#he's on his own side and sometimes his own side happens to include a conscience or people who try to make SS be nicer

[lord-squiggletits]

One TF fandom argument that confuses me is when people put Megatron and Starscream versus each other like, when people say that it's "unfair that Megatron gets redemption but Starscream doesn't" (in regards to IDW1) because like. One, IDW1 in phase 2 was written by like 4 different writers, so you can't try to claim that there was some unified vision where the nonexistent Singular Writer of IDW was like "no Starscream isn't allowed to have nice things."

And second, I don't think the writers would even think of it that way? It's not like the writers were like "okay we have one Get Out Of Jail Free Card and we're going to spend it on Megatron, sorry Starscream maybe in the next reboot you can get it." The divisions fans make between X character likers and Y character likers are completely made up fandom drama and sometimes I feel like people don't understand that the writers aren't privy to fandom infighting/drama and wouldn't write Megatron and Starscream in opposition to each other as if one character's gain must come at the other's expense.

And finally............. IDW1 Starscream literally does get to be portrayed as a more morally gray person, have his feelings shown and treated as human, even make some friends/have people treat him nicely? IDK what fucking comics people are reading where they think that Starscream is treated as an evil villain with no redeeming qualities at all. Maybe it's the same Starscream fans who shit on TAAO/Scott or something, that's the only way I could explain it.

[akutasoda]

my eternity

synopsis - maybe an eternity couldn't last forever, especially when it's worlds apart

includes - dan heng ft express crew

warnings - gn!reader, reader is based off raiden shogun (genshin), bittersweet angst, fluff, some comfort, two socially awkward people try to express feelings, wc - 2.7k

a/n: this was requested by @supernerdycookietrashblrr! sorry this took so long hope you enoy! (i got very carried away)

you were the designated 'protector' and leader of your homeland. one filled with many traditions and people from all walks of life, but none had the knowledge to know that you were rarely actually there. in fact, the place you preferred to call your home was one you fashioned yourself, the plane of euthymia.

it was where your consciousness and physical body existed in hopes of achieving the eternity you yearned for. and in your place roamed a puppet. a puppet in your image that ruled your land for you, one that could not age or be weakened and therefore the most efficient way of ruling.

however, sometimes the endless sky in the plane of euthymia became tormenting, rather tiring and that's when you ventured outside the realm. most of the time, you'd enter in the place of your puppet who then was placed inside the plane - switching places until you got bored of the real world again.

however things seemed amiss this time. something in the plane shifted the wrong way, and because the plane was practically made from your conscience it burdened your mind and ruined any train of thought you may of had. your initial thought was that something must of happened outside of the plane and so you would leave to investigate.

but instead of being greeted by the scenery of your homeland, you found yourself within a library? it had the smell of old books and such but it really paled in looks. it was rather odd looking but the most questionable part was if you looked down and noticed the bundle of blankets and pillows.

for obvious reasons you were on edge. so as you cautiosly approached what you assumed to be the door out, it opened. and in having no time to draw your actual sword, you settled for the easier option. in mere matter of seconds, your polearm ghosted the side of a dark haired males neck.

the express was currently docked at the space station. himeko insited on doing a basic maintenance check after encountering a rather rough journey and dragged welt along for assistance. march had claimed to go for a walk to 'stretch her legs'. and so dan heng remained alone with the conductor who seemed awfully chatty about the most recent voyage.

so when an abrupt noise occurred - seemingly from the passenger cabins - pom pom practically shoved dan heng toward it and shut the door behind him until he found the answer. they were always scared easily. dan heng didn't expect much at first - perhaps something had fallen over somewhere. but he would have to see out his endeavour in 'keeping the conductor safe' regardless.

but it became a bit more alarming when he heard faint, rather slow, footsteps originating from the archives. perhaps it was one of the ghosts pom pom always claimed to see but did they even make footsteps?

warily he walked towards the archives, and when he finally pushed aside the door, the last thing he expected was the edge of a polearm immediately being raised to his throat. he caught your eyes rather quickly and felt rather intimidated by the sheer power you seemed to hold.

but what caught you off guard was when your polearm was violently shoved aside by the his own. he hadn't quite deemed you a threat yet, but first impressions weren't putting you in good favour. he moved forward with his own skill, trying to push you into a situation of hesitation - that way he figured answers may be more likely.

but he seemed to underestimate just how much skill you had because with one quick movement not only had you dodged his attack but yet again held him in a unfortunate circumstance. but before a word could even be spoken you felt a few pairs of eyes bearing into the back of your head.

'the conductor informed us that something was amiss', it was a rather low voice, one that suggested age and he continued 'drop the weapon and release our crewmate'. you let yourself up with little hesitation, in yet another quick move you turned and pushed the person you were holding to his friends, supposedly.

you could now see exactly who was confronting you know, an older man with glasses, a younger woman with striking red hair and a rabbit? 'whats everyone doing down here?' a rather cheery voice called out as footsteps became louder but before they could answer the newly arriving pinkette, you spoke.

you weren't one for combat surprisingly. sure you'd engage in it and if something wished to make you their enemy you'd gladly diminish their hopes of living. but you were wise to not resort to unnecessary violence, unless you really had to. and so you explained you meant no harm, you simply were startled by your abrupt arrival by no knowledge of your own - you also didn't like sharing.

you were met with the group opposites collective look of confusion before the red haired woman spoke. 'you have no recollection of how you got here? my, that's tricky' she paused before looking around 'why don't we talk elsewhere, please follow'.

you oblidged and followed the cautious group into a more open room. it seemed to contain a communal seating area which the woman insisted you sat down upon. she smiled before addressing you again and asking for your name. you felt no obligation to tell complete strangers your name, so instead you told them your puppets.

the conversation became rather one sided after that. the woman, you know knew as himeko, lead it with the man, welt, occasionally chiming in. you weren't one to share information, let alone to complete strangers and so the only information that you let them know was your puppets name (which they thought was your actual name) and that you aren't from here.

and unfortunately for you, that was most of the information they needed. between most of them they could easily figure out that something had happened to bring you into their world and somehow you needed to get back, however no body had a clue how to do so. after all the universe is vast and perhaps endless - but that meant it would contain the answers.

himeko dismissed herself and the others claiming they needed to discuss something before leaving you alone in the room. your briefly considered trying to enter your plane of euthymia and exiting again but two things stopped you - one, it may just bring you back and two, if your puppet was still in your homeland then atleast until you could get back, things wouldn't seem amiss to your residents.

and while you were thinking, the group re-entered. himeko yet again smiled before saying 'while we may not been a great help now, should you choose to join us, you can travel with us and perhaps have better luck in returning', she glanced over toward dan heng and nodding before turning back 'we are all perfectly fine with whatever decision you come to, but to note that it was him who suggested this in the first place'.

you glanced over to dan heng and he looked away, only looking back when you turned back to himeko. you couldn't help that agree that your chances of returning home would probably increase if you joined them and besides, you didn't have to form any connections with them in you did.

you weren't exactly the friendliest but it was for your own reasons. so you agreed. while you weren't exactly the most friendly and approachable person, you figured that your best chance on returning home would be to travel with these people, and they never said you would actually have to become their companion.

the only condition himeko explained to you was that because they travelled to help those that need it, if the occasion should arise then you should help them. she would also note that you probably have no issue in conflicts due to your unfortunate first encounter. which you found fair afterall, an eye for an eye.

it was safe to say that the atmosphere became rather uncomfortable to start with. himeko and the conductor granted you a spare passenger cabin until otherwise and that's where you spent most of your time. occasionally himeko or march would come and try to get to know you better but ultimately be met with a wall of silence.

however something you found valuable you heard from march was that the archives were accessible to all passengers. knowledge is proof of eternity, all things that have come before recorded down and passed along. so you decided to maybe spend some time exploring such archives.

however what you didn't really anticipate was how different the information seemed to be stored as. in your homeland everything was stored through scrolls and books or even word of mouth. but it all seemed so much more mechanical and modern. fortunately for you, in your confusion dan heng decided to return to his room.

you two hadn't talked at all since the day you arrived, so reasonably there was a bit of tension in the air. however dan heng could pick up on your confusion and pushed aside any awkward air to ask if everything was alright. you simply claimed that you were a bit confused by the archive.

'would you like some assistance?', the words came out his mouth before he could even process them, but you simply nodded and before he knew it he found himself beside you showing you all the records and such he kept organised.

you thanked him and excused yourself as you realised how long you had actually spent in the archives. he nodded before adding that you were free to visit anytime and then you left.

you didn't really sleep. you either didn't bother as in your search for eternity you didn't want to indulge in such trivial matters or you were on edge. this time, sleeping didn't really appeal to you as sleeping knowing people you barely knew surrounded you was unpleasant.

so you decided to re visit the archives. you found exploring this new world may be beneficial to your return and plus you could decide if it would be a enemy to eternity. so as you pushed open the door, you walked in and carefully closed it behind you as too not wake the other residents.

but whag you hadn't anticipated was that odd bundle of blankets and pillows now supported a body. upon squinting your eyes you recognized ot as dan heng, maybe you should return in the morning-

dan heng shot up and immediately pressed a hand to his head to wipe away any sweat he had. it was another nightmare, he didn't know why he bothered to try and sleep when that was all that tormented him. he raised his hand infront of himself trying to stop the shaking and level his breathing, then he looked to you.

his brain only recognizing your presence when he calmed down slightly. he simply said 'couldn't sleep well? or is there something you need?', he shoveled the think blanket of himself as he shakily stood up. you were no fool and knew he didn't want to talk about whatever gave him such a reaction so you simply shrugged and said you couldn't sleep.

he sat in front of the main screen and looked behind at you before saying 'wan't to read some old logs with me?'. well that was what you were here to do originally so you walked over and sat beside him. you two spent the rest of the night having dan heng recount the tales of the express and all the various logs added.

and before either of you knew it, it was morning. time seemed to pass quicker than usual afterwards however. you spent more time with dan heng and found yourself reluctantly letting him get closer to you than you would've liked and it appeared he felt the same. unfortunately neither of you wanted to push the other way despite your body screaming that this was a bad idea.

