#“kicked his ass” more like attempted war crimes

[nerdpoe]

Fourteen year old Tim teaches Young Justice about rationing food in an emergency. Except...Bruce hasn't taught him that yet.

Red Tornado praises his teaching abilities, stating that his lesson to the other kids had been both informative and practical. In fact, he'd assigned "homework" for the other Young Justice members to find and stock enough food for an emergency for a week.

Small problem.

Tim isn't slotted for that particular lesson until next week.

Bruce takes a step back.

Tim is always eager to learn, perhaps he'd just taught himself nutrition ahead of schedule and was sharing that lesson with his friends.

...Except his Robin's lesson hadn't involved emergency rations in the wild, just in an urban environment.

Bruce finds out rather early that Tim's parents are neglectful, and is very conflicted on how to deal with it.

He isn't in a good place mentally to adopt again.

But Tim cannot stay in that empty house.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP: Passion for Fashion

Danny Fenton's life is weird.

Ever since the accident that turned him into a helfa life has been throwing him around like a quarter in a dryer. He got good at rolling with the punches- fugitively and not- but every once in a while, he gets a surprise.

One of those surprises is his future self turning evil after killing his human side and eating Vlad's ghost side. Then he went on a world wide rampage that devastated the human race for almost two decades. Thankfully, he defeated him and locked up Dan between timelines, where he will spend all of entirely inside a thermos.

That was until Clockwork lost all sanity.

"What do you mean you let him out?" Danny slams his hands on the only table Clockwork owns. The time ghost doesn't seem moved by his outburst, not that the Accident ever does, as Clockwork often than not, was impassive with everything that has ever happened, could happen, or will happen.

Seeing all outcomes did that to a person.

"Two years have passed since his initial creation. That was enough time for the timeline that he came from to cease, as he never shaped humanity's history. This means, Daniel, that I could no longer hold Dan for a crime that does not exist."

"But he leveled nations, committed genocide and war crimes against the Infinite Realms! How can you say he is innocent!?"

Clockwork sighs. "I am not saying he is innocent but he did them in a time that ceased. All those nations stand tall, the people he killed never died, and all the war crimes were undone. I am saying he has never committed them in the first place."

Dan smirks from where he is rocking in a chair. Danny doesn't like the being's significant bulky form, so ready and dangerous, being so close to him. His counterpart could easily snap his neck with those beefy arms. "It seems I am free to go Brat."

Clockwork levels an unimpressed stare on his future self. "No, you are not. You still have the potential to commit crimes. Which is why Daniel is here."

Danny punches his fist, sneering at Dan, "You want me to kick his ass again?"

Dan snorts. He quirks a brow at Danny as if saying he found the threat to be nothing more than an amusing yelp from a small dog. Danny bristles.

"No," Said Clockwork "I want you to be his model for the Gotham fashion show."

What?

Dan leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. Danny is reminded of repeated offending students who get called into the principal's office but have lost all respect for the principal. They don't care. And neither does Dan.

"Apparently, I need to find a positive outlet for all my pent-up rage, and Clocky, here, thinks I could be a fashion designer." Dan snorts again.

Danny stares at Clockwork in betrayal. "You think he what?"

"I do not think. I know. I also know that neither of you will take this seriously, so I took the liberty of fusing a bomb into your cores. If you attempt to leave Gotham's city bounds, the bomb will go off, and you will cease."

Danny's and Dan's mouths drop open in a sickening mirror. They each reach into their chest only to slam their fingers against one of the clockwork's allurements pulsing against their cross. In a chill boning moment, they realize the Time Lord would kill them both without so much of a blink if it meant preserving the timeline.

Danny had often forgotten that Clockwork did not particularly care for him past his involvement with certain events.

"But- Modleing!? What does that have to do with anything?!"

For the first time in a long time, Clockwork smiled. "It is the catalyst of a turning point in Gotham."

"What the hell even is Gotham?" Dan demands slamming his own hands on the table. Danny is pushed out of the way to make the action possible which only irritates the younger more.

"Gotham is one of America's greatest crime infestive cities."

"Ugh, dude, that's not true.." Danny cuts in. "I've never heard of Gotham, and I've lived in America all my life."

"Not your timeline's America, Daniel."

"You're talking about an alternate universe. One that doesn't have a Daniel Fenton, doesn't it? " Dan questions crossing his arms. He rolls his eyes at Danny's confused gaze. "Honestly. And you call yourself the Ghost King. The Infinite Realms connect every living's things afterlife that, includes aliens and other universes. I never attacked any of them, but I did do some study on them."

"Dan is correct. This timeline has slowly been spiraling out of control due to Batman slowly losing whatever is left of his mind. His children are the only reason he's still considered Belovlent but he is going to lose them soon if he does not shape up. Your job is to make sure that does not happen."

"How do we do that?"

"By winning the Wayne Amature Fashion Show and ensuring Batman does not lose his humanity."

Dan snorts. "I can't help someone not lose their humanity. I don't have mine anymore."

"I believe you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't already have designs in mind for young Daniel."

Danny blinks as Dan carelessly shrugs his shoulder. He has designs already? Clockwork places two thick folders on the table. "Here are your backgrounds that will explain your apparence in that world. I expect you to memorize them and get used to them while in Gotham."

"Danny and Dan Fenton. Emancipated minor brothers from Santa Prisca who found their way to the USA with asylum when thier mother died getting them off the island. We're both meta-humans, with the ablitites to glow in the dark and make ice. " Danny read off squinting his eyes at the unfamilar words like "meta", "santa prisca" and most of all the ending part. "It says we're twins."

"Yes."

"Ummm he's like a thousand years old." Danny says pointing at Dan.

"I'm twenty-six"

"And still single. Ouch."

Clockwork raises his staff before Dan had a chance to answer. "I will of course be making adjustments."

Dan's body de-ages before Danny's eyes, dragging the man back into the body of a sixteen year old. Dan looks utterly bewildered for a only a few seconds before he opens his mouth a releases a string of spanish curse words.

Danny blinks. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

"I don't!" The teenage ghost sneers.

"You do now." Clockwork sighs putting down his staff. "As does Daniel. Santa Prisca is a Spanish's speaking country. It would not make sense if refugees from there did not speak the language. Now, good luck to you both, and remember, failing means I end your existence."

One blink to the next, Danny founds himself in the middle of a large city, with Dan- now in human form and looking identical to Danny- at his side with various suitcases surrounding them.

"I hate when he freezes time and moves me." Danny groans and Dan kicks the ground.

"How do we even know what a Batman is?"

"I guess we start here?" On the wall, is a flyer announcing the Wayne Armature Fashion show, with a cash prize of a fifty thousand dollars. A picture of a smiling man is printed on it with the words "Bruce Wayne as special judge." next to him.

"We have a house" Dan says flipping though his folder. "Crap knows how, but apparently it was left to us by a well meaning old man in his will. We should go there before we try to takle this whole Fashion show thing."

"Oh and you know so much about that."

"In case you forgot how to count boy, I was twenty-four when you sealed me away. Two years passed since then and I did not spend them in a thermos."

"What?"

"Clockwork let me out, but only in his haunt. I picked up a sewing machine after I failed to beat him in combat." Dan shrugs at the teenager's expression. "I know but I mellowed out a lot when my ordinal timeline ended. My madness went with it."

"How so?"

"I was mad with grief but you saved your family and friends, so that grief never came to be."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Time Paradoxes never make sense."

Danny sighs "This isn't the first mission Clockwork's ever sent me on either. I've never gone to a different timeline but I went back in time a lot to stop other ghosts from getting too powerful. I know all about time Paradoxes."

"Crap are we cops? Time Cops?"

"Ugh I think we are."

"That's terrible. We have to find this Batman and get him to therapy cause I will not be a cop."

Danny follows after Dan, who is muttering to himself while reading a outdated map of the city. He wonders if the other realized he spoke in Spanish or if it had been a unconscious thought. He hopes this mission won't take too long, he wants to get away from his greatest mistake as soon as he can.

And he needs to work on his walk if he's going to strut down the run way soon.

Ugh.

Across the city, Bruce narrows his eyes at the Batcomputer screen as two identical sixteen year old's stare back at him. He hasn't found that tied them with criminal activity but meta's from Santa Prisca of all places has set off more then one bell in his head.

"Keep a eye on them" He tells his children who are all reading the same thing. "I don't trust them."

"Do you trust anyone B?" Dick jokes but his smile is strained as he reads the contest rules., "Did you really make up a whole fashion show just to lure Dan Fenton?"

"He's shown signs of fashion inclinations."

"Yeah but why are we the judges." Tim complains "I don't a thing about fashion."

Steph, Duke, Damian and Cass all nod. Bruce, unwilling to admit he just wanted to spend time with his kids, only grunts "It's for the mission."

"Sure B."

[buckybarnesss]

May I purpose a fourth woman haunting the Teen Wolf narrative: Talia Hale?

Arguably, it was her Alpha spark that really started all this. Laura inherited it, Peter lured/killed Laura to get it and turned Scott with it, Derek came back to find out who had it and inherited it himself.

She was the one to tell Derek that just because they were predators they didn't have to be killers. In season 2, Deaton says he promised Talia to protect Derek because he was her emissary. She was deeply entwined with the Alpha pack, mostly Deucalion. She was there at the nemeton after Derek killed Paige and took his and Peter's memories of it, furthering the plot to frantically find it in 3A. Derek and Peter risked their lives to find her claws in 3B, so that Derek could hear her again. She was there to tell Malia's bio-mom, the Desert Wolf, the joy of motherhood. She helped hide Malia and cover up her adoption. She took Peter's memories of Malia, paving the way for Peter's attempt at a redemption arc in 6A (when he wakes up from the Wild Hunt after Malia calls him Dad) and Malia to find her identity beyond Peter and the Desert Wolf during season 5A.

(There was a bit in a fanwiki that said Talia might have been Peter's main guardian after losing their parents according to a flashback, but I don't actually know if this really happened)

The speculation that Talia may have been Peter's guardian is due to the fact they brought back Michael Fjordbak for Visionary. Michael had played a younger, more high school aged version of Peter in season 2 as part of his manipulations of Lydia. This led to him appearing much closer to Derek's age rather than Talia's.

Ian Nelson would've been about 18 playing young Derek, Michael Fjordbak was about 24 playing Peter and Alicia Coppola was about 45 as Talia.

This along with Peter and Cora's comments in the episode about werewolf aging led to speculation that there was a significant age gap between Talia and Peter. My personal opinion though? It's Peter's vanity. We have to remember he's telling a biased story in Visionary. Peter's age from Monstrous and the plaque from the basketball trophy place him roughly about 35 years old which is much more reasonable and seems more in line with Derek's comment about getting him thrown off campus.

I've always considered the Hales as ghosts in the story itself. The destruction of the Hale family by the Argents upset the balance of nature. Deaton alludes to as much. It's like the genocide of the Airbenders in ATLA or the loss of the Jedi in Star Wars. It's a crime against nature and left a gaping, bleeding wound behind.

