#This month is special for many reasons :D

[atlantis-area]

Throwback SHINee: 1st ever win for Love Like Oxygen (M!Countdown, 080918)

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry | Aemond Targaryen

Part One (potentially ??? xoxo - indecision)

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop who could be impliedly understood as ms Alys ;o

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (m receiving), talk of sex, masturbation, bad words, very little dialogue, I wrote this in 2 hours and it is barely edited so it may be shite. guys. please tell me if I've missed a warning, luv u xoxo

Author's note: here's a wee smth while I get my head around part 2 of Infernal Desires! the idea I had for this fic was for a multi-part but idk depends on how we're feeling so there will potentially be a part 2 ;D. kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Whatever pretence was in play, you would be the first to admit that you were tired of it. A loveless marriage was nothing less than what you had expected–a union that was entirely for show and born from the political motives of your families. It was only expected.

You tried to convince yourself that you were content with such an arrangement. It suited your ambitions, meant that you could be left alone to do as you please while quenching the thirst to make your family proud. 

Somehow, despite your hesitance and despite your husband’s ignorance toward you, the one thing that you knew you would never truly hold had become your greatest wish. 

The reality was such that you found yourself longing for affection.

Preferably-of course-your husband’s affection. 

Between the forced smiles put on for expectant eyes, the brush of your shoulders whenever you sat next to each other at the dining hall and the gentle caresses at the small of your back until his touch was hurriedly removed once you were again behind closed doors, you had grown an incessant, consuming desire for the prince you were married to. 

Aemond was a man of great beauty and strength. While many had chastised his singular eye and told tales of his ruthless temper, Aemond had grown to be well respected and the object of many lustful gazes.

Eight months had passed since Aemond became your husband and you, his wife. Eight months of tense silences, lonely nights in a bed you had expected to share and eight months of nothing but false affections that were nothing but a performance.

You had considered yourself a romantic right until you felt the loneliness and realities of this marriage. Your naive desires to feel the throes and excitement of love that you read about were subject to a rude awakening the moment you became disgustingly aware of your husbands lack of it. 

Aside from the night of your wedding, Aemond seemed to avoid your bed as if it would burn his skin. Until two months ago, when you had pushed aside the sting on your pride and all but demanded he spare some time for you. 

Friends had warned you that it was hardly special. But if he was kind enough, as few of their husbands were from time to time, he would give you a chance to experience some of the pleasures of your body.

Aemond was hardly a passionate lover, it had seemed. With instruction to simply lift your skirt, he had you laying with your hips at the foot of the bed where he silently and effortlessly fucked his seed into your womb. It had not yet borne fruit despite his fortnightly visits. 

It was never enough. Your body had eventually begun to crave more. In a very raw and unmistakably physical need to find the release it had been denied for so long. Despite Aemond’s assurance on the first nights of your marriage that neither of you were to have any interest in whores or paramours, words and whispers of the prince’s capabilities had picked up over recent weeks and you came to understand that if only Aemond had wanted to, he could give you exactly what your body desired.

Even if you had the same freedoms as men when it came to taking on lovers outside of your marriage, you couldn’t. Admittedly, you’d developed a taste for luxury - a taste only for your husband. Or at least, the fantasy version of Aemond that you had concocted within your head. 

And when your hand made its way between your thighs in the small hours that followed restless nights, the only thoughts that existed in your mind were those of him. Of all the things you had hoped Aemond would guide you to discover about your bodies. Of all the things that you had read about in the books you’d sneak out to find. 

Sometimes, you wondered if Aemond thought of you while he touched himself. The idea of it often crossed your mind and you had since convinced yourself that you had been driven insane. 

Realistically, you knew that the arrangement you had with Aemond was out of necessity. Nothing more. But you were much like him in certain ways - hungry for what you know you deserve, relentless and cunning. But you had little patience left. 

The moment you had decided to make your worth known to your husband wasn’t one you could place a finger on. It was a gradual thing - as you had gently started shifting your attention past the lovers in your books who no longer calmed your lustful needs. 

You wanted him more fiercely than you had wanted for anything in your lifetime.  

So you gently lowered the neckline of your dresses to highlighted the bump of your collarbone, had your maids do your hair so that it framed your face perfectly while accentuating the shape of your neck. You had soon foregone the paler tones your mother had you wear, colours that announced your purity and innocence. The colours that you wore were deeper, richer and more sultry against the tone of your skin. 

With difficult ignorance of the nervous, shy and pious girl your parents had raised for such a match, you forced yourself to seek out Aemond’s gaze with an extra glint in your eyes. You let your once hesitant touches linger with a newfound confidence that stole your breath away whenever Aemond would escort you to and from the dining hall. On the days Aemond would spare time to walk you through the gardens, you made an effort to speak of more than just the weather. 

At times, you felt uneasy about the act you were putting on. Were the prospect of his affections so important to you that you forced yourself to act so differently? In your mind, being a seductress was never so dishonourable as many made it seem but you had hoped this act would pay off in a matter of a few weeks. 

Your impatience becomes painful when you have every other desire at your beck and call. 

But you were mistaken. If anything, Aemond’s indifference had only grown. And at each hardened glance from your head to toe, at each moment in which he continued to ignore you or look past you, your resolve weakened.  

Aemond could not have found you unattractive - this much you knew as a fact. You knew from the way he used to look at you with a gentle fire in his eye and made sure that your every other need had been taken care of. From the way he clenched his jaw in restraint when you would lay back for him, how his grip on your hips and your thighs left marks on your skin as he fucked into you - even if there was little more than a duty being performed. After all, he was still just a man. 

So despite the fact that your efforts were shaping up to be of no use, you didn’t give up. You started taking breakfast in your chambers, requesting Aemond to join you when he was available, dressed in your softest, prettiest nightgowns instead of having dressed up already. 

You made a show of it, unashamed and brazen. Almost surprisingly, Aemond enjoyed the dark cherry more than you could have hoped. There were subtle changes in the way his eye would linger over the dip of your neck, the way his wordless gaze would follow the deep red that would stain and spill from your lips as you bit into a cherry from the bowl of fruit that you shared.

Your conversations have always been comfortable. Aemond may be a brooding, arrogant hardass sometimes but he was always respectful and kind to his you in the time you shared together as husband and wife. But now he would falter, his words getting caught as he watched you gently sucking off the juice of a cherry from your fingers, humming gently as you glance at him with false nonchalance mixed with your best bedroom eyes. 

And it did drive him insane. Aemond had never seen this side of you, much unlike the quiet, prudish woman he had married. But then again, had he ever truly known you? Either way, you had caught the amusement in his gaze and the way he challenged you wordlessly with a shift of his hips and gentle smirk.

Much to your disappointment, little else changed. Nearly three weeks had passed and Aemond had given you little more than those lingering looks and a few stolen breaths. He had at once withdrawn and become increasingly lacklustre, and when you had even tried asking him about his training with Ser Cole, you received no more than curt, blunt answers at each try. 

It had become too much by the time you had retired to your chambers alone once again. The day had been long and uneventful, Helaena had been by your side for most of it which had been nice but you were in no mood to fake an interest in sifting through the performative duties of a princess. 

In all honesty, it was frustrating. You were starting to wear thin on the constant nagging of absolutely everyone about your lack of a child. It has been almost a year and you have failed to perform your duty as a wife, almost a year and you have not missed a single cycle, almost a year and you haven’t blessed the prince with an heir. 

Because, as a lady whose name you hadn’t cared enough to remember had not-so-gently uttered to you over her dreadful playing of a stringed instrument; what was the point of being his wife if you didn’t bed him well enough to carry his child? 

You had, in truth, been distracted. And the idea of carrying the child of a man who only paid you the necessary courtesies out of politeness and good manners made you feel ill. 

Queen Alicent, although you could tell she was inclined to agree with the lady, had placed a gentle yet firm hand on your bicep to calm the anger that had clearly taken you over. With a glare at the loose-lipped woman, you quickly picked up the handkerchief you’d been attempting to embroider and excused yourself. 

If anyone had noticed your absence from the evening meal, which the Queen had always insisted upon eating together, nobody bothered to say anything. 

Over an hour had passed, tossing around in your bed and your eyes stinging from embarrassment. Why was Aemond so averse to you? Why would he stare at you as if you set his blood on fire in one moment and then glance straight past you in the next? What had you done that convinced him so strongly that you were not even worth trying to be familiar with? 

The gods had surely intended to punish you for something in a past life if they were so adamant to trap you in a marriage with a man who would much rather be anywhere other than with you. 

You may as well be strangers to each other. 

The ache of your anger led you straight out of your own chambers and towards his. You spared Ser Tunsley, the knight standing at your door, a harsh glare and snapped at him to give you your privacy otherwise you’d have him stripped of his cloak. He was a timid one, you noticed, and with a nod he stood back, his eyes staring straight past your shoulder in an attempt not to stare at the thin nightgown that clung to your skin. 

It was an outrageous hour and you were of half a mind in your frustration to thank the gods for the empty hallways. In fact, you noticed the lack of an armoured man at the door to Aemond’s chambers and wondered if maybe the prince was elsewhere. 

You stepped towards the door, curiosity peaked at the sound of shifting, followed by some voices and you hesitated. Frowning, you ran through what you would say if Aemond opened the door - there was nothing that would make sense. 

As you stepped closer to the door, a soft light spilled out and you noticed that it was, in fact, just barely ajar. 

It was unlike Aemond to leave his door open and you were certain he would question you sneaking around the hallways in the small hours, dressed only in underclothes. But you ignored the rational voice at the back of your mind and took silent steps so close to the door that it would be cowardly to back out now. 

You couldn’t hear the voices anymore, ears ringing as you held your breath and gently nudged the door while muttering a silent prayer that it wouldn’t make a sound. 

Shock first. Then fear, anger, desire and an all consuming jealousy as you took a moment to understand what you were seeing.  

Aemond was resting at the end of his bed, naked and resting his weight lazily on one arm, his free hand tangled in the dark hair of a slender woman, just as bare as him, kneeling at his feet and moving her head in an up and down motion. Aemond guided her movements with a firm hand, his head tipped back gently. 

He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You’d never seen him without it–he never let you. His eye was firmly shut and you caught the glint of the sapphire in place of the other that was stolen from him. The movements of his chest were heavy and you could hear him panting gently, lips gently parted. 

You were unable to tear your eyes off of Aemond. He looked more beautiful than you had ever seen him, under the golden hue of the lamps, his body lean and chiselled–each curve and muscle glowing under the lights. You could see his pleasure, in his expression, the tinting of his skin and the way he roughly tugged at the mystery woman’s hair. A couple strands of his own hair, usually pulled away from his face, fell forward and the flush of his cheeks were starkly pink against the silver of his hair. He let out a breathy groan, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear as he opened his eye, dark with lust, and gazed down at the woman that was hunched over his lap. The lewd sounds of her mouth on him almost made you gasp and you thanked the gods that Aemond could not see you. Because you could not move if you tried. 

You couldn’t see anything other than the back of her head, and you were glad of it. Because you knew that seeing her face would have been too much and staying hidden and quiet would have been ten times more difficult. Despite the pressure between your thighs, the uncomfortable slick that you felt against your small clothes and the heat that rushed through you from head to toe, you glared viciously at the back of her head. 

Aemond’s breathing stuttered, a string of curses falling carelessly from his lips while he watched the woman as if he were entirely enchanted by her. Despite the fact that you couldn’t really see what she was doing, so expertly that had him in such a state, the entire thing felt obscene. And you could hear her muffled moans, the wetness and her light gagging when Aemond tightened his hold on her hair and thrusted upwards.

Your cheeks burned and your blood felt like lava coursing through your veins. The intensity of your want for him–as he was right now–made you dizzy and you drew in sharp breaths, careful not to make a sound. Because if he turned his head slightly to the left, just for a second, he would see you. You didn’t want to know the consequences. But nothing  that existed among all of the realm could force you to turn around and leave. 

Aemond’s groans were quiet and deep but they grew slightly louder than before, his breath catching as you could see him grow closer to his peak. Your thighs trembled as you pressed them together, barely thinking about how you would be able to escape after he was done–when he would surely see you watching unashamedly. 

The sounds that Aemond was making sent shockwaves straight to your wetness and as you could see his entire body grow visibly tense, hips jerking as his groans turned strained amongst grunts and whispers of just like that and fuck and—a name. 

It was your name. 

You couldn’t help but gasp, clenching around nothing, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your clit. The woman faltered, much to your satisfaction, and she pulled her head back from him. You couldn’t see past her but her hands remained as they were, biceps moving gently as she continued to touch him. 

“Aemond-” you winced as she said his name, no bother for formality. Her voice was slightly husky and it remained sultry and smooth. “I’m not-”

Your husband’s jaw ticked, squeezing his eye shut and pushing her head down towards his hips again. “I know. Fuck–” he grunted, roughly pushing her further down, cursing as she gagged. She hummed around him. 

Suddenly, the desire in your veins became secondary to the jealousy that burned your lungs and the betrayal that caught in your throat. You knew men were not faithful creatures, and even though part of you had known Aemond had been no different–not with how you have heard the servants speak on a couple occasions–but foolishly, you had hoped that he had been a man of his word. Another naive part of you truly did believe him when he said he would have no other woman. 

Whatever she was doing, however she was doing it and no matter that it was your name that fell from his lips, Aemond was enjoying it. He was praising her–telling her she was his, telling her she was doing so well and letting himself get lost in the pleasure she was giving him. 

It was painful to watch and you cursed your body for yearning so badly for reprieve. You’d become soaked, thighs slick from where you’d dripped down. But you would be damned if you gave in and as Aemond’s hips started jerking, his strained grunts becoming desperate as he chased the peak he was nearing, you pushed yourself away from the door and ran back towards your own chambers. 

The entire scene had seared itself into your brain and you trembled as you shut yourself away in your bedchambers, ignoring whatever questions Ser Tunsley had been asking you. 

Who was that woman? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions that flooded your brain. The emotions that fought for dominance. How had they met? Was she a whore? 

Did they see you? 

Your mind replayed the way he’d groaned your name, unable to help yourself from whimpering at the memory. It didn’t make any sense. Aemond was clearly thinking about you yet he had never so much as spared you more than a heated look - he had never even given you a kiss. 

Aemond had never been so comfortable with you. Not the way he was with her. The way he let her say his name–free of his title, like she was his equal. You had only addressed him without title once, on the night of your wedding. 

You laughed. How silly this all was. 

Despite your arousal, and regardless of your hurt, you were angry. 

How dare he? Did he think so little of you? 

Did he love her? Is that why he never tried for you? 

It was infuriating. And there was little you could do about it. But nonetheless, you saw an opportunity through the tears you scolded yourself for shedding over a man who never gave you what you deserved. 

Aemond would regret it. And he’d learn that his wife was the only woman who could give him what he needs. But for now, you let yourself grieve the Aemond you had led yourself to believe was real. The man who held your hand in his and told you that while he couldn’t be the husband you wanted, he would never disrespect you so much as to let another woman into his bed. 

[beforeimdeceased]

ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?

ways to help, daily click, do not support neil

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think

tags: @astralnymphh

masterlist

…

once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…

okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.

“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.

this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.

many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.

but you were special.

you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.

she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.

you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.

doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.

she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.

once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.

so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…

“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“

“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”

“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.

you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”

she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”

“very.” you respond, smiling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.

then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.

[doberbutts]

Post in question:

A: post doesn't mention pedophiles or zoophiles at all, but does mention furries and kinksters. Are we really equating furries to zoophiles and kinksters to pedophiles in the year of 2023?

B: even bad humans deserve human rights because otherwise it's really easy to falsely claim someone is a bad human to take away their rights. That is fascism 101.

C: not that it matters but my blog name hilariously has nothing to do with doberman butts and everything to do with a nickname convention a friend of mine had in the years before I started in the breed. They called me Jazbutt because my username at the time was Jazi. I told them I was getting a doberman and wanted to make a blog but couldn't think of a good URL. They said they would call my doberman a doberbutt. I thought it was funny and decided to use it as a blog name. I know that the people engaging in this behavior don't know The Deep Lore of this blog but like. It's actually not that hard to find this explination as it's one I've had asked of me for years.

D: this is a dog blog. It's all dog aesthetics because it's about dogs. Specifically mostly about my dogs. Specifically mostly about my doberman Creed who died in 2021 and it was too painful for me to continue trying to exclusively be a dog blog while I grieved him so I started just posting about whatever was on my mind. Then I got a doberman again in 2022 and another a few months ago and started posting more just about my dogs unless I spot something interesting on my dash or in my tracked tags. There's nothing nefarious here because I'm all about my dogs because competition dog sports are a long-held special interest of mine and I used to be a professional dog trainer. Dogs were my job until early 2022. I got paid to think about nothing except dogs for close to a decade. I decided to blog about it and stopped when my reason for blogging about dogs died and I switched professions.

E: this type of ask being spread around is exactly why I'm quiet about what I do like sexually because I don't think it belongs on a dog blog but also because too many people are interested in completely ruining lives off of one bad faith take. No thank you. It was bad when the straights were doing it to us and it's still bad now when it's happening as an intra-community conflict. The only people who get to know what I like are people I fuck. If I'm talking about it on a public blog, safe to say it's not a sexual interest of mine. You can continue to make assumptions if you'd like but you're way off base.

[janananarei]

Gojo x Reader

Alternative Ending To...

Part 1 , Part 2

Genre: Angst with happy ending :D

Warnings: none

a/n: the long awaited happy ending Gojo deserves after the pain I put him through. Sorry this took so long!