you both knew that as well. sooner or later you would have to return to your homeland. the bond that was forging would be cut short and mercilessly and you both would become yet another memory for eachother. yet neither of you could bring yourselves to stop it now before it could hurt either of you.

but it seemed time would be cut ever shorter for you. the express crew still had no leads on how to return you to your original realm but answers needed to come quick. your body wasn't reacting well to being outside the plane for this long - you had spent so long inside the plane of euthymia that your body adapted to its conditions.

but maybe the new universe was also taking a toll, you felt no longer like yourself and sometimes during the day your body would practically seize and you felt like a spectator to your own body, not the host. and the crew recognised this deteriorating condition - also chalking it up to long exposure to somewhere that wasn't your homeland.

and before any more tries to find answers could happen, you worsened even more. your body began aching and you really couldn't control your actions so you tried a last resort tactic. you placed yourself back inside of the plane of euthymia and could immediately regain control of your body.

but relief became confusion as you hear march's scream from behind you, turning round to see that you had accidentally brought the express crew into your plane aswell. you wanted to explain and help them back out into the express but the presence of your puppet became your biggest concern.

you turned round to confront your puppet and before you knew it the express crew had stood beside you. your lack if sharing now put them in danger and despite this they offered help. from your body language and maybe the polearm in your hand they could tell what you were going to do.

but you refused help, it was your puppet after all. you created it and so you knew it's weaknesses, this shouldn't become an issue. except it did. the express, especially dan heng, could only watch despite wanting to help as you fought with yourself.

but now you were slowly losing the rational parts of your brain, but before you knew it you had defeated your puppet. but your bodyy seemed to know possess a body of it's own as you became something that was not quite yourself, deciding for you that the express members were enemies of eternity.

you didn't mean to attack them, and they didn't mean to attack back. they wanted to help you desperately - despite your lack of interaction with most they still came to cherish you as the temporary addition to their little family. even if you didn't share, they didn't care. but now they wished you did share more often.

the fight was exhausting for both parties. you wanted to stop, to npt destroy the companions you reluctantly built over the time you'd spent with them but your mind and body weren't cooperating. and dan heng wanted to help you more than ever.

and because he hadn't pushed you away, he hadn't refused himself entirely in building a bond with you he knew how to help. he ignored the shouts for him to stay back as he had faith you wouldn't hurt him. he knew that you were still in there and he'd be dammned should he not help.

you fought so hard to not attack him. to not damage yet another relationship you had built and instead let him get ever closer. and even now as your body fell back to its original state, you could grasp why you subconsciously let him get closer even if you knew he'd leave eventually. because now you still had no way home. and as dan heng laid his head upon your shoulder, you could only think on why you shouldn't indulge in this comfort a little longer, even if this eternity was not possible.

[f3mme-f4tale]

☾ bound by bloodshed ☾

part two

⇠ part one - part three ⇢ word count: 2.6k potential warnings: explicit language, mentions of blood pairing: seattle!ellie x female reader ☾ mood board authors note: shorter chapter this time around, next one is gonna be at least 5k and will include smut, so buckle up :3

important information regarding palestine

It's three days later when Maria begrudgingly finally gives the go ahead for you and Ellie to track down the group. It’s dawn when Ellie re-enters Joel’s house, feeling the tension crackling in the air between them, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface.

Joel looks up as Ellie approaches, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of concern and frustration. "You sure about this, Ellie?" he asks, his voice gruff with worry. "Heading out on some wild goose chase into enemy territory?" Ellie bristles at his words, her frustration boiling over as she meets his gaze head-on.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she retorts, her tone sharp with defiance. "I'm not gonna sit around and wait for trouble to come knocking on our door. We need to take the fight to them." Joel shakes his head, his expression pained as he reaches out to grasp Ellie's arm, his touch gentle yet firm.

"You're being reckless, Ellie," he insists, his voice low and urgent. "You don't know what you're up against out there. You could get yourself killed." Ellie jerks her arm away, her anger flashing in her eyes as she squares her shoulders, refusing to back down.

"I can handle myself, Joel," she snaps, her voice trembling with frustration. "I'm not some helpless kid anymore. I know what I'm doing. You don’t get to make this decision, not after what happened with the fireflies." Joel's jaw tightens, his own frustration evident as he stands up from the table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as Ellie hits a nerve.

"You think this is about you proving something?" he demands, his voice rising with emotion. "This isn't a game, Ellie. People's lives are at stake here, including yours." Ellie meets Joel's gaze, her eyes blazing with defiance even as her resolve wavers.

"I know that," she replies, her voice softer now, tinged with uncertainty. "But I can't just sit back and do nothing. I have to try." Joel's expression softens, his frustration giving way to concern as he reaches out to cup Ellie's cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"I know, kiddo," he murmurs, his voice filled with a fatherly tenderness that catches her off guard. Ellie hesitates, torn between her desire for independence and her need for Joel's guidance and support. She knows he's only trying to protect her, but the thought of backing down now fills her with a sense of defeat she can't bear.

"I can't just walk away from this, Joel," she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion. "I have to try." Joel sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping in resignation as he pulls Ellie into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her with a strength that belies his vulnerability.

"I know, kiddo," he reiterates against her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I know."

As the silence stretches on, Ellie finds herself lost in her own thoughts, the weight of Joel's trust heavy on her shoulders. She wants to shake off the feeling of resentment that had bubbled up inside her, but it lingers, gnawing at her conscience. Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Ellie breaks from the hug.

"I'm gonna go check on my gear," she mumbles, her voice strained as she avoids Joel's gaze. He nods silently in response, his expression unreadable as he watches her retreat from the room.

Alone in the hallway, Ellie leans against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to shake off the lingering frustration. She knows Joel means well, knows he's only looking out for her, but sometimes it feels like he's holding her back, like he doesn't trust her to make her own decisions.

With a frustrated sigh, Ellie pushes herself off the wall and exits through the back door, determined to focus on the task at hand. She rifles through her belongings, double-checking her supplies and ensuring everything is in order for the journey ahead.

But no matter how hard she tries to push the feeling aside, the tension between her and Joel still hangs in the air, a silent reminder of the rift that seems to grow wider with each passing day. It's not just about finding supplies or confronting their enemies—it's about proving to herself that she's capable, that she can handle whatever challenges come her way.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

As Ellie adjusts the bridle on Shimmer’s face, you double check the supplies in your bag. A stablehand passes Ellie a bag to attach to the saddle that holds supplements and extra supplies. As you count the number of bullets and canned food in your possession, you watch as Ellie skillfully tacks Shimmer. You knew how to ride, but you had to admit that Ellie was far better. 

Despite feeling a twinge of envy at Ellie's expertise, you remind yourself that everyone has their strengths, and yours lies in other areas. "Ready to go?" Ellie asks, flashing you a grin as she swings her bag over her shoulder. You nod, following suit as Ellie leads the horse out of the barn. Joel is waiting at the gate with Tommy, the older man sighing as Ellie refuses to look him in the eyes.

“Y’all be careful out there, yeah?” Tommy lectures, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You offer him a small smile and nod again. 

“No Jesse or Dina?” Joel questions, eyebrows furrowing. You glance over at Ellie and see her bite down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at the man.

“No,” you reply, sighing. “They’re needed on patrols, since we’ll be gone and Eugene retired.” Joel doesn’t seem pleased with the answer, but doesn’t add anything and moves aside to let you both through. 

“Be safe out there kiddo,” he says, his face searching for any source of response from Ellie. She hands you Shimmer, turning around to give Joel a bone-crushing hug. He melts into it, placing his head on top of hers. She doesn’t say anything as she pulls away, moving to mount the horse. She offers you a hand as you hop up behind her, arms instinctively wrapping around her waist, to which Ellie can feel a blush creeping in. 

With a gentle nudge of your heels, Shimmer begins to move forward, her hooves crunching on the gravel pathway leading out of Jackson. You steal a glance at Ellie, noticing the stress in her brow as she guides the horse forward.

The weight of Joel's unspoken concern lingers in your mind, and you can't help but wonder what's really going on between him and Ellie. But now isn't the time for probing questions or confrontations. You're on a mission, and your focus needs to be on the task at hand. 

The rhythm of Shimmer's gait beneath you soothes your nerves, and you find yourself falling into an uncomfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts. The landscape around you gradually shifts from the familiar surroundings of Jackson into the rugged terrain beyond its borders. Tall trees loom overhead, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor as you navigate the winding paths.

But just as you start to relax into the journey, a distant sound breaks the quiet tranquility of the morning—a low, guttural growl that sends a shiver down your spine. Ellie tenses beside you, her grip on the reins tightening as she scans the surrounding woods with a wary gaze.

"Infected," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper as she urges Shimmer to move faster. Your heart pounds in your chest as you peer into the dense underbrush, straining to catch any movement amidst the trees.

And then, they emerge—a horde of infected, their twisted forms lurching forward with a frenzied hunger in their eyes. Panic surges through you as you realize you're completely outnumbered, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

Ellie's jaw sets in determination as she steers Shimmer off the main path, veering into the thick undergrowth in a desperate bid to escape the oncoming horde. Branches scrape against your arms as you duck low to avoid detection, the thudding footsteps of the infected echoing ominously behind you.

As the horde draws closer, Ellie's quick thinking guides Shimmer through a narrow gap between the trees, narrowly avoiding the grasp of the infected reaching out for you. The foliage tears at your clothes as you push through, adrenaline surging through your veins. With each passing moment, the sounds of pursuit grow fainter, indicating that you might have outpaced the infected, at least for now. Ellie slows Shimmer to a halt, dismounting and allowing both of you to catch your breath and assess the situation.

"That was too close," you mutter, wiping your clammy palms against your jeans as you scan the surroundings for any signs of danger. Ellie nods in agreement, her expression grim as she surveys the area.

"We need to keep moving," she says, her voice firm with resolve. "We can't risk getting caught out here again."

"Well, I guess you could say that was an unexpected twist," you remark, a playful glint in your eye as you steal a glance at Ellie.

She grins, her smile infectious as she meets your gaze. "Just another thrilling adventure with you," she replies, her tone teasing.