I think we could consider Talia as haunting the narrative too for all the reasons you said. I say Laura haunts the narrative because her murder was the inciting incident that kicked off the events of the show and due to how often we revisit her death. I think of Laura's death as immutable, fixed point. Malia being found and returned to her family is even an inverse of Laura's fate. One Hale girl died in the woods and another was returned.

Talia is a character I desperately wish we'd gotten a bit more on. It still chaps my ass that the person who speaks most on her is Gerard Fucking Argent. Arguably the architect of her death.

@dear-massacre and I have come up with the theories that she wasn't necessarily as benevolent as we are led to believe.

[trashcankitty12]

Wow today's episode was a lot.

Chase: Dammit kid... I hate it for him. He never should have found out that way. Like, i don't blame Tracy because she honestly thought he already knew (and he should have been told sooner) but damn.

And having a meltdown like that? It hurt to see because that was me just a few months ago when my grandpa passed. I wanna hug him so bad.

Sprina: I hate that they must return to PC, but that's what the script demands. Hopefully this trip really solidified their relationship so that Portia and Esme can't fuck it up. (Or rather, any attempt falls flat.)

Also his heart eyes every time he looked at her!!!

Gregory and Alexis: unpopular opinion maybe, but I do enjoy wholesome friendships. And this is more wholesome than some of the friend groups on this show.

Charlotte: When the fuck did she even get close to Victor? I thought it was canon that she hated him for keeping her separated from Valentin? That she blamed him for her dad's "death"? When did the turn around happen? When did she start trusting him? (Is Helena's ghost or something possessing her through the cards? Weirder shit has happened.)

Valentin: I get that you as a father wanna protect your child, but you should at least tell Anna whats going on so Sonny's people won't accidentally hurt your child during her next vandalism session. Maybe get Charlotte therapy? And while I normally would never advocate for this, maybe search her room for things? Like a letter from your horrible sperm donor?

Gladys, Sonny: Im both glad and disappointed. Glad its out in the open and that Gladys knows she's been had and that Sasha will be okay.

However; Gladys was Sasha's guardian... Is that a moot point now? Will the judge just magically dissolve it after this? Who will take over for the interim if she must have one still?

Why can't Gladys stay and face justice for her crimes? She deserves to be sent to Pentonville or if you dont want tax payers giving her a life, he could have had her "taken for a permanent drive" instead of just back to Bridgeport. Like where's the scary mob boss people used to fear?

Sasha, Dante, Montague, Mac: Get him! Beat his ass! Take that syringe and get it tested!

Janice, you bitch, one single apology isnt enough, you best testify!

I want Montague to have a session with Sonny next. Except his had better be permanent. Or hell, turn off all the cameras and pretend not to notice anything at the holding cell and just let Cody beat him to death. Or use him for the horses to kick around when they get frustrated.

Sasha, baby you had better sue the fuck out of Ferncliff. You deserve to destroy them after everything they did to you. It's malpractice at best, a war crime against the Geneva Convention at worse. (Cruel and unusual punishments/torture)

[triplecatattack]

The Facial Hair Fiasco

Based on the ask I sent @cloudninetonine (as seen here ) and featuring her linksonas (also as seen here) I loved the concept and just wanted to elaborate further on it while I have a writing kick.

=================================

" I love your beard crypt I think it looks very nice on you."

We're the famous last words before nearly everyone stopped shaving one morning.

at first it wasn't noticeable with everyone trying to eat, pack up, and leave in a timely manner less important things like shaving and sometimes bathing (I will throw their asses in the nearest river soon so help me god!) Went the wayside.

at first it wasn't noticeable but.... then it was hard not to notice the amount of facial hair within the group.

First to boast was courage (the cocky bastard) strutting up to me like a peacock displaying his feathers or in this case his beard.

"So what do think sunshine my beard is way better than his." courage said, while waggling his eyebrows at me.

And after his display of course time and twilight followed.

Wars wanted to grow some but he said that

knights weren't allowed to grow facial hair as it "unbecoming of a soldier."he sighed disappointedly.

And of course dear rulie, tried his best but his attempt was lackluster compared to the others but while he didn't get a beard (however his stubble look was kinda nice ngl.) he still received a nice kiss for his efforts.

Gilt,mory, and four all wanted to grow theirs out more but didn't all for the same reason.

"If sparks hit our facial hair we would probably get burned y/n" four explained sadly.

Even Mecha was not immune to the facial hair fiasco as he woke up? (Do robots even sleep???)one morning to animal fur glued to his face only to realize this after he became aware of everyone's snickering at him no one admitted to the crime, however winds smug looks said enough.

And to be honest everyone looked nice with their facial hair but, crypt looks the best. (but that's only for him to hear.)

==================================

Truce/mory/crypt/iron/gilt are all @cloudninetonine OC's if you want to read more about the check out their blog.

And please let me know what you think.

[thegayhimbo]

☕Bill Compton understood more about the civil war then he let on.

In a general sense, he did. However, it's up in the air how much of this was due to Bill being his usual deceitful self, and how much was because of bad writing.

I talked about this a month ago with a comment I left on a video, and I'm going to repeat what I said there:

When it came to Bill's past in the first 6 seasons of the show, it's never established or hinted at that Bill had any problems with the treatment of black slaves during the Antebellum/Civil War period, nor was it established that he had issues with the Confederate's goal of gaining independence from the North. Bill even tells people at the Descendants of the Glorious Dead that he was "uneducated" and that he knew "little of the political or ideological conflicts that had led to this point." He even calls joining the war "a destiny handed down to us from above," like it was some kind of righteous cause he was fighting for. Furthermore, when Tara asks him about owning slaves, Bill whimsically recalls the slaves his father and family owned, much to Tara's disgust. Tara even later tells Sam that the very least Bill could have done was apologize to her, and didn't. This gives the impression that either Bill didn't see anything wrong with someone being a slave-owner, or he didn't give a shit about Tara's feelings.

Then Season 7 retconned all of this: Suddenly, Bill is "educated" and getting involved with the politics of the Civil War, which completely contradicts what he told people in season 1. We get a flashback of Bill going into a bar of Pro-Confederate and Pro-Slave southerners and preaching to everyone about how succeeding from the Union is a "lost cause," which predictably gets him kicked out for being "a Yankee sympathizer." We also get another flashback of him leading a poorly organized "Underground Railroad" movement in BROAD DAYLIGHT IN THE SOUTH that (not surprisingly) ends in failure.

Again, none of this was ever brought up in previous seasons. You'd think that if any of this was true, Bill would have mentioned it to Tara back in season 1 when she was questioning him about being a slave-owner. 🙄

What's hilarious is how the season 7 flashbacks were written as a way to whitewash Bill's past in an attempt to make him look good (and to get the audience to buy the half-assed redemption arc they gave him in the final season), and it doesn't work. Not only does Bill look like a moron in those flashbacks, but none of it erases Bill's crimes over the course of the show. At the end of the day, he's still a rapist, a misogynist, an abuser, a human trafficker, and a manipulative asshole who got thousands of people killed through his selfishness and lust for power. And instead of owning up to that, the writers kept trying to downplay the worst of what Bill did so they could pretend he was a good person. It made his character intolerable.

[the-firebird69]

You know a lot of people who want this idiot stopped and Trump didn't want to stop him and his people are going to jail the pseudo empire is going after him. The Mohawk did not come to Florida. They seem excited and up for stuff because they are getting kicked out and getting motivated and so muttering stuff and they look like hell Vanessa we're sitting here stifling him nobody wants to do work we're not going to run our plan and the empire is. Are the Volkswagen is the empire's plan and they checked it but the mini clubman is not. It has a history in Britain a lot of it is with them. It's meant to carry stuff and the name says stuff and they're going to try and do it

Stop moving started when they bought a Fiat by and our son said well that's French and it's going on now they're debating it so we're going to publish

Thor Freya

Olympus

But the whole truth is they're getting their asses handed to them today they're all getting fired and truthfully they're 45% fired and so far today 10% more it's not 100% recognizable but that's in Charlotte county was 55% outside it and 15% coming up today so far today about 8% and they fire people at the end of the day here. And that's all the more luck all the races and the pseudo empire things are taking over and will run things right now what's actually happening and I'm asked is this

; we are at war and these people are threatening our son and he has practically nothing and the income is a very bad thing

: the status updates are to inform people of what's actually happening what's happening here is the morllock are being pushed out on purpose by three major groups and one smaller group of people who are not affected mentally it is happening in a myriad of ways one of those ways is they're firing each other from all the jobs and think they're precluding each other and it's going on all over the world and it is picking up momentum

: they're losing all of their weaponry Trump is a major Target the others are now and it is going to pick up pace tonight in the Western hemisphere it was a little bit heftier in the eastern hemisphere they had about 35% emptied right now it's about 45% by the end of the night nobody evening it's going to be 50% because of the big ones on the West Coast

: along with the emptying of the stashes and caches they're going after the money and these people are being cut out of it and it is getting quicker there are major events happening they are trying to move the cars and the money and these people want to protect their ships and to do so and the foreigners want to use it as well and it is increasing tempo and they're attempted robberies at his bank and each one of them and her bank all the time and people that they know these people are upset their money is code too and they're pissed off and they're starting to understand but they don't have any sympathy and their spin

: I'm an invasion is planned for tonight while they're getting kicked out of here and allow their evacuating they are a disheveled disorganized group they are dilapidating as we said they would they have people who are very sick and getting very sick now and more sick people on the way oxygen is increasing and it's due to fertilizer being blown into the ocean and because of the depth of the ocean the algae is coming in closer as of last week late last week the algae bloom was cited almost from shore it's about 40 miles away instead of about 90 miles oxygen is going to come in and the ship itself is going to force it in heat up the waters which it always does and it will grow faster and it's getting to be a higher oxygen already and that's one reason why they're dying the other reason is that there losing power Florida they're also are a lot of assaults thefts batteries hate crimes and these people are drinking a lot more and they're losing their grip and they're getting arrested a lot and getting pulled out for a behavior of course does not help them there are several School incidents a day in Florida people have had it with going back to school and they've had it with the teachers who treat them badly there are more things happening we have to take a break and we'll be right back

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

They're a couple ships heating up I know it's about 1 billion and it's a half of what John remillard has left almost half and it's going to be 1.4 billion and we are going to take care of it and we are listening to Thor and Freya and we'll be right back too

Savage oppress

[theoldandnewfirm]

While my mind is on this train

Pondering the implications of Walter's past on his relationship with Barbara got me thinking about the man himself, which in turn led me to jot down what I think some of his defining traits are. I may throw my own hat in the ring of "stricklake baggage fics" but idk man my brain is blowing fumes right now as far as writing goes

Anyone can feel free to add to/contest these. He's a fun guy to try and pin down given that he's a big ol' ball of contradictions!