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

It had been months since you and your daughter's disappearance, but Satoru still feels the emptiness and pain in his heart. Ever since he got his six eyes back, he had returned to work at Jujutsu High, hoping that being a sorcerer again would distract him from the painful memory of losing his family.

It worked at the beginning. He focused on missions and paper works, he even got to catch up with his old colleagues and students. Ever since the Jujutsu world was short on sorcerers, Satoru had to cover more missions than last time. Travelling across the world and sleeping in luxurious hotels, but he would always end up dreaming about his wife and daughter. Everything reminds him of his family. He can't go on day without having thoughts about them.

Satoru was tired. He hated being reminded every single day of the grave mistake that he did himself. He wants to claw his eyes out, pretend that he never gave up his family for the gift of sight. He tried everything to forget about the grief for just one day. He even thought about dating again, but quickly forgoed it and hit his head for even thinking such idea.

It was another night of staying up late in the office. He was down to his last batch of reports when someone knocked on his door.

"come in."

The door creaked open and Kusakabe came in with a piece of paper. He placed it on the table, right infront of Satoru. "What's this? Seriously gonna make me do more work when I was already in my last batch?" He asked as he picked up the paper and looked at it. "Got this report just this afternoon, it's for special grade sorcerers only. I suggest you finish this one as soon as possible." Kusakabe said, walking out of the office and shutting the door.

Satoru scanned through the document. His heart stopped and his eyes widened when he saw the familiar face of a curse user.

xxx - xxx

A special grade curse user was seen in Fukui. Wandering around and "granting" citizens their greatest wish. Due to this, many people have gone missing. Most of the victims were connected to the people who had an encounter with this curse user.

Location: Fukui, Takahama

He is to be eliminated on sight.

'It's him'

He stood up quick, letting the paper on his drop to the floor.

'He needs to go now, he can get his family back'

He tries to teleport to Takahama, not wanting to waste time, but he realizes how tired he is from his lack of sleep. His mind is a bit fuzzy and his body is tired, teleporting would only lessen his energy more. He can't risk it, the curse user may challenge him to a fight. So he quickly pulls his phone out and calls Ijichi.

The car passes through many street lights and buildings before it comes to a stop. Satoru exits the car, "AJust wait for me here. I'll be back in a minute." He said with seriousness in his voice. Ijichi felt goosebumps up his arms as he only nodded hesitantly.

Satoru goes around the small village, asking residents around if they've seen the curse user. After walking and asking around, he ends up infront of an old looking manor by the seaside. He invites himself in, slamming the door open. The sound reverberates through the hall, as he steps inside to investigate. Floors creaking under his footsteps as he looks from room to room to find the wanted man.

"Ah. I knew you'd come here."

Satoru comes to full stop infront of an open door. Revealing a dimly lit room that has the moonlight as its only source of light. A cloaked man stands infront fo the room, his back turned onto Satoru, basking in the moonlight.

"Then you know why I came here for." Satoru grips his hands tighter as he walks in the room. "Why of course, it's the reason why anyone even dares to look for me. You're here for another wish." The curse user turns to face him, his face hidden, as he looks at Satoru's vibrant blue eyes. "You come here for another wish after you just got one! And you sacrificed your family for it, mind you. Sure humanity is greedy. But look at you standing here, with those once more vibrant eyes, you are the greediest one of them all!" The curse user slowly walks around Satoru- like a predator surrounding it's prey, making sure it won't escape.

"I came here to get my family back." Satoru said with finality, looking at the man in the eyes. "Ah, so that's your wish! You're family, of course! But sad to inform you, you can't get them back." The man stands infront of him, grinning at him, mocking him. "Let me explain further. You can't get them back because there's no other thing that you put a higher value on. Your family is what you consider your most prized possession, sweet aren't you? But sadly wishes are granted by taking something of much importance from the wisher." The man continues to grin at him

Satoru feels his patience running low, grabbing the man by his collar and lifting him up. The man tsk'ed, "Ah, ah, ah. Killing me would mean your family is gone forever. And you don't want that, right six eyes?" The man mocked, Satoru hesitantly puts him back down and controls himself. "There has to be something that I can give in return for my family. Anything!" Satoru said, desperation leaking into his voice.

The curse user thinks for a second before smirking. "There is one thing!" Satoru perks up, all ears as to what he has to say.

"Give me all your cursed energy and I'll bring your family back."

Satoru's eyes widens as he takes a step back. "Shocker, I know! what an absurd deal. Losing all your cursed energy would mean that you would lose all your techniques, prestige, and titles. You would no longer be acknowledged as the strongest, and you would be vulnerable to curses. You would lose all your ever worth. But that is the only thing that could take your family back." The curse user explains, looking into Satoru's contemplating eyes.Satoru feels sweat drops on his forehead.

Should he accept this?

'You must work to be the strongest. It is your only reason for living.'

'You are gifted. You must always be ontop'

'You are nothing without your limitless and six eyes.'

He feels his hands shaking.

Should he really accept it?

His mind wanders to a familiar memory, blocking out the voices. He hears crackling from the stove, and little footsteps approaching him at the coach.

'Daddy I drew something! It's a drawing of us three! This is you at the right, this is me in the middle, and this is mommy at the left!'

He looks at where his daughter presumes to be. He reaches his arms out, settling it on his daughter's soft cheek, he smiles at her. He hears your footsteps approach him, and your daughter turns to look at you. Proudly showing what she drew.

"Wow! That is so good! We should hang it up on the fridge! Nicely done my little artist" you said softly as you ruffle your daughter's hair and take the paper from her hands. You go to the kitchen to hang it up, as your daughter stays with her dad. Your daughter turns to look at Satoru once again.

"Next time, once you can see again, I'll show you what I drew!"

He needs his family back

Satoru snaps out of his thoughts.

He's made his decision.

With determination in his eyes, he stretches his arm out to the man. And with finality in his voice,

"It's a deal."

Satoru looks at the man, not breaking eye contact. The man stares back, amused, but he stretches his arms out and shakes Satoru's hand.

"How truly surprising you are six eyes." The man says. Satoru blinks his eyes for a second, but is then met with an empty room. No curse user on sight, it's as if he just vanished.

"Shit did I get scammed?" Satoru scratches the back of his head. He was about to leave the room when his phone started to ring, alerting him on an incoming call.

He pulls out his phone from his pocket and checks the contact. His heart stops beating for a second as he looks at the screen.

Wifey💕 is calling...

He immediately answers and puts his phone onto his ear. "Satoru! So glad you found your phone this time. Where are you? We couldn't find you the whole day! You didn't get lost did you?"

It's your voice

The voice that he misses so much

He feels tears starting to build up from his eyes- It's really you. You call him for a bit more before he snaps, "Oh-! Uhh yeah, sorry I just got iffy staying home, I'll be there!"

"Alright, come home safe!" He hears your voice one last time before you hang up on him. Satoru puts his phone away and tries to teleport to Ijichi, but nothing happens.

'Oh right, I can't'

He shakes his head and quickly bolts out to the car. The car door opens and slammed close as Satoru sits at the back. "Ah! O-oh Gojo-san, i-is the mission done?" Ijichi says in surprise as he was awoken from his nap. "Drive me to my house immediately!" Satoru says with a big smile on his face. Ijichi looks a bit unnerved but timidly nods and starts the car.

The way back felt so long, and Satoru wished he still had his technique just so he can teleport out of the traffic. But his anticipation and annoyance quickly stopped as the car pulls on a familiar driveway. He looks at his house, he can see light through the windows.

They're here, they're really here

Satoru waits no time until he gets out of the car and sprint to the front door. He gets the front door key from his pockets, jiggling keys heard as he fumbles to find the right one. Once finding and inserting it in the keyhole, he opens the door to a bright and noisy house.

"Daddy you're here!"

He looks forward and sees his daughter running to him with arms wide open. Satoru feels like tearing up again as he finally got to really see his daughter. She looks just like her photos, but so much livelier.

He kneels down and catches his daughter in his arms. Holding her close as he stands up while carrying her.

"Woah! How did you know I was gonna surprise hug you? Wait- daddy can you see me?!"

His daughter gets out of the warm hug to look at her father. Her surprised face slowly turns to one overfilled with joy as she shouts with happiness.

"What is all this commotion about?"

You enter the room after hearing your daughter's shouts of joy.

Satoru locks eyes with you before he gives a big smile and walks toward you. Once he was close enough, he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you close to his chest. Keeping his family close as he feels their warmth again.

"Satoru, wha-"

"Mommy, mommy! Daddy can see again!"

Your daughter interrupts you, announcing the joyous news. You look at Satoru confused before you see it- his eyes as vibrant as ever and filled with light. Your eyes widen and you cup his cheeks, leaning his head close. "Is it true Satoru? Can you really see us?" You ask, feeling tears start to brim in your eyes.

Satoru looks at you, and places his arm that was around your waist to hold your outstretched arms. He nods with love in his eyes.

"You're as beautiful as I imagined."

You feel a tear drop from your eyes as you hug Satoru close, squeezing him as hard as you can. Your daughter also joins you, and hugs her dad once more. Satoru feels his smile widen, as he returns the hug, holding you two close to him.

He's home

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Taglist: @luns-exlipse @artist1936

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️ Second Course: He treats you so well, and you're naive enough to believe that only you have the key to his tasty heart. Or his pants. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor

wc: 1.0k

genre & warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of sex, cursing, crying, there's another girl, lovers to exes, pure heartbreak :D , Yeji of ITZY special appearance etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

ps. i've already reposted this but it still won't appear under the tags that i've put so ig i'll just let it be lmao. imma just post it the way it is bc i'm tired of trying and thinking on what to do to make it work.

At the tender age of 13, you took note of everything that was written in an article that you accidentally opened and read on a fishy website entitled, 'Signs that your partner is falling out of love.'

You thought it would help you avoid conflict with a future partner, it would help you evade an impending heartbreak, but nothing can prepare you for the real world, it seems.

Your boyfriend, Park Seonghwa, was the definition of a picture perfect man.

He's kind, respectful and loving. He had all the love languages.

He never shunned away from skinship, and most of the time, he's the one who's initiating it. Giving you hugs and kisses even in public without any ounce of shame.

Even when he's busy, he still gives you the time of his day. Often, he would choose to lose sleep if it means that he'll be able to talk and see you after a long, tiring day at work.

He's also the type to buy 'just because' gifts. Randomly walking around a park then he'll see this cute bunny keychain, buying it immediately so he can give it to you because the bunny reminds him of you.

Fixing collars, tying shoelaces, cooking you food— he does it all, and naturally too. The way he pampers you like a mother hen is the sweetest thing you have ever seen in a man.

The most important thing though? It's his ability to listen and soothe all your worries away. He tells you that if you're overthinking, you can simply say it to him and he'll gladly give you all the assurance that you need.

So, what went wrong? Where did it go wrong? Is there something wrong with you?

The situation at hand made you question yourself, then again, are you really the problem here?

"The least you can give me is a reasonable explanation!" you yelled, gripping Seonghwa's arm that was holding his suitcase, attempting to stop him from leaving you without any form of closure.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" he snapped, raising his usual soft voice at you, something that he has never done before.

"A reason! Explanation, anything! Why are you suddenly breaking up with me?!" you blinked rapidly, the itchiness in your throat makes it harder for you to breathe, and the sinking feeling of dread in your stomach is urging you to vomit.

This is so fucking messed up.

Just last night, Seonghwa was fine. He even made love to you in your shared bed, whispering how good you are for him.

Last week, he brought you flowers. Last last week, he took you to a nice restaurant for dinner. Last month, he took you to Maldives for a summer getaway.

Nothing changed and everything felt the same, thus, the current happenings don't make sense.

You come home from work and the next thing you know, your significant other of how many years are mumbling nonsense of going separate ways. That you two are better off without the other.

You just don't fucking understand what the hell went wrong.

"I don't love you anymore."

You never knew that a mere sentence that is composed of five words is more than enough to break your heart, your world.

He doesn't love you anymore?

"Since when?" you weakly muttered, wanting answers that will probably hurt you more.

"For the last few months."

You winced, there were no signs of him not loving you. He must be lying, his shaky chocolate orbs say otherwise.

"Okay." you speak, no more energy to fight for him, to fight for a battle that is not worth the blood, sweat, and tears.

Just like that, you watched him walk away. Out of your home, out of your life, and you were left alone. Crying your heart out, gripping your chest as it physically hurts as well, the pain searing through you.

Two weeks later.

Your friend, Yeji, was making a ruckus, she was basically shoving her phone in your face.

"Y/N, look! Isn't this your ex?"

You peeked at the device, and your heart dropped along with your mood.

What the fuck?

That is your only reaction at the photo posted on Seonghwa's instagram because it hasn't been a month, and here he is, with a girl that he's being lovey-dovey with.

A girl.. a familiar one.

"That fucker." you uttered menacingly, your fists tightly clenched on your lap as your friends worriedly glanced at you.

Isn't that the one you asked him about? The fucking girl that was lingering around him all the damn time like a wretched fly. He told she's nothing but a co-worker.

Sure. Kissing your co-worker on the cheeksin a field of maple trees is very professional, isn't it?

You are not sure what to feel. He broke up with you so he could date that girl, it seems.

Should you be thankful? Or should you curse him until he dies?

Either way, now that you're thinking about it, maybe he really didn't fall out of love with you, just that he found someone that he loves more. There was no proof, but there was evidence of his upcoming betrayal.

The way he was always on his phone, and maybe, all the things he had done for you before were nothing but distractions so you wouldn't notice what he was doing behind your back.

A lady's gut never lies, yet you choose to ignore it, and this is what you get.

You laughed yet the tears dripping down your cheeks is the complete opposite of your actions.

Not once did you hear him apologize during the argument about the break-up, and my god, did you hate him so much for entering your life like a storm and leaving such a mess behind.

Park Seonghwa is no cheater, but he is a raging traitor.

Then again, no one is at fault here but you, as you should've seen this coming. You should've been alert, using your rationality instead of your useless heart, and now you're paying the price for his treason.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Kitten Lair

Hello I am back! @spotaus get in here friend!

And I know... I know... a bit earlier in the timeline again but i had an idea :D

:D :D :D

Because i am weak! :D

timeline wise: Nightmare got changed into a child like three and a half months ago in this drabble. so the gang has been in farmtale for two weeksish.

first drabble prev drabble next drabble

No beta! We going :D

*-------------------------*

Ccino pauses the clenaing of the counter as he waits impatiently for the last customer to leave. He loves and adores his cat cafe but it is already past 5 and he has been passive aggressively cleaning the tables around them.

Luckily the customers finish up soon after and leave with a cheerful wave.

Ccino rushes to turn the open sign to closed and turns off the main lamps. He closes the roll curtains and gets to work on cleaning the last table.

He however waits with cleaning the coffee machine, just in case.

Ccino keeps glancing at the enterance as he goes about cleaning up the cat toys and hearding the cats out of the kitchen once again. He fills their food bowls and puts fresh water into the water bowls and water fountains.

A glance at the clock shows that it is already half past six and Ccino sighs again.

No show again.

one of the cats stares at him and mews. Ccino glances over and knows it is Berry. He chuckles nad pets him "I dunno little Berry. Maybe I am overreacting..."

He can't help it. Ccino had just gotten used to having Nightmare visit once a week.

Many would proabbly tell him to tell the Stars. to make it obvious something was wrong. There had to be after all with Nightmare visiting.

Except that all Nightmare would do at first was study the cats. Ccino had once managed to collect all his courage, which wasn't a lot mind you, and ask Nightmare what he was doing.

Nightmare had looked at him before answering calmly. That he wanted to study the cats.

Ccino had been very worried. Mostly because there was one small detail about his cafe that people just seemed to ignore. there were the normal cats. the cats that ccino took in and helped find new owners for.

Then there were the special cats. the cats he would never let anyone adopt.

How do you explain that the reason a cat has blue fur is because the cat is somehow connected to an important player in the multiverse?

Yeah. He can't explain that.

Yet... none of the cross-multiverse customers ever seemed to notice. And that is saying something as the cats are not subtle!

But... Nightmare hadn't been here for that. He would always come after closing. He would just spend his time watching the cats interact and play togehter. And then he would leave after an hour.

Ccino had watched him watch them. Taking note that Nightmare never once actually reached out to touch them, even after the cats had gone over to investigate him!

he had pointed it out to nightmare once. just to see. mentioned that the cat near him now really liked pets. Nightmare had frowned slightly before slowly and so carefully petting the cat near him.

That had been a turning point. it is just... it is hard to see someone as evil and unredeemable when he just stared in wonder at a cat who accepted his petting.

Nightmare would keep coming by and Ccino would start to ask him what he wanted drink or food wise. Nightmare had been confused but Ccino had just pointed out the cafe part of the whole situation.

Nightmare would always order the same two things. An ice coffee with a lot of cream and sugar and the white chocolate cheesecake.

He would sit in a chair and just pet the cats that seemed to follow him around.

Nightmare meeting his own cat had been a sight to behold honestly. Noot had sneaked into the area without Ccino noticing only to have Nightmare suddenly have his own cat version licking his skull as if Noot had been planning on licking the goop away.

Trying to keep Noot or any of the gang cats away from Nightmare had been a struggle and eventually Ccino just gave up. He let the special cats near the outcode and nothing bad happened. Nightmar ejust petted the cats that came near him and left the ones who didn't alone.

Ccino sighs and turns off the coffee machine when it hits seven.

He is worried.

Which is stupid! There is no reason why Ccino should be worried about Nightmare! Maybe the other is just busy or something!

But here he is. waiting anxiously for one of his favourite customers to return.