You chuckle, feeling a warmth spreading through you at the sight of her smile. "Hey, what can I say? I aim to keep things interesting," you quip, nudging her gently with your elbow.

Ellie laughs, the sound like music to your ears as she leans in closer. "Well, you certainly succeeded," she says, her voice soft but playful.

You find yourself drawn to her energy, unable to resist the urge to flirt back. "Glad to hear it. I wouldn't want you getting bored on our little escapades," you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

Ellie's eyes sparkle with amusement as she leans in even closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Trust me, with you around, I don't think boredom will ever be an issue," she whispers, a hint of mischief in her voice.

You feel a rush of warmth at her words, the air between you charged with a newfound energy. "Well then, I guess we'll just have to keep each other entertained," you reply, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. And with an arm outstretched, you help her up into the saddle.

Silence falls between you again, this time a welcome presence. You have to physically resist the urge to rest your forehead against her shoulder – because friends don’t do that. Instead, you opt to analyze the fern inked on her forearm, the way her fingers hold the leather reins. Her skin is pale, covered in dainty freckles that dance across her surprisingly toned arms. You pull your lips between your teeth, shaking away words that threaten to spill out of your mouth.

Ellie slows Shimmer down to a walk upon reaching a small, seemingly torn apart town. As her hooves echo against the weed-infested pavement, you take in your surroundings. The sight of a tree growing out of the roof of a building catches your attention, its branches reaching skyward as if in defiance of the decay surrounding it. The windows of the buildings along the street are boarded up or covered in newspapers. A police car is resting upside down, becoming a home for a band of squirrels. 

Despite the desolation of the town, you can't shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes are tracking your every move from the shadows. You’re sure that if you go looking, there’s bound to be infected looming somewhere. So when Ellie suggests stopping for supplies, you hesitantly agree. 

Ellie pulls Shimmer to a halt, her gaze fixed on a nearby storefront. "There," she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she points to a dusty sign hanging above the entrance. "Looks like a general store. Might have something useful inside."

You falter slightly, your instincts screaming at you to turn and run, to leave this forsaken place behind and never look back. But you know that's not an option. With a heavy sigh, you dismount, your steps cautious as you approach the storefront. The door creaks open with a protest, revealing a dim interior filled with dilapidated shelves.

Ellie wastes no time in searching the aisles, her movements quick and efficient as she gathers the sparse supplies into her pack. You follow suit, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement as you work to collect what you can.

But just as you start to relax into the task, a low cry echoes through the silence, freezing you in place. The noise is coming from the back room, sending you into a crouch. It has to be a runner, otherwise the door opening would have alerted the creature. 

This is a routine kill, you think to yourself. No use in alerting or worrying Ellie. With a steady hand, you open the door to the office. And there, huddled in the corner, you see it; a lone infected, its twisted form writhing in pain as it claws at its own flesh. It’s mumbling incoherent words, a cruel sob racking its body. 

A piece of shattered glass finds its way to your dominant hand as you slowly approach the infected. In one swift movement, your hand is brought to its neck and drags the glass across its jugular. The runner lets out a sharp, shrieking cry as the glass slices into its skin, blood oozing onto your hands. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing.

After a moment, you’re brought back to reality and quickly scavenge the few stray bullets on the floor and a roll of duct tape on the desk. “Ellie?” You shout, after hearing something loud drop in the store a few aisles away. The silence and stillness of the building fills you with dread, and you search for her with mounting anxiety. Suddenly, you hear the sound of a body hitting the ground in the distance, followed by a soft gasp of breath. 

And then, you see her—a flash of red hair amidst the chaos, her form hunched over as she fends off another runner with a ferocity that takes your breath away. Where did it come from? But before you can reach her, you hear a cry of pain, and your heart stops. 

"Ellie!" you shout again, rushing to her side as she collapses to the ground, clutching her arm in agony. Blood seeps through her fingers, staining the fabric of her shirt as she grits her teeth against the pain. You kneel beside her, your hands trembling as you assess the wound. It's deep—a nasty gash along her forearm, pink supple skin exposed to the elements. 

“Have you always had such pretty eyes?” She whispers, staring up at you despite the blood flowing down her arm. You’re taken aback by the statement, eyeing her carefully and raising your eyebrows.

“You’re a loser,” you quip back, rolling your eyes. 

“Worth a try,” she sarcastically responds, hastily wrapping a bandage around her wound, using her teeth to tie it in place. The entire time her eyes are on you, crimson staining her jaw and teeth. Something animalistic awakens in you at the sight, to which you tear your eyes away and struggle to stand back up, heat flooding your face. 

Taglist: @seraphicsentences @onlinelesbo @yumimak (comment if u want to be added!)

[amethystina]

i still like your idea of the fanfic where, soohyun gets injured but doesn't die, and the rest is canon but gaon doesn't know yohan is alive... You put it in one of the chapters note (i forgot which chapter) i am a sucker for angst and i like to give myself sadness lol... I can imagine how broken and angst ridden gaon would be. It would be a devastating sight but also delicious.

It is a fascinating thought! But, admittedly, also the idea I'm the least likely to write out of all the ones I've come up with — for the very same reason why you like it x'D

I'm really not a fan of angst and sadness and, sometimes, I can look at a story idea and realise that it wouldn't be fun for me to write. And this one is, unfortunately, one of those. Because it would focus so much on Ga On's grief and his failing relationship with Soo Hyun and I just... don't want to write that?

Sure, it would be fascinating, but also way too depressing for me. Partly because I don't see an easy solution. Like, even if Ga On eventually finds out that Yo Han is alive, just how bad would he feel? How bad would they both feel? And just how much more pain and anguish would they have to wade through? Would they even be willing to try?

Basically, now that I've had time to think about it further, I've realised that it just doesn't work. The math isn't mathing in this scenario, at least not for a fic written in my fairly realistic and down-to-earth style.

Because it would, quite frankly, be easier for them to just cut their losses and continue living their separate lives. I think the hurt would be too much for either of them to come to terms with and reconcile. So, on top of being a very depressing story overall, it wouldn't have a happy ending, either. Which means it immediately gets disqualified because I only want happy endings xD

I wouldn't be able to give it a happy ending with a clear conscience because, sure, we all know Yo Han is a vicious asshole and Ga On is good at forgiving him. But this?

Faking his own death for months, maybe years, and not telling Ga On about it, instead leaving him to grieve — on top of all the guilt he's already feeling? And for what? Because Yo Han was hurt? Because he was jealous of Soo Hyun? Because he wanted to punish Ga On?

Well, Yo Han would certainly achieve that.

Ga On would be an absolute wreck.

And, to be entirely honest with you, I think Ga On would be too broken after spending only god knows how long thinking Yo Han is dead because of him. Because, let's face it — that's what Ga On would believe.

I wouldn't know how to fix that. I don't want to fix it because if Yo Han truly did all that to Ga On — something so vindictive and cruel — I'd side with Soo Hyun and say that it's probably best for the two of them to stay apart. Because, clearly, they're going to destroy each other eventually. Especially since Ga On would most likely become suicidal again. And Yo Han must have predicted that might happen but still chose not to tell Ga On about being alive.

And, sure, I understand being hurt and angry — Yo Han has no obligation to forgive Ga On for the things he did. But to intentionally choose to put another person — someone you care about — in a situation where you know they might end up wanting to take their own life? Just to get revenge?

Unforgivable, in my opinion.

But that leads us to the part where we also have to ask if Yo Han truly would do that and, personally, I don't think so. Maybe that's me giving Yo Han too much grace, but I really don't think he'd be that cruel considering how much he cares about Ga On. Maybe he wants Ga On to suffer a bit, sure, but not die.

So, in the end, the whole thing is a bit of a moot point x'D

The scenario doesn't work with how I choose to interpret these characters.

I think a more likely outcome if Soo Hyun doesn't die is that Yo Han would still do all the things he does in the drama, including telling Ga On that he's alive, but then go radio silent. Like, go to Switzerland and just focus on himself and Elijah. But do it more firmly than in Who Holds the Devil when he always had plans to return. Here he wouldn't.

Which is painful, too, but not quite as bad as "I'm knowingly letting you think you had a hand in killing me." And Ga On would still wallow and he'd still realise that his relationship with Soo Hyun isn't what he thought it would be, but without the looming threat of Ga On's (in my opinion) likely suicide. They might actually be able to reconcile eventually.

But, even then, I'm not sure if this is a story I would want to write. At least not right now when I'm already struggling with both my physical and mental well-being. It just wouldn't be healthy for me and, most likely, not something I'd enjoy. Some people get a feeling of release and catharsis from writing about difficult things, but I'm not one of them. I just end up feeling worse because I have to immerse myself in the misery to a point where I just sink even deeper into it.

So while I agree that this is an interesting and quite dramatic scenario, I've realised it's just not for me. In more ways than one xD

But if someone else wants to write it, then go for it! :D

[karasbroken]

I struggled with this, my 7th story. I wanted to focus on John's reaction to finally being driven to murderous rage. But because this is Aeryn's POV, it was hard to find the right way to talk about it

The plot, if you can call it that, ended up being 'John and Aeryn go shopping and beat each other up about their flaws'. Aeryn talks with her fists, John tries actually talking, and by the end no one is better, but they're trying to get back to normal. I also throw in a toy tribble and Aeryn frelling Crais's brother because I like to plant seeds and see what blooms.

Rating: T    |   Word Count: 6,554  |    Tags: Post-"That Old Black Magic", Angst, Fighting, Flashbacks, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Relationship, Past-Relationship, Trauma Response

Aeryn did not understand how this primitive white craft had managed space travel at all, let alone crossed the entire galaxy. The few components and gauges she could identify were all far larger than they needed to be or lacked precision or reactive interfaces. None of the parts were labeled, so far as she could tell, though the craft itself had something written in English with human numbers along its side, where anyone might read it.

The snub nose, bare of any weaponry, was scorched along its heavy plating from friction with planetary atmosphere. She wasn’t familiar with the material it was made from, some sort of slick coating over a common metal alloy as best she understood the scanner. Given the level of blackened scarring, either Crichton had made many more journeys than seemed likely from what he’d told her, or the white ship was made of something very fragile.

