#either directly/using killer

[howlsofbloodhounds]

more people should explore the trauma nightmare would’ve caused color

[reiding-writing]

hi!! can you write more of the banter between enemy!reader and spencer but like now he goes beyond limits and like tells her the team would be better without her in their lives or something drastic and then she either goes missing or badly injured by the unsub??

404. /spencer reid/

if spencer is going to continue shutting down all of your ideas for leads in front of the team, then you’re going to track the unsub down yourself. you don’t need his approval anyway.

s1!spencer x enemy!reader 5.8k angst. series masterlist. main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, spencer is a real twat, details of kidnapping and grievous bodily harm, catatonic trauma response. imagine this like halfway through season one.

The moment you step into the precinct, you feel it in your chest—a tightness, a heaviness. It’s not just the fatigue of being called in at 3 a.m. or the smell of stale coffee and desperation thick in the air. It’s the kind of tension that says we’ve been chasing ghosts and getting nowhere.

You glance across the briefing room. The local PD is gathered awkwardly along one wall, arms crossed, faces pinched with defensiveness. They’re not happy to have the FBI here. You don’t blame them—getting sidelined in your own case is a bitter pill to swallow. But this unsub isn’t playing fair.

“This is the third victim in two weeks,” the lead detective mutters, flipping through crime scene photos projected onto the wall. “Each time, the unsub leaves a note. Always handwritten. Always addressed to us. Sometimes directly to me.”

Morgan leans forward, eyes narrowing. “He’s taunting you,”

The detective scoffs. “He’s gloating. This one said, ‘You didn’t catch me last time. What makes you think you’ll get it right now?’”

“Classic narcissistic behavior,” Elle murmurs. “But there’s more to it,”

Hotch’s voice is calm but pointed. “He’s not just showing off. He’s testing you. He wants to see if he can outsmart us next.”

You shift in your seat, arms crossed, gaze flicking from photo to photo. The unsub’s pattern is clean, almost surgical. No evidence left behind, no usable prints, no DNA. Victims all abducted within ten miles of each other, murdered within 48 hours, left posed—like the unsub wanted the scene to say something.

Spencer sits to your right, scribbling notes in that tiny chicken scratch of his. You pretend not to notice the way he looks over at you when you suggest a geographic clustering theory.

“I think we should be focusing on the clusters—if the unsub’s circling familiar territory, it could give us a window into their comfort zone. Maybe even a home base,”

Spencer doesn’t even look up. “Or they’re using the local geography as a red herring. Throwing us off on purpose. Which is more likely with his intelligence level,”

You grit your teeth. “Or maybe you just don’t like when someone else has a theory first.”

There’s a flicker of tension across the table. JJ coughs awkwardly. Spencer finally glances over, his eyes sharp behind his curls.

“Just trying to eliminate bias,” he says flatly. “You might want to try that sometime.”

It starts small. A glance. A jab. You throw it back, and the fire spreads.

—

You and Spencer used to be good at this—banter, playful jabs, mutual intellectual sparring. It was light. It was fun. 9 months of almost playful hatred. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being any of those things.

You know why, you both do. But you’re still too stubborn to actually address it. So now, every briefing is a minefield.

“He’s organised,” you say, tapping a finger on the evidence board. “He’s probably keeping souvenirs. There’s no way he’s not revisiting these crime scenes in some capacity,”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “That’s a reach. He’s already getting his fix from the letters. Revisiting is more common in disorganised killers with obsessive traits. But, by all means, let’s base our strategy on assumptions,”

You round on him, the heat rising in your chest. “You always do this—cut people down because they didn’t quote a research paper in their suggestion. Not everything is from a journal article, Reid. Some of us work off instinct

He doesn’t blink. “That’s a shame.”

The room stills. You can feel everyone watching you now—JJ's uncomfortable glance, Morgan’s frown, Hotch’s silent disapproval. Elle shifts like she wants to step in, but thinks better of it.

You clench your jaw. “Just because your IQ is the highest in the room doesn’t mean your word is law,”

“And just because you talk louder doesn’t make you right,”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Gideon’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “We are not here to flex egos. We’re here to stop a killer.”

You force yourself to look away, biting down on every retort itching to escape. Spencer doesn’t say another word either, but you can see it in the way he tightens his grip on the pen—he’s not finished. Not even close.

—

By midday, the briefing is over and you’re elbow-deep in case files, staring at photos of victims and crime scene reports that blur together. You’re trying to hold onto the idea that this is about the work, not about him, but Spencer’s voice grates in your head like static.

“Victim number two was killed in a different manner,” you point out, “which might indicate a loss of control or a change in the unsub’s emotional state,”

Spencer scoffs from across the room. “Or it might indicate that your profiling is, yet again, based on faulty interpretation,”

You look up slowly. “You’ve got a real talent for being insufferable,”

He shrugs. “Just pointing out the facts,”

“You’re not pointing out anything. You’re just undermining me. Again.”

He walks closer now, arms crossed, eyes full of cold disdain. “Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with being right, you’d actually be useful,”

Your jaw clenches so tight it hurts. “And maybe if you got over the sound of your own voice, we wouldn’t waste half our cases cleaning up your messes,”

Spencer steps in even closer, and now it’s personal. “You’re reckless. Impulsive. You go off instinct like it’s a badge of honour when really, it just makes you sloppy,”

You fire back without thinking. “You’re emotionally stunted and completely incapable of functioning outside a textbook,”

The words hang in the air like a punch.

Silence spreads. The local cops glance over from their desks. One of them murmurs, “Damn,”

Then Gideon slams his hand on the table.

“Enough,”

His voice is sharp, final. “Both of you. I don’t care how long this has been brewing—this is not the place. You’re acting like children, and you’re making this entire team look like amateurs,”

You glance down, throat burning. Spencer doesn’t say anything. He’s stone-faced, but you can tell from the twitch in his jaw that he’s stewing.

Gideon’s not finished. “I don’t want to hear another word out of either of you unless it pertains directly to the case. Are we clear?”

You nod. Spencer doesn’t move.

“Are we clear?” Gideon repeats.

“Yes, sir,” Spencer mutters.

You don’t trust yourself to speak.

As you start gathering your files, Spencer’s voice cuts through the tension one more time—this time quieter, but not quiet enough.

“You know, we probably would’ve caught him already if you weren’t dragging us down.”

The words hit like a slap. You freeze.

The room goes dead silent.

Spencer looks away like he didn’t just say it. Like it didn’t just split something open.

You don’t respond. Not with words.

You finish collecting your files, slam the folder shut, and walk out of the room without a glance back.

—

You don’t say a word as you walk out of the precinct. You don’t slam the door or stomp your feet—there’s no drama, no outward explosion. Just a quiet, ice-cold silence that coats you like armour.

Let them think whatever they want. Let him think he won.

You move with purpose, jaw tight, eyes fixed ahead. You’re done trying to reason with people who have no interest in listening—especially a certain genius with a superiority complex. You tried to play by the rules, work within the team, but apparently the team doesn't think you have anything worthwhile to offer.

Fine. You’ll do it on your own.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket—JJ, probably, or Hotch, maybe even Gideon trying to pull you back into line. You ignore it. Instead, you pull out your notes, flipping through the photographs you took earlier, the ones the team waved off as nothing—redundant, too similar to previous kills, “unremarkable,” Spencer had called them.

But they weren’t. Not to you.

The unsub had made a mistake. A small one, but a mistake nonetheless.

In victim three’s crime scene photo, the position of the body had been ever so slightly rotated compared to the first two—enough that most wouldn’t care, wouldn’t notice. But the shadows were wrong. There was too much light coming in through a window that didn’t face the same direction as the other houses in the neighborhood. And the blood pattern—it had streaked upward at an angle.

Someone had moved the body. After the kill.

You’d mentioned it in passing. Spencer had dismissed it as “grasping at straws.”

Well, straws were all you needed.

—

You hole up in a dingy motel room a few blocks from the latest crime scene, spreading every case file and crime scene photo across the bed like a map to something only you could see. Your eyes flicker between documents, stringing together tiny inconsistencies—the make and model of the air conditioner in victim four’s apartment, the mismatched doorknob in victim one’s home, the off-center towel rack in number five’s bathroom.

The unsub didn’t just kill these people. He replaced things. Adjusted details.

Controlled them, even after death.

You flip back through the files, heart hammering now, and scan the addresses again. You map them out on the motel’s bedside notepad, drawing circles, checking distances between the apartments and the kill sights. Mixing and matching scenes chronologically or otherwise. And then you stumble on it.

A perfect crescent, not random but intentional. All ten locations arced around a center point—a forgotten stretch of suburbia with an abandoned cul-de-sac, a place zoned for housing development ten years ago that never got off the ground.

It’s the only place the unsub hasn’t struck yet.

It’s also the only place that could tie them all together.

You glance at your phone again. The screen is blank. No new calls. No new messages. Not from the team. Not from Spencer.

And maybe that’s a good thing. You don’t need him to validate you. You don’t need anyone.

You grab your gear, shove your files into your bag, and drive.

—

The cul-de-sac is quiet.

Not in the way quiet neighborhoods usually are, but dead quiet. No birdsong. No dogs barking. Just a biting, eerie stillness that settles in your bones the moment you step out of the car.

The houses are in varying states of decay—some half-built and gutted, others with boarded windows and cracked sidewalks. You grip your flashlight tighter as you move through the overgrown path between two units.

You keep your gun low, your ears straining for sound.

The data you gathered had pointed you to the house on the far end—the only one with signs of recent activity. The windows had been cleaned. The door, repainted.

You creep up the porch, careful not to make a sound. Your breath clouds in front of you, and the air feels colder here somehow. Heavier.

You reach for the doorknob. It turns easily.

Unlocked.

That should’ve been your first red flag.

The interior is dark, but not untouched. A table in the front room is neatly set for two. Plates. Silverware. A bottle of wine. It looks more like a dinner party than a murder scene.

You sweep the room, clearing corners, keeping your steps light. Nothing jumps out at you, but your gut won’t stop twisting.

Then you notice it.

On the wall.

A photo.

Your heart stops.

It’s you.

Snapped from the side, no more than a few hours old. Shot through the window of your hotel room, small map of the city in hand. The image is taped to the wall with surgical precision. Below it, a tiny note, one you have to walk right up to to read.

Congratulations.

You barely have time to react.

There’s a sharp sting in your neck.

You reach up instinctively, but your fingers are already clumsy. You turn, try to raise your gun—but the world tilts violently.

A face emerges from the shadows. Smiling. Calm.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” he says, almost apologetically.

And then everything goes black.

—

You drift in and out of consciousness. Time becomes slippery—your mind fogged, your limbs numb. Every now and then you feel something cold against your skin, a tug at your wrists, the uncomfortable pinch of something sharp near your ankle.

When you finally come to fully, you’re tied to a chair.

Hands bound behind your back. Ankles strapped to the legs of the chair with zip ties. Your head throbs, and there’s a metallic taste in your mouth—blood, probably.

The room around you is dimly lit. It’s not the main house anymore. You’ve been moved.

It looks like a basement. Concrete floors, unfinished walls, a single exposed bulb hanging overhead.

There’s a table nearby, neatly arranged with tools—not weapons. Instruments. Brushes. Tweezers. Surgical gloves.

You inhale shakily. You’ve seen what hems done with them before.

“You’re awake,” a voice says behind you.

You flinch as he steps into view.

The man is unremarkable in every way. Tall-ish, average build. Brown hair, clean-shaven. The kind of face you’d pass on the street and forget within minutes.

“You came here thinking you’d be the hero,” he muses, walking around you like he’s inspecting art. “They all do. You think your badge makes you invincible.”

You don’t say anything. You’re still trying to conserve what little energy you have, mentally calculating your options.

He crouches in front of you, smiling. “You found me. That makes you smart. Smarter than the rest of them, maybe.”

You meet his gaze, steel in your voice despite the pain. “They’ll come looking for me.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he replies. “I’ll lead them right to you if I have to. Whether you’ll be salvageable though, is up for debate,”

He walks to the table, picking up a small silver scalpel, running a gloved finger down its edge.

“A portrait is a powerful thing. It’s like capturing a snapshot of a person’s soul. Of course no true portrait is taken without the proper preparations being put in place first.”

You don’t flinch. You don’t show fear.

You just stall.

“They’re going to kill you,” you say evenly. “The second they find out what you’ve done, you’re done.”

He tilts his head, amused. “Then I guess we better speed things along,”

—

The sun had long since set when the rest of the team finally packed up for the night. The precinct lights buzzed with the kind of fatigue only unsolved murders could generate. Tension still clung to every surface, like dust no one could wipe away.

You’d been gone for hours.

And no one noticed.

Gideon assumed you’d taken some space after the confrontation—he’d scolded you both sharply enough in front of the local cops to warrant that kind of retreat. Morgan figured you’d gone to cool off, maybe back to the motel, maybe to follow up on a lead solo out of spite. JJ worried but didn’t say anything, not wanting to stir the already tense dynamic. Elle even offered to call, but Hotch had waved it off.

“She’s probably just blowing off steam,” he said. “We’ll regroup in the morning.”

And Spencer?

Spencer hadn’t said a word. Not one. He’d returned to his paperwork, methodically scribbling notes, analysing patterns, and doing everything in his power to ignore the hollowness you’d left behind.

He told himself you were being petty. Immature. Childish, even. Storming off like a petulant child after a simple observation.

But by morning, the quiet had stretched too long.

The motel clerk confirmed you never came back last night. Your room key remained untouched. Your bed, still made. Your rental car, gone.

JJ’s face turned white. “She always checks in. Always.”

Morgan’s voice was sharper than usual. “She would’ve called if she was going somewhere. Even if she was pissed.”

Elle was already reaching for her phone, scanning through emergency numbers and local hospitals. “We need to start looking now.”

Hotch gave a tight nod, reaching for his radio. “She wouldn’t go dark this long, not in the middle of a case. Not without telling someone.”

Then Gideon walked in with a manila envelope in his hand, face grim. “We just received another message.”

Everyone stilled.

He handed it to Hotch, who opened it slowly, bracing himself. Inside was a note—typed, this time—and a single, polaroid photograph.

JJ read it aloud, voice catching:

“At least one of the FBI Agents you corralled to help was intelligent enough to track me down. Too bad they weren’t prepared for the aftermath.”

Hotch turned the photo toward the group.

You.

Bound, unconscious, head lolled to one side in what looked like a concrete room. Your face was bruised. Blood smeared your temple. Your hands were zip-tied behind you, your body slumped forward like a discarded puppet. The lighting was dim, shadows slashing across your figure like jagged teeth.

A basement. A storage room. Somewhere hidden, somewhere wrong.

JJ gasped.

Morgan swore under his breath.

Elle closed her eyes and muttered, “No…”

And Spencer—Spencer leaned forward slowly, brows knitting as he examined the image.

“We need Garcia to enhance it,” he murmured, already reaching for his phone. “Maybe we can track down the camera. Or a reflection. Or—”

“Well,” he added suddenly, voice clipped, “She obviously wasn’t that intelligent if she got caught,”

The words dropped like a stone in still water.

The entire room turned toward him.

“What did you just say?” Morgan snapped.

JJ’s mouth dropped open. “Spence—”

But it was Gideon who moved first, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous.

“Say that again,” he said, “and I will bench you for the rest of this case.”

Spencer blinked. “I didn’t—”

“No.” Gideon cut him off. “I don’t want excuses. I want action. You think you’re the smartest person in the room? Good. Prove it. Use your genius to get over yourself and find her.”

The silence that followed was heavier than anything anyone had felt since the case began.

Spencer stared down at the photo, jaw clenched.

And then, finally, he swallowed his pride and got to work.

—

He isolated the enhanced image on the screen of his tablet, pushing aside his guilt and anger like clutter on a desk.

Don’t think about what you said.

Don’t think about the way you looked when you walked out.

Don’t think about the fact that you might not be okay.

Focus. Analyse. That’s what he’s good at.

“Lighting first,” he said aloud, mostly to himself.

He zoomed in on the image, filtering the background. The bulb overhead was exposed, casting distinct shadows.

“That angle suggests a single overhead source,” he muttered. “No side lighting. Probably a basement. At least eight to ten feet deep underground.”

He paused, adjusting the contrast on the image. “There’s no natural light at all, which rules out windows. Walls are unfinished. Cinderblock. Mortar lines are tight… That’s not a pre-’80s build. It’s too clean,”

Morgan leaned in. “So what—newer construction?”

Spencer nodded. “Late 90s or early 2000s. This wasn’t improvised. It was planned. It’s structurally sound, like a finished or semi-finished basement that’s just… been stripped down,”

Elle pointed to the corner of the image. “What’s that? Right behind the chair,”

Spencer zoomed in again. “It looks like… rust. A drainage pipe, maybe. Industrial-grade. Not common in most basements unless there’s risk of flooding. That, combined with the cinderblock, suggests this could’ve been built in an area prone to high groundwater. Maybe even flood plains,”

JJ frowned. “We’re not near the coast,”

“No, but if you look at the housing map…” He switched to a digital layout of the neighbourhood. “This cul-de-sac was supposed to be part of a larger development. Half of it was never completed because the land didn’t pass inspection,”

Hotch narrowed his eyes. “He’s in one of those unfinished units,”

Gideon nodded once. “Then we start there. We canvass the entire development. We don’t stop until we find her.”