Yes Ccino knows it is weird to grow slightly protective over a god but people just don't get it. Seeing someone interact with animals can change your perspective of someone and the way Nightmare just seemed so fascinated and mystified by the cats? Ccino can't explain how the wonder was just something he hadn't seen on just any customers. Nightmare had looked like he was only learning about cats for the first time in his life.

Ccino shakes his skull and focusses on the cats. he quickly finds Noot and their newest arrival.

Ccino smiles "Hey there Noot. How is your little friend doing?"

Noot opens his one eye and looks up before moving one of his four tails and revealing the little kitten that had just appeared.

Ccino has a good idea of who this little cat is. He had heard the rumours going around. About Dust and Cross having been spotted with a tiny babybones.

Ccino figures that is the kitten. Still strange that Noot was the one to first show up wiht the kitten just riding his back. It wasn't until a while later that the others in the cat gang got invested in the kitten, Dust- euh. Murder was first. Murder would pick the kitten up and go towards a spot and lazily clean the ktiten in the warm sunlight. Killer- well Stain was next. He went all up in Murder's business to get near the kitten. All while Noot just watched over them. Rust had been next and made sure to bring food to the tiny kitten. Rust never seemed to mind the ktiten playing even if it hit the headwound. Oreo was last but was now all over the kitten. staying near and watching continuously.

Another curious thing. How the five adult cats made sure to keep the new kitten far away from any of the other cats. a few tried and Ccino had been worried Murder would live up to his name for a moment there.

Ccino smiles nad pets Noot "Maybe that is why he hasn't visited... I am going to assume you are the baby's main babysitter with how often you are clsoe to the kitten."

It is just.. Noot has been getting slower and weaker. it may not be obvious to others but it was obvious to Ccino. the way Noot tended to hide more. ate less. spend more time just laying around instead of stalking others. How Noot would no longer climb to high places and just stay near the ground.

It is worrisome.

But Ccino has no idea what to do with this information... In matter of fact everyone seemed happy about the fact that the gang was quiet.

Ccino carefully strokes the soft fur of Noot "I am sorry i can't help more."

Noot however looks fully calm as he pushes his skull into the hand for a pet before turning back to the kitten and cleaning him.

Ccino follows the sight. It is a pretty little kitten alright. A beautiful black coat which seems to shine a slight purple in the direct sunlight. soft purple eyes and just the cutest little pink nose and pink toebeans.

The tiny kitten mews uphappily as Noot cleans him. some of that very soft fur sticking up from the cleaning.

Ccino sighs as he pets the older cat, noting that the sharp eyes seemed duller as well, before going to check the other cats. seeing the four other cats join their leader and kitten.

Ccino tries to calm himself as he goes back to the kitchen to finish cleaning and preparing.

everything is going to be okay.

*-------------------------*

Look. I am not gonna lie. I am weak for Ccino and Nightmare having been friends :D

first drabble prev drabble next drabble

[emberfrostlovesloki]

The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)

Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns 

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending] 

Word Count: 14.9K 

Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore,  mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

y/l/n = your last name 

y/a =  your age

Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day. 

Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for. 

In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other. 

They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle. 

Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?” 

Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.” 

Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose.  He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.” 

What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door. 

The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship. 

Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case. 

Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously. 

It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. 

Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door.  As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch. 

“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget. 

Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it. 

The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear. 

Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make. 

Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull. 

The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room. 

Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again. 

He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms. 

Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.” 

LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space. 

Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain. 

While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath. 

LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader. 

Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground. 

The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly. 

Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.” 

It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after. 

The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him. 

A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine. 

They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.  

The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car. 

Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance. 

Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed. 

y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day. 

It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped. 

y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.” 

y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help. 

y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.” 

The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress,  they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite. 

It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.

         After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.

         Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.

         y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do. 

The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?

         y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.

y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.” 

Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?” 

The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound. 

When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone. 

Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them. 

A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.

 As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride. 

The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe. 

Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive. 

y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”

y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.” 

Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.” 

At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room. 

The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect. 

Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life. 

Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?” 

y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within. 

In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared. 

Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron. 

Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.

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[waataah]

welcome, to my first attempt at a fanfic on tumblr.

✧ sanji vinsmoke x fem!reader ✧

｡･ﾟﾟ･ (nsfw, fem!reader, 18+ only, mdni, 3rd pov) ･ﾟﾟ･｡

cw: nsfw, oral (receiving), praise, slight degradation, kinda submissive, lots of sexual tension, build-up, plot-heavy, power struggle, breast play, and unprotected sex.

summary: the straw hats stop at a mysterious never-before-seen island and their crazy captain recruits a woman who can finally rival the crew's flirtatious cook.

word count: ~about 2800

・❥・The Flirtacious Two

The captain of the straw hats Monkey D. Luffy had made an immediate order to stop the ship at the closest island. The closest island was not like any other they had seen, it resembled a forest but had many houses rooted into the trees.

Beautiful birds of many colors flew around in circles greeting the newcomers to their island. The island welcomed them and so did their people. This island was secluded and very small so it was avoided by most who went by, they did not oppose the pirates and showed them kindness and respect.

“They gave us enough supplies to last at least a few months stop eating them all!” Sanji yelled and smacked their captain on the head.

“At least show some respect…geez” Zoro had muttered under his breath.

Luffy rubbed his head and sprawled himself out on the ground at the new lump that had appeared poking out of his hat and ran from the crowd in desperation to get away from his fellow crew. The girls enjoyed themselves to new fruits, new fish, and especially new people. Being around the same boys on a crowded ship meant they NEEDED to converse with regular humans once in a while.

The crew had dispersed and spread amongst the island, till later that night they agreed to meet back on the ship for Sanji’s dinner. Sanji was making a special take on spaghetti and meatballs after all there was nothing wrong with cooking a basic pasta after all the new foods they had tried for the day. 

The pot was boiling with water as the noodles simmered in the heat, and the pan of meatballs were simmering creating a beautiful aroma that could make just about any mouth water.

“Well, well, well I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen spaghetti” An unknown voice to the cook quickly made him tense but hearing a woman's voice made him instantly feel like putty at the beautiful sound.

Once he gazed at the woman his eyes practically shot out of his head, a pure beauty just at the door of the ship's kitchen.

‘This island's weather sure is hot, but this woman is hotter’ his inner voice usually wasn't filtered but she had rendered him practically speechless with her beauty.

“Why hello there pretty boy~” she made her way over to the blonde and peeked over to glance at the food.

“Luffy said you were the chef, I’ve met the others… I believe he wants me to join this little crew you have” she said as she looked up at the taller man.

Sanji cleared his throat finally gaining the courage to speak to such a beauty, and she was flirting with him. That was new.

“What is a beautiful lady like you trying to join a group of pirates for?” he reached for his cigarettes in an attempt to occupy himself without having to look away from the woman before him. But patted around and failed to find them in his pockets.

The mysterious woman brought a hand up holding his cigarettes in hand, “Looking for this? I’m not too fond of smoking”.

‘Ah, she's a thief… a very… sexy one…’ he felt joy rising up in his chest.

She placed them on the counter and decided to answer his question.

“I want adventure, the men here are… getting dull, I figure there are many fish in the sea” She giggled a bit and made her way around the cook eyeing him up and down. Her reply was obviously a joke, but she wanted her reasons to remain her own.

This was the first time Sanji felt as if he was the prey, though he was visibly a bit nervous, he didn't hate it. In fact, he liked it.

“The others warned me, you're quite the flirt? But men tend to get quite intimidated by me. My name is [y/n] a pleasure” she said putting her hand out.

“Oh, please the pleasures all mine miss [y/n]” he said as he gently grasped her hand placing a gentle kiss upon her skin.

She smiled and gently caressed her slim fingers down his arm, “Well from one flirt to another, I’m quite the jealous type Mr. Cook if you flirt with me you can’t give the same treatment to another”.

Sanji felt a chokehold on him, he had just learned of this woman's name, yet he would give up all the other women in the world in a heartbeat.

“Jealous hmm? Well, there isn't a pretty lady as beautiful as you, so I doubt I would even think about another.” He was past the point of no return her charm had hooked and reeled him in she and he both knew it.

The woman retracted her hand from his arm and turned away from the cook walking back over to the entrance.

“Though I am a flirt, if I really want something… I will have it” she smiled devilishly.

Sanji felt a pit in his stomach, this woman was doing many things to him, he wanted her but of course, he wouldn’t just force himself on a woman.

“Oh and… you might want to check those meatballs I think they may be slightly overcooked” she smiled as she walked out.

Sanji panicked as the meatballs burst into flames he quickly grabbed a cloth to fan the fire out with and sighed in relief once it was put out.

“What am I going to do with her around…”.

Later that night at the dinner table, [y/n] had sat next to Sanji. Sanji felt a blush creep upon his face, though it had only been a bit since their first encounter he really couldn't take his eyes off her. 

After some time of everyone exchanging conversations, he finally decided to strike up a conversation. 

“You really are beautiful…” was all he could say, he was practically transfixed by her.

[y/n] looked at the cook she didn't mind if others were around, better for her to show the other ladies how it’s done.

“You're not so bad yourself handsome” she winked.

Sanji felt his heart racing, no woman had given him this type of attention, it was so new to him. He loved it. His grin and ego grew from the compliment.

“Don’t go complimenting fancy brows over there it will go right to his head” Zoro said in between bites of his meal.

[y/n] laughed at the comment and turned her attention toward Zoro, it quickly made Sanji fill with worry. He knew that Zoro and [y/n] would possibly get along, who wouldn’t get along with a woman like her?

Though [y/n] had continued her chat with Zoro she had sneakily placed her hand on Sanji’s obvious that her attention was still on him though she was talking with another man.

A small smirk came back to his face when he felt her hand on his, it made him excited but relieved that she still had her sights on him.

After dinner was over [y/n] went over to the deck to gaze upon the ocean. Sanji finished up the dishes and saw the deck was empty, no one was around but her. This was his moment, to get her attention without anyone to bother. He leaned over the railing and watched the ocean with her, he reached for his cigarettes but quickly placed them back into his pocket.

“Hello, lover boy~ What do I owe the pleasure?” she said while looking over to the chef.

He smiled softly, “You don’t owe me anything, I just thought to keep the beautiful lady company”.

[y/n] did feel a little flustered by the gesture, the whole time Sanji had been flustered and wrapped around her finger but now he seemed to be ready for her comments.

He gently placed his hand on [y/n]’s hips, causing the roles to reverse, he stepped up his game he realized that if he kept letting her be in control he would lose this flirting game. 

Though she was flustered she also didn't want to back down, “And who exactly said you could touch me?” she smirked.

Sanji let out a small laugh as he could tell she was enjoying it in comparison to her words, he leaned closer to her and looked into her eyes. “Someone told me once that if they want something they will have it. So I just decided to take what I wanted”.

“Oh really now?” [y/n] smirked at the blonde and grabbed his hand pulling Sanji closer to her “I do believe everyone had fallen asleep after their meal” she said gently while looking at his lips. 

Sanji was a bit surprised by the sudden pull, his mind flooded with ideas of just the two of you alone while everyone slept. She was bold, his mind was going crazy and he wanted to do something about it.

“Since no one is around how about a little taste?~” she kept her eyes bouncing back and forth between his eyes and lips.

With the way [y/n] stared at his lips, he knew exactly what she wanted, a little taste of him. A smirk would then appear on his face, he enjoyed this new thrill of tug of war between him and her. 

“I could never deny a pretty lady like you,” he said before leaning forward and placing his lips onto hers.

For a man who had flirted with many women, he couldn't deny that this was his first time feeling butterflies in the pit of his stomach. And for a woman who seemed to have all the boys wrapped around her fingers, she too had never felt quite like how she did with this man. 

He moved his hands around her hips and pressed their bodies closer together, the kiss was passionate, and long and made the two feel their bodies heat up. After their lips parted his face was simply in awe and he let out a satisfied breath gripping [y/n]’s hips with need.

“Wow… that was… great,” he said as he had his eyes fixed on the beauty before him. 

[y/n] also let out a content sigh, she felt a warm feeling stirring within her and she needed it to be extinguished.

“How about we head over to the lounge room? That is if you want to of course”.

“Lead the way…”.

He took her by the hand and started to lead [y/n] back to the kitchen/meeting/lounge room. Once in the room, [y/n] noticed that the whole place had been cleaned, Sanji was a very responsible cook. Though it was something that might go unnoticed by the rest of the crew she did take notice.

Sanji went over to the provisions and moved them aside to show a bed. It was a small bed, but the only place you could get privacy on a private ship with a group of men who shared the same room.

[y/n] didn’t mind it though, she would practically take this man anywhere in her current state. She sat on the bed and Sanji sat beside her.

“Well, are you ready?”.

“Are you?” he replied back with a playful tone.

[y/n] let out a small laugh before sitting on his lap leaning into him pressing their lips once again against one another. His fantasies were finally coming to life, her sitting in his lap making his pants tighten just at the friction from her body touching his. [y/n] gently ran her fingers through his hair, earning a moan from the cook. His body heated up at her taking the lead, he decided to put his hand in her hair pulling on it gently earning a moan from [y/n].

“You are so beautiful my dear~” he let out softly against her lips.

The two’s breaths increased, as the air between them kept thinning from the non-stop kiss.

The kiss eventually came to a halt, the two panting for air but eager for the next step.

“You taste good just like your meals chef~” she said softly under her panting breath.

The compliment sent him into heaven, his heartbeat intensifying just like the tightness in his pants.

“And you are even more tastier than my meals…” he smirked.

“Though there is something I think that might taste better than your meals…” [y/n]’s gaze fell upon the large bump in his pants.

His face reddened at the comment, “you really are too much…” he said softly not moving even a muscle. 

“That's what I’m told~” she giggled and moved off the bed to her knees unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down to reveal his size. His cock twitched at the cold air and hardened as he felt her gaze staring down at it.

Sanji gently tilted her head upwards, “A beautiful lady like you should be on the bed getting treated, not on her knees…”.

He got up and grabbed [y/n] gently placing her onto the small bed as he stood in between her legs lowering himself to her core.

[y/n]’s breath hitched at the sudden change of position. Sanji left gentle kisses trailing up her leg towards the hem of her shorts, gently pulling them off as he did so along with her panties. She was starting to press her thighs together, she hadn’t felt shy with anyone before but he made her feel like she was a teen head over heels for a crazy boy. Sanji smirked at the sight, he continued to place kisses till he reached her sensitive spot, his digits entering inside her folds gently adding another while he continued to kiss her inner thighs and thrust his fingers inside her.

“Ah~ Shit~” [y/n] moaned out at the attention her lower half was getting, she felt her walls clench onto his two fingers, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Be patient my dear~ we have a long night ahead of us~” he said as he went back down to shower her clit with his skilled tongue.

[y/n] was going mad, she felt her body tensing as it was getting ready to release, and she pulled back Sanji's head. She panted softly and grabbed him by his tie pulling him up towards her and pushing him onto the bed. She placed herself on top of his cock and slowly placed it at her entrance letting it fill her up inside.

“[y/n] fuck…” he clenched his eyes shut at the tightness, it felt so good he almost came just from putting it inside.

She sat for a moment as she adjusted to his girth and length. She was inwardly cursing him out for being so girthy. After the two settled, [y/n] started to move her hips up and down his length letting out small moans of pleasure as Sanji thrust his hips along with her movements. The two let out moans filling the empty room with nothing but the sounds of their skin slapping together and the bed creaking beneath them. Sanji managed to snake his hand up [y/n]’s stomach under her shirt grasping onto her breast as she bounced. He couldn't even catch his breath, the whole situation was like a dream to him, her moans coming from the pleasure he gave her filled him with ecstasy. He pinched her nipples lightly while he reached under her bra. Just the sound of her moans alone could make him cum, he could feel himself getting close to his release. 

[y/n] continued her movements leaning down and gripping his shirt, “make a mess of me Sanji” she said before pressing her lips against his.

Those words flipped a switch in him, and a signal went to his brain, making him go insane. He knew what she wanted him to do and he would deliver. His whole body quaked as he felt himself ready to cum. The two continued moaning and panting, and [y/n] felt herself tighten around Sanjis cock. Sanji groaned in response to the tightness he moved his hands from her breast and gripped her hips. He began to thrust upwards into her harder, filling every inch of her inside. They could both feel themselves, Sanji was the first to give in. His cum shot inside her, dripping from out of her hole and onto his pants. The warmth that shot into [y/n]’s body made her tighten and her body twitched from its high. The two let out a long moan and grunt when they finished and [y/n] laid herself against the chef.

“Who would think the two flirts would hook up with each other” she said softly with a content sigh as she caught her breath.

“You’re crazy you know that? You showed me a whole new type of woman, you really know how to make a man weak” Sanji laughed and threw his arms around her.

[y/n] lifted her head a bit in confusion, “what’s so funny about that?” she raised a brow.

“Nothing, I just feel like the luckiest man alive…” he said as he let out a few more laughs.

[hayatofiles]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐔 | NIREI AKIHIKO x fem! reader

SAKURA HARUKA | SUO HAYATO | KIRYU MITSUKI | UMEMIYA HAJIME | KAJI REN | SUGISHITA KYOTARO | TOMA HIRAGI | JO TOGAME

The first you met, the Furin's first years were gathered at Pothos when their talking was suddenly interrupted by the doorbell ringing, announcing a new arrival.

The weather was specially hot and sunny that day, causing many citizens to enjoy it strolling the streets, or seeking refuge in local restaurants and coffee shops.

Still, Nirei Akihiko never felt so warm before or had ever thought he'd see someone whose beauty was as radiant as the sun itself as your presence made known in that small place.