Strickler negatives

Murderer: Has super definitely killed people. A LOT of people. Like, "he's a walking war crime" levels of people. Not to mention he's ordered the deaths of countless more either directly or through the Order's actions

Ruthless: Jim and Barbara were the exception and not the rule

Selfish: will prioritize his own needs over those of anyone else, even people he claims to care about

Manipulative: excellent at using people to get what he wants

Petty: he's a centuries old being who became a high school principle solely to torment his 16-year-old rival. 'nuff said.

Amoral: it's not about good or bad, it's about effectiveness and discretion

Strickler neutrals

Pragmatic: focuses on the big picture, will do what it takes to keep that on track

Calculating: he's a plans within plans kind of guy

Meticulous: if a job must be done it's worth doing it well. Gets frustrated when other people (BULAR) do something to screw up his carefully constructed plans

Adaptable: adjusts short and long-term strategies to suit changing conditions. Also comes with the territory as a changeling

Quick-thinking: same as above, but on a by-the-minute level

Combat skills: kicks ass unless his enemy is a teenage boy who's operating on zero sleep, 5 minutes of sword training, and a can-do attitude

Dedicated: until he isn't. See: S2 "I only care about changelings" vs S3 "I only care about Barbara."

Strickler positives

Patient: he's not standing still, he's lying in wait

Charismatic: he's an engaging and interesting person to be around. Hell, he even makes stories about attempted murder entertaining!

Educated: vast historical and magical knowledge that the trolls don't have access to

Romantic: his wooing game is STRONG

Compassionate: when he chooses to be. His relationship with Jim prior to the whole Trollhunter thing is a good example of that.

Loyal: to Barbara exclusively. He was ready to sacrifice the world for her, whereas he was ready to sacrifice Jim to stop Morgana. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Gentle: when he chooses to be. He appears to be doing wonderfully with the familiars in the .003 seconds we see of he and Barbara looking after them

Sincere: again, when he chooses to be. Pretty much exclusively to/with Jim and Barbara

Resourceful: Has a big bag of tricks full of things needed to save his own ass. Also, troll coke.

Confident: you don't get to lead an organization like the Janus Order by being indecisive

British Accent: Invalidates the entire "negatives" section. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

[stayatiny]

The King ~Chapter Four

Pairing(s) King!Werewolf! Bang Chan x Human!Reader Series Warning(s) – Swearing, Violence, Wolf Dynamics, Smut (in later chapters) and along with others that will be added later. Chapter warning(s) – Lots of Swearing, almost fight A/N – Thank you to everyone who has followed, like and reblogged. I feel someone shaking me awake. I crack one eye open to see Hannah. She’s in everyday clothing. “Hey, Y/N, its time to get up its 10am.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Your brother brought you some clothes. I'll help you get dressed if you need to,” she said. I throw my legs over the side of the bed. I was able to stand on my own and put weight on my ankle. “Good it looks like you can get around on your own now. But do you still need me to help you?” I shook my head. “No, I think I got it. But if I need you, I’ll call you,” I say grabbing my clothes. She nodded, happily and sat on the bed. I was still hobbling not really wanting to put weight on it yet but some. My brother brought me a t-shirt and jean shorts and even some sneakers. I finish getting dressed and handing my dirty clothes to Hannah. Jay even thought about packing a scrunchie for my hair. He knows me so well.

“Chris wanted to make sure that you ate before meeting with him. He knows that you have a lot of questions.” I nod and follow her into the dining room. She linked her arm with mine. I used to roam around these halls with her and Chris when we were young. Before our parents died, our family were the closest nobles to the royal family. So much so that us kids would play together. We hung out and played together constantly. But when I turned twelve, our parents were killed by the king. “Our chef made some French toast and hash browns. I think those are still your favorite, right,” she asked. I nodded. I’m surprised she remembered that. Although I was twenty now, I still eat like a child. “Good.” We continued in silence as she opened the dining room door to see Jay and Chris sitting at the table. “Good morning, Y/N,” Jay said letting me sit by him. I sat quietly while they talked. Chris smiled at me as I sat across from him. I half smiled back. “Did you sleep well?” I nodded looking around the dining room. Nothing really changed except the wall color was now a pale cream color instead of navy blue. I looked over at Chris. He was in a plain white shirt now, but I noticed some stray blood on his face. It was too small of a splatter to be his. I shudder to think on what happened to the suspect. I had heard that his three years as a king he is quite brutal when it came to crimes against his people human or not. Hannah pointed it out to Chris as he wiped his face. “Good. Food should be ready soon and then we can talk, okay?” I took a sip of water. “Okay.” We ate while talking about the olden days of our childhood like nothing ever changed. “Okay, I have to go to work. Chris will make sure that you get home alright?” Jay hugged me and kissed my forehead. Great alone again with Chris… “Y/N, come with me.” I hear Chris say. He grabs my wrist lightly and pulls me into his office once again. It brought back the memories of me finding out the truth a pang of guilt and sadness surging through me. “I’m sure that you have a lot of questions.” He sat in his chair waiting on me to say something. “Just one. Why?” He let out a sigh. He got up and stood in front of me leaning on the oak desk. “From what we gathered, they knew that you wouldn’t have a normal life and they though that killing us would make it better for the humans. But in all honesty, it probably would have led to another war between the two. I don’t blame them for wanting better for you,” he explained. “Why am I just now finding out about this?” Chris frowned. “You should have been told when it happened. I wish someone had I feel like you would have been around more had you known the truth.” I feel myself blush. I do have to admit that I did have a crush on him when I was young. “Maybe I would have. Everything is so different now that you are king.” He frowns again. “I’m still the same guy just with power and not as awkward.” I chuckle. He was. I was getting ready to hug him when fucking Miranda busted through the door. Motherfucker… “Chrisy, I was so worried about you,” she said going to hug him, pushing me out of the way again. I roll my eyes. Hannah followed in after her. “Miranda, leave my brother alone and go home. Also how did you even get in the castle grounds they’re off limits to the public right now?” Miranda smiled. “My mother works for yours remember so she let me in to see Chris,” she said putting her hands on her hips. She glared at me. “What is she doing here then,” she huffed and then pointing to me. I clenched my fist and my teeth. “I mean considering Y/N’s brother works here and my brother was protecting her last night. I also believe that’s its none of your fucking business to know why she’s here. Their family is still one of the most powerful families out there so I would watch who you’re talking too.” Hannah is in her face. Holy shit I forgot how kick ass she is. “At least my family didn’t commit treason.” Before I knew what I was doing. I lunged forward but Chris grabbed me holding me by the waist. “She’s not worth it, Y/N,” Chris

whispered in my ear. I kept trying to get after her. “You need to leave,” Hannah said, looking like she’s ready to her herself. Miranda flicked her hair back. “Fine then but wait till everyone hears that the human is hanging with the big dogs again.” She left out of the room leaving the tension at a high. Chris still held me in case I went after her. “Are you alright now?” I looked at Chris. I fixed my shirt that had raised from him grabbing me. “Yeah I’m fine,” I huffed. Not really but I didn’t want to end back up into his arms again. “I’ll tell mother that Miranda was let in. Why don’t you take Y/N back home? I’m sure she has work tomorrow,” Hannah said, looking to her brother. Oh yeah right full moons a thing. “Right. I’ll walk you home. Do you still know the back way?” I nodded as we left the office. We would take a lone path behind the castle that led to our house. I was tired and ready for a hot shower and my bed. Chris led to the path it was only slightly overgrown with colorful flowers, weeds, and vines. Even though grown over the ghost of a path still remained prominent. “It looks so different out here. But there again it has been years since I’ve been through here,” I said then letting out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah I didn’t realize how beautiful the flowers are through here,” he says smiling. I blush lightly. He grabbed my hand leading me down the path. “You know as kids we were pretty wild, right?” I looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah we were even up until…you know. We were always in trouble.” Chris nodded as we neared our back gate. As we reached my house, Chris stopped me from going in his eyes changing color. “What’s wrong Chris?” He pushed me to the side of the house gently. He points to the door. Its slightly ajar but I never open the back door “Stay here. Someone’s been in your house besides your brother,” he explained and headed in. My hearts starts to pound while waiting for Chris to come back. After a lifetime, or about 10 minutes he comes back out. “You’re gonna wanna see this,” he says following me into the house. Everything was still in place until I got to the basement door. I stared at Chris. He gave me a nod letting me its okay. “What did you keep down here?” My brows knitted together that’s when it hit me. “When my parents papers and journals were seized when the assassination attempt was made what ever was left my uncle put down in the basement,” I said flipping on the light. As light filled the room, I see everything thrown around papers, documents, even our baby pictures laid scattered on the floor. Chris bent down to look at what’s left of the papers. “There’s nothing here but old grocery lists, drawings you and your brother did, and receipts. What ever it was they didn’t find it and left.” I nodded. But what were they looking for?

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Ok, here's the thing.

How the fuck do you continue the Great War.

Ok, Lord Narafiin is defeated, the gates of Oblivion he just opened are slammed shut, and his corpse is spirited away to the realm of Boethia.

Cyrodil is liberated from the Thalmor by Emperor Titus Mede II, and peace talks are drafted.

How, in the name of fuck, so you keep fighting after that.

Ok, basing ourselves purely on TES Legends Lore and Skyrim Lore Books:

1) Two whole ass legions have been destroyed, and a third has deserted and is currently aiding Hammerfell in their own resistance.

2) The remaining legions are also on the brink of deserting, in fact, some of them were in open revolt by the time they managed to flee into Skyrim and clamouring to abandon Cyrodil and fortify there.

3) While this happens, Cloud Ruler Temple has fallen, and the Blades are in hiding or dead. Of the last 4 last surviving Blades, two are in hiding in Skyrim, one has died during the retaking of the Imperial City, another will die in Skyrim later on.

4) Lord Narafiin, Thalmor Warlord on the Cyrodil Front, infamously committed several war crimes while the Imperial Province was under his control, among them the killing of Civilians, the razing to the ground and salting of the countryside, and the torture of prisoners of war, among other things.

5) This culminates with the Culling, the literal sacrifice of the entire population of the Imperial City, thus allowing him to open back the gates of Oblivion via a dread ritual, and swarming the province with Daedras for the entirety of the battle for the Imperial Capital.

6) As all of this happens, the Emperor is wounded critically during an assassination attempt, forcing him to use a body double for the siege.

So, Here I ask, how is the empire supposed to retaliate here? How are they supposed to go on?

They can't do a defensive war like Hammerfell will. Their province is a harsh desert, and the Altmer forces can barely hold on the Costal town thanks to their Fleet before being kicked out. The Imperial Province, on the other hand, is a land of gentle hills and medieval forests, one whose main farmland has just been razed to the ground. It's not a Jungle after all, whose harsh terrain would have made invasion more difficult, and its main food sources have been cut, the Empire can't survive another defensive war, not when troops are so few, and morale is so low as it is.

Attack Alinor? With what fleet and what army I ask? The empire was caught unprepared by the Great War because, indeed, they didn't expect being invaded in the first place, they didn't prepare for any of this, and their fleet, even if it wasn't razed to the ground alongside the port towns of Cyrodil, can't still really deal with the might of Alinor's navy.