Spencer looked at the photo one last time. His throat was dry. His chest ached. He thought of what he’d said—we would’ve caught him if you weren’t dragging us down—and suddenly it sounded less like a petty jab and more like a curse.

He looked up at the team.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch nodded. “Good. You’re going to lead the search.”

—

The SUV was quiet on the way to the development site. No one played music. No one made jokes.

Spencer sat in the front seat, his fingers tapping a rapid rhythm against his knee. He was trying not to picture you in that chair. Trying not to imagine what the unsub had done in the hours since that photo was taken. But he couldn’t stop the images.

You, bloody and bound.

You, unconscious and alone.

You, thinking no one was coming.

He had no right to worry.

No right to be scared.

But he was.

The words echoed in his head.

“She obviously wasn’t that intelligent.”

He wanted to take it back. Shove it into his mouth and swallow it down until it never existed. But that’s not how words work. They cut, and they cling, and they stay.

When they arrived at the development, the team split up fast. Morgan and Elle took the north end. JJ stayed with local officers to coordinate grid sweeps. Hotch and Gideon led the way into the southern row—newer units, all empty.

Spencer broke off on his own.

He had a gut feeling. It didn’t feel smart. It didn’t feel strategic. But it felt right.

And for once, he let himself trust that instinct.

The fifth house in the row was quiet.

Too quiet.

The front door was slightly ajar. No visible signs of forced entry. No sound from inside.

The front door creaked open under Spencer’s hand. The house was stale with disuse—thick air and thin silence. He moved cautiously through the entryway, gun raised, heart a thunderous rhythm in his ears.

Every shadow stretched too long. Every corner felt wrong.

Footsteps pounded behind him seconds later—Morgan, Hotch, and Gideon falling in silently. Elle and JJ soon followed through the back, their weapons drawn, movements swift and precise.

Then—

A noise.

A soft creak.

Second floor.

Hotch motioned with two fingers, and the team surged upward.

They found him in one of the back bedrooms. The unsub.

He was standing in front of a half-boarded window, arms crossed, calm like he was waiting for them. No fear. Just smug, eerie satisfaction, the kind that made your skin crawl.

“You’re too late,” he said simply.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “On the ground! Now!”

But the unsub didn’t comply. He moved fast—reaching for something under his coat.

Hotch fired first. A warning shot into the drywall, forcing the man to freeze mid-movement. Morgan lunged in, tackling him with a grunt. They struggled, fists swinging, feet skidding across the half-carpeted floor.

Spencer stood back, watching the scuffle like it was underwater. His fingers twitched against his sidearm, but he didn’t fire. Couldn’t. His eyes were already scanning—behind the man, past the empty bedframe, to the blood on the floor.

He wasn’t thinking about justice. He was thinking about you.

By the time Gideon and Morgan got the cuffs on the man, Spencer was already moving—down the stairs, through the hallway, toward the door at the far end of the house.

There was a lock on it. Heavy. Old.

Spencer kicked it once. Nothing.

Twice.

On the third kick, the door gave way.

The basement smelled like mold, metal, and something sharper—sweat, maybe. Or blood.

The light flickered overhead as he stepped inside.

And there you were.

Slumped in the same position as the photo, tied to a chair, your wrists bound so tightly they’d gone purple. There was blood at your temple. Bruises down your neck. A split lip. Dirt smeared your cheeks. Rips in your shirt.

But you were breathing.

Barely.

Alive.

He nearly collapsed with the force of the relief.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you. His voice cracked. “Hey. You need to be conscious right now,”

Your eyes fluttered, but didn’t open.

You didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Spencer's voice dropped lower, to fend with a failed attempt at lightheartedness. “You’re at a higher risk of permanent brain injury if you’re unconscious, and I doubt you need that on top of all of your other issues—”

His hands trembled as he reached for the zip ties, too afraid to touch you at first.

Morgan burst in behind him. “We need medics! Now!” he shouted up the stairs.

JJ’s voice echoed from above. “They’re already pulling up!”

Spencer carefully cut the ties, his fingers brushing your wrist. Your skin was cold. Too cold.

He looked at you again, eyes searching for any sign of recognition. A flicker of life. Of you.

Nothing.

When the medics finally came, they moved with military precision, lifting you from the chair, strapping you onto a stretcher. You didn’t resist. Didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

“Low blood pressure. Likely concussion, threads pulse,” one of them said quickly, checking vitals.

They spoke in clipped medical shorthand as they wheeled you out. The words blurred in Spencer’s ears.

He didn’t follow.

Couldn’t.

He stood there, in that grimy basement, staring at the chair you’d been tied to. The blood smeared into the floor. The shredded zip ties left behind like bones.

He should’ve stopped you.

He should’ve known something was wrong last night.

He should’ve said something—anything—besides the venom he’d spat.

His hands curled into fists.

Upstairs, he could hear Morgan shouting at the unsub as he was dragged away.

“You think you’re clever? Huh? You think this makes you some kind of genius?”

The unsub just smiled. “She came to me.”

Spencer’s stomach turned.

—

Outside, the late morning sun was rising, casting long shadows over the front lawn as paramedics loaded you into the ambulance. JJ stood nearby, arms folded tightly, barely breathing.

Elle was silent, her eyes rimmed red.

Hotch was speaking with local police, organising statements and chain of custody. And Spencer stood off to the side, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, face unreadable.

He didn’t go to the ambulance.

Didn’t try to see you again.

He didn’t think he deserved to.

You were silent. Still unresponsive. Not out of stubbornness, not anger, but trauma. Something had shut off in you, and Spencer didn’t know how—or if—you’d be able to come back from that.

He hadn’t just pushed you away.

He’d left you alone long enough to almost die.

—

The hospital was a cold place. The sterile white walls seemed to hold no comfort, and the bright fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly, as if trying to shatter the fragile quiet of the room.

But the team couldn’t shake the relief.

You were alive. Not unscathed—far from it—but alive. The doctors assured them you would recover physically, though they hadn’t made any promises about the mental scars.

But there was a sense of something else in the air, something they couldn’t quite name yet.

Gideon paced outside your room, eyes shadowed by a tiredness that went deeper than just the case. Morgan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his face taut with unsaid words.

Elle was in the hallway, sitting on a chair with her head in her hands, her phone still in her lap. She hadn’t spoken much since they left the house. JJ hovered near the nurses’ station, keeping herself busy with menial tasks, but her face was pale—gripped by some invisible weight.

And Hotch, though outwardly composed, carried the same heavy air of guilt.

But no one felt it as sharply as Spencer.

He was pacing in the hallway, arms stiff at his sides, a muscle in his jaw twitching with every breath. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since they’d arrived at the hospital, and though he’d checked in with the doctor, he hadn’t really listened.

Spencer’s mind was still replaying the look in your eyes when you were pulled from that basement—the emptiness, the unspoken words, the brokenness. And for the first time, he was painfully aware of the distance that had been wedged between you.

The anger, the insults, the barbed exchanges—it hadn’t been just his defence mechanism, and he hadn’t realised how much damage it had done until now.

But now you were silent, and Spencer could feel the full weight of what he’d done pressing down on him like a vice. You were the one who’d been hurt the most—physically—and still, it was his words that had broken you.

—

When he finally pushed open the door to your room, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

You were propped up in bed, the sterile white sheets bunched around your body. Your face was bruised—still swollen—but your eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. There was nothing there. No emotion. No spark. Just an emptiness that he didn’t know how to fill.

Spencer hesitated, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he crossed the room.

You didn’t move when he sat in the chair next to the bed. You didn’t acknowledge him at all. Your gaze remained fixed ahead, unfocused, distant.

For a moment, Spencer just watched you. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come.

It was only when he spoke, his voice sharp and broken, that the silence shattered.

“What you did was reckless and idiotic,” he said, his tone colder than he intended. “You could’ve died. You left without backup, without even thinking about the risks.” He swallowed, forcing his words to keep coming. “You could’ve—you should’ve—asked for help.”

He paused, waiting for some kind of response. Something—anything—but there was nothing. You didn’t even blink. You just stared ahead, lost in the haze of your own mind.

Spencer’s fingers clenched into fists. “You think this is some kind of game? You think you’re invincible?”

Still nothing.

He leaned in slightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Goddamn it, I’m trying to help. But you need to stop acting like you’re the only one who matters here. This isn’t just about you.”

Nothing.

The silence stretched on, a taut wire between the two of you, the gap between him and you feeling like an abyss. Spencer couldn’t stand it. His gaze dropped to the floor, a wave of shame crashing over him.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t know how to fix it.

For the first time in his life, Spencer Reid felt like he was completely and utterly lost.

—

The team began to gather in the waiting room outside your room, and no one spoke. Even the air felt thick, like the stillness before a storm.

It was Elle who finally broke the silence. “I can’t…” she trailed off, her voice catching in her throat. “She… she won’t even look at us.”

Hotch, though normally composed, looked exhausted. His hands were folded in his lap, his eyes shadowed by the weight of the situation. “She’s been through hell, Elle. We can’t just… expect everything to go back to normal.”

Gideon looked up from his place near the door. “No, it’s not that simple,” he said quietly, voice low but unwavering. “But I’ve seen this before. Trauma like this… it changes you.” He paused, eyes flicking toward the door to your room. “She’s going to need time, and we’re going to need patience. But we also need to acknowledge what we did wrong,”

The room grew quieter, each member processing the truth in their own way.

Morgan, who had been pacing with his hands in his pockets, spoke up. “Spencer’s not handling this well. But none of us are.” His voice was strained, but it held a sense of certainty. “We didn’t see it. We didn’t see how bad it was getting for her.”

JJ closed her eyes briefly, guilt flooding her expression. “We should’ve known. We should’ve stepped in. The way she and Spencer were fighting—it was too much. We should’ve told them both to stop before it got to this point,”

“I’m just…” Elle’s voice wavered. “I’m just so angry at him. How could he say those things to her? He was the one who pushed her.” Her eyes were wide, a mix of disbelief and hurt. “He acted like he didn’t even care, like she didn’t matter

Hotch sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “We all failed her in some way.” His eyes flicked to Gideon. “And now Spencer’s struggling to process the fact that it’s his words that have hurt her the most,”

Gideon nodded slowly. “There’s no way to fix it right away. But what matters now is how we move forward. For her. Not for us.”

[thedemonsurfer]

It's really not all that surprising that the Daycare Attendant ended up being so popular, to the point that there's a whole subsection of FNAF fandom that's p much just the DCA.

For starters, there's Security Breach itself. Security Breach is a vastly different FNAF game from its predecessors. Instead of being a jumpscare-driven task management simulator, it is a free-roam exploration and puzzle game, also with jumpscares. Instead of a security guard with their butt glued to their office chair, you're playing as a kid trapped in the mall. That difference in format and story setup attracted a whole new crowd of players to FNAF.

Next is character design. Unlike the majority of animatronics in the killer robot furry franchise, the DCA is a lanky, vaguely human shaped jester with a dinnerplate head and a creepy fixed smile. That appeals to folks who might not be as much into the robot furries, but like lanky creepy jesters (I am one of those people).

Security Breach also FINALLY develops the animatronics into actual characters, rather than interchangeable jumpscares. It's not a coincidence that prior to SB, the most popular animatronic was Springtrap-- an animatronic outright possessed by the defacto main antagonist of the series. I still remember the sheer fuzzy excitement upon hearing the first teaser trailer where we found out that we would be playing as a kid and that Freddy was our friend. That's still so cool! Freddy is our friend!

But character is where the Daycare Attendant really blows everyone else out of the water.

Sun is, after Freddy and Vanessa, the NPC with the most lines of dialogue (ten). Sun and Vanessa are the only antagonists that speak directly to Gregory, rather than just having vague hunting lines. For comparison, of the Glamrocks only Roxy has a single line of interaction with another animatronic ("Get out of my room, Freddy!") and her pep talk in the mirror at the start of the game. Monty and Chica might as well be interchangeable, both only having hunting lines.

Hell, out of Moon's nineteen voice lines, eight of them are laughs, blowing away Vanny's whopping two lines in the entire game.

Sun is the only* FNAF antagonist that does not have a jumpscare sting when he grabs Gregory, and is one of the few antagonists that does not kill the player upon jumpscaring them. Sun is outright non-hostile towards Gregory, coming off as overbearing but genuinely friendly. In a FNAF game.

Kellen Goff's phenomenal voice acting further fleshes out the DCA's character, giving us solid foundations for their personalities. Sun is anxious, friendly, and bossy. Moon is a downright giggle gremlin, sadistic and playful. Both of them are childish, and the contrast between their personalities and their job as child caretakers makes them stand out even more.

It's also worth mentioning that the Daycare is one of the earliest sections of the game, easily reached within the first thirty minutes of playtime. This makes it very likely to have been seen by people who either ended up not finishing the game itself, or any let's play series they were watching. It's also one of the most complete sections of the game, with clear, easy to understand mechanics and a decent challenge, making it more enjoyable to play than some of the later puzzles.

So, yeah. Why wouldn't there be a whole subsection of fandom built around some of the most well developed and interesting characters in the entire franchise, from an installment that attracted a new crowd of people who were probably already looking for something different from the traditional FNAF experience?

*As far as I know there are no other FNAF animatronics that perform a jumpscare animation without an accompanying sound, but it's not impossible that there's someone in UCN that I've overlooked.

[timmydraker]

Tim Drake first took a life when he was twelve.

It wasn’t in an armed robbery or attack from a rogue, not to protect himself or in defence of an innocent.

In fact, it was practically an innocent that he killed.

Batman was so deep into his grief filled rage that he was attacking any poor mugger or civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Albert Jones, a thirty year old man working as an apprentice to his father’s shoe repair shop, was dealing with a recent heartbreak with some pick me up drugs.

Batman didn’t give his usual speech of ‘find another coping mechanism and don’t let me see you here again’ and instead swung at both dealer and customer. The dealer, a teenager no less, was left with two broken legs and a busted shoulder.

Albert was left with bruising all over his face and three stomps directly onto his chest.

Tim found him gasping for air as blood filled his lungs and was left with the truth of this man not having a chance. No ambulance was going to be able to save him like all the others, there was no basic first aid or well educated aid that could save him.

This was going to be the first murder of Batman.

Unless…

Tim didn’t feel good as he picked up the knife from dealer had tried to use on the bat and quickly jab it into the man’s neck.

And then he stabbed again.

And again.

Albert Jones was dead by his hand, not Batman’s, not Bruce’s. Tim’s.

The dealer, who was really just a kid, ended up taking the fall as Tim had selfishly planned.

Batman didn’t even notice or recognise the faces of either man on the news.

Albert’s father sobbed on TV, talking about his son didn’t even like being an apprentice but knew his father needed the help with his growing arthritis. He talked about how his son had been in an emotionally abusive relationship and just wanted to feel better for a bit, he wasn’t a druggie, not really.

Tim throws up and wears gloves for weeks to avoid looking at his hands. He swears he can see blood in them and not in a metaphorical sense.

Nobody ever finds out and when Tim becomes Robin and gets Bruce to stop hurting people so badly, he decides it’s worth it. That innocent life was taken by him, so his death isn’t on Bruce’s soul. It’s okay, Batman is still good and he’s getting better, which he wouldn’t have been able to if he had cleared his head and found out he took a life.

Robin never takes a life, not exactly, but seen as he’s already killed someone with his own hands, Tim doesn’t really hesitate at opportunities to leave certain people to die.

Rapist, pedophiles, zoophiles, fascist… it doesn’t really count if he didn’t double it by his own hands and he’s done that anyway, so who cares if a few stray people die from the new Robins pack of skill and baby faced newness to the horror of the world.

Batman always yells at him, ups his training, but Tim doesn’t care if it means leaving that one bad person behind helped him save more decent lives.

Red Robin kills more… purposefully.

Not in a serial killer sense, he’s not stupid, but in a ‘blowing up the entire LOA and just assuming Ra’s will dunk at least some of them in the pit’ kind of way.

Truthfully that’s it.

He’s not like Red Hood or Slade or Harley, he just doesn’t mind bending and shifting his moral compass every now and again to better fit certain situations.

Like when Kon’s clones woke up and he had to slaughter them all with an emergency kryptonite sword he kept on stand by.

Or the two he had to track down and hunt after they escaped and, thank god he planted trackers in them, because they weren’t Kon and instead seemed more like animals that couldn’t even talk.

Oh and that one time this guy tried to drug Damian at a gala and Tim managed to ‘dispose’ of the guy before Damian realised what he had tried to do and did something stupid.

There was also that time he cut of Ra’s head in a luckily opening during a fight and kept it in a jar in The Nest as revenge for the whole spleen thing…

But that doesn’t count, cause he just got brought back to life.

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Dating/ Relationship headcannons for eyeless jack? For female reader, please! Thank you!