He had seen a lot of beautiful people before. Heck! All of his friends are good-looking. But you... You were dazzling. And the way the sun's rays complemented your figure was a bit too much for the poor boy's weak heart to bear such beauty.

With a small smile, you recognized the quintet presence and headed behind the kitchen's countertop where you threw yourself into Kotoha's arms.

The boys, watching the scene silently, couldn't help but be curious, and from the expressions on their faces, the shop owner judged that they were waiting for her to introduce you too.

"This is (Y/N). She grew up in the same group home as Umemiya and me," she introduced pointing at you.

(Y/N). even your name were as pretty as you, that was his second thought as he felts his cheeks burning.

You slightly smirked at them and group softly nodded in greetings.

"It's nice to finally meet you guys. I hope we get along from now," you say and send a quick wink to the Nirei.

If he was feeling warm before, now he is certainly in spontaneous combustion.

Cute.

As the days went by, Nirei learned a thing or two about you.

You're a few months older than Kotoha.

You attended an all-girls boarding school on the other side of town and so you weren't able to visit your adopted siblings as much as you wanted. But apparently you had been suspended after causing a disturbance and were currently working as an assistant at Pothos.

You love sweets, but refuse all those made with mango or pineapple.

You had a preference for mini skirts and lip gloss, and Nirei doesn't remember a time when he didn't catch himself staring at your glistening lips.

But the most important of all: for some reason, you had a strange hobby of flirting with him.

He knew that you had had a few boyfriends before, and perhaps getting a reaction out of him was your sadistic way of playing with his heart. However, not only Suo but your own sister advised him not to think like that and that, in fact, this was the only way you knew to show interest.

It took almost a long six weeks for him to take the first step. Or better saying, you pushing him to do it.

"So," you leaned on the counter looking at him intensely, "Are we going to continue playing this cat and mouse game or are you going to ask me out?"

"No! No, I don't mean no. I mean yes. But I wasn't sure if you would say yes, so I never asked. But I really wanted to ask to go out with you but I would also understand if you refused."

You rolled your eyes with a smirk on your face, "Nirei. Shut up. Just make the question."

And then, with sweaty palms, racing heart and red face, the first year said, "(Y/N)-san, would you like to go on a date with me?"

You smile softly.

"I'd love to. I'm free this Saturday. Pick me up at 11, yes?"

The image of a blushing, excited Nirei nodding fervently was a sight you would never be able to forget.

You've had your fair share of dates, but this one sure made you feel like it was your first.

Nirei had been nothing but attentive and understanding of your tastes.

He had chosen to take you to a park where the two of you would have a picnic. He had prepared the snacks and drinks according to your preference and had even prepared some activities like painting and board games, knowing that you liked them.

His anxiety and concern about doing the right things and treating you well was noticible, but somehow, appreciated. Furthermore, his compliments about your appearance despite just a few, were genuine.

You've had your fair share of dates. Fake bad boys, Tokyo guys, volley addictives, but you definitely weren't used to the cute, nice guys. Aah that was certainly a breath of fresh air in your life.

How can you not fall in love with the boy who not so discreetly carries a sketch of you scrawled in graphite in his notebook, huh?

The more time you spent together, the more your heart softened for the boy, and the more your desire to be by his side intensified. Although Nirei never gave you any other signal. Until that moment.

It was your fourth date and you were returning home after a delightful night. Nirei had taken you to a new restaurant that had opened in the neighborhood and wanted to introduce you to its main dishes.

The night was really good and none of you wanted to say goodbye, so to extend that moment, you sat on the sidewalk in front of a convenience store, each with your favorite popsicle flavor.

You weren't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the cold sweet on your palate, or the delicious meal in your stomach, maybe the warmth spreading in your heart, or even the dim golden light from the street, but Nirei looked beautiful and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him at that moment.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask suddenly, catching you both by surprise.

You could feel the heat rising to your face and the regret rising in your throat. It hadn't crossed your mind that maybe Nirei wasn't ready and that left you with a bad taste in your mouth.

But when the boy nodded slightly yes, you made sure he was okay with it.

Truth be told, he had never wanted to kiss you more than he did in this moment.

And when your cold lips met his, the taste of melon still lingering there, you concluded that there was no other place you wanted to be than where he was.

You are certainly not what people would expect from a couple since your personalities differ very clearly. Your boyfriend had some insecurities, a very soft heart, shy & fearful behaviors, and an irritating bravery that clashed with your boldness and sharp tongue. Nonetheless it's visible in the smallest gestures, in the exchange of looks and in the affection you showed each other that there was no one who completed him so well as you do.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #14

Lost and Founder's Day

I do really like how the theme song flows, especially at the end where Cosmo and Wanda jump from their human disguises into fairy form.

Ooh, Founder's Day came back from "A New Dev-elopment." Continuity! I like how the title card shows us the hat that Dev and Hazel saw during their treasure hunt.

I'm gonna throw my money down on the Dimmadomes founding Dimmadelphia (or an ancestor).

skdfj, Hazel's so cute when she steals her teacher's hat.

-> Yes, it was the Dimmadomes.

I like how Dev's shades are still gone, but he's still got that smug tone of voice. But today, he has a good reason to be a bit smug for a festival his family is hosting (that his dad had to work over the weekend to pull together). This is gonna be interesting.

I don't trust any of this tech to be good (in the moral sense). Dale literally tried to promote pollution a few episodes ago.

LKSDJFSD, Dev giving out watches that do a bunch of cool technical things and this is the face he makes when he's asked if the watches tell time:

(They do not).

This is the first time Hazel's shown interest in anything related to Dimmadomes' tech (She has a phone case covering any logo and didn't know how to do the dance they apparently made) and now she's gushing over the gift Dev gave her so I'm... hm. Where ya going with this, Hazel?

Okay, so... what the HECK is going on with Dimmadelphia? I'm sure we'll get to learn the real founder soon, but all I can assume right now is that it was Doug himself, hence the hat logo. If that's true, he was BUSY during the 50 years of frozen time.

-> That WOULD justify my Buxaplenty overlap seeing as the train lines would've been crucial for this.

It's gotta be a different ancestor. There's no way Doug would be in Dimmsdale if he'd founded another city. This city's huge. I'll be watching for any indications of "established X year."

Aww, Hazel adores Dev now and is blatantly gushing over him. That's really cute. Local #1 Dev fan:

[cnt'd under the cut - #long post]

I can't believe we didn't get a "Hazel has a bone in her hair" gag when she got shocked by the tech.

omfg, Dev is so desperate to interact with his dad that he's begging to "organize merchandise by tossing boxes back and forth to each other." He's smart. Goober.

Diagnosed child who would play Catch with active TNT minecarts in Limited Life SMP. He would just do it...

Dale, you shouldn't tell your son to "Eat a lizard." That's mean.

Oh noooo, are we about to get "My dreams were crushed many years ago... How old are you?" version 2.0?

-> Note to self, Dev's birthday is 9 years, 7 months, and 14 days before Founder's Day (give or take since he says "pretty much exactly my birthday to the day, which I think implies he's doing math and decides it's the day).

Dev is 9? Lol. Didn't we already have end of the year tests in like, Episode 2? And our implied end of school year dance? Baby.

-> I double-checked and Sadie Hawkins is in November. There were Sneezy Hawkins Dance posters in Episode 1 when Hazel walked in. Those posters hung in school for multiple episodes (I'll keep my eyes out for them in future episodes), which would imply she started school in September or October (Probably not August since she was specially introduced to the class as a new student).

-> If we keep seeing the posters throughout the whole year, I'm willing to wave them off, but while planning the timeline, it's worth noting they exist, we know we're post-2019, but probably not too many years later since that was the most recent date on the gym's championship banner for a school that clearly wins sports games often ("Fearless"), and we've seen multiple waning crescent moons.

-> No snow, but not unreasonable since Dimmsdale was in California.

... I gotta say, I'm really enjoying these recent episodes, but D: Where was this early in the series when I was confused in Post #10 as to where all the underlying trauma vibes were?

We've absolutely shifted vibes from where we were when I wrote that post. Which is fantastic, but I'm surprised we didn't get this earlier. THIS is FOP vibes. THIS is what I wanted and why I was super confused by this show's tone earlier. Yeah, of course I like Dev now... He's shifting the tone back to the OG show's vibes.

I'm wary, but I've approached to eat out of the hand.

Oh no, we scene shifted before Dale could reveal the statue under the cloth. Either he's broken and we're going to see the aftereffects (following Hazel's POV where she's confused as to why he's gone off the rails and turned snappy) or he's gonna find out during the event and he'll break down in front of the crowd. Uh-oh...

...... Okay, now they're just taunting me with the moon. It can't always be a waning crescent!!

The stage looks like Doug Dimmadome.

Please tell me Dale didn't forget to add Dev's info to the ID-scanning robot.

Every time Angela is onscreen she has a new therapy book and I support her.

Wanda: Parenting never gets easier.

-> Please tell me Hazel's parents are about to ask about that and they're going to have to either backpedal or they're going to imply they've raised like 100 kids.

sdlkfj, they only cite Poof. BRUTAL.

-> Cosmo one again giving me "First fairy baby born in 1000 years." Yeah yeah, Westley Periwinkle held the title first, we all know him (/fanfic joke).

Seriously though, it's very funny to me that Poof is never, ever referred to as "first baby born after Cosmo" or "first baby born in tens of thousands of years, or hundreds of thousands." Only first in hundreds OR first in thousands. I can't believe that DANG KID is still haunting me in the new show.

-> Cosmo still confirmed to have been the pregnant parent. I'm glad that wasn't retconned (despite Cosmo's best efforts to scramble and cover up what he said by claiming Wanda was the pregnant one).

Cracking up. Cosmo, I think the neighbors think you're trans but not out about it.

Angela: Where's your son now? :) Wanda: Eh, we don't know. I mean, we forget because we were on vacation for 10k years.

Wanda, WHAT did I say in Post 11 about how you cannot leave that clingy child alone immediately after tearing him away from Timmy?? If Poof shows up and he has abandonment issues and/or clingy vibes, I'm gonna shake you both so hard.

-> Why is Marcus not calling them out for being paranormal creatures? ... That's kind of funny since Crocker would've lost his mind.

I like how Cosmo and Wanda turned their wands into lollipops for the carnival. That's cute.

Uh-oh, the statue's not been revealed yet. I hope Dev isn't onstage when this happens. (I want him to be onstage and suffer).

-> I should note that "Stanky Danky" and "Lost and Founder" are the episodes Dale lists the companies he's in charge of, and I'm pretty sure they're different. I want to make a coherent list throughout the series.

Marcus is reading his wife's book at the party, aww. They're so cute.

OH MY GOSH, their ancestor IS surnamed Dimm! I am once again thinking this implies Dale Dimm from "Which Witch Is Which?" - who founded Dimmsdale - is probably also in this family tree.

Wanda's glowing wand is adorable. They're both cute.

So, Hazel has been here long enough she agrees she hasn't "just" moved here anymore, so I'll allow the waning crescents.

Doug Dimmadome struck gold in 1953? I'll be making a note of that. I know that's after both Dimmsdale and Dimmsdale Flats were founded. This doesn't do much for me right now, but it's good to note.

-> This implies he was a teen or adult in 1953, so he's definitely not close to the age of Timmy's parents, who were 10 in the '70s. This checks out; he's got the white hair.

-> Let's say this is 2020 for the purpose of "We know we're after 2019." (2020 - 1953) is 67, and the youngest I'd be okay letting him strike gold is 10, since 10-year-olds do a lot in this show. So, he's at minimum 77 years old during this show, and could very easily be 87 or more years older (87 if he struck gold at 20), if I'm doing my math right.

And again, that's off the assumption it's 2020, which is a little earlier than I'd been brainstorming. I'm okay with this since he had white hair in the OG series, but I'm gonna have to plot out a timeline for Dale's age at some point.

Dale: /evil monologues about his plan to monitor kids' heartrates to figure out exactly what a child want. Me: Dale, have you tried... talking to a kid? Maybe YOUR kid? Standing behind you? Dev, clearly uneasy: Dad, that's so great! You get to help kids right away!! Dale: ... Help kids?

^ Me

Wait, so the drones can waste products and not get yelled at? Dale, maybe you should focus your attention in that area of your business- I think you're losing product.

Why do the drones sound so sad? They're talking like all their friends just ditched them. They're so cute.

I love how he's still wearing the big boots:

Oh no, Dev's on stage and Dale's talking about how the statue "isn't just him" under the tarp and "he can remember when this bundle of joy arrived." Yeah, Dev's about to shatter.

Okay, Wanda's clearly startled that the statue doesn't depict Dev and even Cosmo's starting to sense that something's going on in that family. You two are going to report this, right?

Aww, Cosmo misses his son.

The contrast of Dev crashing and burning while Hazel is enjoying her new hat is very funny to me. Like, we get this sequence of how happy she is and you just know Dev's having the worst day.

Dev: It's Hazel! Of course... Her well-known love of hats! /said not long after Wanda was like "Hazel, I've literally never seen you wear a hat before yesterday, what do you mean you like hats?

That's actually very funny. And cute? When did Hazel and Dev talk about liking hats? Logically, that must've been while they were montaging on the treasure hunt and posing next to those hat-shaped objects for photos.

With Dev talking about the Dimmadomes running a family business, I'd really like to see what Dev's relationship with his grandfather is. Doug was also careless about destroying childhood memories and I don't trust him to be a good dad either, but I'm curious.

-> I actually have no proof Doug Dimmadome is still alive. I wonder if he's out of the picture and if that had a negative effect on Dale, which may be why he's throwing everything into the business right now, and why he loves his boots.

-> I should check if those boots are similar to his dad's. Like, what if he saw his dad die on the day Dev was born and the boots were left to him, so that's why the boots are so important to him that he dedicated a statue to them?

POV, the dad who (presumably) pampered you for life after you'd spent 7 years of torment underground - and you don't seem to have a mother in your life so this is your only parent and only known connection to a world that isn't full of suffering - is dying on the same day your wife is in labor. What do you do?

Aww, Hazel knows Dev well enough to sense that something's up and ask if he's okay, implying they seem to have grown closer from "A New Dev-elopment" when she saw his father scoff at him and opted to change the subject instead of asking about his feelings. They seem to be doing well as friends and I like that.

-> All these crescent moons make me wonder how long it's been since that episode, though since Dale was working on the Founder's Day event on the weekend, I assume we're still in that range of time.

Dev, holding his arm when Hazel asks if he's okay: I... don't have time to get into it.

They're so cute. I love them.

-> I love the focus on Dev right now, but I hope we don't go full steam ahead into Hazel's friendship with him and she sidelines Jasmine and Winn for her new buddy and/or potential crush.

She hasn't seen her friends this whole carnival, which surprises me. Don't do it, Hazel.

What, where did Dev get those shades. He didn't have those .4 seconds ago.

Dev's going to complete his task and give Hazel's hat back to his dad and still get rejected.

OH NO, Dev is trying to lure the scanner drones away from Hazel, but he didn't tell her that so she thinks he just called her a name, mugged her, and ran off. That's hilarious. #You tried.

Dev, you have to talk to people. You can't just assume she knows what's going on. Fool.

I like how Dale also has special eyewear (VR glasses).

I like how Cosmo inexplicably thinks all the Dimmadomes have "Pickle" as a middle name. I think he said that to Dev in an earlier episode, right?

I like how Hazel saved the day by "doing what Cosmo would do" and pressing all the buttons randomly. That's hilarious.

Barry the dinosaur was at the carnival... That's great.

HAZEL'S MAD!!

As she deserves to be- that's the second time Dev regressed to calling her names. She thought they went through this, but now she's like "He's not changing and also I literally just caught his dad in an evil plot of shocking children's brains with electricity. And Dev seems to have been helping."

Yeah... This is gonna go great. Also, his cute little poses:

Oh thank goodness... We are SO BACK, baby! The fluffy episodes were fine, but NOW we're gettin' somewhere!! Time to break some hearts.

"I would hug you, but I do not have human arms or warmth." I love them.

Aww, he likes her so much. Best buddies...

I didn't know this was his phone, I thought it was a retro video game console.

Oh, it's an iPad parallel. It's got a stand and that's why it's big.

I like how my extremely specific "Ed Leadly as Dev's other grandpa" situation just keeps getting worse the more I think about it.

Little Dev: Grandpa Leadly, I learned to write my name! :) Leadly sitting among his pencils as Dev hands him a tablet he typed on instead of pencil and paper: Buddy, rising star, apple of my eye, my little angel... I will pay you 17 million dollars to never do this in front of me again.

Dad who likes flashy and long-lasting things to remind himself how far he's come vs. grandpa who's willing to massively overpay for anything he took interest in for 5 seconds; what arguments will they endure?

OHHH BOY, it's fairy assignment time! LET'S FREAKIN' GO!

It's Poof!! That is not the voice I expected out of him, but maybe I should've because he did love deep voices back in "Certifiable Super Sitter." I accept it.

Aw, he's so ready to play! This makes me so happy... That's exactly what a fairy godparent is here for- Finding miserable kids and turning that around so they get happier memories of their childhoods. That's exciting!

-> Oh, NOW I see why you guys were all messaging me about my "Poof adores his hero Westley Periwinkle and likes naming things after him" lore, sdkjfl. Ahahaha... I'm in danger.

-> "Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Pixies" Poof-Westley interactions looming on the horizon

Interesting choice to change his name? I wonder if that was done for stylistic reasons like the script. I seem to remember the OG show's scripts would say POOF in them for special effects, and I can see how that would be confusing.