One of the DRDs, the one with a damaged eye stalk she often found in the maintenance bay, had crawled up onto the carapace. It aimed a series of indecipherable beeps and chirps her way that Aeryn ignored as she moved to the rear of the craft to look again at the propulsion system. The soot and residue was considerable, indicating a highly inefficient fuel. A mixture of nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon, oxygen, and aluminum, the scanner listed. But beyond that, it was also unfamiliar. Aeryn resorted to prying open each hatch, door, or panel she could find, until she finally found a port that exuded a sharper version of the unpleasant stench that generally hung around the craft, and sometimes Crichton’s clothes as well.

Here she hesitated. The cesium fuel that Prowlers used was pressurized. She didn’t know what would happen if she simply opened the module’s valve. It might spray what was left of Crichton’s fuel all over the maintenance bay, or even combust. Aeryn thought through several possible options, from trying to construct a safety seal, to just opening the valve very slowly, to simply leaving the ship completely alone. In the end she commed Pilot. “Do you know if Crichton’s ship has a pressurized fuel tank, or is it safe to open without a fuel line?”

There was a long pause. Aeryn didn’t know if Pilot needed time to scan or to decide what to tell her. “It does not. However the fuel is molecularly unstable and will produce fumes that are somewhat toxic to most species, including Sebaceans. Does Commander Crichton know you are working on his module? He has been very particular about that.”

“I’m not a tech, Pilot. I’m not working on anything. Just checking our supplies.”

“I see.” Pilot sounded skeptical, but Aeryn didn’t respond, and the comm eventually deactivated.

Only then did Sun cautiously unscrew the cap, holding her breath. She’d constructed a long tool by using sealant to connect multiple of the pipettes she had recently mastered (while studying Rigel’s unfortunate reaction to tannot root). Aeryn used this to draw a sample of the contents. It was a powder, not a fluid, silvery white. Not knowing precisely how toxic this substance might be, she was careful not to let it touch her skin as she sealed the fuel in an airtight container. Aeryn was just resetting the valve on the fuel tank, when a voice booming across the hangar startled her.

“Officer Sun! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to mess with a man’s ride without asking?” John’s English had that low drawn out accent he used when he was emotional. “You’d think a pilot would know better....."

[transmutationisms]

ok i'll bite. can i ask about kendall water motif? i have a couple of ideas but it's been a while since i finished the show jfkjdsf

yes ok yes

so i think the obvious first instinct with water imagery is always to say it's about purification, cleansing, etc. and there's definitely some of that involved with kendall's water motif—detoxing in a pool in iceland, washing the evidence off himself after the car crash, the pool floatie incident where he's simultaneously wrestling with his conscience and despairing because logan wouldn't let him wash his hands of the company/the family.

but i think water has some more complicated and interesting meanings in this show. way back in 'austerlitz,' we get the following from shiv: "[dad] doesn't even trust water. it's too wishy-washy." of course we do find out this isn't the real reason logan avoids swimming. but nevertheless, there's a clear association being made there: water signifies weakness, inconstancy, emotional instability. (think also about "go to the desert; dry yourself out; you have not been yourself." dryness takes on a few distinct meanings, including strength/rationality/self-control.)

this is reminiscent of ancient greek and medieval european conceptions of wetness. you can see this in aristotle, for example, and in hippocratic and galenic medicine; (euro) natural philosophy owes a huge debt to many of these sources. incidentally, this association between water and inconstancy is why women's bodies were generally considered to be wetter than men's (wetness being both literal and metaphorical).

with this in mind, i think you can see how kendall's water motif isn't just about guilt or salvation or purification. it tells you a lot about his vulnerabilities, and especially the weaknesses his father perceives in him: how emotional he is; his 'softness'; the way his drug use signifies a lack of self-control.

for example: his car crash happens while he's seeking drugs: in logan's eyes, a moral weakness leading to being literally submerged. the pool floatie incident: he's spiralling, the water takes him. rehab in iceland: in logan's eyes, again, this is a sign of kendall's softness and weakness and failures. and the main shot we get of him in this place is in a pool.

you can also see the way water sometimes feels like a trap for kendall. for instance, that shot in 'this is not for tears' where he's in the pool on the yacht, and it's framed so you can see the whole ocean stretching out behind him but he's stuck in this tiny little square of water. at this point he's completely entangled with waystar and cruises, especially because of the testimony he gave in 'dc'. he acted the mean, tough pitbull in front of congress, but that's not actually the role he wants to be playing. so he's shown confined on the family yacht, in water but not in the big open sea.

or i always think about 'lion in the meadow', where aaronson takes kendall and logan out walking on his island: kendall is literally penned in by the water, as aaronson tries to force him to re-align himself with logan/waystar. water and logan are being contrasted, with kendall stuck in the middle. or even, tbh, the dry bathtub shot in 'secession' where his body awkwardly doesn't fit in the tub—i know there's not actually water in it, but it's like he's trying to bathe without bathing. weak and strong and spinning out, etc.

as a side note, i've always thought it was interesting that it's raining when stewy first offers to buy kendall out of the company, as well as when kendall leaves the money at andrew dodds's house. i know there are other reasons for this (to show kendall and stewy using the giant golf umbrellas, and to set an atmosphere, respectively) but i do also think it plays into the way that water, for kendall, represents a few different things: an escape route; weakness; his own instability; and yeah also purification.

anyway yeah there's some water motif thoughts gkfhgkjf

[buckys-little-hoe]

The Bet | Jake Peralta x Reader

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Reader

Summary: You and Jake make a bet. Who can last longer without Sex.

Warnings: Implied Smut, my non existent knowledge of police work, sexyness lmao, mentions of drugs and murder

A/N: There is not much to say. I just wanted to try writing about someone else. The next thing that i have planned is something for our fav fast guy Pietro (who owns my heart btw)

---

It all started about a year ago. You were new to the station and immediately attracted everyone's attention. Not only were you beautiful, no, you were a real badass too. You solve one case after the other without any complications. And while you sometimes had to be physical, you looked hot too. Amy had asked several times if you could teach her how to look good while you had blood on your uniform, but you just shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, you just did it without even thinking about it. Holt was incredibly proud to have hired someone so talented. You lived for your work, but your private life suffered as a result. 

You spent your nights researching and in the morning you just came out of bed. And so after about a week you were at your desk. Rosa came in with her blank expression and sat across from you. You gave her a smile, which she didn't return, but she gave you coffee. You accepted it gratefully and immediately felt better. "Hey, Y/N! Could you bring me the new file? It's on Peralta's desk.” Terry asked you as you sat closer and you nodded. With your coffee cup in hand, you got up and went to his desk. What a mess. Sighing, you rummaged around with one hand. Was that a crushed granola bar? Disgusted, you took your hand out of the mess and took a sip. At about the same time, Jake strutted in and was immediately involved in a conversation with Charles. So he ran backwards towards his desk. You didn't even notice your surrounding anymore, you were too focused on finding the files without your hand touching anything rotten. And so Jake ran against you. Startled, you tightened your grip on the cup, which caused the lid to fly up from the pressure and some coffee spilled onto your blouse. You whimpered softly because the shit was really hot. "Fuck ..." Carefully you lifted the blouse a little so that it doesn't stick to your skin. Jake immediately walked away from you and spoke to you. "Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Y/L/N?” He asked with a guilty conscience and you turned around. With gritted teeth you nodded and walked slowly towards the washroom. "If you want, I'll help you take it off!" He called after you and you had to pull yourself together not to beat him up. This was his first attempt at flirting, and it wasn't his last. About a month later, you were sitting across from Rosa again, but your eyes were on Holt. He was talking to Jake again, but you couldn't see what kind of conversation. Was it praise? Or maybe scolding? You were bored with no case to resolve. Besides, you were kind on a sex withdrawal. After all, you were new to this neighborhood and didn't really know anyone. You hadn't even gotten to masturbation in the past few weeks. Annoyed, you let your head drop on your crossed arms. It could be that the withdrawal made you a little pissed. "What's going on?" Rosa asked and Amy perked up her ears. And since Charles didn't really have anything to do either and was a self-proclaimed consolation giver, he came straight to it. A kind of meeting came into being. "I'm just not in a good mood," you said and looked up. "Why?" Amy asked immediately. Even Gina was now at your table. "Is it because we don't have any cases right now?" Charles asked, but you denied it. A bit of free time was actually good, but you were in the wrong place to satisfy yourself. "Stress with the partner?", Amy guessed. "I don't have anyone.", You grumbled. "Aha!" Gina shouted. "You haven't had sex in a long time!" With red cheeks you buried your head in your arms again. Satisfied, she nodded as she hit the nail right on the head. Terry came along now. "I know some nice men," he said and you rolled your eyes. Great, now everyone knew. "I know some great girls too," Rosa suggested. “That's enough, guys. If I want then I'll surely find someone. ", You grumbled and looked up again. By now everyone had a sympathetic smile on their faces. You groaned annoyed. Gina pushed Charles aside and showed you a couple of Instagram accounts with some guys. Somehow you wanted meaningless sex, but not with someone strange. Jake stepped out of the office again and noticed everyone standing at your table. "What's going on here?" He asked aloud and walked to your desk. "We're looking for someone to lay Y/N.", Gina answered without looking up. Embarrassed you avoided his gaze. Did everyone finally know? "I'll volunteer.", He grinned and everyone started laughing, including you. "Why are you laughing?" Confused, he looked at his colleagues. Charles put a hand on his shoulder. "Not bad for Jake, but Y/N is way out of your league.", He replied with pity in his voice. Jake looked at him indignantly. “Thanks, Boyle! It doesn't matter now. Y/N, take your bag or whatever, we have a little drug case in a gelateria.”Peralta said, avoiding Boyle's hurt expression. A gelateria and he didn't take his best friend with him? Excitedly, you grabbed your service weapon and your jacket. “I’m ready!"