Haha so like believe it or not I’ve started writing dating headcanons shortly after posting my general NSFW headcanons…. And then I got distracted

Also um so like me when I said I was gonna answer a bunch of requests over spring break and then proceeded to not answer a single one after that…. SO YEAH IM WORKING ON IT

Anyways…

𓆩♡𓆪 Creepypasta boys dating headcanons 𓆩♡𓆪

+love languages as a bonus

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie

Jeff the Killer

☠︎︎ physical touch, he’s very used to touch being used in a negative way, towards him or by him so soft touches would make him melt

☠︎︎ likes to have you in his lap

☠︎︎ like wdym you need a chair he’s right here???

☠︎︎ he flirts with you by being sarcastic and snarky ☠︎︎ so like you might think he hates you at first before you realize he has a crush on you

☠︎︎ not great with his words/expressing his feelings

☠︎︎ you’d need to have thick skin to be with him, because he will definitely say things he doesn’t mean during an argument

☠︎︎ and he LIKES to argue, so if you hate conflict he’s probably not for you

☠︎︎ jealous and a bit possessive too, so you’d have to be careful about how you talk to other people and how often you do so

☠︎︎ he needs a LOT of reassurance and attention but he won’t ask for it directly, he’ll just get snappy and mean without an explanation

☠︎︎ it’s not always obvious why he’s upset so he’d need to be with someone who is both perceptive and patient

☠︎︎ he’s not the best at figuring out why you’re upset, so direct communication is best for him

☠︎︎ ride or die tbh, he doesn’t like very many people so if you’ve somehow wooed him you ain’t ever getting away

Ticci Toby

✘ touchtouchtouch

✘ he can’t feel pain or temperature so he values the things he can feel

✘ his hands are always on you in some capacity

✘ he’ll have his arm around you, he’ll hold your hand, and he LOVES it when you hold his arm

✘ he’ll also bear hug you and pick you up whenever he sees you (and he expects you to run into his arms)

✘ kinda OBNOXIOUS lol, like he’s the type of bf who does shit to annoy you just because he likes to see you get all riled up

✘ pokes your nose, licks your face, bites you, anything to get your attention

✘ no press is bad press

✘ the way he expresses love and affection is… unconventional

✘ like will sometimes just be so over the top and cannot read the situation

✘ he’d be very blunt in how he feels about you and generally is uninhibited when speaking about his feelings

✘ This can sometimes lead to issues so would need thick skin if you’re gonna date him

✘ he’s spontaneous and super energetic so you either need to be someone who can match that energy or super go with the flow

✘ has trouble seeing things from your perspective sometimes, but in an argument he doesn’t get all heated he just shuts down

✘ so he’d definitely do better with someone who’s not very temperamental

✘He’s a wild ride but if you can be down with all he’s got going on, he’ll stay in a long term relationship

Eyeless Jack

𖤐 gifts! He would definitely be bringing you back little trinkets

𖤐 it could be fun and pretty things he’s found while he’s out or little snacks/your favorite drink, etc

𖤐 just anything he can bring you to show you he was thinking of you

𖤐 treats you like you are dainty because he’s scared of breaking you

𖤐 he loves so gently

𖤐 makes sure you know you are valued by him

𖤐 regularly tells you he loves you, that you’re beautiful, he appreciates you

𖤐 plans the cutest dates and really likes to take you out

𖤐 the dates would be super tailored to what you’re into

𖤐 arguments are more like open discussions and he genuinely wants to help you change and grow as a person

𖤐 he’s a bit protective and only slightly jealous, no more than anyone else really

𖤐 he doesn’t want to hold you back in anyway really so he doesn’t often tell you what to do

𖤐 he would do best with someone who’s softer and less judgmental, he has a lot of shame around his eating habits and feeling like a monster

𖤐 he tends to give more than he takes so he’d do better with someone who’s also very generous that way there’d be equal dynamics between you two

BEN drowned

⚠︎ quality time, but not so much in the way of just liking to be around, he likes if you actually make plans to see him, even if it’s just to hang out

⚠︎ loves to play video games with you and he gets competitive

⚠︎ somewhat like Toby he is a little shit!

⚠︎ like he just LOVES to annoy the fuck out of you

⚠︎ he just thinks you’re wayyyy too cute when you’re angry

⚠︎ really likes to show off who he’s with

⚠︎ will buy you clothes, makeup, etc really anything to doll you up and show you off

⚠︎ once you are official he will be telling everyone in the existence of ever

⚠︎ especially because…

⚠︎ he’s SUPER POSSESSIVE like oh god HE’S SICK

⚠︎ like if someone LOOKS at you a little too long he’s got a problem

⚠︎ god forbid someone hits on you

⚠︎ but rather than taking it up with you, he just secretly ruins their life

⚠︎ he may not always be the best partner, he can lack empathy at times and arguments with him are a nightmare because he will twist your words and may manipulate you lightly

⚠︎ will randomly come through when it really matters

⚠︎ would do better with someone who’s (and forgive me here for my choice of word) a bit tsundere-like

⚠︎ he likes someone who takes effort to win over because he loves the chase

⚠︎ he also likes if you’re easy to embarrass or get a reaction out of

⚠︎ your relationship will feel like constant push and pull

X Virus

☣︎ acts of service

☣︎ Cody is a problem solver and will do what he can to make you happy and help you when there’s things troubling you

☣︎ at the same time, he has periods where he gets really invested into what he’s studying and may not pay attention to you for days

☣︎ so if you’re caring and will support him while he gets like that >>>>

☣︎ like bringing him food, helping with his laundry, etc (daily tasks he would need to do but he’s too hyper focused to take care of himself)

☣︎ you may have to convince him to shower during these periods

☣︎ would likely be pretty inexperienced in romance

☣︎ would defo be one of those guys that gets exponentially hotter after getting a girlfriend because she teaches him how to dress and be presentable

☣︎ rambles on about his experiments so you would ideally be a good listener and someone who will engage with him even if you have no idea what he’s talking about

☣︎ not super jealous but has CRAZY accurate senses when it comes to someone actually liking you and subtly flirting with you

☣︎ it’s like a siren goes off in his brain and then he’s like “not that person”

☣︎ pussy whippedddddd like once he’s into you you’ve got him on his KNEES

☣︎ got him opening doors and carrying heavy stuff like shittttttt

Tim/Masky

꩜ acts of service

꩜ Tim is not always the best with his words and can be kind of awkward so he’d rather just do things to show he cares

꩜ protective almost in like a dad way, like would make sure your car had all the fluids and maintenance it needs (can u tell I know nothing about cars)

꩜ or you’d randomly mention something you want and it’ll magically appear

꩜ he’s very practical, so dates and anniversaries are not too over the top, he keeps it simple

꩜ he’d do best with someone who’s more chill and laid back

꩜ he’s slow to open up and not the best at discussing his feelings so someone who is patient & perceptive is better for him

꩜ if it’s cold he always wants you to take his jacket (also loves to see you in it)

꩜Chivalry ain’t dead while he’s around

꩜ doesn’t get jealous often, he’s pretty mature

꩜ he’s very closed off and secretive about the parts of his life that he’s not proud of, so he’d need to be with someone who’s comfortable with not knowing everything

꩜ this also means it would take you a while to meet Masky

☆ Masky isn’t around all that often so you won’t get a ton of attention from him

☆ he views you as more of a pet than a girlfriend

☆ will give you the occasional head pat or say something flirtatious which often borders on sexual harassment

Brian/Hoodie

𖣐 words of affirmation

𖣐 he likes to be told that he is valued!

𖣐 but also loves to compliment you, and he is quite charming

𖣐 LOVES to tease

𖣐 he’s constantly taking pictures of you or recording you

𖣐has a picture of you in his wallet

𖣐 writes you little love notes and hides them in places you’ll find them easily

𖣐 he’s really perceptive so you can’t easily hide your feelings around him

𖣐 he will call bullshit if you try to say “no, I’m not mad” because he KNOWS

𖣐 not really jealous at all tbh

𖣐 if someone hits on you he takes it as a compliment

𖣐 like yeah he knows you’re hot

☹ You don’t see Hoodie for a while

☹ because lowkey he acts like a stalker at first even though you’re dating Brian and therefore also him

☹ he wouldn’t just come up and approach you, he has to be a weirdo and watch you from the shadows

☹ like just come talk to me you freak

☹ he will also leave you letters but they’re a little more sinister than Brian’s and in places that are off putting

☹ eventually he’d approach you, but like Masky he more so sees you as something to toy with rather than a girlfriend (even though his affection for you is definitely deep in there somewhere)

Hope you enjoyed :3

[sorvqlz]

Ticci Toby headcanons in a relationship with the reader? :3

Ticci Toby��

Hello !! I hope my pov meets your expectations this is of course how I personally think he would be

Romantic Hcs:

- Toby’s idea of love is warped. He never had a stable, caring family, so his affection comes in extremes—either overwhelming clinginess or sudden, cold detachment.

- He would be obsessive. Not in a cute, protective way, but in a “you belong to me, and I will kill anyone who tries to take you away” way.

- He wouldn’t fully understand normal relationship boundaries. If his partner ever tried to leave, he wouldn’t just let them go—he might stalk them, watch from a distance, or even resort to threats to keep them close.

- His paranoia would make him constantly question his partner’s loyalty. If they spend too much time away or talk to someone new, he won’t necessarily lash out, but he’ll watch—waiting for signs of betrayal.

- If he does get jealous, it won’t be dramatic—he won’t argue or demand reassurance. Instead, the person making him jealous might just disappear one day, and Toby will act like nothing happened.

- Toby is violent by nature. He doesn’t have a normal way of handling anger. If his partner upsets him, he might not hurt them directly, but he could break things, punch walls, or go out and kill someone to vent his emotions.(He'll try very hard not to be physically abusive with you, because he's not evil he's just mentally disturbed and because of trauma not because he was born crazy)

- If his partner is involved in his world (e.g., another killer or someone who doesn’t fear violence), they might be able to navigate his moods carefully. If they’re not, they’d constantly feel like they’re walking on eggshells.

- He wouldn’t tolerate disobedience. If his partner actively tries to defy him or leave, he won’t hesitate to use force to keep them in line—whether that’s intimidation, threats, or physical restraint.

- Toby isn’t completely incapable of love. In his own twisted way, he genuinely cares for his partner. If they’re hurt, he’ll take care of them. If they’re sad, he might not know how to comfort them, but he’ll sit with them in silence because he wants to help.

- He enjoys physical closeness, but it’s more for his benefit than theirs. Holding onto his partner makes him feel real—like there’s something in this world that belongs to him.

- He might force his partner into isolation. Not necessarily by locking them up, but by manipulating them into believing the outside world is too dangerous and that he’s the only one who truly understands them.

Bonus:

If His partner tried to leave

- Toby would see it as the ultimate betrayal. He’d either break down completely—laughing hysterically or crying—or flip a switch and go dead silent.

- There are only two possible outcomes: They don’t get far (bcz he’ll find them), or he lets them go only to stalk them for weeks or months later.

- If they run to someone else for help, Toby will take it personally—and that person won’t be around for much longer.

Author's note: realistically toby in a relationship wouldn’t be safe or romantic. He’s an unhinged killer with deep issues, and anyone involved with him would be trapped in an obsessive, dangerous love that’s impossible to escape.

(I still believe he can get better deep down, because in my pov the creepypasta's are forced to be killers of Slenderman since he's abusive and shit, I personally think that if Slenderman didn't recruit the crp's lots of them wouldn't be killers)

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (i)

Alastor in the rut x gn!reader

WARNINGS; 18+, reader with female parts, horniness & hormones, deer/doe!demon!reader, breeding k1nk, primal instincts, mentions of deer mating season, premature ejaculation, masturbation, dry humping, penetrative sex, marking & biting, friends to lovers, very descriptive, smut with emotion, corn with plot, fictional man being pathetic

Dividers by; @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

I somehow always manage to write more than originally planned, so this is big. Also, this is my first time writing a gender neutral reader -I'm still learning.

my original idea • ~masterpost~

Alastor is the radio demon. You have no clue how he manages to behave like he's the epitome of etiquette and a true gentleman, while also having the reputation of one of the most dangerous citizens of Hell, an overlord, a sinister killer and a cannibal.

Alastor is your friend. You fell in Hell three decades after him, but the fact that you're also a deer demon seemed to get him interested in you. His smile is less a sign of dominance and more one of sympathy around you. What's more, the radio demon is a tad bit protective when it comes to you. You'll never know it, but Alastor has his way of keeping you safe, discreetly pulling the strings, luckily for your sake.

He had been missing for years and when he had come to your door, big grin, shiny hooves and polished cane and had told you about the "Hazbin Hotel" you hadn't questioned much. It was weird that someone like him would back up Lucifer's daughter on such an idealistic plan, but with the extermination being a constant bane in your life, you had agreed heartily. You had wrapped your arms around Alastor's lean frame in a never recorpirated hug and you'd been off to your new place of residence.

You like the hotel. You and Niffty are old friends, the barman is a familiar face and Charlie is thrilled to have you here. The other residents have been no trouble to you, so you've managed to adjust to your new lifestyle no problem.

Let's not forget one thing though, you're all sinners and Alastor is ten times the amount you are. This comes with consequences for him. Alastor is bound to face an eternal struggle against his animal side, a struggle that he's been destined to lose. According to Angel, the radio demon you call your friend would identify as asexual had he been born later on Earth. But even with that, the urges he has to experience during the rutting season can't be prevented. You're still unaware your friend has to go through this.

But that's Alastor's price for misbehaving.

It's another evening at the hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie are on a date and that means no planned activities for the rest of you. You like the peace and quiet. Your deer ears are lowered in concentration as you're sitting on the couch of the lounge area, reading a book which has turned out to be a sick and twisted edition of Pride & Prejudice.

Alastor's been very distant since the beginning of autumn. More than usual. It's almost October now... and it has peaked your interest why he has been spending whole days locked up in his quarters. Sometime during September, you two had been chatting merrily about jazz, when all of a sudden his pupils had shrank and he had let out an uncharacteristically shaky sigh. You remember how his breathing had sped up and he had smiled politely before vanishing into thin air.

You're about to stand up and go to your room, when your ears practically perk up at the sound of static. You know this sound... and even though it usually means bad news, you look up and give the source of it a little smile. "Oh, hi Al..."

Alastor's antlers begin to grow, but he can control himself for now. The rutting starts hitting him with a new wave of frustration -and it's getting worse now that he's in your presence.

"My favorite y/n! What are you reading my dear?", his grin and confidence hide how vulnerable he feels in this state.

"Charlie gifted me some of her old books and-"

"Oh Charlie! She is a gem, isn't she?" Alastor suddenly leans to the side, as if trying to scratch something out of his hair. His face quickly returns back to its normal grin... but he also begins to scratch his arm.

You chuckle awkwardly. Why is he looking so irritable?

"Well, she's so nice, I can't disagree with you there... and I'm glad she finally decided to take some time off to spend with her girlfriend."

He laughs, showing off his sharp teeth as you initiate in small talk.

Alastor can feel a voice deep within calling him to give in and claim you, breed you 'till his hunger is satisfied. The radio demon's expression fades to an empty, dull stare, as his instincts fight against him. Now you're feeling uneasy and you shift in your seat.

"Ah- sorry dear. Got caught up there, I forgot myself." Alastor takes a quick breath, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to stay in control. "Don't you worry y/n! I'm certainly quite harmless."

He's in full rutting mode, his voice starts becoming breathy -the animalistic urges taking over. It's only getting worse as he stands close to you, the hormones increasing his urge to be near you, to make you his and his alone.

His voice is hoarse now and his breathing heavier. "Have you seen Niffty by chance?"

His ears move as if they're itching him.

You clear your throat and try to keep your curiosity regarding his behavior at bay. "I'm afraid I haven't, she's probably killing bugs somewhere..."

Alastor's expression shifts to one of pure annoyance. To your oblivious so far mind, Al is probably just pissed off at something. "Well then, if you happen to see her, do tell her she better not disturb me at my room... and don't you dare forget it my dear!"

"I- I won't."

His pupils almost completely disappear as he stares at you and his mouth curls into a snarl with his yellowish teeth out.

He has a hypnotic effect on you, you're beginning to feel lightheaded being near him. He takes a step back, moving a safe distance away from you -because he feels like he's gonna launch on you at any given moment. Alastor is getting tired of trying to maintain his composure around you.

He hates how shallow his breathing has become, how the urge to take you has become too much for him to bear. A low growling noise escapes him.

Alastor watches as you resume your previous activity of reading. Humiliated from his lack of control and frustrated from the stinging sensation in his loins he slips away from the lounge.

Alastor is alone now, his eyes wild with lust and desperation, as he looks around his room in a frenzy. He grabs a pillow and starts rubbing his groin against it. He feels like his body is melting from all the heatb -he can't help but imagine the pillow is your backside.

"Oh~", he breathes out raggedly, his inhales shallower and shallower as his imagination toys with him. You'd look so delicious in the place of the lifeless pillow... Alastor's heart is racing and his antlers have grown sharp and tall on his head.

He is overwhelmed, being rather sexually unbothered the rest of the year has made his shaft extra sensitive.

...why him? Why does he have to go through this rutting thing? It makes him feel powerless and he hates it...

Alastor groans in desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your soft skin sliding against his body... He thinks of your cute fluffy tail. You get all your clothes tailored so that there's space for it to protrude while he always tucks his own in his suit pants...