The empire is stuck in a impasse. If they keep defending, they'll starve and revolt, If they keep attacking, they'll never reach Alinor, even with the fresh northern troops of the last minute, those who barely survived the horrors of war, this task would be impossible.

Especially when you remember that Alinor and the other Dominion lands weren't even touched by the War. They lost Narafiin and his connection to Boethia, and they were forced to hold Hammerfell for years before being kicked out, yes, but their mainland hadn't suffered the same horrors as the Imperial City or Hammerfell did in the end.

So, the white gold concordat was a godsend. It was the only way for them to survive in that specific moment in time, buying them enough respite to recuperate and, hopefully, rebuild their army and power for the years to come, in sight of another great war.

[yarbz]

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

 ━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

[internalsealpanic]

Lesson Learned

summary: Pinning exercises are a lot easier when you ask nicely.

a/n: The backstory to this piece was that I went to the church part of our discord server and told people about me being thirsty about Slade and they collectively went: DO HIM. The reader does have a backstory which boils down to rich girl from a crime family is a little shit because I thought this would have a funny dynamic with Slade.  Special thanks to @batarella and @knightfall05x for proof reading and giving me ideas. Would this count as my one entry for kinktober? 

warnings:  This is straight up smut. Please read responsibly. Brat taming, strength kink, daddy kink, orgasm denial, and hinted size kink. (Hilariously half of these were by complete accident.) There is some injury mentioned but not too graphically. Both characters are assholes.   

masterlist

Slade was on the ground, his head was swimming even as the sharp shriek of sirens rang loud in his ears. His senses were at once too sharp and too unfocused. Whatever drug he'd been hit with had to have targeted the nerves in his muscles too. He couldn't move. Not substantially anyway. Not in a way that would actually help him.  Through the haze he hears the clicking of heels against the floor, then a sharp pain shoots through him when said heel dug into one of his still closing bullet wounds. 

 You stood above him, your shark's smile hidden behind your mask.  "Well old man, I didn't think you would be caught this easy. I might need to rethink this meeting." You hummed tapping your chin as you lean down your heel digging further into his flesh. It's a tactic your sister had taught you. People were less inclined to think clearly when in excruciating pain.  If Deathstroke was this easy to capture, was he really worth your money? 

 He was watching you, blue eyes looking defiant. You whistled low. You liked a hard negotiation. It kept things more interesting. The rapid footsteps of men drew you out of your contemplation much to your annoyance. You debated on just paying them to go away. It would make your life easier but there's a chance these men were truly loyal to the man you had just paid a visit to.

 You weigh your options. His reputation may be enough to keep your siblings away. Maybe just long enough 'til their petty little war is over. "I'm going to hire you-"

 "-this assumes I'm going to say yes"

 You snorted. He noted the confident roll in your shoulders, the kind of cocky self-assured gesture of someone who knows they're going to win.  Every movement, every angling of your form deliberately used to show a difference in power and lack of respect. In short, it made you very punchable.

 "Your statement assumes you have a choice." You chuckled tilting your head to the side in challenge. He scowled at you and you try to keep the sheer delight you feel out of your body language. You weren't sadistic by any means but for one, brutality was practically bred into you, and two, you are, what your darling eldest brother had so kindly put, a  little bitch.  "I'll tell you why you'll say yes to my proposal." You said stepping off of him and pirouetting towards your duffle bag. "One, I'm offering your more than a million dollars in cash for the simple job of training me-" You observed his face as it remains carefully impassive. You expected as much. You heft your bag into your arms and unzip it rummaging through the cache of weapons you had stored just in case plan A through F failed you. "Unless we're associated, I'm the only one walking out of here with any money for their troubles." You said tossing the severed head of his target in front of him. You gave him an all too pleased grin. 

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

 You find yourself pinned down again in the span of 15 minutes, face squished against the training mat, your arms pinned behind you, and most annoyingly your ass raised while your bastard of an instructor laughs in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You hiss and bristle feeling the fibers in your muscles burn from the uncomfortable angle they've been forced into.  You squirm trying to buck him off but his strength rendered your efforts moot. His enhanced strength keeps your body firmly between the sweat-covered mat and his large, toned body which just made you bite your lip to keep anything vulgar from escaping you. 

 You were 110% sure he was fucking with you at this point but any smart remark you had was either smothered by the mat or died whenever you felt acutely aware of your skin against his.  

 "Get off of me, old man," You snarl, making a futile attempt to kick him off with one of your legs. He chuckles at your weak attempts, the reverberations from his chest pressing against your back sending a thrum of excitement rolling over you concentrating into more distracting areas. You can't see it but you know he's grinning smugly above you and you can't decide whether it's your horniness or your anger that will win out. You sincerely hope it's the latter. 

 "C'mon, kid, you can get out of this," He encourages but you don't miss the playful mockery dancing in his tone. You squirm and wriggle and sigh. "Just let me out," You demand, politely. He doesn't budge. You turn your head to pout petulantly at him. That doesn't do anything either. 

 You sigh again. You hated pinning exercises with a carefully cultivated passion which you would normally direct at whatever instructor was dumb enough to force it upon you. However, that wasn't really possible as of this moment. One of the reasons for this hatred was that you were never pinned down unless you wanted to be, even then they were usually too hesitant to follow through so you never really saw any practical use for the skill. That is until last week when you found yourself being pinned down by the Red Hood which was honestly a fantastic position if you weren't trying to get away from him. Apparently, the large man didn't take too kindly to being shot at even when your very professional self explained that you were in fact a decoy. After you were entirely unable to slip his hold, you begrudgingly agreed to let Slade teach you a few maneuvers. The other reason was that you liked being pinned down. Your body is far too enthusiastic about the feeling of being pinned down. You're pretty sure you've expended more energy into suppressing your thrilled shivers than you have trying to get out of any of the holds he's demonstrated so far.  The fact that he was an attractive asshole with no shirt did not help.    

 "Maybe if you ask nicely, princess" He drawls his teeth grazing your ear, beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You bite back a groan and stop the cant of your hips. "Or are you even capable of that?"

 "I am, sir" You grind out but it sounds too breathy to be threatening. You feel the curve of his lips against your shoulder.

 "Dunno, brat, I've never seen you do it," He taunts pressing closer to you. You're suddenly aware of just how close you two are. You hate how the way he called you brat sent thrills up your spine. You try to even your breath but you're entirely too feverish both body and mind. You had to think of something before you were lost in a haze.

 You nudge your arm one last time before an idea strikes. A familiar shark-like grin spreads like wildfire across your features. Pressing your ass against his crotch, you roll your hips, the movement slow and deliberate and painfully tempting. Sure, it was a dirty trick but 1) he never said anything about using your assets 2) you've been wanting to do that since the first hold. You feel his muscles tense and you can't help but radiate smugness.  Your smile vanishes, however, when he rolls his hips against yours giving you a feel of his hardened length through the thin fabric of your gym shorts. The slow, tantalizing friction against your core draws out a vulgar moan from you. 

 "Do you wanna run that by me again, brat?" He whispers low and husky emphasizing the last word with another grind of his hip. You pant, hips answering back with their own desperate movement. You want to let your hips keep moving, to make him move, to feel his cock against your core but pride flared in your chest. "Make me." You bite out. "I really should teach you some manners."You feel the low rumble of his answer in response seemingly amused by your continued resistance. He rocks his hips against yours drawing out another breathy moan from you. Out of spite you bite your bottom lip and rock your hips in tandem with his. What did you hope to accomplish from this? You don't know but it certainly felt good. Your skin feels hot and oversensitive as your bodies continue to move at this rhythm. The feel of his muscles rippling against you makes you arch your back. You wanted more but you had too much pride. As if spurred on by the movement, he presses a kiss on your shoulder and sucks at your flesh, a rough hand grips your waist tight enough to bruise. "Slade!" You choke out losing your composure.  The cry sounds more like a plea than you would like. You sound so small and needy beneath his ministrations. 

 Distilling your anger into your weakening limbs you try to buck him off again. You make a small noise of triumph when he budges but whine when his grip on you just gets tighter. "Not quite, princess,"  

 He flips you onto your back. A hand pins both your arms above your head as he situates himself between your legs. His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, the type where you feel two bodies fighting each other for dominance. His teeth bite lightly against your bottom lip asking for entrance. You open your lips less in concession and more of a challenge. The wet muscles of your tongues entangle. Your nose is filled with the musk of him. It was overwhelming. You moan into the kiss and you feel him smile into it. Another small victory. 

 Slade ends the kiss having undeniably won the match. You try to move your hand to punch the grin off his face but again your hands don't budge. You curse his enhanced strength halfheartedly as the feeling of the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach takes over. Instead of diving back in for another kiss as you expected, Slade trails kisses down your jawline, your throat, and your collar bone leaving very defined very visible hickeys. There was something oddly possessive in his actions.  The look in his eye was predatory. 

 You, foolishly, let your attention wander to your hands seeing what angle you could possibly force them into so you can slip his grip and maybe turn the tables. Your attention snaps back to him when the pressure around your chest loosens and the distinct sound of a zipper fills your ears. Your eyes widen as you watch as he unzips the front of your sports bra with his teeth. Your breath catches even as your chest fills with the lack of constriction. Your too hot skin is grazed by the training room's cold air. He places a kiss in the valley between your breasts but when you whimper and move slightly urging him to proceed. He moves on to your stomach. "Asshat" You seethe through gritted teeth. You let out a groan of frustration. You were going to kill him. You honestly don't care if you've just wasted half a billion dollars on this asshole. 

 His kisses drift down to your inner thigh drawing a moan from you. Slade chuckles seeing your desire seeping through the thin fabric of your shorts. He isn't entirely surprised considering how unsubtle you are about your interest. A rare moment of embarrassment blankets you. Your legs try to close but rough hands pry them apart placing them on his broad shoulders. You bite your lip when he plants a kiss on your inner thigh. Your lips are puffy and red at this point, looking delicious as you panted. Slade wonders how your lips would feel around his cock but he decides he'll save that for another time. He hooks his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and his eye widens momentarily when he doesn't feel a second layer of fabric underneath it. He looks at you incredulously.

 You shrug trying to keep the mischief off your face looking absolutely unapologetic. "It's laundry day-" You shrug a little amused that this is the detail that caught him off guard. "-I did tell you I had stuff to do~"He also supposedly had stuff to do but, apparently, you were stuff. He chuckled and without dignifying your comment with an actual response, he rips your shorts off with ease and tosses them somewhere behind him.  A complaint or a threat, you weren't entirely sure, died on your lips when his tongue gave your core a nice long lick. A loud, needy keen escapes you. Your hands now free from his grasp dig into his scalp.  Pleased with your reaction he continues. His skilled tongue exploring your core hitting spots you didn't even know were there. Your hips meet to match his pace as he fucks you with his tongue. You whine when he withdraws his tongue but mewl loud and wanton when you feel two rough fingers stretching your insides. His mouth latches onto your sensitive bud, fingers pumping in and out.  You throw your head back not being able to contain your moans.