-

"I think the owner is the dealer," you said quietly to yourself. Jake nodded in agreement. "Now we just have to catch him red-handed," he added. He turned to you and put both of his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him with a raised brow. "Flirt with him," he ordered and shook you. "What! Why? ”You hissed softly and glanced over at the guy. "You distract him and I'll go back through the door," he explained and you sighed. "Okay." So you stepped inside slowly, purposefully towards the counter and looked at the many different types of ice cream. "Hi!", You smiled shyly, and he took the bite immediately. "Hello beautiful woman, what can I do for you?" He asked charmingly with his heavy Italian accent. Your heart went soft with all the ice cream. "What can you recommend?" "It depends on what you like," grinned the man. "I like it extraordinary, maybe something Mediterranean.", You said and suppressed your gag reflex. "I should have- Hey!", He interrupted himself and looked past you. Inwardly, you just gave yourself a facepalm. He couldn’t be serious. "What are you doing back there, huh?" Slowly you turned around and saw Peralta with a mustache stuck on. You sighed softly to yourself and just mimicked your fate. "Well, searching the drugs.", He replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. You took your badge in your hand ready to turn around when the swanky Italian slapped it out of your hand, jumped over the counter and hit you on the floor. With a thud, you landed on the floor. Jake was about to walk towards you, but you waved in the direction of the door. He bit his lip and hesitantly ran after him. Slowly you got up and cracked your fingers. Why did he have to bite his lip so badly? Now you ran after them too, it didn't take long for the Italian to land in a dead end. Jake seemed to have everything under control, so you stood to one side to take a deep breath. But when he handcuffed him, you couldn't prevent your dirty thoughts. How would the handcuffs feel on your hands? You rubbed your thighs together to release some friction. You realized one thing. Jake was the one who had to fuck you. You just had to make him do it.

-

A few days later, you were leaning your arms on Gina's desk, your bum up. In the reflection you could see his eyes on it while he was talking to Amy. Even your blouse had one button open today. At least time was running and you were getting more and more impatient. Gina told you something about a dance group and normally you'd like to listen, but this time it was more difficult. When you turned around he was no longer there. Instead, Amy gave you a friendly wave. You returned her gestures with a smile. Suddenly you smelled his perfume in your nose. He was right next to you. Your breathing became a little more irregular, as did your heartbeats. Oh God. His sleeves were rolled up and he was smiling slyly. “We're going to Shaw’s after work today. Would you like to come with us?” He wanted to know and you didn't miss how his eyes briefly wandered to your breasts. “Oh yes, Y/N! You absolutely have to go.", Gina agreed, so you nodded."I'll be happy to come, Peralta. "

-

That evening, you sat in a corner with your drink in hand. If he stopped giving you any more signs, you would look for someone else, which you would find a shame. Time passed and slowly the troop broke up. Until there was only Jake left, who sat down next to you with a new drink. "Here." Smiling, he pushed the glass towards you. You took the straw slowly in your mouth and didn't break eye contact. If he didn't get that hint now, you'd probably freak out. Instead, the detective put his hand dangerously close to your clothed core. You gasped loudly. "Could it be that you want me to fuck you?" He asks quietly and your heart almost popped out of your chest. You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. So you just nodded. “Unfortunately that's not enough, babygirl. Use words. ”Jake said. Slowly he tilted your head to one side and kissed the back of your neck. "Please, fuck me," you breathed. He removed his head and grinned. "I will, but just because you asked so nicely." Shortly afterwards you landed in his apartment. And at three in the morning you woke up and left like nothing happened. And it went on and on. Some days he would hold you against the shelves in the evidence room. On others it was in his car. And you liked the dominance he exuded. You liked how he took what he wanted from you, while still not forgetting your satisfaction. But after the sex you were always the first to go.

-

After a year it was still just sex and nothing more. So you were all the more surprised when he suddenly showed up on a date. You apologized to the nice man and pulled Jake on his ear out. He followed you gasping. When you finally stood in the parking lot, you crossed your arms. “What's this crap, Peralta?” You wanted to know, annoyed. "I ... I just wanted to make sure the guy was decent," he lied, which you could clearly see. “Bullshit. You are jealous. ", You replied." No, I am not. " "Yes you are." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." “Okay! Our sex is fantastic okay? But what am I talking about here anyway? You wouldn't even go a day without it.” The cop defended himself. "Oh yes? I think you're confused, darling. You can't last a day without it.” You replied angrily. “Then let's bet. Whoever gives up first loses,” he suggested. “What do I get if I win?” You asked suspiciously. Betting with Jake always goes wrong and ends in chaos, you've been aware of that since Halloween. "I'll give you the murder case." "Okay, and you?" "I want one waking up." Confused you pulled your eyebrows together. "What do you mean?", You said. "I want you to wake up with me once. No escaping," he explained with ruddy cheeks. You examined him briefly and finally nodded. "Deal."

-

It started very easily. Here and there he brushed your hips, of course quite unobtrusively. Sometimes your file fell down, so you had to bend down very low. But he didn't jump on it. So you had to get more extreme. Bananas were eaten and he was flirting with Amy. And somehow your heart got heavier. So you had to act differently. Shortly before the end of the day you accidentally spilled your water on your white blouse. While your red lace bra became visible, you apologized with red cheeks and promised to come back. You didn't miss Jake's eyes, but you had other plans. From your closet you pulled a top with a deep neckline and tight jeans that made your bum stick out. You pulled the hair elastic out of your hair and freed your voluminous mane. You even forced yourself into high shoes and for once you leave your underwear off. "Show Time.", You mumbled and drove to the bar. And as soon as you stepped in, everyone's eyes were on you. Rosa whistled loudly and grinned honestly. Flattered you gave her a hug. "I thought I could dress up a bit." You explained your outfit to her. "Good girl," she winked. She’s the only one who knew about you and Jake since she caught you in the evidence room. With a swing of your hips that could only drive someone crazy, you strutted towards the bar. The bartender leaned down to you. "What will it be, my lady?" He grinned charmingly and you laughed out loud. still focused on getting what you wanted. “A shot would be a start,” you answered. He pushed one over to you pretty quickly. "It’s on the house.", He smiled. You nodded as a thank you and drank it. The warmth spread through your body and you let your shoulders circle. And so you flirted with the bartender for an estimated two minutes, when a well-known body was already pressing against yours. And with it his erection too. Your grin grew bigger. "What do you think you're doing?" He whispered in your ear. Goosebumps graced your body. He let his hand slide gently under your top. "You don't even wear a bra," Jake said, breathing irregularly. Inconspicuously, you rubbed your bum against his reaction. "That's enough," he whispered through clenched teeth. And so he pulled your wrist towards his apartment. And for the first time you didn't care what your colleagues thought about you.

-

Tired you opened your eyes and looked directly at the alarm clock next to you. Three o'clock at night. But this time you didn't get up. Instead, you turned around, put your arms around his body, and closed your eyes again. And Jake's smile grew bigger.

[mercy-burning]

Payback

Summary: After Reader surprises Spencer at a BAU holiday party, he can’t stop thinking about her. Category: Fluff Word Count: 4.2k NOTE: This is my first little fic, I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’ve always wanted to write it, so please let me know what you think! I hope you like it! And if there’s anything I should include in the before/summaries of my stuff in the future, please let me know! I’d love to write more but I’m not sure what everyone wants to see. Thank you!

***

He could still taste peppermint. It's been 8 days and still, every time his lips press together, Spencer swears he can taste her peppermint lip gloss coating them. It's all he's been able to think about as of late.

And no sooner than he could taste her lips, he could see her face, the way her eyes had glimmered after just a glass of champagne, amused and proud of her actions. He tried not to think about how dumbfounded he must have looked, completely frozen and practically unable to function properly, let alone at all. His mind betrayed him, though only for a second before he focused on the way she'd lovingly patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go," before pressing her lips together and turning away.

The whole ordeal had only lasted no longer than five seconds, but to Spencer it had felt like a lifetime. Time had slowed to a stop and refused to move forward the very moment she grabbed his face.

Truth be told, he should have seen it coming. For years since Y/N had joined the BAU, his friends had teased him relentlessly about her. More specifically, Morgan had caught him staring at her from across the jet once upon a time, her first case with the team, and when she'd looked up and smiled at Spencer, causing him to give a small wave and immediately avert his gaze, Morgan laughed from beside him and stated, "You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, Pretty Boy."

Emily and Rossi, who were seated across from them, didn't even have to turn around to know what was happening, and the shared a knowing smile before Hotch had returned from the bathroom and started debriefing.

Spencer had tried to play it cool at first, blowing off his friends' teasing remarks and sometimes crude gestures, but deep down he knew they were all right. And if they were able to see just how badly he liked Y/N, then it was probably no secret that she'd been able to tell as well. The thought made him nervous, but in the three years since he and Y/N had come to be better friends, he'd gotten more comfortable and a little (but not by much) less blush-prone when she paid him a smile or occasionally brushed her hand against his.

Nonetheless, the teasing from the rest of the team had slowed significantly, though it hadn't entirely stopped. Every time they all got together for a dinner at Rossi's or a party for the holidays, Y/N got dressed up, and every time without fail Spencer couldn't help but admire her beauty. Of course he'd found her beautiful all the time, but there was something about the way she held herself during these events, almost like she knew she was the most stunning person in the room, that drove him crazy, and even intimidated him a little. (She's way out of my league, he'd thought to himself once.)

And every single time, either Morgan or Garcia, or pretty much anyone else, but those two specifically, would try to get him to talk to her, to ask her on a date, or to just flirt with her. But, as usual, Spencer brushed it off, and each night he would go the entire time without taking his friends' advice, much to their chagrin.

Sometimes he wished he had, that he was brave enough to say something to her, anything beyond the usual, "you look nice" before quickly changing the subject. And a few times he almost came close, but some small part of his conscience told him that she wouldn't reciprocate. That he was too weird and that she was too good for him. And then he would chastise himself for even thinking that he would have a shot, and he'd have to live with the fact that he would just be teased by his friends forever about this perfect woman that he would never have the courage to come clean to.

But all the same, he was just naïve enough to believe that he could get away that one night without any trouble.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Rossi had generously decided to host a small get-together before everyone would be with their families for the holidays. As usual his place was beautiful, but even more so with all the twinkling lights and garland.