In a fury, he takes off his coat and crawls on the bed, placing the pillow between his legs. He's in all fours as he humps it like a real deer.

He keeps growling, the sound mixing with static. He can't stop thinking of you -the perfect mate... another deer. Alastor's mind is playing out all these amazing things, your smile and your voice, your butt, your ears that match his own... and your neck that he'd definitely mark with his teeth if he was ever given the chance.

Alastor is in a trance. With shaky hands he curses himself for, he reaches down to his crotch and takes out his cock. His tip is flushed and swollen and he hisses as he continues to push his hips against the pillow. The deer demon grunts softly, his hips moving involuntarily with restless abandon as he pretends to be mating with a partner.

"Take that... oh~" Alastor's cock throbs painfully, desperate for release. The pillow has been providing him with some much needed friction the last few weeks, but he knows it soon won't be enough to satisfy him. His red hair is sticking to his forehead and he's panting so much -chasing his release with a desperation he'd consider pathetic, if he could focus on anything else than his tightening balls.

Alastor continues to rub against the pillow and the motion makes his tail slip out of his suit pants. He can feel his body heat up even more, sweat beading on his forehead as he approaches his climax.

Your curiosity has gotten the best of you. You can't concentrate on your book and all you can think of is Alastor. In any case, the other residents of the hotel are busy doing their own thing, so there's no one stopping you from walking all the way to Alastor's rooms. There's static coming from his bedroom, but what really intrigues you are the groans... they're rather guttural... You assume he maybe hunted down an animal and he's devouring it? This has to be it...

On the other side of the door, Alastor is shaking with desire and his heart is pounding. The smell of you -that he assumes is part of his fantasy- is driving him insane, as he is almost ready to release a torrent of hot cum on his pillow.

"Alastor?" you knock on the big, ornate door.

This sudden interruption almost causes Alastor to fall over. He quickly covers his twitching member and throws the pillow away from him. One would expect him to feel embarrassed, but his first thought at being caught red handed is to kill you. Luckily for you, it's just a thought.

"Al? It's y/n. Can I come in?"

The radio demon's face contorts in desperation as he realizes how unsatisfied he feels. His hips are still rocking back and forth slightly, despite his attempts to control his body.

Why did you have to pay him a visit NOW? He was so close to finding relief...

Alastor has become desperate and not to mention agitated. What if you smell his arousal in the air? What if you look down and see the outline of his dick in his pants?!

He groans and shifts uncomfortably. The demon closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to even out his breathing.

Eventually, he shakes his head and walks to the door. He has fought against mighty overlords, he shouldn't hesitate to face his harmless friend just because he is in the rut.

Alastor doesn't want to admit it, but he most definitely is in breeding mode. Proof of that... the moment he opens the door, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it alone. Your friend bites back a groan.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear?"

Taking in his appearance, something is definitely off to your inquisitive eyes. You notice how he's only in his shirt and vest -something truly rare for the Alastor you've come to know. His bow tie is crooked and the cherry on top... you can see his tail! It's red like his ears and... moving? You wonder why.

"Is he in musth or something?" you joke in your head.

"I was just bored in all honesty... Everyone is occupied with something. Um... you look... sick?"

"Ha!Ha! Don't be absurd y/n! You can't get any sicker than you already are in Hell!"

He can't hide the slight edge from his voice. He claims he is fine, but the look on his face screams otherwise.

Alastor's temperature keeps rising, his body is so sensitive and without realizing it, he neglects to filter his voice.

"Would you like to come in?"

Your eyes widen and you look at him with genuine surprise clear on your features. He quickly catches up that he screwed, but lets it go, the shivers he's starting to experience as his unattended cock is asking for some action having gained all his focus.

The air in the room is thick and you begin to have second thoughts about your decision to come here, but it's too late for that, so you just walk in Alastor's bedroom. His quarters are always clean and intimidating just like their occupant. Still, you like coming here, he's never been hostile towards you and if anything, dancing with Alastor or spilling some tea with him has always been part of your routine here at the hotel.

"Wanna dance?"

"You know I always do." Alastor manages to keep his smile and composure despite the sweat running down his back.

The jookbox starts playing on its own and you casually walk closer to your years long friend. Since he's always been much taller, you place your hands on his chest, while he wraps his own around your waist.

Alastor's lips start tingling as he looks down at your exposed neck. He bites the insides of his mouth until he tastes blood -he can't allow himself to think about you like that.

You sway back and forth in the rhythm of the old timey tunes, inevitably rubbing against him. The new found friction has him biting down on his tongue and clenching his fists behind your back until his nails are piercing his palms -otherwise he'd be howling out in despair.

Immersed in the songs you love so much, you unconsciously shift even closer to your fellow deer demon, but he harshly jerks away from you, his expression growing panicked. "H- haha... I c- can't let you d- do that my friend!"

You frown. Why can't you dance with him like you always do? ...and did the radio demon just stutter? You sigh at his lack of cheerfulness and look down.

Your now downcast gaze gives you a nice view of his... crotch area... and the said area has a raging bulge. Your first thought is to touch it and indulge in the attraction you've always felt for Alastor, but the way his antlers are growing right now and the static that's peaking up again make you turn to leave.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist in an instant and when you turn back at him, his eyes have changed.

"The song's not over dear y/n.", he says in the same strained tone and you swallow.

"R- right... my bad."

He has you pressed tightly against him in no time and he's swaying with you almost like he's on autopilot. And you can now feel his unbelievably hard erection against your lower body. Alastor grunts softly, his eternal smile faltering as his cock keeps throbbing painfully within his pants, desperate for release.

The demon's eyes wander over you, taking in your form. He knows he has to maintain some semblance of control, but his hormones are off the roof. Without realizing the inappropriateness of his actions, Alastor reaches out to touch you, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek. The demon's cock throbs even harder at the contact, leaking pre-cum in his underwear.

"You're so beautiful..."

Heat pools in your belly and your face flushes at his simple comment. He's a charmer, but that's a new one. His monocle slips down slightly as he leans in close, his scent of musk and arousal surrounding you.

Alastor's hands move to your hips, pulling you impossibly close. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and a primal need. He presses his hips against yours and you can feel his clothed cock twitching eagerly.

His monocle falls to the floor as he loses himself in the rutting.

"Al- what's happening?"

Before you can question his unusual behaviour any further, Alastor presses his hardened length against your stomach with intent. A mix of frustration and pleasure is clear on his features.

To say you're surprised would be an understatement, but you don't stop him. You watch in awe as your bricked up friend loses himself to lust and his need to mate.

Your innocent dancing moment has turned into him dry humping you. He releases a guttural groan -too far gone to care about composure.

Alastor begins to grind against you faster, mimicking the movements of a rutting deer. His grip tightens around you, his need growing stronger and overwhelming. The bulge in his pants keeps pushing insistently against you, but you're so stunned by this turn of events that you grab him by the arms and take a step back.

Alastor's eyes flatter open and for a moment... He snaps out of his blurry state of mind. He straightens and clears his throat. He then gives you a stern look, with ears lowered.

"Get out."

"B- but we were-"

"You don't want to make me repeat myself."

The moment he's alone again, Alastor works the buttons of his dress pants in a daze, freeing his swollen cock. A low growl rumbles in his chest -and the deer demon is convinced that if he doesn't cum in the following minute, he's going to die a second time. He keeps making soft sounds, his body aching with the need to mate.

He had you right here, but he can't bring himself to be so vulnerable in front of someone other than himself.

What would Vox say if he found out that Alastor is forced to go through a mating season like some fucking animal? Why does the price of his sins have to manifest into some primal need to breed?

"Fffffuck!"

His mind gets fixated on the ache between his legs.

With an animalistic sound of pure lust, Alastor reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of his heavy testacles. He squeezes it gently, feeling his warm seed oozing out his slit. He leaks copious amounts of pre-cum on his crimson bedsheets. The radio demon watches, transfixed by the sight of his own seed dripping down the length of his hard dick. It's a powerful aphrodisiac for him and he can't help but imagine it spilling into you instead.

His cock twitches in anticipation and he gives in. Every day since the rutting season began, he has been trying to suppress his instincts and today has been no different, if anything, your presence made his hormones go even more nuts... and you should be happy you're not carrying his fawns by now.

Alastor begins to stroke himself -legs spread and sweat making his clothes stick to his body. His breath catches in his throat as his hips involuntarily back into his hand. The tips of his claws grow slightly and he's jerking himself off at a punishing pace now. Alastor's groans turn into pleasured whimpers as he arches his back, driving his erection deeper in his hand.

What would it feel like to finish inside you? To make you come... To have your heat contracting around his rock-hard member as you milk him past the point of no return?

"Oh- ...agh- y/n..."

He's murmuring things in unknown languages, but it all comes back to your name.

Alastor's hips begin to thrust forward in time with his strokes, seeking release from the torment of his lust. He snarls and growls in a throaty manner. He physically can't take it anymore, his balls feel like they're on fire...

The radio demon's eyes roll back in his head, the pleasure is intense, but it's only fueling his desire for a real partner more.

His fingers are sliding up and down his sensitive shaft and he can feel himself getting closer -but he knows that's not enough. Alastor's breath has become ragged, his monocle forgotten along with his pride somewhere far away... his vision is blurring...

Feeling himself nearing the edge, Alastor grits his teeth and pushes through the ache. His muscles tense... and then, he finally comes in a powerful burst of pleasure, shooting thick ropes of cum across the room. He keeps coming, his hips bucking upward, pushing his cock even deeper into his fist as he empties himself.

Alastor's orgasm was intense -almost violent- but it was the sweet release he's been craving all day long. As his climax finally begins to subside, the demon collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

However, his cock has remained hard and throbbing between his legs, demanding more attention as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, a tired Alastor sits up and glances down at his still engorged member. A part of him is reveling in the feeling of power that comes with being so thoroughly aroused, but he's not ready to admit that. For now, needs to fuck something, anything.

But hasn't he been tormented enough? Why isn't he satisfied yet?

He reaches for the nearest object. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it can take his cock and bear the brunt of his ferocious passion. With a sinister chuckle, Alastor picks up another unlucky cushion and holds it tightly against his hips. His cock jerks repeatedly as he positions himself with the head of his shaft pressing against the soft fabric.

The cushion offers little resistance but serves as an outlet for Alastor's raging desire. He pounds away at it, relentlessly, his body shaking. With the ever present sound of static -evidence of his frustration-, he rhythmically pistons in and out of his makeshift partner with brutal force.

He's been doing this for weeks now, all the unsatisfied hunger making him lose his sanity bit by bit.

The radio demon's eyes are glazed over with passion. He continues fucking the cushion with savage intensity... still he wishes he could take it out on someone made of flesh and blood, someone who would react and offer him some reassurance that he's not going to pass out.

The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm Alastor once again and with labored breathing, he frantically moves his hips-

"N- no, n- no....agh-" he lets out a feral roar, spurting a sticky cumshot onto the cushion. This time, when he collapses on the mattress, he is exhausted.

He doesn't bother looking down at his angry cock, the discomfort isn't going away till the mating season ends...

...let's go back to you now.

After being so abruptly pushed away by Alastor, you went straight to your room. You have a lot to ponder over after tonight. Maybe you did have a small a crush on your friend that had allowed the situation to escalate. His behavior has been so off putting though.

You'd been proud of yourself, considering that you know Alastor better than anyone else in Hell, since he talks about everything with you over a cup of tea. He had been so excited to tell you he'll soon be back on air and he's always somewhere around you at all times. So, the fact that he just expressed sexual desire for you and then told you to leave him alone immediately after...

You would have never guessed that your fellow deer demon is interested in sex. He's been in the company of some of the most desired demons, but he's simply not into that kind of thing... Yet, he had dry humped you like some desperate animal.

His scent had been so blissful to your nostrils, that he had almost woken something primal in your own body. There's definitely a lot of tension between you two now and you hope that tomorrow he will approach you.

You sigh and get all cozy under your bed covers. How should you deal with the situation at hand? You know him. Not just the radio demon, or Alastor the cannibal, but him.

Maybe the whole redemption thing is working after all, but when did you start being so considerate and thoughtful of other sinners' hardships? And if your friend's hardship is a constant hard on, perhaps your services will be appreciated -or you've just been hanging out with Angel too much.

It's a new day in Hell.

You take your time getting ready before joining Niffty in the kitchen to make breakfast.

Alastor is sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands as he trembles with unwanted arousal. He's almost at the point of a nervous breakdown. The radio demon is getting angrier with himself -the urge to find you and claim you is getting worse and worse and he struggles to maintain his calm.

Alastor gets ready. His routine a bit different when in rutting mode. He first relieves some of the pressure in his balls, he then puts on a clean shirt, fixes his hair and places his red monocle back in place. And of course, his smile, because he's never fully dressed without one!

"Oh good morning my fellows! What a pleasant breakfast you seem to be having!" He prefers to eat alone, so him appearing late isn't something worth noticing... but the tenting in his trousers definitely is...

And when Angel smirks mischievously at him, Alastor smiles in such an unnerving manner that the spider demon has to cower behind Husk.

"Al! Morning!" you say a bit too cheerfully. Your ears rise on your head to match your general attitude.

The radio demon grins at you -internally relieved you're not keeping last night against him. He rarely feels any remorse -part of why he's in Hell- but he's not proud of snapping at you last night just because he's irritable and frustrated 24/7. You're a deer demon like him, but you never get in heat like an animal, you weren't as sinister as he was when alive and therefore your punishment isn't as tormenting.

You stand up and start gathering the dishes. Charlie is eager to help you, but you manage to deny her excessive kindness for once.

Alastor swallows a guttural growl as you turn your back at him and start walking to the kitchen, your deer tail and your ass all too enticing for him. His legs begin to move against his will, following you like he's being driven purely by instinct. He is once again biting his tongue hard enough to taste the familiar to him, metallic taste of blood. There is a certain strain the urge is causing him... and for once Alastor is feeling desperate for touch.

"Angel and I are going outside today, he said he wants me to meet a friend of his... Um, I think her name's Cherri or something."

You obviously felt his presence, his red eyes feasting on your form the whole time.

"How delightful, making new acquaintances! I am still decorating my humble station. Haha!"

"Oh, I can't wait to experience your radio show again Al! It's been so long!"

His arrogant smirk is accompanied by a twitch of his stiff dick. The energy boost he feels when you acknowledge his power... it makes him dangerously lightheaded.

He walks closer to you, looming right behind you as you stretch to put something on a high self. Alastor has you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. The demon's cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his pants. The said fabric growing damp as he grows harder.

With a frenzied urgency, Alastor gives in to his animal side and leans in, his hot breath in your ear is sending shivers down your spine, your pupils dilating.

"Do you even realize what you've been doing to me sweet y/n?"

He is getting impatient... and when you don't answer him immediately, he presses his tent against your ass. "Do you my little deer?"

The sound of static feels the air, his voice distorted and his breathing heavier than before. "You... have no idea how much I want- no... how much I need this, with you."

You swallow, your own breath has sped up and heat has pooled in your tummy again. But when you turn to look at him, you come face to face with a hideous creature with wild eyes. You flinch. Alastor's smile fails him and you swear you hear the most discreet of sniffles coming from him.

"Help me." That's proof enough for you that your friend is going through something he clearly didn't ask for, but it's taking over him anyway.

Angel Dust has described to you how he'd needed time to get used to having multiple arms and you have to file down your antlers daily, so that they don't overgrow and cause you headaches. Alastor on the other hand loses himself to primal urges once a year.

You lock your gaze on his and extend a steady hand, placing it on the side of his pale face. Not only does he allow it, but your small gesture seems to have the effect on Alastor, his demon form receding -and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while also trying so hard to hold back from bending you over the counter and taking you raw right now.

"Stay still..."

It's now or never for you. You hesitantly cup his bulge.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact sends shivers down his spine. He buries his face in your neck and starts nibbling or better... biting around your collarbones. It's a cannibalistic urge of his, but he would kill himself before causing you any real harm.

Alastor groans, his still clothed member twitching under the pressure of your hand. The demon can barely think straight -rutting instincts taking over completely.

"I need... I need to be inside you." He can only whisper, reaching down to pull your shirt up, his fingers trembling as he does, revealing your upper body to him. "Yes... I need you."

This is all so sudden for you, but you finally know with certainty what's happening. "You're... mating or something?"

You stop rubbing his clothed crotch and Alastor moans, the sound carrying the old audio-like effect. He nods slightly, his hips bucking against your hand. He's so close to losing control. The mating season has driven him mad with lust. A lust projected on you, it seems.

"Y/n... I need you now."

"Al... They- They're gonna hear us... We're in the frickin' kitchen! ...we can't... can't-"

Alastor's eyes widen and he stumbles back, his erection pleading to be freed from his dress pants.

He looks at you incredulously, angrily. "What?! But I... I said that I need you." He starts panting, there's a look of betrayal on his face that has you short circuiting.

"I'm already half naked here and you're... You're obviously hard- It's too risky!"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Well you should... but..." you sigh.

"I do have another idea. I've been rather inactive in the afterlife but... I can do it for you."