 "Look at me, brat," The command is deep and resonant. Your whole body buzzes with excitement. Slade can see your eyes dilate as his voice drops an octave. 

 "Yes," Your breath hitches when he doesn't move. "Sir" You add as a concession hoping it was enough. You felt your pride waning from the small piece of power being given away. Thankfully, he rewards you with another long lick before you can dwell on it. Slade watches as your face twists in pleasure trying your best not to throw your head back. You see the smugness on his face even when half of his face is buried between your legs. You don't attempt a threat simply because you don't trust whatever comes out of your mouth to be coherent. You were so close. You rock your hips trying to chase your high. Your skin is flush and glistening with sweat. You were so close. He feels your walls tightening around his fingers. Another needy keen escapes you as you were about to tip over the edge. 

 The motherfucker pulls back. You snarl at him but it comes out sounding more like a needy croon than anything else. He chuckles at you even as he captures your lips for another kiss. His tongue is thick with the taste of you. Your hand tangles itself into his hair while the other tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants.  He pulls away giving your lips one last nip before his body is off of you. It's funny how just moments ago you wanted him off of you badly enough that you'd play any dirty trick you could think of but now your skin is burning for his touch.  He takes off his sweat pants and his engorged cock slaps against his abs. It takes every brain cell at your disposal not to drool at the sight of it. He was BIG. You wonder briefly if he would even fit.  

 He spits on his cock rubbing his head against your thoroughly soaked folds. You mewl. A playful look in his eye does not go unnoticed but you were far too preoccupied with other concerns. Thankfully, so did he. Slade eases into your pussy in slow shallow thrusts. You can physically feel your walls stretching inch by inch as he works his way into your tight pussy. He can feel every bit of resistance your pussy is putting up. It's his turn to hiss when he finally bottoms out. Your walls cling to his member trying to milk it for all its worth. You drag your nails down from his shoulder to his arms. You pout when his skin heals immediately. You wanted to mark him as he did you but apparently, his healing factor was not up to being kinky today.   

 He laughs at your little protest and gives you a quick kiss. He begins to thrust shallow and languid. Your lips are locked in, sensually nibbling at each other's lips. You arch your back pressing your chest against his musculature savoring every bit of stimulation you could get.   You cant your hips against his urging him to go faster. His large hand grips your hips and pins them down. The coil in your stomach grows tighter at the ease at which he stops you. You feel him grin against your hot skin. 

 "Didn't I say I would teach you some manners?" He pulls himself out leaving you feeling hollow and wanting. You're pretty sure if you weren't drunk on your arousal the look in your eyes would be nothing short of murder, however, this was not the case, Whatever venom you had in you vanished in a swirl of neediness that racked your body. Your cant your hips uselessly trying to find friction only to be met with cool air. 

 "Slade pleeeeaaase!"

 You gasp, as a sharp stinging sensation on your pussy knocks the breath out of you. Slade gives you an expectant look. 

 "Sir, plea-"

 Another slap. Your back arches.  You’re panting heavy, mind swirling and searching. 

 "Daddy please!" The words tumble from your lips thoughtlessly. You both freeze. Slade's face is unreadable making you want to shrink away and let the earth swallow you whole. Panic rises in your chest until you feel his hips slam against yours. The force is enough to knock the breath out of you. He manhandles your body to fuck you at a better angle. His grip on your thighs tight and bruising. You whimper when he dips his head down near yours pressing kisses to your jaw and the pulsating flesh of your neck leaving your mouth free to moan his name like a mantra.   A deep resonant growl rumbles in his chest sending thrills through your skin into your spine. Your hardened nipples drag against his chest as they bounce with his pace. His cock pumps in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You were absolutely going mad over his rough pace but it wasn't enough to push you over. You were both so close.

 "Daddy, please! I- I need-" Slade's cock twitches. His pace goes from animalistic to punishing in the space of a heartbeat. He growls into your ear as he reaches down to rub your clit with skilled, calloused fingers. Your walls tighten around him as you go over the edge.  Your orgasm hits you in a flurry of heat and electricity. He fucks you through it as he chases his own. He pulls out his cock. Ropes of cum covering your chest and your stomach. 

 He lays beside you pulling you close. You moan quietly still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting an open-mouthed kiss. You ease into his hold and close your eyes. 

 "See how easy your life is when you're a good girl, princess," He whispers mockingly into your ear. You raise a middle finger at him too fucked out to care whether it actually conveyed as much venom as you wanted it to. 

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Thanks for reading! Next week will be our regularly scheduled fluff unless I get possessed by the thirst muses. 

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[songofclarity]

I must have missed that part where it was someone other than Nie MingJue who let Meng Yao join his Sect? Who stood up to all the people who would insult Meng Yao for his low birth? Who looked Meng Yao in the face and acknowledged him as a capable and intelligent person who deserved opportunities in life? Who wrote a recommendation letter to Meng Yao's dad and Sect Leader to give Meng Yao a fighting chance to get to where he wanted to go? Who became sworn brothers with Meng Yao in an attempt to guide him on the right path and toward his full potential?

These are not the actions of someone who is oblivious to class and social expectations. When Meng Yao served tea at Hejian, when all the other guests in the room snubbed him, when Lan XiChen thanked him and drank from the cup, Lan XiChen was not starting something new. Lan XiChen was adding support to what Nie MingJue was already, publicly doing on Meng Yao’s behalf.

Nie MingJue, as shown at the cave, is not blind to how Meng Yao is treated by others. He absolutely doesn’t tolerate it, but he also doesn’t believe what those people think should matter in the scope of things.

Nie MingJue, "A proper man should carry himself with proud righteousness. There's no need to care for the talk of those idlers." (ERS, ch 48)

No, Nie MingJue is not dismissing what those people were saying. He’s simply pointing out that Meng Yao shouldn’t feel bad about what they are saying because their words do not define him. In a story that warns about the dangers of rumors and mob mentality, Nie MingJue is one of our shining protagonists. He makes decisions for himself and gives opportunities where they are due. No one save Lan XiChen, whom he trusts as a good and honorable person, has any sway over him. Rumors and the power of the mob simply do not work on Nie MingJue, who lives by doing the right thing rather than what is convenient, which is why Jin GuangYao and the Jin Sect find it more convenient to kill him later.

And no, Nie MingJue does not treat Meng Yao like a servant! Nie MingJue has never treated Meng Yao like a servant. Please stop saying that because it’s wrong. It ignores everything we know about Nie MingJue’s character and Meng Yao’s aggressive self-agency policy.

[On] the front lines, one person was used as though there were six; there wasn't any space for maids and servants at all. And so, these everyday trivialities had also been willingly accepted by [Meng Yao], his deputy. (ERS, ch. 48)

Meng Yao was Nie MingJue’s deputy (he became an important person because Nie MingJue saw him as a person first!) and Meng Yao volunteered for his roles. Why? Because he is ambitious and the best place to find opportunities and learn things is to be in the middle of things.

(Nie disciple,) "Resigned your ass. He's put so much energy into this. Don't you see how hard he's working? Everyday he runs around trying to get on everyone's good sides. He's sick for hoping to accomplish something so that his dad accepts him." (ERS, ch. 48)

Meng Yao is smart and opportunistic and he is thriving in the Nie Sect as Nie MingJue’s deputy. With Nie MingJue having acknowledged him, no one dares say a word against him. All they can do is just suffer dehydration and not drink the tea Meng Yao offers them in their silent protest. Lan XiChen is the second pillar holding up this arch and giving Meng Yao room to breath, but the one who gave Meng Yao a place out of the rain was Nie MingJue.

Nie MingJue never sees the detestable and non-empathetic side of Meng Yao until Meng Yao leaves the Nie Sect. Meng Yao murders the Jin disciple, Meng Yao murders the Nie disciples, Meng Yao abuses Nie MingJue in Nightless City, Meng Yao is protecting Xue Yang at the cost of dozens or hundreds of innocent people who don’t want to be murdered by Xue Yang, and Meng Yao insinuates that he’s willing to sacrifice everyone else for his own ambitions before he’ll ever put his own neck on the line.

Nie MingJue’s main dispute with Meng Yao is a moral one first and foremost. He never accuses Meng Yao or Jin GuangYao of being a bad person or one who is nonredeemable. Nie MingJue gives Jin GuangYao opportunities to redeem himself until the utter, bitter end. His dispute is that Meng Yao/Jin GuangYao is killing a lot of people who should not be killed. His dispute is that Meng Yao/Jin GuangYao is sacrificing innocent people for his own political gain.

This is LEAGUES away from the Meng Yao whom Nie MingJue sought after the battle for doing a good job in his duties at protecting the common folk. The problem is that Meng Yao never protected those people because they deserved to be protected. He protected them because he was doing a good job. Within the Nie Sect, protecting people was a job. Within the Jin Sect, killing people is a job. Jin GuangYao is never shown feeling for them in any way -- which is at odds with Nie MingJue, who feels very, very deeply over the murder of his Nie subordinates to the point he’s wiling to commit suicide to give them justice.

Nie MingJue is part of the elite but he also shows, repeatedly, that his role is to protect and defend, not to rule and dominate. (This is a novel-centered rambling but there’s a whole other conversation that needs to be had about CQL, Nie MingJue, and that chair.) The common folk deserve to live and the strong are meant to protect the weak. Meng Yao benefited from Nie MingJue using his status to give Meng Yao a hand-up in the world when no one else would.

Lan XiChen wields his pristine manners to defend Meng Yao to the rudeness in the room, but the only one he’s willing to speak to on Meng Yao’s behalf is Nie MingJue, Lan XiChen’s closest companion. Not even Lan XiChen writes a recommendation on Meng Yao’s behalf for having saved his life. Because it’s always been Nie MingJue, the one willing to forgive and accept and protect, who was Meng Yao and later Jin GuangYao’s greatest ally.

Therefore it comes to reason that if Lan XIChen can reconcile Nie MingJue and Meng Yao, Nie MingJue will continue to do what Lan XiChen, for one reason and another, cannot: tell people to shut the fuck up and think about what they are saying.

It just so happens the one who needs to be told to shut the fuck up and think about what he’s saying, what he’s doing, is actually Jin GuangYao.

Meng Yao joined the Jin sect the first time because Nie MingJue supported him to do so. Meng Yao returned to the Jin sect as a war hero because Nie MingJue supported him to do so -- even though by all rights NIe MingJue should have killed him for what he had done to the Jin disciple and at Nightless City, spy or no spy. Meng Yao was acknowledged by his father in large part because Nie MingJue forgave him for his crimes and offered him another opportunity to succeed at life. There was no way Jin GuangShan could let Nie MingJue and Lan XiChen gain all the glory. It looked bad for Jin GuangShan to continue to pretend that his now war-hero son didn’t exist, thus Jin GuangShan was forced to acknowledge Meng Yao as well despite it being abundantly clear that Jin GuangShan still didn’t want him.