Is... is this because he's trying to lie low so he can dodge the attention he was always getting as a celebrity kid? That feels right, seeing as if it was a true deadname to him, he probably wouldn't have introduced himself as Poof before saying "I changed it to Peri, like Periwinkle."

Either that or he's unclear if Dev's heard anything about him from Cosmo, Wanda, or Hazel and he wanted to clarify who he is, though that doesn't seem likely.

Huh. I'm kinda surprised Poof showed up. I know in the past, he was a controversial addition to the show and I half-expected him to be swept under the rug, though I did wonder about it when Cosmo and Wanda were talking about him earlier.

I've always loved him though and I'm excited to have him back. Return of my other OTHER son.

I'm really excited to hear him talk since his talking was limited to "School of Crock" (only at the end), "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" (which he mostly slept through), and "Certifiable Super Sitter" (which is... unique). I've had to make up his entire personality for 'fics based on what limited understanding we had of his interests. I look forward to learning more about this version of him!

My established version of him in 'fics will take priority over new information. I'm currently still on the line of "Do I want to ignore New Wish in my canon or try to incorporate what I can?"

That said, I'm leaning a little towards incorporating, since I think I can work with most of it so far, especially if we're throwing in "Fairywinkle-Cosma family aren't strangers to time travel right now."

-> I'm not committing by any means, so don't hold me to that, and even if I do, it'll be cherry-picky.

-> One of my canons for Cloudlands AU Poof is that he's a fanfic writer, mainly for a series called Ninja Cowboy (which he chronically leaves unfinished, to Foop's distress since as Poof's opposite, he's addicted to finding out their endings). He also writes Anti-Cosmo x H.P. fanfics because it's the only thing that makes them back off when they show up to bother him.

Point being, I hope he gets to engage in Prime Meridian with Dev. I feel like they'd enjoy writing 'fics together and it would be funny to me :)

-> I'm wheezing on the floor. Poof's early concept name was Dusty. Even though the writers wouldn't have reason to know that was his concept name, it's funny to me that his name was changed to something that's also not that. The man of as many names as voices he can mimic...

That works really well for me since I named his younger brother Dusty, so that would've caused me problems.

I also gave Poof a mullet / ponytail in my teen design, so that makes me laugh. Lemme see if I have his ref sheet...

I do! Plus a bunch more from my files:

Looks like I gave him a tuft kinda close to his extra hair strand! That's fun. I wonder if New Wish Poof also likes sports. Hmm...

I'm gonna have to look up what era suspenders were popular. I specifically designed my teen/adult Poof with a late 60s / early 70s vibe since Cosmo was said to have been designed for the 50s, which is the time period parallel I was treating Fairy World in during that era too (hence Poof's blog tag being #purple hippie dragonfly, which I'm not planning to change because it's for me).

Exciting! I like Poof's staff. I've seen people do adulthood designs for Foop with a staff, but Poof's a new one. That's fun.

Alas, no freckles... but that's not gonna change in his Cloudlands AU design. We are "biological queen bee" all the way here.

Hmm. Foop has freckles, but... we'll see if he ever shows up in this series. I do not expect the artists to remember his freckles since they only showed up when he puffed his cheeks or flushed, but... if Foop shows up without his mustache and goatee, I'mma have questions.

Actually, this is perfectly fine because I always draw gyne fairies with pale freckles unless they're at their peak, and I already set Finley up as more dominant than Poof at school (with Finley suppressing his pheromones so Poof's "locked down" anyway). It looks like they're pretty faint in his ref sheet too. I'm satisfied with this.

No promises I'll work the Peri arc into my canon. I think I have room for it to exist and I don't think I've seen anything in New Wish that directly conflicts with Cloudlands AU in a way I can't work around, but I'm not likely to write 'fics for New Wish right now.

-> I'm not opposed to incorporating New Wish prompts into the 130 Prompts series IF I find any old drafts I end up not liking, but I did a deep clean in early 2023 and got rid of ones I didn't like, so I'm not sure.

I did sketch Hazel for a potential arc cover though, so I can use that if I have reason to.

So far, as long as I can find a satisfying way for Poof to age, I think I can swing New Wish around to fit with Cloudlands AU... unless we get something super specific like Poof-Peri already graduating high school or Cosmo and Wanda confirming they won't have godkids after Hazel, in which case I'll have to ignore that.

I can even work things around if Peri's not with Goldie, because their whole thing in Cloudlands AU is celebrity drama and dating life struggles anyway (iirc, Foop even told readers that Poof and Goldie keep splitting up and getting back together).

-> I've always suspected Poof would get special advance godkid permissions seeing as, y'know... Jorgen literally made him trial test Crocker's Mom as his "godperson assignment" in "Fairly Old Parent," plus Poof was getting on-the-job training his whole life. It's neat to see him!

I hope Poof's better at not burning himself out now. He looks like he's doing okay. He's grown out of his shell!

-> According to my timeline, Erg was Cosmo and Wanda's trial kid while they were still in high school, so it would totally work for me if Dev is Poof's high school assignment.

I'm not expecting that to be stated, but I can work with it.

Thanks for joining me in this liveblog! Looking forward to more episodes :)

[edgeray]

🌸 madoka anon back! can i request arle finding clervies reincarnation later? with or without memories and how arle will handle it

To Find You Again

(Arlecchino & Clervie)

A/N - So… it's been a while huh? Guess I'm back for a little bit. Did you guys miss me? I missed you guys (please talk to me T^T it's been so lonely).  I am so sorry for taking so long to make this 🌸 Anon. Anyways, platonic arlevie because reincarnated clervie is a child while arle is an adult.  As you guys may have known, I was working on the follower special, and the reason I haven't posted it yet is because I haven't finished 💀. I know. Writing has been on and off for me the entire month, and I think I burnt out from just writing about one piece so much. That, with the added stress of finishing this before school started, and also me not knowing how to start the smut was just a fuck cluster of me procrasinating from writing because the solution to your problems is obviously running away from it :D. I was simultaneously exhausated and antsy to write. Anyways, with school approaching, instead of putting it off, I decided it'd be better to get the requests out of the way so I can get back into the groove of writing without having to focus on the oneshots.  TLDR; Going back to writing requests because I'm sick of writing the specials. 😭 I'm not abandoning part 2 or part 3, because god forbid I throw 9k words in the trash, but lord do I need a break from that writing style. They will be worked on steadily but they will happen… someday.    Content warnings / info - some angst :(, maybe bittersweet ending, 1.7k words.

There is a reason that Arlecchino favors a certain shade of red. The type of vibrant scarlet that leaves her breathless for the slightest second, and she cannot help but admire. Because in that single brief length of time, she is thrown back to when she was no older than six or seven, when she was just Peruere–underneath a tree, a small box in her hands, the sun beaming down at her, knees in the dirt, her curse creeping up her fingertips–and then warmest set of emerald eyes peering upon her. Memories, some fond but largely agonizing, swarm her thoughts, rising in waves that threaten to swallow her whole. 

Over the years, she's learned to stay afloat above the fickle waters, no matter how many times they resurface in varying sizes. Except today is when the waves tower over her, as it crashes into her body, shaking her to her very core, the very foundation of her memories disturbed. All caused by a single engagement in the middle of the Fontainian streets. 

Arlecchino often enjoys strolls when her work allows respites; they are refreshing to the mind, and the beauty of Fontainian architecture never fades away. Walking along the path, she hears small footfalls approach behind her, and then something collides into her body. The weight and negligible force of impact tells her it's a small person, a child, she confirms when she hears a high-pitched voice. 

An apology tumbles out of the child's lips. “I'm sorry!” 

And Arlecchino stiffens immediately, as her ears suddenly ring with those two words, familiarity bleeding through each utterance, because she knows of this voice. This is the same voice that has haunted her dreams for a decade, only this time, it's not whispered, not sapped of all of her previous vitality. Arlecchino is sixteen again, loose sword in hand, the press of a body against her chest, and surrounded by smoke, ashes, and blood, and all she knows is her last words. 

I'm sorry. 

Arlecchino looks down with a gaping expression, lips parted and eyes widened as she stares down at a mop of hair, the color of that ever damnable shade of red, carmine. Gleaming jade stones gaze back at her, and Arlecchino thinks of the impossible–reconsidering every preconception about death. Everything but her attire matches that out of her memories. Many explanations come to her for this child's appearance, but they mock the Harbinger's own recollection of her past. 

“I'm really sorry, ma'am!” The imposter repeats again, before looking down at her shoes, to hide away from any disapproving expressions. 

Had it been one of her children, she would have chided them on their spatial awareness. Had it been any other witless child, she would have scowled and shooed them away. But even with the knowledge that this is a fake, that the girl this child resembles could never return, she cannot help herself when this girl looks so much like her. 

She crouches down to the child's eye level, placing a tender hand on the top of their head, suppressing the urge for her fingers to card through the locks, just to re-experience one final time. She has to be no more than six or seven years. 

“What is your name?” Arlecchino inquires with a softness she seldom had for anyone.

“Clervie.” 

Arlecchino’s breath hitches, and she wills her face to remain still, betraying none of the internal turmoil inside of her. What kind of trickery was this? It's not plausible for Clervie to be alive, not when she had buried her a decade ago, so how could this child stand before her? It'd ease her if she chalked it up to coincidence, but the resemblance is uncanny. Fate works in inexplicable ways, and if it is at play here, then perhaps that is the only explanation. Only Arlecchino contemplates what it is that fate has in plan for Clervie: does it intend to redeem Clerive, or punish her? Or perhaps, was it to punish the Harbinger herself? 

This Clerive seemed to have not a single drop of recollection of her. Forgotten was Peruere, like ash drifted to the wind. 

“How old are you?”

“Six.” 

Further eye contact with the child proved to be too unbearable. Arlecchino observes around, seeing no adult making their way to them.

“Where are your parents?” 

“They're at home.” 

Multiple parents? Arlecchino prays to her Majesty that this Clervie did not have her own version of a Crucabena. A miniscule, selfish part of Arlecchino wishes that her answer was that she had no caretaker. If that was the case, Arlecchino almost wouldn't hesitate taking Clervie to the House of the Hearth, if only to keep this Clervie, no matter if she doesn't know of what occured in her past lifetime, close to her. Anything to replace the emptiness that her Clervie left her with, to pretend that she still has this seldom source of her content. 

She knows that her Clervie would never forgive her, if she knew. And Peruere knows that Clervie longed nothing more but freedom, freedom from the House of the Hearth. Even if this is not her Clervie, she could never trample what Clervie achieved for her own selfish gain. Even if Crucabena was no longer there, Arlecchino could never subject Clervie to the cruelties of the Fatui, could never subject Clervie to herself.

(Arlecchino lays alone in the darkest of nights, when the stars do not shine on her. During such sleepless periods, she contemplates that if Clervie could see her, would Clervie see her in place of their late Mother? 

Peruere is afraid of the answer.)

Clervie is free. There is no need to cage her again when she is always meant to be with the wind. 

But when Arlecchino sees this fake, but undoubtedly, Clervie, she cannot help but want to relive the pleasures of reading books in the window sill with the moon and constellations, climbing trees to collect its bearings, or delighting in cakes. A foolish, naive part that Arlecchino thought she had long buried resurfaces, and it longs to reenact those placid memories. 

“You should not be outside without your parents, Clervie,” Peruere states. “Did you run away?” 

Does this Clervie wish for freedom, just like she did before? The same freedom that she can only sought by death? 

The child shakes her head. “I can't find them. I lost them somewhere.”

The Harbinger lets out a relieved, inaudible sigh. Maybe fate decided to be kind to Clervie this lifetime. 

“Would you like me to help you look for them?” Peruere finds herself asking without a single thought. 

Clervie beams, and perhaps it hurts more than any blade that could pierce her skin. Still, she commits it to memory. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you want me to carry you so you can see better?” Peruere inquired. Admittedly, this is more out of selfishness than for Clervie's benefit. However, she wants to replace the memory of the last time she had carried Clervie's body, broken and bloodied it was when she brought her dear friend to her burial place. If, for the briefest moment between the tides, she would like to fool herself with this memory, then she wishes that she is allowed just this. 

Clervie nods her head, and Peruere carefully picks up the child in her arms, before standing up from her crouching position. 

“Wow, you're so tall!” the six-year-old admires with a wide grin. 

The Harbinger faintly smiles but says nothing. 

“What's your name, ma'am?”

Peruere stops before she's taken 5 steps. It's instilled in her for her to state Arlecchino, the Knave, Fourth Fatui Harbinger, but on her tongue lies another name. “It's… Peruere.” 

“Per…uere?”

Peruere nearly shudders from her utterance, but nods. 

“Can I call you Perrie instead?” 

Arlecchino is the Fourth Fatui Harbinger, her power nearly comparable to that of a god. She has faced Crucabena's Kingmaking, she has endured the icy prisons of Snezynayan, and she has fought countless enemies. Arlecchino is all but weak, and yet she crumbles from a mere innocent question, from a child of all people.

“Yes, you can call me Perrie,” she answers far too quickly then she would like to. 

The Harbinger traverses around the Fontainian streets with the child in her arms as they look for adults similar to Clervie's description. They seem nothing like Crucabena, Peruere notes.

“Perrie, why did you stop when I asked you your name?” is the first question that Clervie asks on their search.

“You remind me of someone that I knew.” 

“Oh…” Silence, then, “You're really tall. Do you think I can be tall like you?” 

You never got the chance to, Peruere almost says, but dismisses it immediately. “I do not see why not. You have plenty more to grow.” 

Clervie hums, before her attention flits to Peruere's hands. “How come your hands are like that?”

“I painted them,” Peruere says and winces at the answer her mind conjured up. Nonetheless, it's more than convincing to the child.

“Wow… they look really cool! You painted them yourself?”

“I did.”

“Can I touch them?” 

“I suppose.” 

The conversation flows as awkwardly as one would expect with a six-year-old. Peruere is now privy to random tidbits of this Clervie's life: her favorite pastimes, preferred animal, and favored dishes, and favorite plants. The Harbinger finds it unsurprising that this Clervie still pleasures in reading novels, ravishes cake, and admires Lumodice Bells. Then she discusses why she had been out earlier today: her parents intended on getting her new clothes but lost her after she was distracted by the window displays of a bakery. 

Peruere allows her to talk, wordlessly indulging in the youthful spirit that this Clervie exhibits. It is nearly evening when Clervie exclaims sighting her parents, and Peruere hesitantly approaches the couple. 

It takes more strength than Peruere knew she possessed to let Clervie down. Clervie sprints to her parent's arms without a second thought. Clervie's parents thank Peruere for reuniting them, and promise Clervie that they would visit the bakery to buy the cake she eyeing so much.  

It is clear that Clervie has her own life to attend to. Fate chose to be merciful to her, and Peruere knows she cannot interfere with Clervie's life more, no matter how much she wishes it. Clervie is content, without Peruere.  

Arlecchino turns on her heel, intending to leave without an additional word, but Clervie calls out to her, waving frantically. 

“Bye-bye Perrie! Thank you so much!” 

Peruere glances back over her shoulder, a faint smile stretching on her lips. 

“Goodbye Clervie.” 

In your next life, let us know each other more familiarly. Until then, live the carefree life we both yearned for. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kitchensink callithump linkdump

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

With just days to go before my summer vacation, I find myself once again with a backlog of links that I didn't squeeze into the blog, and no hope of clearing them before I disappear into a hammock for two weeks, so it's time for my 21st linkdump – here's the other 20:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

I'm going to start off this week's 'dump with a little bragging, because it's my newsletter, after all. First up: a book! Yes, I write a lot of books, but what I'm talking about here is a physical book, a limited edition of ten, that I commissioned from three brilliant craftspeople.

Back in March 2023, I launched a Kickstarter to pre-sell the audiobook of Red Team Blues, the first novel in my new Martin Hench series, about a forensic accountant who specializes in unwinding tech bros' finance frauds:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

One of the rewards for that campaign was a very special hardcover: a handmade, leather-bound edition of Red Team Blues, typeset by the typography legend John D. Berry:

https://johndberry.com/

Bound by the legendary book-artist John DeMerritt:

https://www.demerrittstudios.com/

And printed by the master printer JaVae Berry:

https://www.jgraphicssf.com/

But this wasn't a merely beautiful, well made book – it had a gimmick. You see, I had already completed the first draft of The Bezzle, the second Hench novel, by the time I launched the Kickstarter for Red Team Blues. I had John Berry lay out a tiny edition of that early draft as a quarter-sized book, and then John DeMerritt hand-bound it in card.

The reason that edition of The Bezzle had to be so small was that it was designed to slip into a hollow cavity in the hardcover, a cavity that John Berry had designed the type around, so that both books could be read and enjoyed.

I offered three of these for sale through the Kickstarter, and the three backers were very patient as the team went back and forth on the book, getting everything perfect. Last month, I took delivery of the books: three for my backers, one each for John DeMerritt and John Berry's personal archives, one for me, and a few more that I'm going to surprise some very special people with this Christmas.

Look, I had high hopes for this book. I dote on beautiful books, my house is busting with them, and I used to work at a new/used science fiction store where we had a small but heartstoppingly great rare book selection. But these books are fucking astounding. Every time I handle mine, my heart races. These are beautiful things, and I just want to show them to everyone:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/albums/72177720318331731/

As it happens, the next thing I'm going to do (after I finish this newsletter) is turn in the copyedited manuscript for the third Hench novel, Picks and Shovels, which comes out in Feb 2025 (luckily, I had enough time to review the edits myself, then turn it over to my mom, who has proofed every book I've written and always catches typos that everyone else misses, including some real howlers – thanks Mom!):

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

Of course, the majority of people who enjoy my books do not end up with one of these beautiful hardcovers – indeed, many of you consume my work exclusively as electronic media: ebooks and (of course) audiobooks. I love audiobooks and the audio editions of my books are very good, with narrators like Amber Benson, Wil Wheaton, and Neil Gaiman.