Your friend's heart is racing with anticipation. He tries to control his unsteady breathing -without much success.

"Another idea?" he asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I know it's not what you really crave... but I can... you know... jerk you off?"

Did you really just say that?

He begins to unbutton his pants hurriedly.

"Very well..."

As Alastor's pants fall to his knees, he scratches his fluffy ears, presenting his throbbing member to you. It's a sight to behold -long with a shimmering dew covering the tip.

"Do it."

Your mouth waters as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing. His ballsack hangs heavy, filled with seed, so that he can breed for as long as the rutting lasts. Something must've altered in your brain's chemistry, because you take his balls in your hand, fondling them. The deer demon lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. The sensation of your hand on his sensitive balls is almost too much for him to bear...

"More..." he manages to whisper between pants.

Encouraged by his reaction, you squeeze his balls softly and Al lets out a throaty groan, his dick twitching, almost ready to explode. He's not used to other people touching him.

You're still unsure if that's the right thing to do in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in at any given moment. But he seems to be really into it and the look in his eyes makes it clear to you that you can't just stop now. So that's what he's been struggling with, what's been making him stay locked in his room, until dealing with it on his own wasn't enough.

Alastor's gaze is pleading you and his voice comes out shaky, unfiltered.

"Please... I need more..." He then reaches down and moves your hand on his eager cock. You wrap your fingers around his length, with your thumb resting on his head, tracing it slowly. The sounds he makes and the way his features contort with pleasure makes you start stroking him.

The overlord can't believe what's happening. He has never experienced anything like this and it feels incredible. The more you stroke him, the more he bucks his hips into your hand. "Y- yes... just like that..."

You feel so confident now that he seems to have let go completely, allowing you to do as you please with his body. You know teasing isn't fair, especially in his hormonal state, but you can't help slowing down your hand's movements -playing with the friction you're providing him with. He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his nostrils flaring.

"Faster."

"Nope, I told you I don't want anyone finding us out."

"I didn't ask you darling. It was an order."

You stubbornly slow down your hand even more and you know that this is far from enough for him. Alastor needs more speed, more pressure.

"I... Don't... Give a single penny if they'll hear us... J- just... y/n, get me there." His body trembles with need as he speaks to you.

"You... You accepted to help me... And yet, you- you refuse to give me what I want." He looks down at your lips with a mix of lust and anger in his bright eyes.

You suppress a mischievous giggle.

It's empowering seeing such a strong demon being dependent on you. You can feel the heat radiating from his dick and he makes a desperate little sound when you begin moving your hand up and down his long member again.

You almost feel pity for him -teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and out of control. Though that decision has nothing to do with the fact that he could kill you, you actually feel strongly for him and the way both pairs of your ears move in sink as you pick up pace is so... natural for you, like you two belong together in a primal sense.

Alastor feels his muscles tensing up and his black heart is pounding like crazy.

"I can't- can't-"

He looks mesmerized at your hand jerking him off at a now delicious speed.

You are so turned on and you want to give him all the pleasure you can, even if you're in the hotel's kitchen. You begin sinking on your knees and you see him gulp. Your friend freezes for a moment, his mind racing with images of pleasure and ecstasy.

"That's new."

"How so Al?"

"I've never had that... but I want to now."

You can't help but smile. He probably never wanted a blow job before and he won't be in the mood for one after the rutting ends.

You're now at the right height so you just go for it, leaning in. Your tongue swirls around his pulsating cockhead and you're surprised from the amount of pre cum he can produce. Alastor's eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a long, low moan. The sensation of your warm breath and wet tongue on him sends shivers down his spine.

"Don't stop..."

You lick his slit and he groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut. "Yeah... Keep doing this... agh~"

You're offering stimulation and he's gritting his teeth at the feeling, but something isn't quite right. You're once again toying with him, denying him the release he so desperately wants.

"I will have you... eventually."

Alastor then takes a big breath, his cock is still hard as steel. "You're a real temptation~" He glares at you -rather hungrily- his nostrils once again flaring.

"Don't try to make me beg."

"But would you now?" Under any other circumstances, you'd never be that bold with him....

Alastor laughs darkly in response to your challenge, causing a cold chill to run down your spine.

"You wound me, my dear. I would never beg for anything... Especially not when it comes to satisfying this... this unwanted but still unyeilding desire..."

You smile wickedly -your ears conveying your feelings, as always, when they move. In a swift motion, but still cautiously, you push back his foreskin. A low, agonizing moan escapes Alastor's lips as your action exposes his sensitive flesh to the air. Hips jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more contact with your hand...

"You're killing me mon cher~"

"Buckle up Al..."

You start stroking him thoroughly.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you jerk him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. "Unh..."

You're now applying some serious pressure on his throbbing dick. With a primal scream, Alastor's entire body tenses up and he begins releasing his seed on your hand.

"Oh goodness..." He keeps groaning and you can see him shudder as he does so. He continues spurting thick, white fluid onto your hand, seemingly unable to stop himself.

In his eyes there's a mix of lust and gratitude. He licks his lips unconsciously.

"What else can you do to me?"

"W- What? Me?"

The demon chuckles lightly at your question. His eyes trail down your body appreciatively when you stand up. "And why not you? You're here and I need some action these days!"

He grins and you sigh.

"Well, that means it could be anyone... anyone other than me."

You don't like how this revelation makes you feel sad and disappointed.

A sly smirk plays at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "I suppose it could, but then again, why settle for anyone when I can have you?"

His voice is husky and you like this tone from him. "You and I belong together, dear y/n."

He's clearly considering you his mate now.

Your romantic side wins and you cup his face. That seems to sober him up if just for a few minutes. The overlord looks like he's savoring the sensation and a deep sigh escapes him. "I don't deserve this, not with you."

"But I do want to be present through this... I get it."

The glimmer of hope returns to his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"I won't leave you suffering alone Alastor."

He nods as he thinks it over. "In that case... I'll accept your offer."

You smile sweetly. This isn't that bad. He didn't even ask for a deal. You stand on your hooves and give his cheek a little kiss. He beams at you as he takes hold of his signature cane.

"Oh I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Haha, so do I... B- But let's make you something to eat before you get all excited again..."

"That's a wonderful idea darling! And I might as well tell you about Susan's new act while you're at it."

Alastor feels a warmth he hasn't in a long time. As you work on preparing food for him, he seems content and somewhat at peace. But then, like clockwork, the desire is going to build up again. Through the week the rutting hits him anew and he becomes extremely short-tempered. He has to change rooms when Charlie starts singing and he's constantly arguing with Husk.

Alastor surprises himself.

During the times he does manage to control his primitive urges, he's actually avoiding you. He has this idea that he would end up hurting you if things ever escalated fully between you two.

Could this mean that he actually cares about your wellbeing?

He is an overlord. He is the one and only radio demon, there's no way he has a soft spot for his fellow deer demon -who had relieved him of weeks of pent up tension just with their touch.

You, on the other hand, feel no shame nor guilt for your little encounter with Alastor in the kitchen. If anything, the fact that he's still in his mating season is making you wet, longing for more.

One fateful night, all of you're sitting together, you across from Alastor's armchair... and it's impossible to not look down. He has a prominent bulge and you're not even surprised. However, when you look back up, you freeze like a... well, you do freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, because he is staring at you so very intensely.

The air feels thick all of a sudden and his gaze implies many things -to your delight. He excuses himself shortly after, but not before giving you a slight nod. He wants you now. He needs you now.

Experiencing a slight Deja vu, you find yourself knocking on his door the very same night. The Deja vu intensifies at the sound of static coming from the other side of the door. You decide to let yourself in when there's no answer. "Al?"

A pair of big and intricate antlers comes in your vision. The smell of him floods your senses. It's intoxitacing, addictive. You want him too.

Alastor wastes no time.

He pushes you up against the nearest wall, his body pressing tightly against yours. His breath is coming in ragged gasps, his eyes full of lust and desire. The demon growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

In one swift motion, he tears your clothes from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes roam over your exposed flesh, his lips parted in a wicked grin.

With an animalistic growl, he buries his face between your breasts, sucking on your nipples with rough abandon. You moan and arch your back, the sensation sinfully satisfying. Noticing your response, Alastor's movements become even more frenzied. He reaches down to grip your hips, lifting you up onto the wall.

You then unzip his pants, lost in the haze of your increasing desire for him. Alasor groans when you do that, his hips bucking forward as you free his cock from its confines. It slaps against your lower stomach -rigid and angry.

With another feral growl, Alastor turns you around so that you're facing the wall -gaining a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your already dripping entrance. Maybe he's not that experienced, but right now he seems to be driven by some infallible instinct. His finger doesn't stay in your cunt for long though, since the man is getting desperate to claim you as his -in a much more effective fashion.

You turn you head to the side and lock eyes with him. You shiver, almost scared at the pure hunger on his face. He thrusts into you with brutal force, driving his cock inside you deep and hard. His hips start pistoning against your ass, as he takes you without mercy. He's breeding, essentially. It's not meant to be slow or soft.

The gentleman you knew is gone for now, but you're digging your nails in his shoulders and letting out whines and moans nonetheless.

With each thrust, he growls like a beast claiming his prize. Alastor's eyes are wild and feral, reflecting the primal lust that consumes him. His heavy balls are slapping against your skin. You're turning to jelly slowly but surely, surrendering to him in way that feels natural to you -not forced.

Your old friend grunts in both pain and pleasure, losing himself in the heat of the moment. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks on your hips that show his possessiveness.

You reach behind you, grabbing his thighs to somehow ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure in your core. A guttural moan escapes him as you touch his sensitive flesh. His hips buck against yours, driving himself deeper inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.

Alastor continues to pound into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing with each powerful stroke. He's sweating and he starts taking off his clothes -in a uncharacteristically clumsy manner.

He can't take it anymore, your tightening walls becoming overwhelming for him to bear. Feeling the pressure building within him, he growls low in his throat and picks up the pace even more.

The new speed he fucks you in has you seeing stars, the knot on your stomach snapping without warning. You cry out his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear -but you simply don't care.

He moans your name as well, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives himself deeper into you one last time. His body shudders violently as he reaches the height of his own orgasm. Hot, thick cum is filling you up and there's so much of... It's dripping out of you and onto the carpet.

He finally did it. He's mated. He's bred you.

Spent and panting heavily, Alastor collapses on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breath -and teeth- on your skin as you try to catch your breath. His dick is softening inside you, but he doesn't pull out just yet. His primal instinct is still active and making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

After you both relax in the present silence for a bit, he casually lifts you up and places you on the bed -the manhandling making you blush profusely, but he doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a sound close to purring as he lays down next to you, spooning you.

You sigh, feeling exhausted and simultaneously content. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already fallen asleep.

Your heartbeat has turned back to normal and you find shelter in his long and elegant neck, as you start dozing off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

He's not cold or ignorant the next morning.

...that morning ends up with him grasping at the air, as if searching for something to hold on to, as your head bobs up and down under the sheets.

It becomes common knowledge that Alastor's mood improves significantly after having sex with you. Something that does occur a couple more times in the spam of a week or so.

You knew the rutting was coming to an end when his desperate and forceful claiming -usually from behind- became passionate love making.

There was this one night...

Like a true gentleman of his time, Alastor had made love to you with deep, sensual thrusts as your hands had gotten lost in his fluffy hair. You had been underneath him.

Your orgasm had been accompanied by a soundless moan as you'd thrown your head back and he'd nuzzled your neck, breath labored and a frown on his face as he'd come shortly after you. You had let him fall asleep on you that night, both of you panting, sweat covering you.

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he is asleep, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless next him. So you gently start caressing his ears -and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch, without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one.

Is this love? Maybe someday.

The End??

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[punksocks]

Lilith & His Femme Fatale (18+ Only)

**I tried to make this general but it’s about seduction, I couldn’t pull it lol (fr minors dni!)

*Just based on my observations, only take what resonates

Often Lilith in a man’s birth chart gives less information on him and more information on the type of woman that’s his femme fatale. The type of femme that gives this complex dynamic to the relationship. I would say, similarly to Plutonian influences, this sort of connection charged with such intensity tends to elicit the extreme reaction of either repelling him or making him at least a bit obsessed with finding a way to “obtain” the Lilith person in the relationship.

I think this is always related to Lilith’s folklore of being the untamable wife. He loves her because he can’t control her. But he still wants to try (not always but often imo). Not being able to control her and her seeming so wild and free is one of the many reasons the Lilith person usually brings out the shadow side of the masc person in their connection.

(I think everyone, men/women/enbys/etc, all tend to act out of feminine and masculine energies. The energies of giving and receiving. Action and reaction. Lilith usually throws some upheaval into this because as an untraditional feminine she embodies it all. She dominates whilst not taking any action. Lilith’s sort of chaotic energy throws a wrench in the binary imo. She’s feminine but the effect she has on and within others often puts her outside of the spectrum. I’m speaking about the effect on masculine folks because I believe Lilith pushes them into a power struggle mindset due to her effects and due to our society -and Lilith’s origins- being very patriarchal. With traditional feminine energies there is also a power struggle effect but it’s more like rooted in the feminine power. Like women usually have a default role of using subservience to their advantage- as much as they can- under patriarchy. So the tension with people embodying Lilith manifests in this tension of trying to make the Lilith people conform or outcasting them. There can be underlying s*xual dynamics to this but it usually works out differently/less directly than it does with masc folks.)

Anyway that’s why I believe men/masc people react in such a charged/obsessed way to Lilith energy and why I think it tends to result in this sort of femme fatale dynamic. Now let’s get into it !

-Lilith in Aries: For Lilith in Aries, he’d love an unstoppable woman. Like I noted before (in credit to @zeldasnotes ) this is a strong indicator of a man being a feminist (we love to see it). So this could also indicate a strong attraction to someone that’s in their power, that holds their own, and that is very independent and strong in their own right. He may find himself pushing back on this type of femme, but being impressed and compelled by her when she does take the lead (his mars could show how this dynamic would play out). (You may find yourselves vying for dominance in the connection)

-Lilith in Taurus: A hyperfeminine woman. Obviously, femininity looks different across cultures, but some traits that could show up here would be: a woman with curves, a killer hourglass figure that turns heads; a woman that seems luxurious and well dressed; a woman that feels soft and smells great. Essentially being a Venusian sign, Taurus in Lilith would be absolutely smitten by a beautiful woman that embodied all that soft feminine energy (and took his money lol) (speaking of which, could be a s*x worker or trophy wife type- someone that needs a lot of money/luxury to keep around)

-Lilith in Gemini: A thinker, a woman that outwits you. Someone that keeps you mentally stimulated by challenged your knowledge. Someone that will always make you guess. Very book smart, may be curious about the taboo. Someone that gets their kicks from debating you and testing your textbook knowledge. May also be smitten by dirty talk, talking about the taboo in their intimate time together.

-Lilith in Cancer: A nostalgic nurturer that makes you feel at ease. May embody the bad traits that make you feel especially vulnerable (like familiar toxic behavior). Lilith’ archetype is often an antithesis of cancer’s traditional influence of being the emotional nurturer, so we’d have to assume a bit of corruption here. Just as easily as you could be fueling toxic behavior I’d assume you’d just as easily receive it. So mascs can project onto you and desire to leech off of your nurturing energy.

-Lilith in Leo: A diva. The one that’s in the spotlight without trying at all. Like a burlesque dancer, beautiful and radiant and practically untouchable. Speaking of which they may be smitten with a femme known for her s*x appeal. Whether that’s from having a lot of past partners or being a model or being in s*x work depends on the situation. The Leo person would likely want exclusive access to you after they get their hands on you though (fixed placements can be very possessive, it’s a whole thing)

-Lilith in Virgo: someone with their life together. (I said what I said 👀). A sort of that girl as the kids say :0. She has a meal plan and a routine and a 5 year plan. I’d also wager that this placement is the most likely to have a thing for someone that has their shit so together that it makes the native feel less than. Someone that could shame them and make them feel flawed and insignificant at the drop of a hat (a hat? The hat? Ok). Also likely to be someone that is really subtle but quietly freaky. A good candidate for workplace affairs 🤷🏾‍♀️

-Lilith in Libra: a bombshell babe, a true beauty. Someone who embodies very classy energy. A popular girl, one that you sort of have to work to get the attention of. (A gorgeous femme that distracts others with how beautiful and effortless she is. Pinup material and just as untouchable. Trophy wife vibes but not as intense as Lilith in Taurus (unless this is a 2nd house placement 👀). Also someone that brings a lot of balance and beauty to their surroundings. (She may attract envy due to her looks as well)

-Lilith in Scorpio: S*x personified. Someone with that intense vibe (one of the most likely placements to attract Lilith heavy femmes). Someone that has a presence that holds a lot of power. And a lot of intimate experience or at least a fearless attitude about those taboos. Someone that makes him want to explore those fantasies as a knee jerk reaction (within reason ofc). Someone that can see right through him. Someone that they struggle to gain power over. (Also pretty likely to have a power imbalance or some sort of taboo attached to the dynamic)

-Lilith in Sagittarius: A traveler, a girl struck with wanderlust. Someone you get attached to even though she’s always out of reach. Someone who loves debating and adventure. A philosopher that never stops learning and daring you to broaden your horizons. May be someone from outside of your culture as well. Or someone with a religious background you find socially taboo.