So Meng Yao now Jin GuangYao is where he wants to be. He wants to preserve and use the elitist establishment that Nie MingJue had shoved aside in order to give Jin GuangYao his first chance at opportunity. The entitled system that kicked Meng Yao down the Koi Tower steps was the same system Jin GuangYao was defending when Nie MingJue kicked him down as well.

And the moment Nie MingJue showed he meant to protect and help other pitiful and innocent people from abuses caused by the system that kicked Meng Yao down the stairs that first time, Jin GuangYao murdered him for it.

But just because Jin GuangYao is an ungrateful little shit doesn’t mean what Nie MingJue did or tried to do to help him doesn’t matter or didn’t happen. It just means that Jin GuangYao is an ungrateful little shit. Please stop trying to make Jin GuangYao’s sins a fault in Nie MingJue’s character. Nie MingJue did his best for him, which is why Jin GuangYao lived in fear of him until the very end.

Nie MingJue, "Well you've really discerned where [HuaiSang's] heart lies, haven't you?"

Jin GuangYao smiled, "Of course. Isn't that what I'm the best at? The only person whom I can't discern is you, Brother." (Ch. 49)

Jin GuangYao never did a deed without expecting to gain something from it while Nie MingJue gave and forgave and asked for nothing in return. How terrifying it must have been for Jin GuangYao to be in a debt of kindness that he could never repay with all the acquired riches at his possession.

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me Chapter 4: The Andrew Curtis Case

Guys I am so sorry this took so long. On top of school kicking my ass, I had to rewrite and reedit this chapter several times until I got to one that I deemed worthy. I am going to try and post Chapter Five early for you guys if I can. 

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Rape, Abuse

Masterlist 

Spencer glanced around the room at all the police officers assembled. He cleared his throat. 

“The Unsub is a white male in his late 20s to mid-30s. He is a man with an average build and a friendly face, someone who women would not pose as a threat.”

“Since there were no signs of forced entry, we believe he’s posing as someone who women would let into their house. Classic cases of this include maintenance men there to check up on things, someone who needs help after their car broke down, or a similar case like that.” Emily explained. “This is a man who fakes confidence, but in reality views himself as inadequate in some way, he knows he can’t fight off another man, so he chooses women who live alone and are essentially defenseless.” 

“Yet, he hates that they are successful enough to support themselves or that they have any sort of power.” Morgan chimed in.

“He clearly was cheated on or had some sort of marital issue that caused him to spiral into this spree. He is a sexual sadist projecting his partner onto the women he attacks, that’s why he chokes them, watching the life drain from their eyes sparks something in him and gives him a sense of power. That is also why he rapes his victims, he loves the idea that he is all powerful and they are helpless.” Hotch explained. 

Spencer swallowed, “Comparing his last four victims it seems his type is 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/C/E).” 

Which coincidentally looks like the love of my life. Spencer thought, repressing a shudder.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer starred in shock at the scene around him. He was just finishing up the geographical profile, when they had received a call about yet another body. 

Her empty bulking eyes stared up at the ceiling, her body was beaten, cut, and bruised. 

“Strangulation marks on her neck, multiple stab wounds and injuries, this looks like our unsub.” Emily resisted the urge to shudder. 

“Man, whoever cheated on this guy, must have really broken him.” Morgan mused, looking around at the bloody scribblings on the wall. 

Spencer knew that if they tested the blood on the wall, it would match the victims. He looked at the frames on the wall, trying to ignore the blood that seemed to coat everything. The victim had her diploma hung up and multiple pictures of her smiling with family or friends. Spencer stared hard at the name on the diploma; Adria Winston.

It scared Spencer how easily he could see you in this woman’s place. Injured, dying, pleading for him, for anyone to save you-

“Reid. Reid, are you alright?” Morgan clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, drawing him back to the present. 

Spencer shook himself out of his dazed state. “Yeah, uh I just need to step out for a second.” He said, pushing past Morgan and making his way outside Adria’s house. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number, it was late, so you would most likely be asleep, but-

You picked up on the third ring. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Spencer bit back a smile at the sleepiness in your voice.

“Not really, but I just really needed to hear your voice. How is Ohio?” Spencer asked, trying to distract himself from what he just saw. You could tell, but you played along with it. 

“Not too bad, whoever designed the Google lounge has nothing on me.” You joked. 

“Well, we already knew that.” Spencer smiled. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe some of the cool stuff I found, I’m telling you if the employees complain about these amazing comfy chairs I got for their break room, I am totally coming back and stealing all 22 of them for my apartment.” You said enthusiastically. “They're perfect for reading in Spence, I’m telling you, you would love them.” 

Spencer let out a little laugh, “I’m sure they are. We will have to see if we can find some, but I don’t think 22 will fit in either of our apartments.” 

“I suppose you’re right” You sighed dramatically, but then took a more serious tone of voice. “Are you alright baby?” 

Spencer’s chest tightened at your worried tone of voice. “There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, swallowing back tears. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.” 

“Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood. 

Spencer let out a small laugh and sniffled. “Trust me the team is going to love you. We will have to figure out when you can meet them, but I definitely want to wait until things settle down a bit here.” 

There was silence on your end for a second. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer heart skipped a beat, as much as he wanted you safe and sound, he also needed to hold you in his arms to keep his sanity. But ultimately you were the one who should lead your life, not Spencer.  “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

Spencer could have sworn his heart stopped. The two of you hadn’t said I love you yet. Part of him wished it was in person, but just hearing you say it, meant the world to him. “I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

So help him god, Spencer would catch whoever this unsub was and put him away, so you could come home to a safer city. 

________________________________________________________________

“You know what strikes me as funny?” Emily asked, looking at the crime scene photos. 

The room was silent, waiting to hear what she had to say. 

“Each of these unsubs reported strange gifts and letters being sent to their home. The police had thought it was nothing, but now I am thinking that maybe this could be a connection. I mean think about it, didn’t you guys notice that each victim received a gift box wrapped the exact same way?” 

Morgan nodded. “Yeah they had the white box with the red bow-”

Spencer chimed in, “Red typically symbolizes love and infatuation, but in this case it was the unsub’s warning, red meant war or violence was about to come upon this victim.” 

“Reid and JJ I want you to talk to the officers and get the reports these women filed for harassment, I think we are missing a connection.” Hotch ordered. 

An hour or so later they had that connection.  

“All of the victims received their gifts from a delivery service called ‘Special Delivery.’” JJ explained to everyone. 

“Well it seems we have to pay them a visit.” Hotch said. 

________________________________________________________________

Special Delivery was a small Ma and Pa store, located just a couple blocks from Ava’s coffee shop. Spencer debated on stopping in to check in with her and maybe grab the team coffee. 

Spencer had quickly taken a liking to Ava, not only because he had called him your “sexy superhero boyfriend,” but because she was a reliable friend to you, one who always managed to bring a smile to your face. She reminded Spencer of a more wild Emily, in the best way possible.

Emily stopped outside the storefront window, glancing at the display of chocolates, gift baskets, and jewelry. “Why is it always the cute small places that get ruined? Can’t it be one of those big corporate offices that fuck over their employees instead?” 

Spencer huffed a laugh. 

As they entered the store, the bell let out a delicate twinkle. Causing a silver-streaked brunette to pop out from the back of the store. Her round face held a warm smile as she approached them. 

“Hello dears! What can I do for you?” She asked as she excitedly clasped her hands together.

“Hello Mrs. Ellison, my name is SSA Prentiss and this is Dr. Reid, we had a few questions for you.” Emily said gently, flashing her badge to the woman. 

The woman's smile dimmed a bit, “Oh, uh of course, is everything alright?” 

“Mrs. Ellison I am sure you’ve heard of the recent tragedies-” Emily began, 

“Oh yes, I’ve been keeping up with the news, it’s just dreadful that something so horrible could happen so close to home. You see these things in movies or in other places, but you just never expect them to happen right near you.” Mrs. Ellison said sorrowfully, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mrs. Ellison, I am afraid everyone of these victims received several deliveries from your shop. Each was wrapped exactly the same, white box, red bow, does this ring any bells for you?” Spencer asked, cutting to the chase. 

“Well dear, it is Valentine season, red, pink, and white are the typical go to colors.” She shrugged. 

“Do you have any regulars? He would have each gift he bought wrapped the exact same way? He would seem friendly, but would be on the quieter side?” Emily asked, attempting to prod the older woman’s memory. 

“I’m afraid none of that is ringing any bells dear, I am so sorry.” Mrs. Ellison said apologetically. 

“Do you have any other employees? Or do you run this place all by yourself?” Spencer asked. 

Mrs. Ellison, let out a small laugh, “Oh goodness me, no. I get so many orders, I could never do it by myself. I previously had three employees, Jess, Remy, and Andrew, but I had to fire Andrew when I found him stealing from our stock. It was a shame too, he was a hardworking boy, but I’m afraid he just fell apart after his wife left him.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a quick glance. “Do you happen to know why his wife left him?” Spencer asked, his heart picking up speed. 

“Oh it's not my business to share-” Mrs. Ellison hesitated. 

“Please Mrs. Ellison, this could be crucial information.” Emily urged her. 

Mrs. Ellison let out a sigh. “That horrible girl cheated on him. I just couldn’t understand it either, Drew was such a doting gentleman to her, it simply didn’t make sense.” 

“Do you still have his contact information? His address?” 

“Why of course, but you couldn’t possibly think he has anything to do with this-” Mrs. Ellison began, making her way to behind the counter to grab a binder. She looked up worried when Spencer and Emily didn’t answer right away. “Do you?” She urged. 

“It’s quite possible he had nothing to do with it, we just need to follow through with every angle.” Emily quickly explained. 

“Of course.” Mrs. Ellison said, but her hands slightly shook as she opened up her binder to get Andrew’s address. 

________________________________________________________________

“Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, open up.” Hotch hollered from outside the door. There was no response. Hotch looked to his team to make sure they were ready, then kicked in the door. 

As the team checked different rooms, several calls of “Clear!” echoed throughout the house. Curtis was not there. 

Morgan made his way to the basement and swallowed back a gag. “Hotch! You better come see this.” 

Guns at the ready, Spencer, Hotch, Rossi, and Emily, made their way down to Morgan. 

“What the hell.” Emily huffed as they all beheld the horrific sight before them. 

It was a girl, for sure. She had the same mutilated marks as far as they could tell, but her body was decently decayed. 

“He’s displaying her like a trophy.” Spencer observed. “He props her up naked and makes sure her wounds are fully on display to remind him what he did.”

“There’s more trophies over here.” Rossi said in disgust, gesturing to a shelf full of different valuables. 

“He’s sick.” Morgan hissed. 

“We need a med team down here to remove a body. As soon as it’s IDed we need to know and alert any next of kin.” Hotch ordered into his earpiece. 

Rossi put on a glove and began to go through the other trophies for evidence. “I’ll talk to the victims families and see if any of them recognize these items.” 

Morgan dialed up Garcia. 