The team was shuffling around the kitchen, talking amongst themselves and drinking their drinks of choice, when Y/N appeared next to Spencer, a glass of champagne in hand.

And just like every time before, he felt his heart tug at his chest as he looked at her, so close to him he could smell her perfume and feel her warmth. She wore an emerald green dress that stopped below her knees, the sleeves long and the neckline plunging down to the top of her stomach in a deep V-shape. Four thin, glittery strips of silver attached the two sides of the V together, getting smaller as they went down. Her hair was worn up, a high pony tail that tumbled in curls down the back of her head, a few strands curled and framing the sides of her face. Her eyelids glittered red and her lips were sheer and shimmering.

She practically sparkled as she spoke to him, a beacon of elegance and beauty, and it took everything inside of Spencer to resist grabbing her face and kissing her in front of all their friends.

She finished her glass of champagne as he was telling her about his holiday plans, setting the glass on the table in front of her before a squeal—no doubt from Garcia—cut him off, mostly out of concern.

"What is it?" Y/N asked for him.

Morgan and Emily came strolling up to see what the commotion was about before they laughed and fist-bumped.

"What?" Spencer repeated, thoroughly confused.

Rossi came up to join, nodding as he raised his drink. "Ah, the magic of mistletoe."

"Look up," Garcia added, pointing to the ceiling above where Spencer and Y/N were standing.

Sure enough, mistletoe was hanging above them, and though he knew what that meant, his first instinct was to talk.

"You know, the Druids came to view mistletoe as a symbol of liveliness due to the fact that it could blossom even during wintertime. In hopes of restoring fertility they would administer it to humans, and even animals."

He refused to look at Y/N. He couldn't. He knew that the second he did, he'd give himself away, if he hadn't already before. And just as he was about to spit out more facts about mistletoe, he felt time slow down.

The words caught in his throat, dissipated, and replaced themselves with the smallest of whimpers. He hoped to God she wouldn’t hear it, for fear of giving himself away even further.

Instead he froze, completely shell-shocked when Y/N reached over, grabbed his face in her hands, and turned it to meet hers, taking no time at all to press her lips against his in a burning kiss. At least, that's how it felt for him.

He wasn't sure how she was feeling, but in that moment he could only think about how his entire being burned at her touch. And though she only kissed him for no longer than three seconds, keeping the entire thing short and sweet, the taste of her peppermint flavored lip gloss lingering on his lips, the way she looked at him, and the way she patted his cheek and the way she whispered, "There you go," before turning away and taking her empty glass with her... All of it was enough to make Spencer feel like he'd just experienced Heaven itself.

She was the actual human embodiment of Heaven, he was sure of it.

So by the time he'd recovered from his haze and found it in himself to breathe again, Spencer went back to pretending he wasn't phased, because after all he was in a room with all his friends who knew better, and the more he could keep pretending, the less he would be left to think about how Y/N had completely shaken him to his core.

But now it's the night before New Year's Eve, and he'd been thinking for days now how to deal with this. Because every time she'd looked at him since then, every time she'd say his name or playfully wink at him, it drove him mad. He closed his eyes and there she was, in all her shimmering, heavenly glory, taking up every thought, every ounce of being he had to offer. She owned him and she didn't even know it.

Or maybe she did.

There was one day, December 28th to be precise, when he swore she was messing with him, gauging his reaction. First of all, she'd worn a skirt to work, which she barely ever did, not to mention it was cold and snowy, and hardly the right weather to comfortably wear one, and a tight one at that. And Y/N seemed to be particularly and unusually clumsy that day, because she'd conveniently dropped her pen in front of Spencer's desk, or accidentally spilled water on her white shirt, exposing some of her bra. And every single time, She'd looked up to see him staring at her, as he'd never been able to resist doing.

The way she talked to him was different, too, her voice almost lullaby-like. And when she'd ask a question about something she clearly knew, she bit her lip immediately afterwards, her head tilted down and her eyes fluttered up, almost like she was embarrassed to ask for help.

By the end of the day Spencer was exhausted, not to mention still overwhelmed and completely burned by her presence. And it didn't help that everyone else around him knew what was happening. The teasing then was just as relentless as it had been the first week Y/N started working with them, made worse by the fact that she'd kissed him and left him absolutely ruined.

He had to do something, or he was sure he wouldn't survive.

***

Even though the team had just been together for Christmas, once again they all found themselves gathered around a fancy setting for New Year's.

This time Y/N decided she wanted to host, since none of the team have ever been to her house. In the three years since she'd worked with them, she figured it would be a good way to ring in the new year.

Her house wasn't as big or extravagant as Rossi's—no one's was, really—but she'd made do with what elegance she had to offer.

Even though everyone was bringing a small dish to eat, Y/N wanted to go all out. So, she decided to bake two pecan pies and a chocolate chip banana bread, all that culinary training throughout her first two years of college not entirely going to waste. She'd even made complimentary cupcakes for the team, each one flavored and decorated uniquely to each new friend she'd made from her time at the BAU, their names piped on every one with icing.

For Garcia, she made a vegan lemon blueberry cupcake frosted with a homemade vegan whipped cream, complete with a little glitter and 'penny' piped in pink.

For Derek, a peanut butter mocha cupcake with chocolate frosting and decorated with gold glitter and peanut butter chips, his name piped in white.

For Emily, a red velvet with vanilla buttercream and a ring of red and white marbled frosting around it, her name piped in red.

For JJ, a chocolate cupcake filled with raspberry coulis and topped with dark chocolate buttercream, silver pearls making a circle around the outside and her name piped in pink.

Hotch's cupcake was a chocolate with coconut frosting and 'Hotch' piped in vibrant blue, along with some swirled patterns around the edges.

Rossi's was her favorite to make, simply because it was so out of the box. It was a chocolate cupcake filled and topped with maple whipped cream, sprinkled with chopped up, caramelized bacon. She hoped he'd like it, but just in case it was too unconventional, she whipped up extra cupcakes of each. That way everyone could also try different ones if they wanted.

And that left Spencer.

The whole week leading up to the party, Y/N was concocting her recipes, trying to figure out which flavors everyone would like the best. She knew that Spencer would gladly take anything she'd given him, but after the Christmas party, she wanted to give him something to remember.

Truth be told, she wasn't even going to kiss him that night. She was more than happy to let him go on about mistletoe in an attempt to avoid what everyone else so desperately wanted them to do, but right before he finished his first fact, Emily glanced at Y/N and nodded her head, mouthing "do it".

And in a split second decision, she decided screw it.

And then she kissed him.

Though Y/N wasn't sure how he would feel before she did it, she could tell almost immediately when she did that he'd wanted something like that to happen for a while, because he practically whined against her mouth. She felt it more than heard it, it was so small, but there was no mistaking that it had happened, only confirmed by the fact that he slightly leaned into her once it was happening.

And then she pulled away, and she could have swore he tried to chase after her, not wanting it to end. But shock won over, because he opened his eyes and they were as wide as she'd ever seen them, his lips parted and shimmering faintly from where her lip gloss had transferred.

Y/N didn't want him to know that she could hardly breathe, seeing him like that, feeling him embrace her action, so she'd quickly brushed it off, patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go".

In hindsight, she wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. All the things she could have told him in the moment, and "There you go" is what came out? Really?

So she picked up her empty glass as the team laughed and clapped, putting distance between everyone to get more champagne and compose the rapid beating of her heart.

She went home that night and thought about Spencer. Naturally. She tried not to think about the small part of her brain that said he was only shocked because it was unexpected and not because he wanted her. Instead, she tried to recall every interaction they'd had together, wondering how she could have missed the obvious.

There'd been countless times where Y/N had caught him staring at her, only for him to look away and pretend like he hadn't been... And to think, every time she just thought maybe she'd had something stuck in her teeth or a stain on her shirt. She just had to think something was wrong, when in fact, everything was perfectly fine.

So she decided that after everyone went back to work, she'd test it out.

One tight skirt and a few 'accidental' mishaps later, Y/N was sure.

And so, as she laid out the cupcakes on the table, Y/N put Spencer's in the middle. It was a vanilla bean cupcake, filled with peppermint whipped cream and crushed candy canes. The peppermint whipped cream was piped on the top as well, and she topped it off with a silver shine and his last name piped in red cursive lettering. On the outside you couldn't tell it was peppermint, but he'd sure taste it. And Y/N couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he did.

Everyone started to arrive shortly after Y/N finished getting dressed. She decided on a sleeveless black velvet dress with a high neckline that fit snugly around her throat. It was tight and ended just above the knee, accentuating just about everything. She put her hair up in the same high ponytail as the Christmas party, though rather than curled, it was straight. Her makeup was simple, a little silver eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and red lipstick.

She'd just put in the second hoop earring when her doorbell rang. Y/N slipped on her black heels by the front door and opened it to find almost everyone there.

"Y/N!" Garcia's exuberance was the first thing she heard, and then she hugged her.

"Hey, guys, welcome!" she exclaimed with a smile as everyone filed in through the door, hugging her as they went on by.

"Morgan and Reid are on their way," Rossi said, handing her a bottle of wine. Blackberry merlot, her favorite.

"Man, it smells great in here," Emily noted, setting her jacket on the hook behind the door.

"Yeah, I might have went a little overboard and made everyone their own cupcakes," Y/N said. "And banana bread... and two pecan pies."

"Cupcakes?" Garcia inquired, almost devilishly.

Everyone laughed, and Y/N led the way to the dining room, where she had everything set up. In front was everyone's cupcakes lined up in a row, behind them the banana bread and the two pies on either side of it.

"Y/N, these look incredible!" JJ complimented. Everyone else agreed in unison, and it warmed Y/N's heart.

"Thanks guys. I made a few of each just in case you weren't happy with your cupcake. But you're free to have them now if you want." So she handed everyone their assigned cupcakes, explaining each of their contents and seeing their faces light up, save for Reid and Morgan, who still had yet to arrive.

And as if on cue, the doorbell rang again, and Y/N's heart almost jumped out of her chest.

"I'll go bring these out to them," she said, grabbing the remaining cupcakes and leaving her friends to enjoy.

Derek was at the door first, smiling as charmingly as ever. "Hey, Miss Thing."