-Lilith in Capricorn: Boss babe all the way. Someone that intimidates others easily and that works very hard. A social climber. A person that knows exactly what they’re after, in that go getter sort of way. Someone mature. Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets. Another possibly of meeting at work, or at least after some sort of public interaction. Another connection where both people are likely vying for dominance. Likely to have themes of restriction show up as well.

-Lilith in Aquarius: manic👏🏾 pixie 👏🏾dream👏🏾 girl👏🏾 (I’m dead*ss). The quirky girl that stands out from the crowd. One of kind in a rebellious way. The other side of fae energy, which is to say that she would be a detached trickster of sorts. Hard to predict, philosophically outside of your comfort zone, impossible to pin down, etc. Someone that forces you to think outside of the box- whether you like it or not. Could bring out the k*nkier side of you. Also pretty likely to bring out the nerdier side of you, for some reason. (Aquarius intelligence ??)

-Lilith in Pisces: fae bae, full stop. A girl like a daydream. Esoteric and ethereal. A person that may be a bit spacey but they’re off floating in space somewhere. Someone creative and subconsciously addictive. Someone that tends to appear in their dreams and tends to be on their minds a lot.

Further Notes:

-Air is most impressed upon by intelligence and uniqueness; water by an emotionally immersive and passionate connection; fire by passion and being dazzled by the person; earth by their material luxury, ambition, and physicality

-water and fire tend to become obsessive over s*xual connections the fastest imo, but it can really mentally affect air and earth placements (it’s that I’m not obsessed but they’re thinking about them all the time and doing god knows what about that 👀)

-fixed Lilith placements can make a masc person a bit more obsessive and possessive over the Lilith energy (especially if they have a fixed Venus/mars)

-Cardinal Lilith placements tend to like to be challenged over taking the lead/dominance in the connection, if underdeveloped they can be rather controlling to their partners as well

-When Lilith is close to a masc’s personal planets I’d say that he may have some sort of archetype/karmic lesson around Lilith heavy femmes (just a significant impact on his life and attitude)

-Houses can show how these energies connect (I wrote this up but the draft deleted itself and I just couldn’t lol 🙃)

[opalblade]

4 MAY 25.

𓂀 ASHWINI NAKSHATRA EXPLORATION .

AN: click "alt" to see the astrological placements

🍯 ASHWINI BASICS AND SYMBOLS .

ashwini spans 0°00 - 13°20 aries. its vimshottari ruler is ketu. ashwini's symbol is a horse's head.

ashwini's deities are the ashwini kumaras, twin gods known to be celestial healers, physicians, and are associated with the sunrise and sunset.

ashwini is known as 'the star of transport'. its shakti is shidravyapani shakti, meaning the power to 'quickly attain one's objectives'.

ashwini's basis above is creatures to be healed and its basis below is healing therapies. ashwini's desire is 'the ability to hear well and not be deaf'.

🍯 ASHWINI AND LIBERTY .

one mythological story of ashwini is about their mother, sandhya devi, who was the wife of lord surya (the sun). she couldn't stand the heat of the sun and so turned into a horse and ran away, leaving a shadow form of herself. when he realised this was not really her, surya turned into a horse and ran after her. they then both had twins in those horse forms and these twins were the ashwini kumaras.

ashwini is associated with speed and a desire for freedom and liberation. this is why ashwini has a connection with romeo and juliet, as they desired liberation from their family's judgment and restrictions. i have seen ashwini's desire for freedom shown in many different forms of media.

kathryn merteuil from cruel intentions had a monologue where she called herself the "marsha fucking brady of the upper east side" during her commentary on the societal restrictions placed on women, and also pointed out the double standards between men and women. the entire movie is about the dichotomy between her and her stepbrother who is allowed to express himself completely and even break girls' hearts, while she must present herself as perfect. she states how she wishes to be free from these restrictions. kathryn was played by sarah michelle gellar, an ashwini sun.

malcolm x, an ashwini moon, was a civil rights activist and aimed to free black people from their oppression. he famously stated that this would be attained "by any means necessary".

the smokey and headless nature of ketu leads to its association with drugs and substances. we can see this with rue in euphoria (played bu zendaya who has an ashwini moon). since ketu is the body of a serpent with no head and intoxicants tend to remove mental inhibitions, it's no surprise that ketu nakshatras are represented as using them in media. rue is shown running a lot in the show and this is very ashwini of her. a scene even shows her jumping out of a car and running straight through traffic. we can see throughout the show that rue leans on drugs when she has a lot of stress in her life, and she even literally runs away from her problems, relating to the ashwini horse symbolism.

michael corleone from the godfather is played by ashwini sun, al pacino. he essentially aims to free his family from their crimimanl life and become "legitimate". this also links to a point that i will touch on later surrounding ashwini's desire to separate from all falsehoods and to, either, become truth incarnate or seek out the truth.

🍯 ASHWINI AND POWER .

through my research, i have found that ashwini natives possess an almost scary determination to achieve their goals and power.

ashwini is also a pioneering nakshatra, relating to its horse symbolism and aries energy, as well as ashwini sitting directly after the last sign (pisces) and before bharani (the yoni aka birth), making ashwini the void between death and birth. ashwini wants to move things from a stagnant energy (the void) to a more productive and active one, even advocating for the use of violence to get things done over co-operation and collaboration. this relates to the ashwini serial killer trope and as ashwini are deva gana, they think they are divine and above humanity especially coming after revati, which has transcended humanity. we can see all these themes play out in michael's more violent ways of gaining power compared to his father, emphasised in the scene of him culling all his enemies and competition. the symbolism in this scene is even more poignant as it shows michael at a baby's baptism while the gruesome murders are taking place at his order. the holy and divine (deva) juxtaposed by the mass murder and extreme control and power (ketu and mars).

michael corleone (ashwini sun) is known for coming across cool, calm, collected and level headed even when in serious situations. he possesses a cold and detached exterior (ketu), which contrasts his explosive anger and violent tendencies (mars/aries). michael corleone is also known for his intense gaze and his eyes showing the anger he keeps inside. malcom x (ashwini moon) was presented as the violent and radical contrast to the nonviolent martin luther king jr, as malcolm advocated for black people to use self-defence. both malcolm x and michael corleone are known for their pent up anger or frustration, and for their radical natures compared to their predecessors. they both utilised this frustration for something greater than themselves and to achieve their goals, as both were loyal to "their group" – michael's being his family, and malcolm's being black people.

blair waldorf (ashwini moon) also possesses this scary determination for a goal. she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goals [get into yale, rule the upper east side]. ashwini natives seem to have this mentality of doing whatever it takes — malcolm x's most famous quote is "by any means necessary". the sun exalts in ashwini, and the sun rules over willpower and courage, which is why it does so well in ashwini. the ashwini kumaras also did many things that they wanted to do, even if it upset the other gods.

there are several gang bosses with ashwini placements. one is gus fring from breaking bad (played by giancarlo esposito – ashwini sun) is known for his stern determination in gaining power and control over the drugs business. he was willing to do whatever it took to achieve this goal, including killing people (and he would kill people himself too). tommy shelby from peaky blinders (played by cillian murphy – a possible ashwini moon) also ran a gang and used horses a lot, with horse racing and horse betting playing a large role in his business.

cate blanchett (ashwini moon) played hela in thor. hela is the ruler of the underworld and was insanely power hungry as she wanted to rule the universe. she also played lady tremaine in cinderella, who was married to cinderella's father as a gold digger.

🍯 ASHWINI SERIAL KILLERS .

ashwini nakshatra is related to serial killers. you can watch this video to see why - i will only be expanding off this point.

some examples of ashwini serial killers:

christian bale (ashwini moon) played patrick bateman in american psycho.

michael c. hall (ashwini moon) played dexter morgan in dexter.

mamoru miyano (ashwini moon) played light yagami in death note.

as i touched on when i discussed michael corleone, ashwini natives tend to kill for a "higher purpose" or due to their "morals" as they are a deva (divine) nakshatra. dexter morgan claims to have "standards" and even has a code where he has to prove someone is a criminal or monster in order to kill them. light yagami claimed his death note was necessary for a new world order that he would be the god of, and he began his mass murder by focusing on criminals.

depictions of ashwini violence tend to use copious amounts of blood as a motif. the uncontrolled and violent nature of aries is heightened in ashwini due to the extremity of mars and ketu (ketu is said to behave like mars), and the natives express the built up energy present in ashwini. both mars and ketu are said to be hot planets and ashwini's colour is blood red.

examples:

gus fring slitting victor's throat in season 4, episode 1 of breaking bad. this action is very quick and unexpected, and is also followed by a LOT of blood spilling out everywhere. [watch this video at your own discretion.]

patrick bateman is a great ashwini character in my opinion. he speaks about how he lacks an identity, mirroring the headless nature of ketu, yet he still desires power and recognition, which is very ashwini. he also has scenes with lots of blood in it, which you can see in the gif above.

🍯 ASHWINI AND THE TRUTH .

Annibale Carracci (1560–1609), An Allegory of Truth and Time (1584), oil on canvas, 130 x 169.6 cm, Royal Collection of the United Kingdom, England. Wikimedia Commons.

the truth is usually depicted in art as naked – as in, the naked truth – and as rising out of a well, usually said to have been put there by lies and deceit. truth is also depicted with a mirror and squeezing a snake. i believe that ketu and ashwini relate to the idea of truth.

PAINTING: Truth or Fiction by Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale. i was going to include this painting but tumblr slapped a content warning on it ( because truth is naked, as she should be). Eleanor has ketu in jyeshtha, which is ketu's exaltation point, showing that those with heightened ketu influence in their chart seem to contemplate the idea of "truth" a lot.

ketu's birth nakshatra is ashlesha, which has a coiled serpent as its symbol and its deity is the serpent, naga. ketu is said to remove the effects of snakebites and illnesses from poisons. serpents are also associated with healing and are even used in medical symbols. ashwini is related to healing as well, as the ashwini kumaras healed many illnesses, including blindness.

prudence (one of the four cardinal virtues) is also represented by holding a mirror and squeezing a snake. prudence is the ability to discern between virtuous and unvirtuous actions – this relates to claire nakti's idea that mula (ketu ruled) vampires are the type of vampires that can restrain themselves when it comes to killing and consuming human blood, becoming "good" vampires.

onto ashwini examples:

"if you're white, you can go forward, and if you're black, you have to fight your way every step of the way, and you still don't get forward." – malcolm x (krittika sun, ashwini moon).

krittika is a sun ruled nakshatra and ashwini is a ketu ruled nakshatra. both sun and ketu have a constant desire to find the truth, and cut through lies, falsehoods and dishonesty. malcolm x fought to break through the injustices in society that faced black people and other ethnic minorities.

this links to michael corleone again, as he ultimately wanted to free his family from a life of crime and become legitimate.

ashwini opposes rahuvian swati – the illusory cosmic egg where people get sucked into the illusions of maya. therefore, ashwini is the opposite of this and is the embodiment of the naked and raw truth (the raw, empty, unfiltered void before creation, and before anything has polluted the pure void).

🍯 ASHWINI DETECTIVES .

as i mentioned above, ashwini is the height of truth and many things related to ashwini prove this. sun representing truth itself and exalting in ashwini; ketu relating to truth; ashwini opposing the illusory swati. ashwini's desire to cut through deception and falsehoods relates to detectives.

ashwini detective examples:

zendaya (ashwini moon) played rue bennett in euphoria.

daniel craig (ashwini moon) played benoit blanc in knives out.

benedict cumberbatch (ashwini moon) played sherlock holmes in sherlock.

🍯 ASHWINI, THE TRICKSTERS .

THIS is where the ashwini dichotomy comes into play. even though ashwini is related to the absolute naked truth, they are also related to twisting the truth and being tricksters.

the ashwini kumaras are said to have tricked indra by replacing dadheechi's head with a horse's head and when indra cut his head off, they put his regular head back on, saving his life. this trickster characteristic is either for the greater good or to challenge an authority. this is because the ashwini kumaras defied indra and the gods many times by healing humans when he told them not to.

ashwini natives also tend to be hated and outcasted. they are also underestimated a lot and their achievements are downplayed and not fully appreciated by people. they tend to be the ashwini kumaras were not accepted as gods due to being demi-gods and spending too much time with humans.

examples:

felicia hardy played by and associated with ashwini women:

erica lindbeck (ashwini moon) played felicia hardy.

amber heard (ashwini sun) - fancasted as felicia hardy.

loki (played by tom hiddleston) is a literal trickster god. it's not entirely sure whether tom hiddleston is an ashwini or revati moon, especially because the gandanta point makes these nakshatras quite similar. both have a relation to tricksters.

he believed he was superior to everyone, mirroring ashwini natives feeling above humanity like i said in the serial killer portion (as ashwini is a deva nakshatra). this does relate to revati too.....

tom hiddleston was also in kong skull island, which is a movie in which people have to survive on an island, facing a large ape. magha (a ketu nakshatra) is related to this trope and ashwini is trine magha. however, lara croft is related to revati nakshatra and fits in this trope too. i have a lara croft post coming, where i will be exploring her astrologically!

however, i believe loki is ashwini. he has this desire for power and recognition that is so plainly ashwini to me. i wouldn't be surprised if he has revati ascendant though.

[side note: i mentioned ashwini natives' achievements being downplayed due to the ashwini kumaras being demi-gods, and this fits beyoncé completely. her birth time was revealed and her achievements are constantly unappreciated and undermined – beychella, her records, her songwriting skill, her singing skill, her ability to perform, the level of her fame, not winning grammys when she should have etc.]

🍯 THE ASHWINI DICHOTOMY .

the ashwini dichotomy is this:

the search for truth and permeating through all falsehoods for equality or moral reasons .

detective trope

bookworm trope (searching for truth and knowledge)

final girl trope

activists and politicans (many pan-africanists have ashwini)

VERSUS

utilising the chaotic void and blackhole of identity to become a trickster and/or a master manipulator, in order to gain power and influence.

mean girl / spoiled brat trope (kathryn merteuil as i mentioned above)

serial killers trope

tricksters trope

politicians (they're also tricksters, if you think about it)

OR

ashwini natives are depicted as a mix of these two expressions.

. *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　    ˚ . *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　

© 2025 opalblade. do not copy, repost, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[doctorho]

thinking about viktor with a chronically ill reader. you know? we see the vision, right?

it just works.

the thing with chronic pain, illnesses, disabilities, all of that - is that you can't always see them. sometimes you can, sure, you can see the mobility aids and the not-standing-up-for-too-long and the bruising from blood draws and sometimes you can see the compression garments, the pills and inhalers and the i'm fine, i just need a moment-

but most people just don't pay attention to that. or if they do, they don't put the pieces together fast enough to figure out what's really going on under the surface. viktor does, though; he's been there, and most of the time he's way beyond hiding it. or, well, he's way beyond hiding some of it.

walking with a cane was like carrying a neon sign that said yes there is something different here. yes i can't walk the way you can. no it's not going to get better. that last part wasn't directly evident just from him using a cane, sure, but with the way his cane looked, it should've been pretty clear. He had used one practically forever and it had evolved with him, he'd made it as comfortable to use as it could be, had even made it match his uniform.

so yeah. viktor knew what it was like. he'd been the disabled kid forever, even if some of the others were never going to say it out loud. that was just a thing about him, and he knew how hard it could be to navigate something like that in an academic environment. it was hard to admit you couldn't do something, that you had to sit down, that you needed a moment. that sometimes your body was just falling apart for no particular reason and it was just another tuesday.

sometimes it was easier to sit with the pain than take medication in the middle of a meeting, knowing that someone would make a bigger deal out of it than it had to be, even if it was just raising their eyebrows meaningfully. they'd think about you differently afterwards.

he could see you push through it, and he didn't blame you, really, he did that himself, too, but - he didn't want you to hurt yourself. you hadn't been in the lab as long as he had, so he could understand you being a little cautious with how you acted and what you told people, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to put on a show for him. he was, after all, walking around with the equivalent of a light-up sign of i'm disabled, too, and he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't come off as judgemental about stuff like that. other stuff, sure, stupid stuff, but not that.

so when he sees you dealing with the telltale signs of being in pain, he conveniently sends jayce and the others to pick up some parts that would take a while to collect and that they wouldn't actually need until the next day. but better prepared, right? what's the harm.

and then he comes to sit next to you and sighs deeply. leans back. relaxes to the best of his abilities. asks if you're alright, and sounds like he already knows the answer.

you sigh too, shift your position, and answer with it's fine. and viktor recognizes the strain in your voice, in your posture, and he knows there's a key difference between this and i'm fine, but he'll take it. it's not what he'd like, but he'll take it.

he leans over to dig around his belongings, and then offers you a bag of candied almonds.

