60 would make much more sense and wouldn’t feel like it was just thrown at us out of nowhere. Not that the writers had any control over that, though. If only we were able to get one more season 😭

CELESTIAL REALM POINT OF VIEW

Someone in one of the servers I’m in mentioned that it’s annoying that we’re being given scientific solutions for moral consequences that were emphasized in the original game, and that’s why I think it’s possible the writers were trying to show the progression of science over many, many years. However, having no insight into how this progression is affecting the Celestial Realm creates confusion instead of intrigue. We are not given any clue to believe that “He” or “Father” has changed his stance on what is considered treason to the Celestial Realm. So to go from more ethical and moral reasons to cast beings out of the Celestial Realm, to sciencing away demon genes seems bizarre. Why would Simeon be welcomed back into the Celestial Realm because they forced the genes from his body? If he’s still being punished for a lack of loyalty to “Him��, then he hasn’t atoned for that at all.

And then, if it was alluded to that the Celestial Realm was willing to incorporate science into their forgiveness system, that still opens so many more questions regarding the reason the brothers fell in the first place. Would they be cast out of the Celestial Realm now? Of course, they would absolutely choose to remain in the Devildom if given the choice, but if both Simeon and Lucifer and co. were punished for acts of love (familial or romantic or platonic, just love in general) and Simeon is welcomed back while still standing by his choices, some sort of acknowledgement of how things have changed for the better would help tidy things up. We all live and learn, so if that’s the argument that the Celestial Realm wants to make, it needs to be a bit more clear.

Of course, Simeon does not officially return to angel status by the end of lesson 60, but he is invited to return to talk to Michael, so that’s kind of a big deal. Who knows what will happen next (if we continue on this story in another way, or something).

LOOSE ENDS

It’s time to talk about Nightbringer. I have… so many thoughts on who Nightbringer is, but there is no point in going into that because we will never, ever know, apparently. Leaving things vague is cool and all, but there’s a difference between “vague enough to theorize” and just “so vague it’s irrelevant”, and unfortunately the end of Nightbringer drifts into the territory of the latter. It no longer matters why MC was sent to the past to create a power imbalance (because isn’t that something–was MC sent to the past to make the pacts again and therefore cause a power imbalance that would draw the moon in and help a nameless demon usurp the throne/another realm gain an advantage over the Devildom?), because nothing ever comes of it, which is super unsatisfying.

There are other loose ends of course, too, but I’m too tired from writing all this to think about that right now, so feel free to talk about it in the comments.

FORCED LUCIFER KISS

Listen, I groaned so loud at this. I like Lucifer as a character but I cannot stand him as a romantic interest, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. Yes, the game absolutely supports polyamory and that’s cool and all, but I don’t wanna kiss Lucifer, okay. He is not part of my polycule and he never will be smh.

(sir why did you have to smooch me right in front of Levi?! His little hummingbird heart can’t take it and we all know I only wanna be with him.)

ANYWAY, thank you for coming to my TEDTalk. I needed to get this all off my chest. I love Obey Me! so much and I believe this IP has so much potential. I truly hope we can be optimistic about the future, but I know that’s hard to do right now. I’m here if anyone needs to talk about Nightbringer ending, and I still intend to create content for these silly characters 💕

#obey me nightbringer #obey me spoilers #nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me shall we date #nightbringer season three #lesson 60

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