"Hey, yourself," she laughed, opening the door and stepping aside for him to walk through. She handed him his cupcake after he took his coat off, setting it beside everyone else's. "I made everyone complimentary cupcakes. This one's for you. Peanut butter chocolate mocha."

Morgan's eyebrows raised and he smiled, taking the cupcake. "You didn't."

Y/N laughed again, nodding as he took a bite. "You can head inside through there, everyone else is enjoying their own."

He pulled her in for a side hug and muttered a 'thank you' through a mouth full of cupcake, making her laugh harder, before he disappeared into the kitchen.

When Y/N turned around, Spencer was taking off his coat, a smile plastered on his face. "You made cupcakes?"

She tried not to fall apart when she looked at him, his eyes as kind as ever, that smile so intoxicatingly sweet and so incredibly him. She gave him a small once-over, admiring the look he'd gone for, which consisted of black dress pants, a long-sleeved navy button down with the first few buttons opened and a tie hanging loose and open around his neck, revealing some of his chest. He'd opted to leave his hair rather messy, which was more than okay with her. If she hadn't known any better she'd say he'd just woken up, but the style choices seemed deliberate. Regardless, Y/N knew that whatever he'd shown up in would have taken her breath away.

She nodded, trying not to take too long to look him over. She held out her hands, the cupcake sitting in between them both. "Yeah, I did. Here's yours."

"You're not gonna tell me what kind it is?"

She laughed. "You'll just have to eat it and see."

"Well, thank you. It's pretty... You're pretty. Y-you look nice."

Y/N saw him take a breath right before blinking and looking down at the cupcake, peeling the wrapper away, and she almost forgot to say, "Thank you."

But she did.

And then he took a bite of the cupcake.

***

As soon as it passed his lips, Spencer knew. He'd been tasting peppermint all week, and of course that had just been him remembering the taste of her lip gloss before, but now the taste was unmistakably there.

It was the frosting, only faintly peppermint, but just enough to be highlighted against the sweet vanilla of the cupcake. The two flavors in harmony were just as much Heaven as she was.

He would have moved forward and kissed her right then had ne not already had a plan.

So, instead he nodded with a smile, swallowing the bite he'd taken and stepping forward to be closer to her. "It's amazing. Thank you."

He looked down at her, and she looked back up at him, her eyes just as beautiful as they had been the night of the Christmas party.

"You're welcome," she replied softly, eyes drifting to his lips.

Spencer smiled at her before passing her and walking to the kitchen, leaving her behind.

Little did she know, he was practically buzzing from head to toe.

***

The night passed quickly, everyone laughing, having drinks, and happily eating.

It amused Y/N that the vanilla peppermint cupcakes ended up being everyone's favorite by the end of the night. The team had no idea the reasoning behind the specific flavor, and she almost had to wonder what they'd say if they did know.

Though, she wasn't sure it mattered. Because Spencer had pretty much ignored her all night. Of course he'd talked to her if they were brought up in conversation together, but he rarely even looked at her, and in the event that he did, it felt purely platonic and unlike every other time before.

Was he ignoring her on purpose? Did he secretly hate the stunt she pulled with the cupcake and decide to punish her for it? Or maybe, she'd merely imagined the chemistry in the first place. It had all been a figment of her imagination, something her mind made up to make up for the fact that she sucked at dating and hadn't had affection from a man in years.

That last one seemed bit of a stretch, but at this point Y/N didn't rule anything out.

Eventually she shifted her focus to having fun with her friends, this found family she'd been happily apart of for three years. It was her first time hosting a get-together at her house, and she was proud to share it with them. In an effort to prove just how much it meant, Y/N made a toast right before midnight. The TV was muted, and she'd unmute it when the ball was ready to drop.

Looking around at all her friends, Y/N smiled gratefully. "I want to start this off by saying how sorry I am that it took me this long to invite you all over to my house. But hopefully I made up for it with all the sweets." A small group of laughter filled the room for a moment before she continued. "And I know New Year's is supposed to be celebrated in hopes of being a better person and bettering yourself in the future, but... I know all of you, so... That's already been taken care of. I love you guys."

"Here, here!" Rossi announced, raising his drink. Everyone else followed suit, and after taking a sip, Y/N unmuted the TV. There was about a minute left until the ball would drop, and it would be a new year.

After filling up her drink one more time, Y/N stood in the back of the living room to take in all of her friends, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the new year to ring in.

But someone was missing.

Just as she'd thought it, Spencer showed up beside her, and she turned to smile at him. "Hey."

"That was a nice speech," he said, setting his drink down on the table beside him.

You followed suit and nodded. "Thanks. It was kind of cheesy, but..."

"No, I... I think it was sweet."

Y/N wasn't sure what else to say, so she nodded, and looked back at the TV. There was about 20 seconds left, and everyone started counting.

She started counting with them, Spencer still at her side.

"19, 18, 17, 16..."

Before she even knew what was happening, Spencer's hand brushed out against hers. She thought it was an accident, but he'd been moving closer as the seconds rolled by.

But that couldn't be. Because she'd imagined everything before, so why wouldn't she imagine this, too?

"12, 11, 10, 9, 8..."

His heart was beating so fast in his chest, he could have sworn everyone around would be able to hear it. Time was running out, and he knew that he couldn't chicken out this time. Morgan had even spent all afternoon and the entire car ride here helping him figure out how to do it properly. And if he backed out then the teasing would be relentless.

"4, 3, 2, 1..."

The second Y/N finished chanting the final number, she felt a pair of hands grab her face.

And then Spencer's mouth was on hers, even better than it'd been before. Only this time, she kept him close to her when he tried to pull away. But he was happy to oblige, and they stayed like that, lips pressed together and hands caressing each others' faces. Maybe their friends were watching them, and maybe they weren't. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered but that kiss.

Y/N pulled away first, though she kept her forehead pressed against his. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, everything falling into place.

"What was that for?" she asked softly, though she didn't actually care.

"Payback," was his answer, plain and simple.

She rolled her eyes lovingly and then pressed another small, sweet kiss to his lips before they broke apart completely, and then she laughed.

"What?" Spencer asked.

Y/N ran her tongue over her bottom lip before patting his cheek. "You taste like peppermint."

[mgsapphire]

Ethics and morality... and how they're not the same...

Weird title, and I don't even know if I'll properly approach this one with all the topics I wish to this discuss in today's The Devil Judge essay, because a lot of things peaked my interest, I was debating on doing a separate post for each subject, but I'll do them all in here:

Starting simple

I know we're only 4 episodes in, but I want to break down the things that I often look for in a new show:

Cinematography

Soundtrack

Character building

Plot devices

Social commentary (sometimes)

Of course, these are things most people would consider basics, but I find that a lot of TV shows don't have enough balance in them. Also, cinematography and soundtrack are pretty up there for me because when a plot gets slow, or something like that, I stay for those two (biggest example: King Eternal Monarch).

The soundtrack in The Devil Judge is amazing and the cinematography can be a character of its own. They really get me hooked and are used as tools to properly tell a story. And I'll get into that further down this post.

The onlooker will never understand the actor

Experience is your best friend not only applies to job hunting, but it's true in the real world too. You can't truly weigh in on something unless you've experienced it yourself, you can give it your judgment and everything, but when bad things happen to someone, you'll never truly understand their pain. Am I bringing up because of the difference of mind in Judge Kang and Judge Kim's opinions? On how the public treated the minister's son? No. I'm talking about a very specific scene, where the cinematography told me to think that way and not the dialogue (it's that easy for my mind to be swayed). In episode 3, when the rich are about to dine right after the foundation's commercial for a better future, we see this aerial shot:

What's interesting about this? The seclusion and the enclosed feeling it conveys as a counterpart to the poverty shots we were just shown. Yet, these are the people making ads for a better future, what do they know?

They live comfortably behind concrete walls with no windows to see what goes on apart from the bubble they live in. This idea is further enforced at the party in episode 4, where they're not even a part of the donations, and watch and mock from afar as spectators. Yet, these people call the shots. They even call it commenting, as if they were watching the pain of others on TV.

The intriguing personality and the duality it encites

Now, this was a costume and wardrobe decision, but it was also very well thought of:

Judge Kim wears white and Judge Kang wears black. One is morally perceived by viewers of the show as morally good and the other is perceived as morally dubious at best. However, besides the costume and wardrobe thought put into this, we also have to think about the delivery of this scene and how it may further affect my detailing of this section. Judge Kang brings down the coats, and hangs over the coat to Judge Kim, he's the one who is making that annotation: You're pure, I'm tainted. This can have one of two interpretations:

Either Judge Kang believes Judge Kim to be pure and innocent due to his status as a rookie in the field

Or he believes Judge Kim to be morally white and himself morally black as he's looking at his brother's face and not at Judge Kim's heart.

Because most of the back story we're unveiling is through Judge Kim's perception, there's also an inherit bias we're having as well, because in Judge Kim narrative, he believes he's doing what's right and believes Judge Kang to be evil. In being served information about Judge Kang through Judge Kim's eyes, our bias is inherently skewed.

Another thing is that, when they put on the coat, they're standing in front of the other, as if the producers of this series are telling us they're two sides of the same coin.

The duality is made in more deceitful ways, which include:

A difference of classes that implies one has suffered while the other has not.

A difference of experience that implies one is more tainted while the other is pure.

A difference of age that implies one is a sly fox while the other one is is bunny about to be eaten.

A difference of temper that makes one erratic and the other logical.

Power dynamics

This one, in this one I could make a whole thesis based on just a couple of scenes in the drama. And you know I have to mention it: director Jung being the puppeteer.

It may not be as unexpected at first, nevertheless it brings forward a lot of things I've wished to touch upon for quite some time now. A woman being a puppeteer of an old man in the portrayed dystopia that The Devil Judge is painting makes much more sense than more common demonstrations of these dynamics where it's either a:

A man of power being controlled by a bigger man of power.

A man of power being controlled by a seemingly man of a lower status.

A woman being controlled by a man of power.

Although, there's nothing wrong with those power dynamics, and if they were to be used, a message could also be conveyed, this one in particular works as a megaphone.