“Speak and be heard, the all-knowing goddess listens.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to look up any missing person’s reports from around this area. The victim has (y/c/h) and (y/c/e). She fits our victimology to a t, but we need to figure out who she is.”

“I’m on it.” Garcia said. 

“And Garcia,” Hotch said, stopping her before she hung up. “I need you to find a license plate for Andrew Curtis. Also check to see if he rents or owns any other property, he’s currently not at his home and it is too close to other buildings for his victims to not be heard.” 

“You got it. Talk soon.” She said, hanging up. 

About half an hour later Garcia got back to them. “Curtis drives a 2003 silver sedan with the license plate 637-IRT. I also found that he rents a small storage unit that’s a 20 minute drive in a more secluded part of town. I am sending the address to you guys now.” 

“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said. He turned to JJ “I need you to get an APB on Curtis. I want you to warn the public to keep an eye out for him.” 

JJ nodded and rushed off with her phone. Hotch looked to the rest of the team. “Everyone else, vests on, we are heading to that storage unit.”

________________________________________________________________

“Fuck Drew, what are we going to do?” The boy asked as he looked at the screen projecting a news report on Andrew Curtis.

“Well, it might be the end for me, little brother, but I have you as my legacy. They don’t have a clue that you are even involved, so I need you to get out of here.”

“No, no, no. I am not going to leave you!” The Boy cried, tears streaming down his face. 

Drew huffed a laugh. “Now, now, little bro. It isn’t the time for tears. I’ve taught you everything you need to know. You need to get your girl from that Doctor remember?”

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” The Boy asked, fear filled his voice. 

“Your time will come. You have to be a man about this. You have the skills now and you have our little videos to watch. Your own little tutorial to pluck that girl right out of Dr. Reid’s hands. You need to hide those and hide them well. Promise me you won’t fuck up your chance.” Drew growled. 

The Boy whimpered and Drew smacked him. “Promise me!” He yelled. 

“I promise.” The Boy sobbed, grabbing at his pained cheek.

Drew’s face softened and he gave the boy a smile. “Good, now get out of here legacy and make me proud. I expect to see you on the news someday.” He winked. “You remember our code right?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Then this isn’t the last time we will speak to each other. Now get the fuck out of here, I already fucked with the security footage, so they won’t even know you were here.” Drew explained, pushing the boy out towards the parking lot. 

The Boy’s heart broke as he rushed from his mentor, not only because he knew he would never be able to see Drew in person after this, but because he knew that he would never be able to ruin the 6th victim. The sixth whore that was tied up in the trunk of Drew’s car. 

________________________________________________________________

The girl sobs were muffled by her gag. Drew pulled on her hair harder as he dragged her to the storage unit. He knew he didn’t have much time left, so he might as well let every moment count huh?

The girl’s sobs turned into terrified screams as she beheld the bloodied storage room and the various knives and devices within it. 

“Shut up you stupid bitch.” He growled in her ear.

The girl whimpered something and Drew ripped away her gag. 

“Please.” She begged and Drew simply laughed as he lugged her limp body towards the table in the center of the room.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I have a family who cares about me-” She pleaded. 

“Whores don’t have families. Whores have nothing. They just cheat and lie and move onto the next guy. Huh Madelyn?” He growled as he threw her up onto the table.

“My name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily-” The girl sobbed.

“Enough of your lies Madelyn. You stupid slut. You couldn’t stay loyal could you?” Drew snarled, hitting the girl’s head hard against the table.

She sobbed harder. “My name is Emily, my name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily.” She babbled.

“SHUT UP.” He said, hitting her again.

Suddenly a shout rose up from outside the storage unit door. “Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, come out with your hands raised.” 

The smile that crept across Drew’s face was wicked. He grabbed a knife and pulled Emily against him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He whispered in her ear. 

“Andrew Curtis, this is your last warning. We will come in armed and ready.” Hotch’s voice shouted again. 

Drew remained where he was, the sick smile on his face, as tears streamed down Emily’s face. 

When the door burst open and several agents poured in, he did not flinch or cower away. 

“Drop the weapon.” Hotch boomed, his voice echoing in the space.

“Now, now, now, where would the fun be in that?” Drew mocked. 

“Put down the weapon, Curtis and let the girl go.” Rossi ordered. 

Drew’s eyes looked past all of them and fell on Spencer, he bit back a smile.

“Come any closer and I’ll slice her throat.” Drew threatened, pressing the knife harder to Emily’s throat, a few drops of crimson blossomed and crept down her neck.

“If you don’t let Miss Bloise go, then we will be forced to take action Mr. Curtis.” Rossi explained.

Drew’s hand shook, god he wanted them to come at him, but then he thought of his mentee, how lost he would be without him. 

He lowered the knife and let the girl go. She ran towards one of the agents, tears mixing with the blood that ran down her neck. JJ wrapped an arm around the girl and guided her out. 

Morgan rushed to Curtis, pinning him down against the floor and putting cuffs around his wrists. 

Though they had caught him, Hotch felt uneasy. Curtis had given in too quickly. The greasy smile across Curtis’s face as Morgan led him away only heightened his suspicions. 

________________________________________________________________

The team sat outside the interrogation room, watching as Hotch tried to get a rise out of Andrew Curtis. He and JJ had gone in; Hotch to be the intimidator, JJ to be the trigger as she looked a bit similar to the victims. So far the man had just sat in the chair, his arms crossed, silent and smirking. It had been almost an hour and they had gotten nothing out of him.

Spencer felt as though Curtis could see him through the two-way mirror. 

“You know Agent,” Curtis began. “I know you’re trying to be the big bad wolf, but it’s not going to work, I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

Morgan looked about ready to kick in the door and beat the confession out of Andrew. 

“Send me in, I’ll get an answer out of him” Morgan growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Unfortunately, the confession won’t stand up in court if they found out you beat the shit out of Curtis to get it” Emily smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“The Court doesn’t have to know” Morgan argued, making Emily scoff. 

“Focus kids.” Rossi ordered sternly, but Spencer could tell he was fighting back a small smile. 

Hotch and JJ came out of the room. Hotch looked to Spencer, his expression grim. “He wants to talk with you.”

Spencer looked at Hotch confused, “Why me?”

“He’s ‘fascinated by you’” Hotch explained. “I know it’s not ideal and you don’t have to go in their Reid, but-”

“But, we could get the confession out of him. We have the charges for Miss Bloise, but we want to pin him for the other girls he attacked. I understand and I will do it.” Spencer said. 

“I’ll stick with you Spence” JJ reassured, putting a hand on his arm. “You won’t be alone.”

Spencer nodded, sending a grateful look JJ’s way as they made their way into the interrogation room.

“Ah the elusive doctor. So glad you could join us.” Drew purred.

Spencer said nothing as he moved to sit down across from Curtis.

“-your wife left you Mr. Curtis, is that correct?” JJ asked.

“Please doll, a pretty thing like you can call me Drew” Drew said, looking JJ up and down. 

Spencer’s fists clenched in anger as he felt JJ tense next to him.

“The file says she left you after she cheated on you. Did you have medical issues Mr. Curtis?” Reid asked, drawing Curtis’s attention to him. “Did you struggle to please your own wife?”

Curtis growled. “That stupid whore has nothing to do with this.” 

“Ah so you couldn’t and when she left you for a man that could, you projected your anger for her onto these women. You were angry at them for being confident and independent, much like your wife who knew what she wanted.” Spencer said, sitting back in his chair with a faint smirk. 

“These women were nothing but whores, willing to let men in like me. They wanted someone so badly they let a stranger into their house.” Curtis hissed.

“Mr. Curtis, you were a delivery man. They didn’t let you in, you forced your way into their homes didn’t you?”

“If a man needs a glass of water, can’t he let himself in?” Curtis purred. “They turned their backs on a predator and got what was coming to them.” 

“Did you attack them in their homes?” JJ asked. 

“Only to make them quiet, couldn’t have the neighbors hear them scream.” Curtis laughed and Spencer resisted the urge to choke out the man across from him. 

They placed images of all of his supposed victim’s before him. “Do you recognize these women?” JJ asked, her voice harsh and cold. 

Curtis looked over all of them, silent for a couple minutes. Spencer’s patience thinned. “Well?” 

Curtis pointed to an image of Lila Jennings, the third victim of this case. “She screamed the loudest.” He pointed to another image. “She was a hot piece of ass, it was fun breaking her.” 

“Enough.” Spencer hissed. 

“In short Doctor, yes I do recognize these women. Every single one of them and no I do not regret a single one.”

Without saying another word, JJ and Spencer got up, taking the files with them. Curtis’s laughter rang out behind them as they shut the door.

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[entropic-introspection]

Final Fantasy XIV: A Quick(ish) Summary As Told By Someone Too Lazy To Recheck Exact Times/Things

1.0- We don't talk about it

A Realm Reborn (ARR)- for some strange reason the world got like, completely blown up 5 years ago, crazy! You are some dumb kid from nowhere in particular, with nothing but the clothes on your back and a weapon that is little more than a chunk of wood, or a book. Possibly just your fists. You have got 50 levels and a shitload of lore to get through until you reach the first expansion.

Essentially: you don't have enough money for chicken nuggets, your fashion game is nonexistent, and every high level player calls you a sprout and exhibits Concern about your every action (they mean well).

Garlemald bad, Ascians bad, Eorzea uhhh trying to be good but kinda racist/capitalist/pirates with a history of colonialism, Coerthas is French Catholic and in the Crusades with the dragons. Hydaelin... good? Confusing, for sure, often referred to as Mother in text. Primals bad and scary, but fortunately you are immune to their mind-fuckery techniques thanks to Crystal Mom and surprisingly good at kicking their asses. Garleans mad that you ""savages"" keep killing Primals, despite having a whole mandate against Primals and Primal summoning. Ascians mad that you keep killing Primals because Ascians are dicks. People die, there is an amnesia plot, some annoying twerp is annoyingly right about a lot of things and also you can't get rid of him, Moogles, possession, fucking Ancient Aliens Allagans (if it's a problem in ARR, it's Ascians or Allagans aight), and hey ho you go and kick Garlean asses until they throw a giant machine at you that they stuffed full of Primal juice. Such devastation-!

Then there is the slightly post ARR stuff, where we're still level 50-ish but not really into the next expansion. So basically, we meet Dragon Dad who slaps Crystal Mom's blessing off of you to build character, Ascians are once again dicks, Who The Hell Names These Things, wow Lysanderoth you're definitely not suspicious at all, and our annoying twerp is dabbling in politics and for some reason you're getting fond of him?? Just in time for...

Heavensward (Lvl 50-60)- Congratulations, you are now an enemy of the state! We return/flee to French Catholic Coerthas/Ishgard, where we get to room with our Dear Friend, Haurchefant.