But here's the thing: Audible refuses to carry my books, because they are DRM-free (which means that they aren't locked to Audible's approved players – you can play my audiobooks with any audiobook player). Audible has a no-exceptions, iron-clad rule that every book they sell must be permanently locked into their platform, which means that Audible customers can't ditch their Audible software without losing their libraries – all the books they purchased:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

Being excluded from Audible takes a huge bite out of my income – after all, they're a monopolist with a 90% market share. That's why I'm so grateful for indie audiobook stores that carry my books on equitable terms that Audible denies – stores like Libro.fm, Downpour and even Google Books.

This week, I discovered a new, amazing indie audiobook store called Storyfair, where the books are DRM-free and the authors get a 75% royalty on every sale:

https://storyfair.net/helpstoryfairgrow/

Storyfair is a labor of love created by a married couple who were sickened and furious by the way that Audible screws authors and listeners and decided to do something about it. Naturally, I uploaded my whole catalog to the site so they could sell it:

https://storyfair.net/search-for-audiobooks/?keyword=cory+doctorow&filter=any

These books are DRM-free, which means that no matter who you buy them from, you can play them in the same player as your other DRM-free audiobooks. You know how you can read all your books under the same lamp, sitting in the same chair, and then put them in the same bookcase when you're done with them? It's weird – outrageous even! – that tech companies think that buying a book from them means that they should have the legal right to force you to read or listen to it using their technology exclusively.

If you let your Storyfair audiobooks touch your Libro.fm audiobooks, they won't get cooties! Audible is like a toddler that won't let their broccoli touch their peas – only that toddler is also a rapacious monopolist that keeps 75% of every sale.

The fight for fair audiobooks is one of those places where the different parts of my professional life cross over: activism, digital media, art, writing the web, and breaking down complex technical subjects for a mass audience. I've just signed up to a six-year project to combine all those facets in a structured way, in collaboration with Cornell University.

Cornell just named me as their latest AD White Professor-at-Large. This is a six-year appointment that involves a series of week-long visits to Ithaca to lecture, run seminars, meet with colleagues, collaborate on research, and do community performances:

https://adwhiteprofessors.cornell.edu/

We've tentatively scheduled my first visit for early September 2025, to coincide with the Ithaca Book Festival, and we've got big plans, roping in multiple departments at Cornell, the local alternative school and local colleges, doing talks at the fair as well as at the university, and (we hope!) squeezing in a stop in NYC on the way home for a day at Cornell Tech. I'm so excited (and honored) to be working with Cornell (and getting a chance to visit Moosewood Restaurant, whose cookbooks taught me how to cook!). Watch this space.

Authorship has always been a political act, but never moreso than today, with waves of book-bans sweeping the country. One of the heroes of those bans is Maggie Tokuda-Hall, who made headlines when she publicly excoriated Scholastic for demanding that she remove references to racism from her kids' books in order to make them more palatable to reactionaries:

https://www.npr.org/2023/04/15/1169848627/scholastic-childrens-book-racism

Tokuda-Hall has stepped up the fight, co-founding Authors Against Book Bans, an org that provides training and support for author/activists so they can fight back against book bans at library board and city council meetings:

https://www.authorsagainstbookbans.com/

Authors Against Book bans is looking for members! I signed up last week, within seconds of having Tokuda-Hall give me the pitch when we ran into each other in Oakland at the Locus Awards. Are you an author? Sign up too! They're especially interested in branching out beyond YA and kids' authors (though they want those kinds of writers, too!).

Book bans affect us all. Even if you personally are never stymied when you visit your library and discover the book that you want to read has been removed by a swivel-eyed loon with terminal groomer-panic. The bans sweeping our country mean that our neighbors and loved ones are being denied literature by these cranks. There are people in your life who are losing out on the possibility of a life-changing literary adventure (which is why the far right hates these books – they want to be sure no one encounters the ideas between their covers).

The realization that you have to live in a society with people who are harmed by injustice, even if you personally escape that justice? It's the whole basis for solidarity.

Americans are living through a multigenerational project of stamping out solidarity and insisting that we only ever view ourselves as individuals, with no stake in the plights of our neighbors. That's how the US got the most expensive, least effective health care system in the world. And even if you are in the vanishingly tiny minority of Americans who are happy with their health care, you live amongst people who are being killed by the system around you.

The health system is a perfect example of how monopolization drives more monopolization, and how that comes to harm the public and workers. Health consolidation began with pharma mergers, that led to pharma companies gouging hospitals. Hospitals, in turn, engaged in a nonstop orgy of mergers, which created regional monopolies that could resist the pricing power of monopoly pharma – and screw insurers. That kicked off consolidation in insurance, which is why most Americans have a "choice" of between one and three private insurers – and why health workers' monopoly employers have eroded their wages and working conditions.

A new study in American Economic Review: Insights puts some quantitative spine in this tale, tracking the relationship between hospital mergers and skyrocketed health-care prices:

https://harris.uchicago.edu/news-events/news/consolidation-hospital-sector-leading-higher-health-care-costs-study-finds?itid=lk_inline_enhanced-template

The researchers investigated 1,164 acute-care hospital mergers, finding that while the FTC only challenged 1% of these, they could – and should – have challenged 20% of them, based on the agency's own criteria for merger scrutiny. The researchers blame the rising costs of hospital care directly on these mergers, and point out that Congress has historically starved the FTC of the budget it needed to investigate these mergers. The annual additional costs to the American people from these mergers exceed the entire annual budget of the FTC.

It's not just hospitals: the entire investor class is hell-bent on spending their way to monopoly. Nowhere is that more true than in AI, where hundreds of billions are being poured into bids to attain permanent dominance through scale. Writing for their excellent AI Snake Oil newsletter, Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor inject some realism into the AI scale hype:

https://www.aisnakeoil.com/p/ai-scaling-myths

Narayanan and Kapoor challenge the idea that throwing more data at large language models will make the better: "With LLMs, we may have a couple of orders of magnitude of scaling left, or we may already be done." They are skeptical that this can be fixed with synthetic data (whose use is limited to "fixing specific gaps and making domain-specific improvements"). They also point out that if returns from data slow, then returns from adding more compute or making bigger models might also be throttled.

They reserve their most skeptical take for "AGI" – the idea that LLMs are going to achieve consciousness. This is a fundamentally unserious idea, one that they unpack in detail in their forthcoming book:

https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691249131/ai-snake-oil

One thing I'm hoping for from the book is some analysis of the material usefulness of AI hype – what purpose does the hype serve? I mean, obviously, hype is useful if you're looking to suck up investor capital, or flip an investment to a greater fool. But there's a specific character to AI hype: namely, the claim that AI will displace labor, which is really a claim that a bet on AI is a bet on the increasing wealth of capital at labor's expense.

In other words, AI is a bet on oligarchy. In America, that's a pretty safe bet, and the odds just got even better, thanks to a string of brutal Supreme Court decisions that legalized bribery, banned most regulatory enforcement, and made being alive and unhoused into a crime (Poor Laws 2.0):

https://prospect.org/justice/2024-06-29-whos-gonna-check-supreme-court-chevron-separation-powers/

But amidst all those gimmes to the rich and powerful, there was one notable exception: the SCOTUS ruling on the Purdue Pharma bankruptcy. Purdue was the family business of the Sacklers, a multigenerational dope-peddling dynasty that went from super-rich to stratospherically rich by kickstarting the opioid epidemic with their blockbuster drug Oxycontin.

The Sacklers sold mountains of Oxy the old fashioned way: by lying. The lied about its efficacy and they lied about its safety, and they helped kill hundreds of thousands of Americans. Eventually, this caught up with them, and Purdue lost a bunch of court cases and was forced into bankruptcy.

That's where things get gnarly: the Sacklers took the already-sleazy world of elite bankruptcy to a whole new level, with a set of breathtakingly sleazy maneuvers that ensured that their case would be heard by the one judge in America who would let them off the hook:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

That judge was Robert Drain and the Sacklers were the blow-off to a long and shameful career in public "service." The Sacklers incorporated a subsidiary in White Plains, NY (in Drain's turf) precisely 181 days before filing for bankruptcy, then claimed that this empty small-town office had been the company HQ for more than six months. Then they hid machine-readable metadata in their filing that tricked the court's database into assigning the case to Drain:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#shoppers-choice

The reason the Sacklers were so horny for Drain? He was a notoriously generous source of "nonconsensual third-party releases." These would allow the Sacklers to permanently end every lawsuit against them without having to declare bankruptcy. Instead, they could take their (ruined, hollow) company through bankruptcy, throw a small fraction of their personal fortunes into the pot, representing fractional pennies on the dollar of what they owed to their victims, and walk away with tens of billions and eternal protection from any future suits.

In other words, they could stiff their creditors and keep the loot. Which is exactly what Robert Drain gave them – before retiring from the bench to get a two-orders-of-magnitude pay raise at a white-shoe firm that specializes in representing corporate mass-murderers like the Sacklers.

That's where it would have ended, but for a surprising ruling from the Supreme Court, which threw out the nonconsensual third-party release deal and put the Sacklers back on the hook to pay the victims of their many, many crimes.

As ever, the best source of analysis and explanation for elite bankruptcy shenanigans is Adam Levitin of the Credit Slips blog:

https://www.creditslips.org/creditslips/2024/06/purdue-pharma-decision-a-big-win-for-mass-tort-victims.html

Levitin has a prediction for what's going to happen next. He rejects the predictions of Sackler apologists, who say that this is going to add years or decades to the already too-long wait for compensation that the Sacklers' victims have endured. Instead, Levitin says that the Sacklers will almost certainly transfer billions more from their personal fortunes to the settlement pot and beg for consensual releases from their victims. In other words, they'll go from dictating terms to asking for them.

So the settlement will stand, but it will be larger, and victims who don't want to take it won't have to – they'll be able to sue. In other words, this ruling "does not prevent deals in bankruptcy. It just changes the terms of what those deals."

This has implications for other mass-murderers and corporate criminals, like Johnson and Johnson (who tricked women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

And the Boy Scouts of America, who let pedophiles abuse children for decades:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/05/third-party-nonconsensual-releases/#au-recherche-du-pedos-perdue

Both J&J and BSA carved out nonconsensual third-party releases in the mold of the Sacklers' deal, and both briefed the Supreme Court, warning that if the Sacklers were forced to pay what they owed, J&J and BSA's victims would also be entitled to far larger sums. Go ahead and threaten us with a good time, why doncha?

The Sackler decision is a real bright spot at a dark time for corporate impunity. It's always nice to see big corporate bullies getting a bit of a comeuppance. Another one of those comeuppances was just delivered thanks to a classic fatfinger error.

A Microsoft engineer accidentally released the sourcecode to Playready, the company's flagship DRM product:

https://borncity.com/win/2024/06/26/microsoft-employee-accidentally-publishes-playready-code/

Microsoft's DRM doesn't do anything to protect the interests of creative workers or even the companies that employ them. As a Microsoft rep admitted on stage at a presentation in 2006, the purpose of Microsoft DRM is to prevent small startups from entering the market, ensuring that Microsoft and its "rivals" can safely divide up the world without worrying about disruptive competitors:

https://memex.craphound.com/2006/01/30/msft-our-drm-licensing-is-there-to-eliminate-hobbyists-and-little-guys/

I was there that day and reported on the remarks, prompting both Microsoft and its rep to furiously deny that they'd ever said this, despite multiple witnesses who heard it. This was just a couple years after I gave a viral talk at Microsoft about why the company shouldn't use DRM:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/18/greetings-fellow-pirates/#arrrrrrrrrr

By 2006, it was clear that the company was all in on DRM, and today, DRM is the centerpiece of Microsoft's anticompetitive strategy, and Playready is the centerpiece of Microsoft's DRM. The source-code leak is doubtless going to give rise to lots of grey-market tools for stripping DRM from all kinds of media:

https://security-explorations.com/microsoft-playready.html

You love to see it! Now I'm doubly looking forward to this summer's security conferences, including Defcon, where, for the first time, I'll be emceeing the charity poker tournament to benefit EFF:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/betting-your-digital-rights-eff-benefit-poker-tournament-def-con-32

This should be very fun – and funny – especially given how little I know about poker (I have been specifically selected on that basis, for the comedy value). Every player gets a custom EFF poker-deck, and the winner gets a treasure chest filled by EFF board member Tarah Wheeler, including "emeralds, black pearls, amethysts, diamonds, and more."

I like to close these linkdumps with something fun and uplifting, and I'd planned to end things with the poker-tournament, but then my pal Raph Koster announced that his game studio Playable Worlds had dropped its first announcement of Stars Reach, an open-world MMO like no other:

https://www.raphkoster.com/2024/06/28/announcing-stars-reach/

Raph is a legend in MMO design circles, whose credits include Ultima Online and Star Wars Galaxies. He wrote the definitive text on how games work, A Theory of Fun, that's does for games what Understanding Comics did for comics:

https://www.theoryoffun.com/

Stars Reach is stupidly ambitious. It consists of truly open worlds, modeled to an absurd degree of fidelity:

We know the temperature, the humidity, the materials, for every cubic meter of every planet. Our water actually flows downhill and puddles. It freezes overnight or during the winter. It evaporates and turns to steam when heated up. And not just our water — everything does this. Catch a tree on fire with a stray blaster bolt. Melt your way through a glacier to find a hidden alien laboratory embedded in the ice. Stomp too hard on a rock bridge, and watch out, it might collapse under your feet. Dam up a river to irrigate your farm. Or float in space above an asteroid, and mine crystals from its depths.

The game is fundamentally a climate story, whose lore has humanity seeded around the galaxy by a powerful alien race called the Old Ones, only to have humans bust through the planetary limits of every world they were given. Now the Old Ones are giving humans another chance to try smarter ways of sustaining ourselves on new worlds, with the aid of powerful robots call "Servitors."

Because this is a Raph Koster game, it's got a bunch of extremely satisfying play dynamics:

A classless skill tree advancement system, where peaceful play matters just as much as combat

An intricate player-driven economy where players can craft their way to fame and fortune

An accessible yet deep combat system, where you can choose whether to play using action aiming or more forgiving homing shots or lock-on targeting

In-world player housing that lets you build and customize your home and form towns… and enough room for everyone to have a house

A single shardless galaxy, with both space and ground gameplay… in fact, you can build that house on an asteroid, if you want

The ability for a group to govern a planet, and define its laws, whether you want a peaceful home or a PvP free for all

Stars Reach is not playable yet, but the company's looking for gamers to give them feedback and steer the development:

https://starsreach.com/

OK, that wraps up the week's links. I'm gonna get one more edition out on Monday, god willin' and the crick don't rise, and then I'll be off for a couple weeks. Enjoy your summer!

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/29/pasticcio/#professor-at-large

Image: James St John https://flickr.com/photos/47445767@N05/40894047123

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[aritsukemo]

Paradise | Chapter Three - Sabito and Makomo | KNY

Summary: Sakonji Urokodaki's grueling training begins!

Warnings: Nothing much. Tanjiro, Y/n, and Sumiko are in pain for the majority of this chapter.

A/N: Here's chapter three that's been sitting in my drafts for like two to three months now! This is my first time doing a first pov so I hope my lack of expertise doesn't show too much!😅 I'm going to re-remind everyone once the next chapter comes out, but chapter four will be posted alongside the first oc profile! You'll only be able to read it over on Wattpad, but I hope everyone goes to give it a quick read whenever I post it! :D

Tagging: @overluvsick, @nursedflowers, @jspidey5 + anyone who wants to be tagged! <3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Third Person Pov

Crickets and other noisy bugs converse loudly during the night. Tanjiro sits at a small table, a singular lamp by his side as his soft hand holds a brush—which bristles already stained in ink and are coloring symbols into the once clean sheet. The brush glides across the page until it comes to an abrupt stop and  goes back to the start, hovering over the next clean area of the paper. Tanjiro looks behind his shoulder. Nezuko sleeps peacefully on the futon behind him. Y/n sits propped up against the wall with one of her legs kicked up, her eyes closed, and silent snoring coming from her in steady breaths. Sumiko leans against her, also fast asleep.

Guess it's finally time to get some rest. After all, his first day of training begins tommorow.

Closing the book, the light shines on the book cover. It displays in big symbols and clean, black ink, "Journal" with his full name written in smaller characters below that. Tanjiro's hands leave the book at last after spending his final free day writing for hours without end..

First Person, Tanjiro's Pov

 "The Demon Slayer Corps has around several hundred members. It's an organization unrecognized by the government, yet it has existed since ancient times and continue to hunt demons today. As for the one leading the Demon Slayer Crops, however, that remains a mystery."

 "Demons. They mercilessly kill and feed on humans and their flesh. No one has a clue where or when they first appeared. Their physical prowess is remarkable. Wounds heal in the blink of an eye. Flesh is restored no matter what damage comes to it and limbs that are hacked off can easily regenerate. Some demons can shapeshift, others have otherwordly powers. The only ways to kill these heinous creatures are via sunlight or decapitation with a special sword."

 "The Demon Slayers battle demons with their mortal bodies. Since they're only human, they're wounds are slow to heal, and once lost, their limbs never grow back! Even so, they continue to selflessly fight to protect other humans!" Those were the first words Mr. Urokodaki spoke to us when our training to become demon slayer swordmen first began. As he was explaining everything, I couldn't help but look at her from the corner of my eye.