"if you're going to take pain killers, it's better if you eat something first," he says, and you just stare at him. "i assume you haven't taken anything yet. nothing strong enough, at least," he continues, casually, and you take a deep breath and accept the almonds.

he smiles. continues like this is totally normal. "jayce made me start carrying around some food so i could do that. for myself, i mean. but it doesn't hurt to have some snacks around either way, i suppose."

he knows he's skirting around the real topic of the conversation, but he also knows that sometimes people get uncomfortable around his bluntness, and you hadn't exactly told him you were in pain, so he'd understand it if you were a little weirded out. after all, most people didn't notice this stuff. but you haven't run away from him, and you're eating, and then you're digging around your own bag to take your medication, so he'll count this as a win.

thanks, you exhale, handing back the almonds, and he takes a handful of them himself.

"i'm fine, really," you continue, not really looking at him, "it's just hard sometimes."

he nods. it was - even if he didn't know the specifics, he knew that it was true. especially since you had been hiding it from the others. and with something like that, something the others couldn't see, the invisible step to let them see it would grow bigger and bigger with time, when they expected you to be able to do everything they did without a second thought.

he also knows you didn't mean fine in the dictionary definition sense of the word, but more in the this is normal and you don't need to worry -sense. and that's fine. he was used to functioning on different parameters than most people, so this version of fine was good enough.

my body just isn't always very reliable, you explain with a sigh, and that he knows better than well.

he hmms in answer and nods. he knows.

you exhale a small laugh at that.

and he's glad you're relaxing, wants you to be as comfortable here as possible.

"these people are alright," he says casually, "as far as healthy people go."

viktor smiles a little.

another win for him.

and then he sits with you, talking and not talking and enjoying the quiet comfort if it all. and then he makes up some excuse so you don't have to keep working yet. he was well aware what it was like trying to work through the pain, waiting for the medication to kick in, and he wouldn't exactly recommend it. besides, as a rule, you were more likely to make mistakes if you were thinking through a layer of pain, and that was just plain bad planning. it made much more sense to just take a break and continue when you felt better. in fact, he was in dire need of a caramel latte and a pastry right now, do you want anything?

and after that it just... sort of falls into place. you're more relaxed around him. and the others, too, but he's the only one that really gets it. doesn’t make a whole thing out of it when you need to sit down for a moment or take a break while your pain killers kick in. he's just there.

he knows what it's like, and that feels like an invisble curtain lifted from between you and him, and it's just easy. you don't have to pretend you're doing better than you actually are and he doesn’t hide it when he's in pain, either.

most people don't see it, but there's a mutual understanding there; yeah, sometimes life sucks and sometimes you're in pain and no it's not fair that sometimes your body is falling apart and life just keeps going. you can't do all the things you want to do but you still have to show up for the other life-stuff and if you took a day off every time you felt bad you would never get anything done and it just never stops.

but sometimes there's someone who'll sit through it with you without judgement. offer a warm drink and a snack and some understanding.

[howi99]

King of Teachers Au: What's gonna happen when Mama Arc finds out about Cardin bullying Jaune?

The "King" of Teachers 3

Jaune: *Placing himself between team CRDL and his mom* Forgive them mother! They didn't know what they were doing!

Artoria: *a dark aura covering her, her golden eyes as cold as the 9th floor of hell* And ignorance should acquit their fault? Should a killer go unpunished if they didn't know their victims?

Cardin: *panicking* WE'RE SOR-

Artoria: *staring directly into Cardin's eyes* Did I give you permission to speak, vermin?!

Cardin: *shutting his eyes closed, internally praying to all the gods he heard of, hoping at least one could answer his prayers*

???: *Joyful voice* Hey, come on now, no need to be THAT angry, right?

Cardin: *opening one eye, seeing a second woman next to the teacher*

Jaune: *taking one step back* Aesc!? What are you doing here!?

Aesc: *smiling* Your father sent me to look after your mom. You know how my sister can be!

Artoria: *gritting her teeth* Aesc-

Cardin: *tears in his eyes* (A savior! I was saved from certain death! Truly, the gods have answered my prayers!)

Aesc: *placing on hand on her sister's shoulder* Now, i'm sure they didn't mean to really hurt-

Nora: *from the back of the class* THEY PUSHED HIM INTO A LOCKER AND SENT HIM INTO THE EMERALD FOREST! AND NOT EVEN A WEEK LATER, THEY ALMOST GOT HIM KILLED BECAUSE OF AN URSA MAJOR!

Aesc: ... *Sigh, losing her smile as her hair turns white*

Morgan: *pointing her staff at the group of bullies* 'Tis a ruinous dream I cannot bear to see.

Jaune: !?

Morgan: No recompense, no salvation to be had.

Jaune: *turning around, clear panic in his voice* EVERYONE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!

Morgan: At the world's end, a bird sings of tomorrow.

Artoria: *now also panicking* Sis, i was just going to chew them off! Dont-

Morgan: Let this be a sign—

_ meanwhile _

Ozpin: *sipping tea with his friend who came visiting* Ah, today's a good day, is it not?

Merlin: *trying not to burst out laughing* Y-yeah, a very nice d-day indeed!

Ozpin: ...

Merlin: ...

Ozpin: Merlin, what did you see-

Morgan: *from afar* ROADLESS CAMELOT!

*sounds of a lot of "unforeseen expenses", as the entire school shakes from the strength of the attack*

Ozpin: ... *Sigh, looking as his "friend" is laughing hysterically* I'm not paying myself enough for this...

_ _ _

Artoria: *having tanked most of the attack to protect team CRDL* . . . *Fall face first to the ground, knocked out*

Cardin: *frothing at the mouth, his eyes turned inside as his consciousness left him*

Jaune: . . . *Taking a slow breath* Aesc?

Aesc: *nervous* Y-yes?

Jaune: *taking her staff from her hands* You are forbidden from using your semblance as long as you stay here. Not only that, but i'm also calling dad and you can say goodbye to your magnificent delicacies for the rest of the year.

Aesc: *lying flat on her stomach, asking for forgiveness* Please, PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THAT!

Yang: *hiding under a desk* IS EVERYONE IN YOUR FAMILY LIKE THAT!?

Jaune: *turning to Yang* You should see my third mom, she's even worse-

Yang: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THIRD MOM!?!

Jaune: *pointing to the gigantics holes through the roof* To his defense, it's not like my dad had a choice!

*the wall behind him falls to the ground, as the dust settles*

Jaune: *wince* ... That said, i'm beginning to understand why he didn't want any of them to train me. I'd either be dead, or there wouldn't be much left of our house.

[thedaythatwas]

on nagito komaeda and love

I just think it’s sort of funny that for a character whose (arguably) most well-recognized CG is this: 

komaeda’s narrative so heavily centers love. and I don’t just say this because I’ve had komahina brainrot for years (though this is true!!). even if you don’t care about komahina, it’s tough to deny komaeda is a walking tragedy in large part because of the role that love plays in his life. his characterization is driven by the way his luck has denied him love, and how he seeks it out regardless. in that sense, I think that without understanding komahina as at least one-sided, you miss out on one of the juiciest, most miserable pieces of komaeda’s character development.

tldr; a love-centered reading of komaeda makes sense, recognizing komahina as “a thing” in DR2 (whether you ship it or not) is pretty important to understanding how komaeda operates, and I’ll try to prove it right here under this page break!!

Part 1: Komaeda’s Love Life (or, his life without love)

I think it’s safe to assume that if you clicked here, you know about komaeda’s absurdly miserable, tumultuous childhood, but I’ll do a quick recap just in case! meteor kills his parents on a plane, he inherits a ton of money. he’s kidnapped by a serial killer, he finds a winning lottery ticket in the garbage bag he’s thrown out in. he’s diagnosed with terminal cancer and dementia, he gets into hope’s peak.

in his free time events, komaeda *explicitly* frames his luck cycle as something that takes away the people he loves. it only “takes action” against him after his relatives have died (for the sake of this essay, let’s assume that komaeda loved his parents, or would have at least been hurt by their passing). by way of other close connections… well, his wording here implies that by the time of his diagnosis, he didn’t really have anybody in his life. 

either komaeda didn’t allow himself to get close to anyone after the meteor incident, or he did, and they were taken away by his luck. at some point during his childhood, komaeda learned he should view himself as a death sentence.

so, how does this loss of love shape the komaeda we know? I’ll talk about this in terms of four of his defining (and connected!) traits in DR2 canon – the ones that really make his actions make sense: his self-loathing, his hope-seeking, his learned helplessness, and his certainty that his existence poses a threat to those around him. komaeda’s experience with loss makes him view himself as a source of death, which in turn fuels these tenets of his character. ultimately, his loss and the complexes that arise from it give him good incentive to push people away.

his self-loathing

komaeda hates himself. he views himself as worthless outside of his potential to serve as a “stepping stone” for the hope of the ultimates. he claims that this is driven by his beliefs around talent, which are in turn linked to the way his worldview rests on viewing hope as “absolute good.” the talentless (himself included) are only good for advancing the hope of the talented. still, his self-loathing is a bit more personal than that. take what he says and dig just below the surface, and it’s a clean cut trauma response all the way down. which leads us directly to…

his hope-seeking

komaeda is willing to do literally anything to serve hope. on the island, this (in short) means dying. this is where I prod at komaeda’s reasoning a bit more: komaeda’s willingness to act the way he does in canon also stems from his belief that his dying would be a net good for the world. his existence kills the people around him. his illness will kill him anyway. he has less than no value, and hope is invaluable. to go out for the sake of hope would give his wretched life purpose; it’s his dream come true.

and it’s no mystery why komaeda cares so much about hope: again, it’s a coping mechanism! komaeda’s belief that all bad luck is a necessary precursor for good luck and that hope will always triumph over despair is (as he himself says!) the only reason he’s managed to stay alive. I’ll say it again because I really can’t emphasize it enough – komaeda thinks that just by existing, he kills the people he loves. ouch!

learned helplessness / his existence as a threat

komaeda has, essentially, learned to submit to his luck cycle. all bad luck is good luck in the end – isn’t that amazing?! almost paradoxically, he’s hyper-vigilant about the negative impact his luck has on those around him. this is a tricky one. I make sense of it this way: komaeda’s perception of how much his luck impacts the people close to him isn’t inflated, like, at all. the supernatural way the world bends around komaeda to screw him over really does pose a danger to himself and others, and he takes measures to minimize that danger. his stated acceptance of his luck cycle is… well, again, he’s coping. 

if komaeda really thought that all bad luck is ultimately good luck, he wouldn’t try to protect his classmates from his bad luck. but, as we see in island mode, he does!

but really, who could blame komaeda for lying to himself? I’ll restate the facts. komaeda thinks that luck is absolute power. he says that he’s powerless against it. his luck has taken his family, and it’s left him with nothing but money that he doesn’t want. he’s certain he’s a curse, and there’s no end to that in sight: so long as komaeda exists, he’ll keep on losing – murdering – everything he loves. 

in the face of all of that despair, what can you do but abandon your self-esteem and pray for something good to come out of all of it? how else could somebody possibly survive carrying that burden, truly believing that load will never be lightened?

tldr; komaeda thinks his existence is a threat, and a big chunk of his personality is a frankensteined way of surviving the pain that comes with that. still, we should question how much of his worldview komaeda has really internalized without inner conflict. 

Part 2: Enter Hajime Hinata

we get some answers on that front when we see that despite the clear and obvious danger it poses, nagito komaeda still finds himself falling hard for hajime hinata. that’s really, really loud.

I’ll preface this part by saying that you don’t need to actively ship komahina to understand what I’m trying to get at here. this said, I’ll be recapping an argument you’ve almost definitely seen before: komahina is definitely “a thing” – at the very least as a one-sided thing. to this, I’ll add the (perhaps bold?) claim that without recognizing that much as true, you’re missing out on a big part of what makes komaeda so interesting.

komaeda’s FTEs make it abundantly clear that komaeda has feelings for hinata. apart from his famed failed love confession, the fact that komaeda is willing to allow hinata to get close enough to learn about his views on hope and luck is telling. 

(the smoking gun here hinges on trusting that komaeda was telling the truth during the time you spent with him; in so many words, that he only lied about lying. so, for the sake of argument, let’s assume this is true! there’s good proof for it, anyway.)

if you read his final FTE as komaeda flashing his soul to hinata and making a decision at the very last second to retreat, turning to old coping mechanisms to protect hinata from his luck, it’s sort of a komahina bombshell. that capitulation spells out for us that komaeda understands sharing his life experiences with hinata to be one of the most intimate things he could possibly do.

he recognizes the exact moment he lets hinata get too close – when his life story is finally told – and he does what he’s learned he needs to do to get them both out of that situation safely: he tries to make hinata hate him, and tells himself (and hinata!) that he did it for the sake of hope.

(and yet, komaeda let hinata approach him every FTE, knowing damn well that they were both playing with fire… very interesting.)

now, let’s say you don’t consider the FTEs to be integral to canon. I mean, you can really easily miss out on all of komaeda’s content if you choose not to hang out with him in chapter 1! so, for the skeptic, in the unskippable main story, komaeda tells hinata this:

komaeda cares about hinata despite everything. and I really, truly mean despite everything. at this point in the story, the fact that he still cares about hinata calls into question basically every single one of his core beliefs. he’s read his final dead room prize – not only does hinata not have a talent, we can presume that komaeda also knows hinata became ultimate despair along with the rest of them. 

hinata has continually sought out komaeda’s company, even though komaeda knows himself to be worthless at best, lethal at worst. komaeda was willing to let him get closer, even though he knows how dangerous that is for hinata. he can’t help but let hinata try to know him. 

isn’t he awful? to want what he knows he can’t have, even though that wanting has never done anything but cause pain? he’s really the lowest of the low, to love someone who destroyed the world, who makes him question the views that will allow him to do the only good thing he’s ever been able to do for it: to die for hope. 

and yet, it’s a nod to how incredibly capable of love komaeda is that he’s still willing to reach out for it, no matter how many times it’s burned him in the past, and how much it hurts him in the present to want it. he understands more than anyone that his feelings can only result in disaster. reading komaeda as someone who can’t help but go on loving anyway makes his story hurt so much worse. 

but, you miss a whole lot of that without an eye for komahina. seeing hinata as the eye of komaeda’s emotional hurricane (and keeping tabs on their connection accordingly) allows us to glimpse past the cracks in komaeda’s front. we see that komaeda’s worldview is less stable than he presents it as – hinata is where komaeda’s coping mechanisms, for better or worse, run up against a wall. that tends to be uncomfortable for a guy who’s just barely coping in the first place. then again, growth is supposed to be uncomfortable, isn’t it?

Part 3: The Future He Chooses

so, all of this considered, I think one of the most interesting ways you can flesh komaeda out post-canon is by asking how he’d find himself willing to accept love. whether that love is from hinata or the ultimates, whether it’s platonic or romantic, love is the thing that komaeda wants AND fears in equal measure more than anything. it’s the source of his self-loathing and his obsession with hope. it’s the reason he’s lived the way that he has for so long – lonely, and afraid of being anything but.

getting into a relationship wouldn’t solve komaeda’s problems for him, and that’s a good thing. it would force him to confront old ones, and probably create dozens of new issues for him, too. writing him through that makes for great character study!

hinata (or anyone else, for that matter) can’t love komaeda into loving himself, but he can give him a shoulder to cry on while he works through 22 years of fear and sorts through the wreckage of a worldview that’s long since stopped serving him. I don’t think his progress would be linear. but, I think that he could do it. komaeda learning to accept care is what his healing looks like. 

(well. and physically recovering from cancer and dementia. but that’s neither here nor there!)

a post-canon komaeda learning to love narrative is also in line with the themes of DR2. hinata leads the survivors out of the neo world program because he makes the decision to choose his own future, creating a new version of “hope” for himself and his classmates. likewise, komaeda can make the decision to save himself. that is, if he trusts himself enough to actually touch and hold the thing that he’s never been able to stop reaching out for, anyway.

after all, hinata is lucky too. (and if it turns out he isn’t… y'all like angst fics, right?)

(shoutout to @cynopter for looking this over and confirming that I'm not spouting nonsense <33 thank you for reading my thesis of the week <33)

[frownyalfred]

I like the concept of a Bruce who was previously a killer! I’m always a sucker for a slightly more morally gray Bruce-and it being something he hides from his kids.

Like in my bones I feel like Bruce would and has tortured someone for information (and it works cause this is fiction land and not irl) That he isn’t even directly opposed to it. I feel like it makes the no killing thing the Only rule he has a bit more chilling. Cause everything before that is and has been on the table.

It also helps me personally understand his, that’s the only thing separating us from them. If he’s willing to do everything ivy or two face would do Except for kill someone. Then that really is the only thing separating them.

This only comes to light after they find out the joker can only eat through a straw and can’t form a fist in either of his hands

"Do you really believe that your precious rule truly keeps you so far above the filth? That just because you don't have blood on your hands, you don't have it under your fingernails? All of us Gothamites down here in the dirt, wallowing in moral degradation -- do you truly think you're better than us?"

No, Bruce thinks, I'm so much worse.

[dalishious]

All About The Antivan Crows

(NOTE: This piece is a revised, 2nd edition of an old one, updated with information that has since been added to the lore. I will be deleting the outdated post to avoid confusion!)

The Antivan Crows, also known as the House of Crows, is a league of assassins from the northeast nation of, as their name suggests, Antiva. While their notoriety is especially high in their home country, the Crows are well-known across Thedas as brutally efficient killers. The bulk of their work is in Antiva, but they accept contracts all over the continent. Because of their reputation for adhering to agreements—something that should one fail to do makes one’s life forfeit as far as the Crows are concerned—they are an expensive but valuable investment.