Don't mind how all the high leveled players have started crying. This expansion is emotionally devastating, has a great storyline, and also features canonical consensual dragon vore as a plot point. You know that tweet that's all "Church bad because they won't let you fuck dragons"? Yes, that's Heavensward. You will still cry. We embark on an epic road trip with the annoying twerp (ft his existential teenage crisis), a famous dragon killer and sadboi, and a famous lady who advocates peace/fucking dragons. Somehow, none of you kill each other. Instead, you murder a weirdly attractive bug-man with good music and a desire for violence, a giant flying whale, and some old dudes. You also beat up the same Ascian from the first bit, again. And again, in his final(?) form. Dragon Dad has come along to watch your progress, and also check on his kids cause he's actually, y'know, the entire progenitor of the dragon race. Wow! His family is very sad, mostly. But he does like you, so hey, he can adopt you and have one kid that turned out ok and happy! Hahahahha there's no therapists in Eorzea :')

Then we get to deal with "Hey we ended your like 500 year+ Crusade and kind of upended your social structures, y'all good?" (no), something something Warriors of Darkness, something something Urianger sus, then ALISAIE JOINS THE PARTY. I love her ok, let me have this. She's the annoying twerp's twin, and she's more inclined to hitting things that politics and philosophy. She's also kind of crushing on you. Also Minfillia kinda fucks off to nowhere, which is weird, b/c she has been Important but also Not Involved with the plot for like. 8 years.

Stormblood (Lvl 60-70)- Return of Lysanderoth! Briefly. Before he fucks you over, again. And a bunch of other people, honestly. But hey, this puts Eorzea in open contention with Garlemald for the first time in years, instead of them hovering in an uneasy cold war. For the first goddamn time in the game, you canonically get your ass kicked. Hard. So hard you decide fuck it! And go overseas to Fantasy Japan/China to visit some nice people you helped out earlier. You get catfished. You meet a weeb. There's some pirates, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. There's Ravana take 2, this time in a slightly more 'Forever 21' phase. Wild, young, free, REJOICE.

You attempt to inspire rebellion (since your character doesn't talk much, this is quite difficult). Garleans crack down, and hey look, the dude who kicked your ass is back! Prince Zenos Yae Galvus, as by this point you've hopefully learned, even if you're bad with names like me. He kicks your ass again, but this time we break his helmet, and wait shit is he... kind of hot? Maybe? Fuck?? He pins you to a wall and tells you to find him later, it's all confusing and prompts strange butterflies in stomachs. (Side note: as a lesbian, I am making some assumptions here. Mostly based off of how I reacted to the idea of Tsukuyomi doing the same. Mm.)

Then he promptly fucks off, and to work off that sexual tension you square up and work with local friends on Rebellion! You get help from some neighboring nomads after proving you're cool enough to tame a bird, and this proves enough to free the area from Garlean control (for now). We go back to Eorzea, and prepare to kick Zenos' head in. He's playing hard to get though, so we gotta get through some other folks, learn hard lessons about war/colonization, and feel bad. AND THEN WE KICK HIS- oh no wait. Is he... coming on to us again? Oh jesus man, get a therapist, oh my god, this is awkward for us both. Turns out he's kinda depressed and just wants you. To fight him. To the death. There is some bullshittery and he becomes dragon. Fails to kill you, so he kills himself. (Spoiler: it doesn't stick)

The Garlean Empire is now pissed off at you, and Eorzea in general. Everyone is kung-fu fighting, but oops, Garlemald is preparing to commit ~war crimes~! Someone is doing something weird, which is making your Scion friends fall into comas, which is both very convenient and highly inconvenient, cause all of you are kinda needed right now! Zenos, or something in his body, is causing trouble as well. Look, even when we thought he was dead he was causing trouble.

Shadowbringers (Lvl 70-80): We find out what's been making our friends pass out- someone from another dimension has been trying to yoink you over to them, and like all attempts at using the Rescue spell, it just sometimes leads to hilarious accidents. In this case, some epic lag, so although your friends have only been out of it for a week or two at most, they've been in this other world for 5 whole years in some cases. Turns out, Garlean war crimes are all an Ascian plot (what isn't, by this point), and mysterious Crystal Exarch is hoping you can save this world and your own.

At this point, Yoshi P, the lead developer, pulls out a gun and asks if you've been doing all those side-quests and optional 48 man raids. He worked very hard on those, you know. He put in lots of lore. Then he asks if you remember all those dangling plot hooks from previous expansions. We're addressing a lot of those. And adding more. You are sweating and nodding frantically while scrolling a wiki on your phone.

You get to feel like you're in an Otome game, because there's two dudes being weirdly polite and interested in you, but also real snappish to each other in terms of "fuck off she's mine". Alisaie and Alphinaud off-screen character development. Urianger still sus. Thancred now a dad? Y'shtola still so good. A lot of things happen, and you get progressively sadder as the expansion goes on. You get a nice, great big burst of hope and love, and then SOMEONE is a DICK with a GUN. (It is not Yoshi P.)

Now you just feel bad. Your character feels bad. This is all build up for the A) some motherfucking revelations and B) the utter catharsis of "If you could take one more step... would you?" "What, all by myself?" "THROW WIDE THE GATE"

I have shed legitimate tears over Shadowbringers ok, between the music, story, and pacing it is an Experience. Oh my god tho, all the music from Shadowbringers is so good. La-HEE

[tomfooleryprime]

The Deep Space Nine episode “Statistical Probabilities” is my favorite Trek story of all time. Don’t remember it? That’s not surprising.

There are more than fifty year’s worth of articles listing the best episodes of Star Trek across the various series with passionate defenses. The same episodes generally top these lists, even if the order shifts around. Does “City of the Edge of Forever” or “Inner Light” deserve top billing? Or should it be “Yesterday’s Enterprise” or “Far Beyond the Stars?”

Perhaps the reason no one ever considers this episode is it’s less of a story and more of a thought experiment. In today’s highly polarized environment, this inconspicuous DS9 episode feels more salient than ever.

In 2020, social media fights devolve into reductive arguments where everyone is assumed to be either a nationalist or a socialist and depending on your worldview, one of those words is a dirty slur and the other is a badge of honor. Even everyday discourse outside of social media has seen us turn words like “patriotism” and “treason” into weapons to suit narratives, with both sides firmly believing they are the true patriots while the other side is comprised of traitors.

I get caught up in this myself. I don’t want to get into my own political views or start a “both sides” argument, so this is where I turn it over to Star Trek and Dr. Julian Bashir, who finds himself caught in an impossible situation that calls into question the very nature of patriotism and treachery and shows how easily the line between those two concepts can be blurred.

A little background if you’re not familiar—in the year 2374, the Federation is made up of thousands of member planets. War is rare, poverty has been eliminated, aliens of all different species live in general harmony with each other. Then the Dominion, an interstellar military empire run by shape-shifting aliens shows up and wants to annex the Federation under its control.

The Federation, understandably miffed at the Dominion’s plans for stripping them of their autonomy, tells the Dominion to kick rocks. A war breaks out. Unfortunately, the Federation is outclassed, outgunned, and outnumbered in just about every way. It’s tough to win a war against an opponent with a larger force, superior technology, and aliens who can shape shift into literally anything, from a table to a Federation starship captain, making them able to easily swipe any intelligence they want on a whim.

It’s also important to note that the Dominion, while an imperialist superpower, isn’t necessarily out to break, exploit, and subjugate the spirits of the people under its control. For planets willing to peacefully submit to Dominion rule, life for the average citizen probably continues on more or less the same—people probably still have barbecues and go to church and do whatever they did before—they just trade one government for another. For planets not willing to yield, punishment is swift and severe.

And this is where “Statistical Probabilities” comes in. Dr. Julian Bashir is tasked with working with several genius “augments” to develop a statistical model to predict the outcome of a Federation-Dominion War. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take the augments long to recognize the Federation will never win with its current resources. They determine if the Federation fights back, it will suffer the loss of hundreds of billions of casualties and Dominion reprisal for their resistance will make life very brutal for the survivors.

However, they calculate that if the Federation peacefully surrenders, there will be no casualties and no Dominion reprisals—the only thing that will functionally change is who people make out their tax checks to. Not only that, with the saved lives and resources of averting a catastrophic zero sum war, the Federation will position itself to develop technologies within a few generations to successfully defeat the Dominion and re-declare independence in the future.

So the augments recommend immediate and strategic surrender. Dr. Bashir is disheartened to hear this, but he sees the logic in temporary capitulation because he’s a medical doctor and the idea of saving hundreds of billions of lives has to fit into that “first do no harm” ethic, surely. So you know what’s coming.

So he tells his higher ups what they’ve discovered, and you can imagine how that goes.

So the augments’ next play is to go full WikiLeaks. They calculate that if they were to give the Federation’s battleplans to the Dominion, the war would be short, casualties would be minimal, and the Dominion would still treat them relatively well once all the member states learned to toe the line.

This is the part I’ve chewed on for decades. When is treason not treason, or at least, when is treason the better option?

I served in the U.S. Army. I took an oath to protect and defend the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic. The idea of freely giving the enemy all the actionable intelligence they need to defeat my country makes me nauseated. The only thing that makes me sicker is the thought of most of my fellow citizens being senselessly murdered if I didn’t go all Benedict Arnold on their asses.

The dictionary says treason is “the crime of betraying one's country, especially by attempting to kill the sovereign or overthrow the government.” But is betraying your country and betraying your government always the same thing? A country is made up of people, and a government is made up of a few people who should, in theory, support what is best for the greatest number of citizens. So what is to be done when a few people in power decide they would rather die free than live in subjugation, even if it comes at massive cost to the citizenry they have a duty to serve? A conversation that goes like this.

As an American, I fully appreciate that many of my fellow citizens have a lust for freedom that borders on psychopathy, but I personally accept that most of life is lived in shades of gray and not in black and white. There’s a pretty wide spectrum between total freedom and total slavery and life at either of the extremes would be pretty bleak. But there’s also no apparent consensus on what even constitutes independence or oppression.

Just look at the debate over masks in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic. On the one hand, you could argue being required to wear a mask is a total violation of your personal freedom. On the other hand, you could argue we wear masks so that you can be free to live your life as safely as possible. Perhaps the truth is actually somewhere in the middle—wearing a mask is a small concession of individual freedom for the greater freedom of everyone.

I’ve thought about “Statistical Probabilities” and Dr. Bashir’s conundrum a lot in recent years. Would he be a patriot for supporting his government, even if he knows it would result in unimaginable death and suffering in the name of the theoretical ideal of freedom, or would he be a patriot for betraying his government for the sake of a practical outcome, which is saving the lives of hundreds of billions of people and ensuring the quality of their lives is bearable? 

And the reality is he’ll be a traitor no matter what he does, but what kind of traitor is better? I have a sneaking suspicion that how people answer this question is probably a powerful predictor of their political affiliation, and how quickly they answer it is directly correlated to the amount of wisdom they possess.

I won’t tell you how he gets out of this awful pickle because of course he does. Dr. Bashir is fictional and exists in a universe where everyone gets a tidy copout in the end. Us mortals in the real world are rarely so lucky and we’re doomed for eternity to grapple with impossible questions, each of us more convinced than the last that our solution is the right solution and everyone else it’s everyone else who’s the traitor.