Y/n's face hid everything from me like an iron wall. Her scent opened a window for me to peer into, but whenever it did, it always left me puzzled. It always contradicted her in some way and that fact worries me.

I want to ask her so many questions. About these contradicting feelings, about her past that she for some reason refuses to tell.. I want to have a heart to heart with her like a brother and sister would..

But now's not the time for questions. For now, I need to focus on becoming a demon slayer so that I can start finding a cure to turn Nezuko back into a human!

 "I am a trainer. I literally train swordsmen," Urokodaki said to us that early morning, "There are many trainers like me all over Japan, and each of them train their pupils with their own regimen in their location."

 "To join the Demon Slayer Corps, you must survive the Final Selection process held on Mt. Fujikasane. Whether or not you're eligible for Final Selection is up to me," He explained. I remember thinking at the time, "Simple enough."

How naive I was..

 Starting today, I'm going to keep a journal for Nezuko.

 I'm decending the mountain again today. I'm going to train my hardest so that I don't die during Final Selection!

 After repeatedly descending the mountain, day after day, I'm starting to learn how to avoid most of the traps. I've become stronger and I'm even more adept at detecting scents than before. Even so..the traps are getting more and more difficult. At this point, I'm starting to believe he's actually trying to kill us! I nearly fell into a hidden pit of knives today..

 Despite the increase in difficulty, I seem to be the only one struggling to keep up. Y/n and Sumiko have cleared the mountain a couple times without problems. At first, Sumiko would trigger traps left and right fearlessly and would just narrowly dodge them. She really worried me for a while, but after some scolding from Mr. Urokodaki, she started trying to dodge them at last. I'm relieved that he stepped in before she got seriously injured.

 As for Y/n, she seems to be on a whole different level! She's quick on her feet—quicker than both me and Sumiko—and her natural senses manage to keep her from triggering most of the traps on the mountain. In only half a day, she had already managed to make it up and down the mountain three times! Seriously, how does she do that?

I run down the mountain as fast as I my legs can take me and leap over an oncoming rope. As soon as I planted my feet back onto the ground, a log comes swinging right at me! I barely dodged it and stumbled a bit. Because of that, I nearly triggered a trap..

Mr. Urokodaki's scent hits my nostrils and leads a clear trail to the next trap ahead. Knives fly from the trees and I find myself stopping to look. My heart skips as I swing my body out of the way, just bsrely dodging as the knives dig into the tree behind me.

My legs felt like jelly and I wobbled right into an obvious trap. I nearly twist my ankle catching myself before I fell completely into the hole—thank goodness for that, because under me were sharp knives, threatening to cut me open with even the slightest touch.

I gasped out in horror without realizing. But really, is a pit of knives really necessary?

As this was happening, Y/n and Sumiko shoot past me. Y/n is ahead, her face still like a stone as she hopped over ropes and other traps without so much as pausing for a breath. Sumiko mimcks her, taking wide leaps over everything until her foot steps down on her demise. A snap is heard and I suddenly see her dangling in the air by her foot.

 "Ah, Sumiko!" I manage to maneuver myself out of the way of the hole and crawl to my feet. I jog up to my little sister in need only to realize that the rope was just out of my reach. Oh no.

In the end, I accidentally triggered a trap trying to help her down and got myself stuck as well. Mr. Urokodaki had to cut us down and we both got a scolding for our slip ups..

 I made my descent down the mountain again today, sword in hand, but it really hampered my movements. I can't stop getting ensnared by traps! Sumiko seems to be having as much trouble as I am, if not worse. Her sense of balance has been thrown off entirely and she can't seem to dodge even the simplest of traps..

 Y/n started only a few days before we did, but she's already gotten the hang of her sword. She truly is amazing!

I run down the mountain, large sword hanging heavy on my hip and Sumiko by my side, and we simultaneously hop over a rope tied low to the ground. Urokodaki watches us in silence, arms crossed. And, although I can't see his face because of the mask, I know he's judging our every move.

Each trap I hop over, Sumiko lags behind, just barely being able to mimick my movements. She leaps after me, but she doesn't make it high enough to avoid a rope. I hear intense ruffling along with a small yelp and look over my shoulder to see that Sumiko's gone and there's a large pit where she used to stand.

 "Sumiko!" I find myself sliding to a stop, "Don't worry, I'll—" And then another snap echoes throughout the forest; a warning that I didn't process fast enough to heed. I fall back, but I wasn't even able to hit the ground before I'm snatched into the air..

We were kept stuck in our traps until Y/n finished her descent through the mountain. What makes things worse is that when Mr. Urokodaki cut me down, I fell right on my head..

 I swing my sword today. Well, it's not just today. After descending the mountain, I, along with Y/n and Sumiko, swing our swords until our arms nearly fall off. We do this every day.

 "Nine hundred ninety-one.. Nine hundred ninety-two..!" Numbers were shouted out in unison by all three of us as we stood side by side in a clearing at in the mountain. The evening glow shines down on us and our blades which causes them to gleam every time we swing downwards.

Every inch of my arm throbs with each tense of my muscles that are caused when I swing my sword. I've been clenching my teeth for so long that I'm scared they'll shatter if I don't ease up, but how am I supposed to do that? Even though they're beginning to numb over, my arms hurt so badly!

But at last, I can finally rest, "One thousand!" We all finally yell out, but immediately after we said that, Urokodaki gruffly follows up with his own shouting, "Five hundred more!" He told us.

And just as that demand reached my ears, I felt my tired soul completely shatter into pieces..

 "Swords break easily," That's what he told us beforehand. Though it's strong vertically, it's weak horizontally, so you need to apply the force straight along the blade. The blade's direction and the direction in which you apply force must be exactly the same. And that's when Urokodaki added, "If you ever damage the blade, in other words, break it, I'll snap your bones as well," in a very threatening tone of voice. Just thinking about it, makes me nervous all over again..

 Today, we did nothing but fall. We started training to break our falls and get up quickly from any position.

 We wield our swords, charging at Mr. Urokodaki, really trying to kill him. In contrast, Mr. Urokodaki is bare-handed and unarmed. Even so, he's ridiculously powerful! He flings me away and I roll on the ground every time..

 Even someone like Y/n seems to struggle when up against Mr. Urokodaki. She starts off good, getting up faster than me and Sumiko and manages to get a few swings in. None of them ever hit him, however, and in the end, she's always flung away just like me.

 Sumiko seems to have it the worse since she tends to charge at him with the intent on fighting bare-handed. Her sword gets in her way and she's always flipped or tossed away quicker than either of us. Every time it happens, my heart skips a beat thinking she'll accidentally land on her sword and hurt herself..

We stand before Mr. Urokodaki, swords in hand. I merely blink and in an instant, my world is flipped upside down! ..Literally. Before I even had the time to process that my feet were no longer planted on the ground, my face was already sliding against the gravel and my nose was already being invaded by the strong, muddy smell of the dirt that I had begun to grow used to.

As I crack my eyes open again, I spot Y/n running towards Mr. Urokodaki. She had already managed to regain her senses after the temprorary lapse and got up. How does she do that?

With her face scrunched in conentration, she charges forward and swings her blade when she's close enough. She immediately follows up with an upward slash attack after her intial strike misses. The movements of her swings are sharp, but I get the sense of aggression towards the tail end of every single strike. It's passive-aggressive which contrasts Mr. Urokodaki, who's movements are pretty lax as he dodges the majority of her swings by simply moving out of the way of her blade.

That relaxed air around his being leaves him for a mere moment as he goes on the offense. He suddenly charges forward and Y/n immediately raises her sword. She swings downwards with the intent of landing a singular strike, but he sidesteps her attack and I find myself having to tense and squint my eyes as to not miss Mr. Urokodaki's next movements. While she's still focused on her previous attack, Mr. Urokodaki steps behind her and lands a kick to the back of one of her knees which causes them to fold. She falls on one knee and Mr. Urokodaki waste no time in kicking her in the side and sending her tumbling away.

Both me and Sumiko get up at the same time, but I attack first. I run as fast as I can, mouth open and yelling as I hold my sword above my head..

And in less than a second, my view of the world was flipped upside down again and spinning like a wheel. I couldn't feel the ground anymore either which made it finally dawn on me what just happened; Mr. Urokodaki had flipped me into the air and the momentum of his throw had me rolling midair!

The revelation hits at the same time that I hit the ground. I land right on my chest which knocks the majority of the air outta my lungs in a loud gusp. Quickly after that, I hear light groans that signal Sumiko's defeat.

 "Again!" I hear Mr. Urokodaki demand and I catch myself groaning softly as I peel myself off the gravel. I don't know how long I can take being tossed around like this..

 Today, we learned breathing techniques and some forms. We'd get yelled at for not bracing our stomachs and clobbered to a plup..

 "Total Concentration breathing?" I questioned, my head instinctively tilting to the side a little.

 "That's right," Urokodaki said, "And I'm going to teach you three all ten of the Water Breathing forms."

 "Remember to take a long breath so the oxygen flows into every cell in your body," He told us, "This will enhance your body's natural healing power, and both stabilize and energize your spirit."

 "Relax your upper body.." He instructs and we do as he tells us to the best of our abilities, all of our shoulders' slumping, "..while bracing your lower half," I tense up my legs and feet. Y/n and Sumiko do the same.

 "All right, now breathe!" My head tilts back, and at a turtle's pace, I suck in as much air as I can. I exhale just as slowly, my whole body slumping..and then, bam! My eyes shoot open as pain shoots through my entire body and spit is propelled from my mouth and shot out in all directions.

Mr. Urokodaki had smacked me in the stomach and it felt horrible!

To try and ease the pain, my body curls into itself. I'm hunched over, shaking with my arms wrapped around my stomach and my knees bending when I hear Mr. Urokodaki yell, "Wrong!" And I hear groans. I guess Y/n and Sumiko had met a smiliar, painful fate.

 "Next! Forms!" Mr. Urokodaki shouts and we have no choice but to straighten back up. He didn't give us much to go off of, but I was determined and struck a pose anyways.

 "Right! Like this?" I ask, "Wrong!" He yells. And so, I snap into a different pose.

 "Like this?" I ask again only for him to repeat, "Wrong!" I change poses once again and promptly ignore the sideway looks of confusion, dissaproval, and embarrassment I get from my sisters—the latter two more apparent in the look Y/n gives me; the former one more accurately represented in Sumiko's dot-eyed expression—and yell out, "This?"

In an instant Mr. Urokodaki had popped me in the stomach once, then twice, then a third time, and unfortunately a fourth, fifth, and sixth which elicited a loud, whiny moan from me.

 After that, he told us to become one with the water.

We stood fairly high up on one of the ledges near the mountain we descend every morning as a warm up. Before us was a large waterfall that was so noisy that we struggled to hear each other despite standing side by side with one another. It loudly flowed it's abundance of water down to the bottom, which I couldn't really see all that well due to the constant stream blending together and crashing down producing a light steam at the bottom from the sheer coldness of the water..

And then, our demise rings out in the form of Mr. Urokodaki's voice, "What are you waiting for? Get in there!" And we're suddenly kicked off. Off instinct, I try to run away from my fate, but all it does is prolong the inevitable until gravity finally hits me and I go falling along with Y/n and Sumiko.

My stomach flutters in an uneasy sorta way at the airy feeling of falling from such a high vantage point. I scream, going to call out for the first person that pops into my head, "Nezuko..!" I drawl until I finally hit the water with a loud splash!

After a moment of floating along the stream, we all manage to pick ourselves up and huddle under the waterfall. As the heavy water comes relentlessly crashing down onto us, we stay firmly planted with our hands mashed together as if we were praying.

 "Nezuko..!" I find myself yelling, my voice being carried in the wind. Echoing and bouncing off the rushing waterfall, "I...! ..Am...! ..Water..!"

My constant yelling must've really irked Y/n, because after a while, she shouted at me, her voice strained but angry, "Could you..! Shut up..! ..For one second..?"

 As of now, it's been six months since Nezuko was last awake. Mr. Urokodaki summoned a doctor right away and had him examine her, but he found nothing wrong.

 But it's not normal for her to stay asleep like this.. I'm scared. Scared that one morning, I'll wake up to find her dead. Not a day goes by that I don't worry..

 Sumiko had begun staying up later and later at night. I think she's also worried about that possibility and it's causing her to fear sleeping. I try to soothe her nerves as best I can, but I fail to do much.. At least she seems to be getting along with Mr. Urokodaki well. I sometimes catch them talking late at night when they assume everyone's asleep. I have no idea what their talks could be about, but soon after their late night talks began, Mr. Urokodaki had started supplying her with books. She tends to stay up all night reading them now and it got to the point where catching her fast asleep, face first in a book was a common sight we all saw of her in the mornings.

 Whenever we talk about Nezuko, Y/n's face scrunches and she always says that it's only a matter of time. It upsets me badly to hear that she has no faith in Nezuko ever awaking up again, but now that I think on it, this is probably her way of coping with the situation herself. I think she's trying to be overly pessimistic in case of the worst happening so that she doesn't fall apart. Looking back on it, she acted like that for a while when dad's health started to decline and he ws bedridden..

 My descents are getting more dangerous and the air's even thinner since we've started descending from a higher point in the mountain. Time and time again, I think I might die, but at the same time, I've felt that, not just I, but all three of us have gotten stronger! Under Mr. Urokodaki's steady, stern guidance, we've all grown and I was sure at the time that we'd reach unspeakable heights with his help! ..And then it happened.. }

 "As of today, I have nothing more to teach you. The rest is up to you!"

 A year after we arrived at Mt. Sagiri, he told me that all of a sudden after I descended the mountain. I remember that initial feeling of surprise that struck me followed quickly by fear. After all, when he said that, it was just me there. I was the last out of the three of us to make it down the mountain. My first assumption was that this was some kind of punishment because of my own shortcomings, but then he told me to follow him. We walked for a long while—long enough for the air around us to grow colder and the snow to finally start falling—before we finally made it to a wide clearing with..a boulder in the center of it..

I found myself staring on in awe. Before me, was the largest boulder I had ever seen in my life. It was taller than both me and Mr. Urokodaki and wide to boot! That being said, it was surprising to see that a rope with long shide attached to it was wrapped all the way around it.

 "If you can slice this boulder, I will allow you to enter Final Selection," Mr. Urokodaki said after a while of my gawking. Without blinking, my eyes glide over to look at him and I only move my head a little to gaze at him for a moment before my head slid back in place and my eyes found itself on the large rock again.

I found myself thinking, "Is a boulder, especially on so big..even capable of being sliced with a sword? ..I don't think I can.." I barely noticed it, but my hand had made it's way to wrap around my sheathed katana, just under the hilt, "My sword will snap, no question!"

During my silent distress, Mr. Urokodaki stayed just as silent. Without any advice or tips or instructions, he turned on his heel and began walking away from me, "Mr. Urokodaki, please wait! ..Mr. Urokodaki!" I called his name again and again, but he just kept walking without turning back or saying anything to acknowledge my calls, leaving me alone with the tough boulder and the soft snow falling around me.. 

 After that, Mr. Urokodaki never taught me anything again. Not just me, he apparently did the same thing to Sumiko and Y/n, taking them to one of the many designated clearings in the mountain and giving them the same task before leaving. That thought comforted me a little knowing that I wasn't alone in this.

 Every day after that, I practiced what Mr. Urokodaki taught us over and over by myself. I was able to go over the basics like holding my breath and flexibility without trouble thanks to the notes I'd written down in this journal. But, even after six months had passed, I still couldn't slice the boulder. I felt frustrated. I wasn't training hard enough and it showed every single day I failed..

 But, just when the despair of the situation started to set in, he appeared..

A loud clank rang, echoing my failure throughout the area. I stood there with my sword laid against the boulder after having smacked my blade against the thick rock. My head hung low under the evening's bright, yellow glow and I huffed softly, unable to catch my breath.

 "Am I hopeless?" The thought stained my mind like ink on paper. It spread, inviting similar thoughts into my head until it plagued my brain entirely.

 "Have Y/n and Sumiko already sliced their boulders in half? Will they go on to become demon slayers without me?"

 "Is Nezuko going to die without ever waking up?"

Those thoughts made me anxious which made it hard to shake them away easily. They were dark, like black paint and had smeared itself all over and made it hard to think of anything else aside from this heavy feeling that had already begun to sink to the bottom of my gut; that depressing feeling of self-dissatisfaction.

But I can't give up! I've spent all this time training! It can't all be for nothing! I won't allow it to all be for nothing! This is for Nezuko!

Using those small pebbles of determination, I clench my teeth, move my sword out of the way, and headbutt the boulder. All while yelling words of encouragement into the air.

 "Keep working, Tanjiro!" I told myself, "You can do it! You have to!" And then landed another headbutt to the boulder. That seemed to anger it, because after that second headbutt, it screamed at me, "Shut up!"

..Wait, that wasn't the boulder. Looking up, my eyes immediately lock on a fox mask and I feel my brows scrunching from confusion. Sitting atop the boulder with his leg kicked up, was a kid seemingly around my age. His pink hair reminded me of a ripe peach and blended well with our surroundings, which were colored in orange and yellow to match the sky above. That said, his kimono top and calf leggings were covered in clashing, bright, yellow and green shapes that had me racking my brain from how familiar the pattern was.

 "A man shouldn't whine. It's unseemly," His voice caught me off guard because of how much deeper it was compared to my own. However, it wasn't gruff like Mr. Urokodaki's and still held this certain smoothness of youth that kept me from thinking he was older than me.