To find the Crows anywhere from Ferelden to Seheron is not an unlikely sight. Nations at war send them to cut down leaders on opposing sides. Noble houses with grudges against each other send them to cut down family trees. And of course, politicians vying for power send them to cut down their competition. Whatever the reason, the Crows are never short on contracts. They are even willing to intervene in Circle politics.

While assassinations are the most common contract, and what the Crows are most known for, they’re also no strangers to thievery and spying. In Antiva City rests a giant, well-protected archive, housing of all their collected blackmail secrets, records of past contracts, recipes for their own special poisons, and other such valuables. The secrets in this archive are what keeps the Crows ruling Antiva from the shadows by controlling the nobility and merchant princes. That is, those that aren’t among their ranks.

At the very top of the power ladder is a council of Guildmasters made up of the eight most wealthy and powerful Crow Houses. The role of Guildmaster is most typically inherited down through a family, after successfully proving their skill by single-handedly killing a target with nothing but a ceremonial dagger. The Houses that are part of this council are known as Talons, ranked from one to eight, one being the most powerful. Talon has also been used interchangeably with Guildmaster when referring to the leader of one of these eight Houses.

Below the Talons are the lesser Houses, known as the Cuchillos. The Cuchillo leaders not Guildmasters but simply Masters, entitled as Lords, until their House may gain the rank of Talon. The ranks of these different houses can change with circumstance, gaining or losing power. House heads are also capable of taking over different houses by eliminating others, should they dare to be so ambitious. As such, despite being part of a larger organization, the Antivan Crows are always in competition with each other, and are not unknown to assassinate within their own ranks to get what they want.

The current Eight Talons are as followed:

Dellamorte

Balazar

Valisti

Kortez

De Riva

Nero

Cantori

Arainai

Other known Houses are:

Ferragani

D’Evaliste

Di Bastion

Members of the Antivan royal family and merchant prince dynasties routinely join the high-ranks of the Crows, either as a way to boost their social standing, or because they were forced into it. Assassinations are seen as part of everyday politics in Antiva, and how positions of power often change hands. Having strong ties with the Crows brings a noble family both leverage and security. They also have an arrangement referred to as The Azul Contract, in which bastard royal children are given a choice of either exile or joining the Crows – such as the case was with Viago de Riva. In return, the Antivan Crows all but run the nation. Even kings have come directly from the Crows.

While the Crows are mostly led by nobility, the bulk of their organization is made up of their recruits, though the word recruit makes it sound like there was a choice involved. The vast majority of recruits, referred to as compradi, are children between the ages of five and ten, bought as slaves or found on the streets alone. For example, Zevran Arainai was seven years old when he was bought by the Crows. Compradi are usually gathered in scores at a time, though only a few survive to become full-fledged assassins. The Crows keep the children in poor, cramped quarters, and raise them in emotionally detached and torturous conditions, teaching them to know nothing else but murder, as Zevran puts it. They are allowed no personal items, and are encouraged not to make friends. Along with general training and education in Crow ciphers and Crow history, training of recruits includes pitting them against each other, tests of pain resistance and gauntlets, and challenges like locking them in an oubliette for weeks. All this leads most Antivan Crows immune to morality as much as they are to interrogation. It also breeds loyalty to the only life recruits know. Indeed, many Crows would sooner kill themselves than betray the guild.

It is very rare for a recruit to rise all the way to the top of the organization’s tiered leadership, but not unheard of. For example, Teia Cantori, climbed her way to the head of her house – but despite this, she is still regarded as an “overreaching street rat” by her noble peers.

The Crows favour recruiting elves, as they are widely regarded as beautiful and unthreatening; both advantageous impressions for an assassin. However, they take recruits from all races. Assassins are most typically rogues, but the Crows also train warriors and even mages, providing protection for their apostate assassins from the Chantry.

An experienced Assassin may gain the title of Master Assassin with time, putting them just below the leader of their House in terms of rank. Masters are capable of deciding their own contracts, and command groups of Assassins below them. Guildmasters decide which Master Assassins get which contracts based on the amount of the contract’s offer they bid to give to the guild, and their chances of success. Regularly, Assassins are not allowed to bid on contracts, and are instead assigned contracts or roles in larger ones by the Master Assassins that command them. The exception to this is when an Assassin is attempting to gain the rank of Master.

Save for rare exceptions of escape, Crows are Crows for life. The only way to leave them is to make them think you are dead, or find someone willing to protect you from them. Otherwise they will hunt you down and kill you for betraying the guild, and that is the better alternative: Anyone who angers the Crows and lives risks ending up in their own personal prison, the Velabanchel, to spend the rest of their days locked up and tortured.

Antivan Crows are often easily identifiable by those who recognize their unique tattoos – a tradition taken from the Rivaini. Some of these designs are sacred to the Crows, marking them as which house they belong to, while others are purely decorative. While some Crows display their tattoos with pride and intimidation, others prefer to keep them hidden.

-----

SOURCES

Dragon Age: Origins

Dragon Age II

Dragon Age: Inquisition

Codex Entry: Zevran Arainai (Dragon Age II)

Codex entry: Blackfeather Boots (Dragon Age II)

Codex entry: Finesse (Dragon Age II)

Codex Entry: The Crows and Queen Madrigal (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Item Description: Gift of the Talons (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

Dragon Age: Last Flight

Dragon Age: The Silent Grove

Dragon Age: Deception

Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 1

Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 2

Dragon Age Promotional Wiki: Assassin

-----

If you find these kinds of pieces fun and/or helpful, please consider supporting me!

[tam--lin]

Books For People Who Liked Leverage and White Collar

I've always been a big non-fiction reader, and I'm particularly fond of frauds, scams, and white collar crime. Ever since I finished White Collar last year, I've been meaning to pull together a collection of related books. As you'll quickly learn if you dive into this list, the truth is often wilder than fiction. (A lot more FBI agents yelling FUCK YOU!! at each other across board room tables, for one thing.)

IMPORTANT! Please don't pirate! It hurts authors. Most of these books are available through your local library, including as e-books. You can help local bookstores by purchasing through bookshop dot org, or as audiobooks through libro dot fm.

Category #1: Stand Outs and All-Time Favorites

Bad Blood reads like a thriller, and I genuinely mean that. It's gripping, it's incredible reporting, it's just a jaw-dropping story. Theranos was one of the biggest corporate frauds in history, and Carreyrou masterfully details its rise and fall. Not to spoil what could be considered the book's big twist, but there's no one better to write it, either.

Empire of Pain is also masterful reporting by a well-regarded journalist, but it leans more family drama than thriller. This details the personal machinations that helped create the opioid crisis in America. [Leverage: Redemption 1x1, which IIRC was actually written before the Met removed the Sackler name from their exhibits. Also goes well paired with The Fall Of The House Of Usher.]

Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks is a collection of Radden Keefe's writing for The New Yorker. It explores wine crime (Leverage 5x13 and White Collar 1x12 directly draw from this), a passionate defense attorney, whistle blowers, hit men, and international organized crime. While I recommend the book, much of this content is available for free at newyorker dot com / contributors / patrick-radden-keefe (you can use paywallreader dot com to legally get around the paywall).

Number Go Up moves quickly and is full of fascinating characters and unexpected celebrity cameos. You've got your cringe rappers, your coke-on-a-yacht billionaires, your Harry Potter rationalist poly cult. Seriously, I wish I could read this again for the first time.

Category #2: Odd, "Cozy", Strange

The Feather Thief covers a unique crime by a 20-year-old obsessed with fly fishing.

The Art Thief tells the story of Stéphane Bréitwieser, the most prolific art thief of all time. He stole during the day, from museums full of people, again and again - over 200 times, in fact. He kept his treasures in his bedroom. A fascinating portrait of a strange criminal.

Category #3: Grab Bag

Including stuff that's more adjacent to the topic but still of interest, books I got part way through, and books that are still on my TBR.

Chickenshit Club I'm part way through and enjoying, Never Split the Difference is GREAT and includes lots of true hostage negotiating stories, Fancy Bear Goes Phishing I couldn't get into but that could be because I don't need two pages of text explaining what a string is. (I'm planning on giving it another go.)

Anansi's Gold and The Corporation are both on my TBR; Con Queen of Hollywood is a riveting con story for the first half but gets a little bogged down in biography in the second half.

The Confidence Game is on my TBR and is a classic of the genre, Molly's Game is one of my partner's favorite books, and The Gospel Of Wellness does a great job at exposing how scammy the entire wellness industry is.

Genuinely there are SO many more books I could have included, and I might do another post at some point. Some books were left off intentionally, because I didn't care for them or because another book did it better. Some books were left off simply because my white collar/fraud/cons TBR is extensive and I can't include everything! And some were left off simply because I don't know about them. I'm always looking for quality non-fiction - please do share any related recommendations in the notes.

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Sword Art Offline

The girls are fighting but dw it's actually flirting, tho only one notices

... don't mind Nightmare he's having a crisis

Working on two fics at the same time rn I'm holding my motivation at gunpoint

@ancha-aus come look at the girls fighting

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When Cross and Dust came back from the well the knight directly started cooking, knowing it would take long for a five persons portion to heat, and he didn't want to lose time or make them eat late. He cut the vegetables, put everything in a small cauldron above the fire, added spices, not too much, he didn't handle spice very well, Dust cooked with spices once, Cross thought he was going to meet God sooner than initially planned. He then mixed everything and kept an eye out on everyone as he was doing so.

Dust was reading his book, trying to memorize some words to make conversations with Horror more fluid, the latter was sitting next to him, he could use some English words too, Killer was back on the mezzanine looking through his old stuff, honestly Cross didn't see what was so interesting up there, but the Roman was curious so he let him explore, and Nightmare hadn't moved from his bench, looking at him as he cooked, he looked like he was taking mental notes of everything Cross did, which, honestly, was a little stressful. Was Cross passing some sort of test ? Was he doing well in whatever the test was about ? He hoped so.

Dinner was calm, Cross had made some soup, something simple but still good that everyone could enjoy. He didn't have forks like Dust had in his time, only spoons and knives, so soup was a good choice, and nobody complained.

He thought the afternoon would be calm, that he could maybe take them to town and show them around, but Killer had decided otherwise, calling him from the mezzanine where he went back after eating. Dust and Horror were back on the book.

- Croooooooss ! Inveni gladii ! He yelled, possumus pugnare ?!

Cross looked up to see Killer holding out two wooden swords, the ones he used to train with Blue. What did he want to do with that ? Did he want Cross to teach him sword fighting ? Or was he just curious about their purpose ? He turned to Nightmare, wanting to ask for a quick translation, but the noble was currently staring a the ground with a very pitiful expression. His mind was... far from his body right now. Cross really needed to talk to him when they would be alone, but first he needed to know what Killer wanted.

He turned to the Roman again who had climbed down the ladder with the two swords. He handed one to Cross.

- Quaeso ? He said.

This one meant please.

- Are you guys going to sword fight ? Dust asked, looking up from his book.

Cross looked at him confused, what was "sword fight" ?

- Sword, he repeated, pointing at the wooden swords, fight, he then punched the air.

Did he mean fighting with the swords ? So that was what Killer wanted ? Seemed like he had guessed right for once. He nodded, sure, he could teach Killer the basis of sword fighting.

- Neat, can we watch ? He asked, closing the book.

Cross nodded again, though not understanding everything, did Dust want to look at it or try sword fighting too ? Either way, he was more than welcome to join ! Horror and Nightmare too, of course, though Nightmare would probably stay inside knowing the noble. Killer smiled, rushing outside excitedly with his own sword, Dust and Horror following him. Cross began to follow too but stopped next to Nightmare to put a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch and look up at him.

- Voleiz avoc nos joyndre ? He asked if he wanted to join them.

Nightmare stared for a moment, frowning slightly, before shaking his head, looking at the ground once again. Cross frowned, but didn't insist, not wanting to make him even more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be.

- Ben... nos dehors serommes... he informed they would be outside.

He waited for Nightmare to nod before joining the others behind the house. Dust had taken his magic rectangle out, Horror was watching curiously, and Killer was waiting for Cross to arrive, bouncing on his feet.

It was usually Blue who would take the role of the teacher, but he could do that, he could teach Killer how to use a sword, it wasn't that hard, and Dust was watching so he had to do it good ! He went next to him and first showed him how to hold it with two hands, usually he would have a shield in one hand and the sword in the other, but to begin it would be easier with just a sword as he didn't think Killer was familiar with this kind of weapon.

He showed him the basic movements, how to feel the weight of the blade to swing it efficiently. Killer watched carefully, replicating the movements the best he could and letting Cross correct him. When Cross felt Killer had a good handling of the sword they started the serious part: dueling.

Teaching without words was surprisingly easy, Cross would show something and Killer would redo it. Cross would hold the sword with the blade in front of his face, wait for Killer to do the same, and hit Killer's sword, forcing him to put strenght in his hold as to ward off the attack, then redid the same but this time placing the sword to his side.

Killer was a good student, he had to admit, he understood fast and was excited to learn, he was soon ready for a little fight.

- Fight ?

Cross used Dust's word, shooting him a little glance to see if he noticed.

- Pugna ! Killer agreed excitedly.

So "pugna" meant fight, good to know. Cross smiled, getting in position, rapidly imitated by Killer. The knight was the first to make a move, attacking on the side, he was pleased to see Killer react rapidly and block his sword, swinging it out of the way and attacking right away from above. Cross blocked him, swung his sword around, and took it off of the Roman's hands, making the wooden weapon fall on the grass.

- Oh, Killer simply said, looking at his empty hands.

Cross couldn't help but chuckle, Blue used this trick so many times on him, it felt nice using it on someone else. He let him pick his sword up, and they started another round, this time Cross let him make the first move.

After only a few duals, Killer had learnt from his mistakes, now keeping a firm hold on his sword while still being flexible with his wrists, making him a nice opponent.

Cross attacked from above, Killer blocked the blow and deviated Cross's sword to the side, as the knight had his eyes on the weapon, the Roman let go of one hand to grab a knife in his pocket and point it at his opponent's throat, effectively stopping him in his track.

Cross looked at the knife, then at the smug, panting Killer in front of him. That was one way of ending a fight. Not a fair way, but if it meant staying alive, he guessed it could be authorized. Cross smiled, lowering Killer's arm as he relaxed his stance. He bowed.

- Ce fust nobile combat, he saluted the good fight.

Killer bowed too, happy to have won. Cross heard Horror clap, turning around he saw Dust smile too, he was about to join them when a noise from inside the house grabbed his attention. Now, it probably was nothing, but with how unwell Nightmare was at the moment, he couldn't ignore it. He gave his sword to Killer.

- Eo revieng.

He'll be back, he informed, before quickly going inside.

He slowly opened the door, in case Nightmare was behind.

- Nightmare ?

He received no answer but heard a clanking noise. He came in, glanced around the room, and spotted Nightmare kneeling on the ground, his back turned, gathering what seemed to be pieces of a broken clay pot, one that must have contained parsley judging by the small twigs scattered around the noble.

- Nightmare ? Aleiz ben ? He asked if he was fine, getting closer.

He saw the noble flinch before completely freezing and, slowly, turning to look at him with an expression that Cross could only describe as panicked. Cross stopped, keeping a distance, not wanting to be completely above him as he already saw his breath fasten and his hands shake on the piece of clay he was holding. A quick glance on the counter and Cross saw some vegetables awkwardly cut in a flat bowl. Did Nightmare try to cook something ? Was it why he was watching him make dinner earlier ? He looked back at him, he was shaking.

- J-je suis navré je.. je n'ai pas fait exprès, je vais nettoyer.. ! Je vous rachèterai tout.. ! He quickly apologized, gathering all the pieces together.

Cross knelt next to him, putting a hand on his to gently stop him in his movement, feeling him tense up. He didn't care about the bowl, he could buy a new one, and the parsley could still be used, it just needed to be washed, what mattered to him was why Nightmare felt the need to cook and why he was so worked up about having dropped an old pot.

- Tout va ben, ceci n'aist point important..

He told him it wasn't important, making sure to keep a calm tone of voice. Nightmare looked at him, he didn't seem to believe him but at least his breathing was slowly returning to a normal rythm. He smiled at him, letting him calm down as he picked up the parsley and pieces to put them on the table for later, getting up. He looked down at Nightmare again, holding out a hand. Nightmare looked up, looking even more sad than before, and took his hand to get up too, not once meeting Cross's gaze.

The knight didn't know what to do, he didn't know what went wrong for Nightmare to be this way, to look so miserable... he tried to ask him since they were alone but the noble didn't answer, letting go of his hand to shot a rapid glance at the vegetables before sighing and returning to the bench, laying down with his back turned.

Cross watched him, powerless, he didn't like seeing his friend like that, but Nightmare clearly didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

When time for supper came, Nightmare pretexted he wasn't hungry and went outside to take a bit of fresh air. He came back in after everyone went to sleep.

Cross hated that, he hated not being able to help and he hated that he needed to go in town the next day and couldn't stay with him.

He could just hope Nightmare would be alright...