His sudden appearance raised questions that temporarily shushed the loud, disheartening thoughts screaming and running amok in my head. There was no scent to him which formed some of my biggest questions. Never in my life have I never been able to catch the scent of someone. Never.

 "No matter how much your suffer, a man should always bear it in silence," He got to his feet, and that finally made me take notice of the wooden sword in his hand, "That is, if you call yourself a man," And with that, he gracefully lept into the air. His plain, white haori raised, floating in the wind just like his hair. It distracted me, and because of that distraction, I wasn't able to process the shift in the air when he flipped. If it wasn't for my instincts, I would've also missed the raising of his wooden sword before it was brought down onto me with a sudden force.

His blade clanged against my metal hilt and before I was able to take in the fact that he was suddenly attacking me, the boy landed another attack on me. This time twisting to land a kick to my chin that had me flying back and landing on my head.

 "Slow. Weak. Immature. None of those are qualities of a man," He said and I found myself growing angry. Not because of his petty insult, but because of the fact that he attacked me without reason.

 "What are you doing?" I asked him only for him to mimic me and ask, "I'd like to know what you think you're doing."

 "What do you mean? I'm training," I told him, but he replied with a mean, "Hardly."

 "Now, how long do you plan to sit on your butt and not take a stance?" I don't know why, but when he said that, my body immediately moved. The authority in his tone was terrifyingly familiar so maybe that was the reason.

In so many ways..he reminds me of Mr. Urokodaki. I guess that's why my body jumped to do as he said.

He raises his hand and gestures me closer, "Come on. Come at me," He said, but I found myself hesitating.

 "But I have a real sword and you don't! What if you get hurt?" The question made him pause. I thought that was because it finally dawned on him how crazy he sounded for suggesting me to attack him wih an actual sword, but that didn't seem to be the case. Instead, his shoulders—no, his entire body shook and he threw his head back, laughing as if I had said the funniest joke in the world.

 "Well aren't you considerate! Thank you for worrying about me," He said, but the way he said it didn't sound the least bit grateful. He then said, "So, you think you're actually going to injure me?" And then he was suddenly in front of me. I stepped back on instinct with my blade raised halfway—a good move on my part, because he immediately brought his blade down on me and I was fast enough to meet him the rest of the way and block him.

He was strong. Even though he was fighting me with a wooden, practice sword, I still found my body shaking, quivering under the power he's putting against my actual sword. I remember it shocked me along with his next words, "Well, you have absolutely nothing to worry about!" He so confidently said to me, "I'm far more powerful than you! After all, I've already sliced my boulder!"

Those words echoed in my ears as they were slowly injested. He..sliced a boulder? The thought shocked me as much as it sparked hope in me. The fact that it's not impossible made a tiny weight lift off my heart.

But I had no time to dwell in that feeling, because the masked boy jumped into the air. As dust kicked up where he previously stood, I found my eyes closing—an almost deadly mistake. I was lucky enough that time to feel the shift in the wind. I turn at the last second, just fast enough to throw my sword up to block the boy's incoming attack from above. It didn't faze him at all. He jumped back and immediately jumped into the air again.

His speed was incredible. I could just barely catch the aftermath of his jumps as he zipped around me. I could only assume that he would touch the ground whenever he passed a tree because I could never catch him touching the ground. It was almost as if he was flying and it left me looking around like a chicken without its head.

Then suddenly, he was right beside me. I was able to see him at last, but him being right at my shoulder didn't process fast enough. In the end, all I had time to do was turn my head to look at him—with a look that probably told everything I was thinking in that moment—before the thunder of my first defeat was sounded and I was suddenly on the floor, my face and body stinging and shaking a little..

 "You've learned nothing," He stood behind me, totally composed aside from his voice that sounded pretty upset, kinda like Urokodaki when he used to scold me for my mistakes, "You haven't mastered a single thing! Certainly not the breathing technique taught by Mr. Urokodaki; Total Concentration Breathing!"

That caught my attention most out of everything else he said. It made waves of confusion and surprise wash over me and temporarily redirected me from the pain he inflicted on me, "He knew Mr Urokodaki? The breathing technique too?" Were the questions that intially surfaced, but his identity is still on the top of my list of questions for him.

As I turned my body to face him and sat up, he continued, "All you did was memorize it as fact!" He lifts his sword and points it at me, "Your body has no clue what it needs to do!"

 "Just what the hell were you doing for a whole year and a half?" The question rang out extra loud just as his sword clanged against my steel, "You need to slam it into your flesh!" He shouted as he broke away as did I only to immediately clash our blades again.

 "More!" As he picked up speed, I tried to do the same, trying my hardest to replicate his movements. Thankfully, I was just fast enough that his blade met mine continuously instead of my battered skin, "More!" I took the defensive, staying strong as he slammed and hammered his blade against mine in a quick succession, "More!" A particularly strong hit sends me back but I plant my feet into the ground and manage to still myself before he closes the distance and I was forced to go on the offensive once again, "So that you become the embodiment of what Mr. Urokodaki taught you!"

He sends me back again and I recover quick enough to watch him ready his next attack and swing it at me, all while screaming at me, "Pound it all into the marrow of your bones!" 

 "I'm trying!" I found myself crying out the next time our blades met, "Every single day! I'm trying with everything I got!"

 "..But I'm not making any headway!" As my own words sunk in like a rock falling to the bottom of a lake, I found my voice slowly cracking apart just as my resolve has been these past six months, and I finally admitted aloud, "I just can't go any further!"

Despite that all he did was tell me as he lunged at me, "Don't 'try', just do it! If you're a man.." And then he quickly landed his attack on me, smacking me in the chest. I clench my teeth as the striking pain begun to spread and my feet left the ground for just a moment before they're forced back down as he harshly slammed his sword down onto my arm, "..If you call yourself a man!" And just as I raised my sword to attack him back, he spins and his sword hits my chest again, but at an angle this time.

 "There's no other way to go but forward!" I stumbled back, my feet uncomfortably light which made me tip and sway in different directions. The boy followed after me as if he was chasing down a fleeing wild animal. Our blades clashed again and he shouted, "Bring it on!"

 "Show me what you're capable of!" He swings at me, but this time I'm quick enough to completely jump out of the way. His words had an extra surge of adrenline shoot through me and I found my mouth falling open and letting out a loud scream of my own. No words, just a strong yell that came from the core of my chest—from the depths of my heart—where all my pent up frustration resided.

But then I miss my swing and my second defeat is sounded in an instant. It's painful, moreso physically as I watched his arm swing up and I felt his wooden sword collide with my chin. It was an extra powerful swing, one that had me flying several inches off the ground when it hit me. My entire jaw immediately numbed over in a desperate attempt to soothe the searing pain that shot through it and up my cheeks.

And then, suddenly all I could feel was that pain as my vision slowly faded. I had passed out, but what made matters worse was that I hadn't even hit the floor before everything went black..

The next time I opened my eyes, I was met with the sight of the crescent moon peaking through cracks made by thin clouds. All the pain in my face had dulled aside from my chin which stung like a bad bee sting. Everything around me had a blue-tinted screen over it that matched sky, signalling that nighttime had arrived. My eyes widen at the realization.

 "Are you alright?" A voice asked. It was soothing to my ears, kinda like putting a cool cloth on a bad bruise. It was nothing like his voice.

I shot up, immediately turning my head to be met face to face with eyes that match the night sky above. Despite her sudden presence, the only question I asked her was, "Did you see that?" She tilted her head, signalling to me her confusion but I continued regardless, my eyes blown wide.

 "That was an incredible blow! Not a single bit of unwasted motion! It was beautiful!" I praised. It really was amazing and my words could hardly explain it in a way that gave it proper justice which is probably why I started moving my hands and shaking my head to further exaggerate my point.

Now that I look back on that moment, I probably looked really silly to her.

 "I want to become a swordsman like that!" I exclaimed and then I asked her, "Do you think I can become like him?" And I watch as her lips widen into a smile. One without a hint of underlying doubt or hidden skepticism. It was a completely pure and trusting smile that she gave me as she spoke in a soft voice.

 "I'm sure you can..since I'll be looking after you from now on," She told me. And it was only then, when her thick eyelashes fluttered and her eyes closed, and that pure, trusting smile of hers widened that I realized just how pretty the girl before me was..

But who was she? It was then that it dawned on me that I didn't even ask. And so, with my cheeks tingly and warm and my heavy jaw having my bottom lip hung low, I mumbled out, "Who are you?"

 That night, she told me her name, Makomo, as well the name of the boy I sparred with, Sabito.

 Makomo points out the defects in my style. Throughout countless days, she corrected my unnecessary movements and my bad habits.. I found myself wondering, why? Why is she doing this for me? Where did she come from? I once asked her, but she didn't tell me anything. Something in me refrained me from asking the others about her or Sabito..

 Speaking of which, Makomo often said, "We love Mr. Urokodaki very much." It was her favorite phrase. She said that Sabito and her weren't siblings and that Mr. Urokodaki raised them after they'd been orphaned.

 "They're other children besides us. They're always around, watching you, Tanjiro," was something she said to me once. You see, I've come to realize that Makomo is a bit of a strange girl. Her way of speaking is abstract and dreamy and she says things in a weird way..

 "See, Total Concentration Breathing accelerates your blood circulation and your heart rate. That causes your temperature to shoot up and makes you strong like a demon despite still being human," She explained, "You expand your lungs and bring lots of air into your blood and when it gets excited, your bones and muscles scurry to heat up and grow stronger!"

 "..Huh?" Was all I could say, my face twisted into a puzzled expression. Maybe it was the words she used to explain it, but I didn't understand the majority of what she said. And so, I asked her, "How can I do that?"

And she looked at me with that kind, angelic smile and told me in the nicest voice ever, "Train to death. At the end of the day, I don't think there's anything else you can do."

 I swung my sword over and over so hard until my arms and legs felt like they were going to fall off.. Until my lungs were ready to burst into flames, I did that for so long..but even then, I just couldn't beat Sabito.

 I would train hard under Makomo's gentle guidance until it felt like I was going to just kneel over and die on the spot, but he still always got the better of me. It was only until six months later, and six months after Y/n cut her boulder, when the snow coated every speck of grass and every wilting tree in sight..

I stood before Sabito once again. The sun was out, but you wouldn't be able to tell by looking due to the thick clouds that covered it and made snow fall in all ways and directions. The wind was icy against my dirtied skin—colder than when I first stood before him and the boulder—but I didn't flinch even when it blew so strong that my hair flailed it's grown out lengths wildly.

 When I challenged him that day, Sabito was wielding a real sword..

 "After six months, finally, you have the look of a man," I watched his movements as he gripped the scabbard and used his other hand to grab ahold of the hilt. The eerie sound of the steel sliding out didn't scare me and neither did the sight of his blade gleaming under the dim lighting as it was pulled out and pointed at me.

I had long pulled my sword from it's scabbard and gotten into my stance, my brows creasing downwards and scrunched into my dirt-covered skin, "Today's the day I win!"

 The head-on battle was simple. Who ever was stronger and faster wins.

My mouth opens as wide as a small crack—just wide enough for air to enter my mouth. Slowly, I breathe in. My chest steadily rises as my lungs swell with air. I then close my mouth, my grip tightening on the hilt of my katana..and dash forward at the same time Sabito does.

 The battle was over in an instant..

We immediately found ourselves closing the gap. Both of our swords were raised the entire time, and it was in that fraction of a second that I swung down with all my might..

 On that day, in that moment, for the first time, my blade reached Sabito first.

With a hollow clack, his mask split and fell on either side of him, suspended on the sides of his neck by that thick, red rope that was tied to it. His face..didn't match anything I had pictured originally. His eyes were a foggy purple and gentle like the falling snow around us. It contrasted that peach pink hair of his which barely covered the sides of his face so I saw that large, spiky scar that hiked up at an angle and covered the majority of his otherwise smooth skin. And his smile.. That smile that he gave me as his brows scrunched together..was so full of relief.

 That moment I won, Sabito smiled. It seemed like a sad smile to me at the time, but looking back on it, it seemed more proud and reassuring than somber..

 "Tanjiro.." I was so encaptured by him and that smile of his that it took Makomo's gentle voice to pull me back down to earth which, seemed much foggier than when I left it a mere moment ago. I find myself blinking, as if what I was seeing was an illusion or hallucination, but the thick fog never disappeared.

 "You did great," Her praise is what made me finally turn my head her way. Her body was steadily disappearing in the fog and I found myself looking on in silence, at a loss for words for what I was witnessing..

 The next thing I knew, Sabito and Makomo were gone..

 "Don't forget what you just did and win against them, okay? Beat that guy too," And she was gone, disappearing into the shrouding fog as if she was never there to begin with..

 ..And my sword, which I was sure had slashed Sabito's mask..

I turn my head back, but Sabito was gone too. Leaving me to gaze at the thick fog and watching as it slowly cleared away into nothing. Sabito and Makomo were still nowhere to be found, but that wasn't what made my eyes widen. What made my eyes grow wide like a bug's was the fact that I was gazing through a rocky opening  just narrow enough that only my blade could slip through.

 ..had sliced the boulder in half.

Y/n Kamado | *Arms crossed* So, you actually managed to do it..

Tanjiro Kamado | *Smiles with hands on his hips* Yeah! I was shocked, too! I never imagined I'd be able to cut a boulder like that! I couldn't have done it without Sabito and Makomo. I can't thank them enough.

Y/n Kamado | ..Who are they?

Tanjiro Kamado | *Speechless by his own slip up*

Y/n Kamado | ..Well? Who are—

Tanjiro Kamado | *Panicked* Uh- Now, It's time for a Taisho Era Secret!

Y/n Kamado | Wait, you haven't answered my—

Tanjiro Kamado | *Leans in and whispers* Why does Mr. Urokodaki wear a mask? I heard that's because demons used to make fun of him for looking too kind.

Y/n Kamado | *Visibly irked* Hey! Don't ignore me! Answer—!

Tanjiro Kamado | Everyone, we'll continue working hard to find a cure for Nezuko! And Ms. Ari, I hope that you make a full recovery soon!

Y/n Kamado | Who the hell is that? And who are you talking to—

Tanjiro Kamado | Next time, chapter four, "Final Selection"! Bye everyone! *Runs away*

Y/n Kamado | Tanjiro..! Get your ass back here and answer me! *Runs after him*

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[verdemoun]

Do any of the gang members find out that they have any disorders/mental illnesses/etc. once they get timewarped and if so what are their reactions? Ranging from “oh, I though that was normal” to “NUH UH!”

timewarp was founded on the gang realising they have ptsd and kieran's autism being more obvious and worse in timewarp. but in detail

kieran is autistic

sean might have adhd but he doesn't actually have hyperactivity as a symptom. plot twist he just has that erratic trauma avoiding energy. it is a lot more masking severe c-ptsd and imposter syndrome that is his behind his exaggerated happy personality. see reform school lore

arthur is one of the few diagnosed he definitely had an acquired brain injury which while a physical injury manifests with mostly neurological symptoms. sometimes he gets confused or irritated for seemingly no reason, and this has been a thing since long before timewarp. the gang move on from joking about how dumb he is he does have an intellectual disability as part of his ABI. his response was very "oh I thought that was normal" and "bah i ain't need help".

the gang have subconsciously been aware of this long before they had the medical knowledge to understand it and are all pretty used to quickly explaining things or reminding arthur of stuff he forgets. lowkey consider this canon ever notice how the gang talk to arthur sometimes not entirely condescending but explaining things on his level eg sean being the one to point out the grays will definitely recognise him and he should hide in the wagon, grimshaw almost playfully reminding a grown man to wash because he straight up forgets, gentle reminders of what they're doing through heists even beyond game mechanics a lot of heist cut scenes are super repetitive like charles very much breaking down we're blowing a hole in the bank. take the spool and connect it to the detonator. the detonator is over there. it just feels like they know arthur isn't always entirely there and are v supportive. arthur is so curious and asks so many questions and the gang just roll with it and answer most of the time it feels so kind and positive.

arthur also definitely has adhd. hyper-fixates on new interesting thing for a month and then completely forgets everything he ever learned about it

almost the entire gang acknowledge they have ptsd/c-ptsd and varying levels of trauma as a response their lives/childhoods/relationships with parents/being a VDL. acknowledging it doesn't mean they do anything to move towards recovery because they are still mostly men raised with 19th century values who hang shit on each other for flinching at loud noises or being 'is someone shooting at us' alert

lenny and isaac as the most aware begging their friends/family to take their mental health seriously and are constantly met with 'lmao no' 'that's?? normal?? what do you mean' and 'NUH'. lenny cries 'please this is re-traumatising you are actively upsetting yourselves' while the gang go 'boo grow a pair' despite experiencing varying levels of anxiety attack in response to triggers.

john will only bring up 'hey stop making wolf jokes about me it is Actually a Trigger' to stop the gang bullying him. very genuine trigger and phobia of wolves and wolf-like dogs but still doesn't take it seriously himself

bill has recognized anger management issues and is in therapy. alcoholism is a definite concern. he's also just got a lot of internalised homophobia and complex feelings about the gang and his own childhood to unpack and learn how to articulate and express his feelings in a healthier way. only one of the adult gang who is actively trying to improve his mental health through therapy go king

the d in dsm-5 stands for dutch and he is thriving in in-patient care. not even the doctors know entirely what to diagnose him because he seems to have symptoms of everything but is responding best to medications traditionally used to support bi-polar

special acknowledgement to karen who is very very depressed but is a thriving with anti-depressants because trying to get the gang to go to actual psychologists and therapy is Hell. her and sean send each zoloft memes constantly