A subversion of power in such a way can be interpreted as a true indication of the weak overcoming the powerful. Why? It is not that woman are naturally weaker than men, but that in society, patriarchy has been a big factor in taking voice away from women in order to give it to men.

In order for Director Jung to achieve her purposes, it's smarter for her to do it under the pretense that an old rich man in power is the one calling the shots.

This is better exemplified by her stance when the old man tries to excuse his behavior, and what her moral compass is. I'm not saying I agree with her unethical conduct, but that her morality is directly impacted by the perception of the public of her as a weak woman:

Just because a dog bites a human does the person get dirty?

This is telling on how she perceives the actions of the old man in gropping the waitress. She didn't do anything wrong, even if you touched her, you are the dirty one.

While she's evil, it's a refreshing and deep evil.

The public's opinion and how there's actually logic in the show's portrayal

The public opinion can make or break a person, even if it's not on a public trial like this. While "cancel culture" barely works in today's society, a person's reputation is forever tainted. The show does tell that, but it also exhibits the scary downside of it, by showing how easily it was to make people accept flaggelation as a fitting punishment.

There are many experiments that have tried to test the effect of societal pressure on an individual's decision and the effect of the authority's enforcement of power in the outcome of these decisions. Furthermore, theories based on analysis of human behavior not necessarily relying on experiments can also help break this down. What do I mean? Here's a small attempt at explaining:

Milgram Experiment on Authority: which measured the individual willingness to carry out actions that go against their conscience due to an authority's approval.

Argument from Authority; The idea that people are more likely to use an authority's opinion on something as an argument for their reason. This is often seen in science, where trusted authorities have done the research and offer it to the public. In here, authority bias also plays a role, as we often believe, at first, that an authority must be right.

Moral disengagement: basically speaking, because this is evil or bad, I'm not part of it and I most probably am not actively participating in it. One may disengage by moral justification, which means that before engaging in something that has been previously perceived as immoral, I'm changing my stance on it based on what I tell myself to be logical arguments. This particular form of moral disengagement is very effective in changing the public opinion. I'll be touching on another form further down this post.

Other factors played a part, but these ones in particular came to mind when public flagelation as a form of corporeal punishment was wildly accepted. First, an authority is the one telling them it's correct, to go ahead. Secondly, another authority (the minister) had previously shown approval to such unusual punishment. Thirdly, they are not the ones to be engaging directly in the act, and even if they were, it would be acceptable because an authority has told them so. They may even believe the punishment to be a necessary evil for the greater good.

In fact, the minister's son was actually correct when pleading his case, they were accepting it because it wouldn't affect them directly.

Regarding the cinematographic descent of the public opinion regarding the situation can better be exemplified by the old man we've seen through the episodes.

Does suffering justify misdeeds?

Today I came along the difference between excuse and reason. You may give a reason for your behavior, but it doesn't excuse it.

Not because I've suffered through shit, means I have to make you suffer too.

I may explain myself, but it's on the other side to excuse me.

Why I hate the unreliable narrator and why I love it so much

This story has been told mostly through the eyes of Judge Kim and what he hears and sees regarding Judge Kang, if anything, the narrative is very close to that of the narrative we've seen in The Great Gatsby. An enigmatic man is being narrated to us from the eye of a man who hasn't known him for a long time.

How is that an unreliable narrator? The narrator has their own set of bias and moral standards which function as lenses through which they see the world.

Another way of putting it would be the way teenage romances are often written in a first person narrative where either of the two teenagers is the narrator, so the author can sell to us something as simple as offering a pack of gum as the most romantic act on earth. We're perceiving interactions through rose tainted glasses.

In this case, we're seeing the interactions through Judge Kim's eyes who doesn't trust Judge Kang from the get go due to his own preset bias.

The narrative becomes even more unreliable as we're not exactly sure if what Judge Kang disclosed himself is a fact.

The reason why I love this narrative is because it leaves a lot of space to make simple plot twists to a narrative and make them seem grand, and can elongate a story without making it obvious.

The reason why I hate it is because sometimes, in tv shows mostly, we as viewers can see the other side of the story and grow increasingly frustrated with the main character's prejudice and misunderstandings (I'm looking at you my beloved Beyond Evil).

Also, because I have to wait for a long time before I actually have a clear picture of it.

[moonlit-han]

bad squirrel ↠ han jisung

genre: bad boy!jisung au, enemies to lovers au, high school au; humor word count: 2.8k warnings: so fluffy, swearing, mildly suggestive  |  gender-neutral reader request: yes (thank you for such a clearly imagined and fun request, anon!)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You’d never understood why Han Jisung had to be so loud.

Wasn’t the “bad boy” of the school supposed to be the quiet, brooding type? Not that Jisung didn’t do his fair share of lurking in corners doing gods knew what, sneaking out of the school to mysteriously reappear hours later, and drinking from a flask in the middle of class…. But he was just so damn loud. All the time! And because Jisung was loud in class, you strongly disliked him. Sure, he did his work (sometimes, like when the sun rose in the west) and had friends—two, to be exact: Chan and Changbin—but other than that, he kept to himself, yet was somehow loud. Jisung also strutted around the school like he owned it, looking much like a disgruntled raven.

As you were in the same year, you were intimately familiar with all his less-than wonderful propensities, and had listened to more gossip about him than you’d care to admit. Granted, that was simply to hear anything about him. You had a strange fascination with Jisung that somehow existed in tandem with your dislike—you couldn’t understand it. And, you commonly thought about him at the most random times; this also meant that you ranted to your best friend, Seungmin, far too often.

Jisung sat in the corner of the cafeteria with Chan and Changbin, and scribbled. He was always scribbling in a notebook he kept in his back pocket, and you wanted to know what he was writing—probably something like emo poetry. And today was no different. Occasionally, he’d look up and stare into the middle distance.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside his head?” you asked as you chewed a mouthful of your lunch. Seungmin saw where your gaze rested and rolled his eyes.

“No. Definitely not.”

“But would it be cool to—”

“Again, no,” Seungmin interrupted before you could careen off onto one of your tangents about the merits of this person or that. Except, this person featured all too commonly in those tangents, and Seungmin was tired of hearing it. “I don’t want to hear about the exact wave pattern in Han Jisung’s hair or how long you think he’d had that leather jacket. And I definitely don’t want to hear your thoughts on his skinny jeans.”

You smirked, turning back to the table in front of you on which you’d neatly arranged your lunch: grapes, almonds, a container of rice, and a mix of vegetables and fish. You hadn’t necessarily been planning to rant about Jisung, but now that Seungmin mentioned it…

“What do you think he does when he’s not in school?” you mused, chasing a bit of cabbage around the bottom of your lunch container with your chopsticks. “I mean, he seems to just exist in his own little world—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone except Minho and Chan, and even then, not that often.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Seungmin yawned, resting his chin on his hand. “Probably goes off to some corner and broods. That’s what guys like him do: brood and very obviously not talk about how emotionally distraught they are or whatever. But in a Byronic way—I don’t think Jisung has a violent bone in his body.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at your best friend, who was steadily losing patience with the whole conversation. “I can think of one bone that might be quite . . . angry and maybe violent but probably just hard. Good with forceful th—”

“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HAN JISUNG’S DICK, Y/N!” Seungmgin burst out, drawing stares from the other students seated at neighboring tables, including Jisung himself. You made to bang your head on the table, more embarrassed than you’d been in a long time.

Seungmin, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “Y-Y/N, oh my god, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me!” This was because you had started playfully but insistently punching his thigh. “It’s fine,” Seungmin continued, trying to reassure you. “It’s not like I said anything that would— Oh shit, he’s coming over here.”

You tried to slide under the table, but only succeeded in getting yourself stuck before shimmying back into your seat. You looked up just in time to see Jisung slide into the seat opposite you and lean meaningfully on the table.

“So, Y/N,” he drawled, flashing a feline grin at you. “What exactly did I just hear?”

“I didn’t say anything, Han,” you retorted, nose aloofly in the air.

Jisung sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe you didn’t say anything, but Seungmin definitely did.” Seungmin spluttered and shook his head violently, really not wanting to be drawn into your squabble.

“So?” you said casually, still picking at your lunch. Meanwhile, your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “So what if he said something?”

“Why would Seungmin say anything about me, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not like you two like me or anything.”

You just stared at Jisung. Why did he sound petulant? “No, we don’t. You didn’t hear anything, so go away!”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Jisung wheedled. “I know you’re curious….”

“Han, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung protested, leaning back as his hands waved wildly.

“I—” you began, and gulped. “It’s just… You’re just this moody guy who walks around like he owns the place. And you wear tight skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. How could I not assume you at least think you have . . . um, yeah.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seungmin moaned, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Jisung had leaned forward now and was staring at you intently. You looked away, even more embarrassed than before, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not quite sure what to say, besides the fact that I like my tight pants.” He paused, then chuckled lightly and winked. “And that you clearly like my tight pants, too.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and blurted. “Why are you even talking to us, Han?”

Jisung stopped as he rose from the table. “I was intrigued. Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Han winked, then turned and walked back to Chan and Changbin.

You just watched him go—casually appreciating the view—completely stunned. Had Han Jisung just said you were cute? Ugh?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Seungmin was shaking your shoulder. “Y/N, you might start drooling if you don’t watch out.”

Coming back to yourself, you hurriedly shut your mouth and demanded, “Did he just say I was cute?”

“How am I supposed to know? I had my fingers in my ears!” Seungmin exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Well, you are no help whatsoever,” you grumbled, and went back to eating your food.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, then said, “Do- Do you like him?”

You almost choked on your rice. “What?”

“Do you like him?” he repeated.

“The last time I checked, I definitely didn’t like Han Jisung. He annoys the hell out of me!”

Like the traitor he was, your best friend just made a ruminative noise and smiled down at his food.

↠↞

There was a park along the route you walked to and from school every day, and you liked to cut through to its other side as a short cut and to have some time in nature. Today, the leaves rustled loudly under your feet as you wove between the trees, distracting you sufficiently that you were completely wrapped up in your thoughts until your eye caught on a spot of black.

You stopped and squinted, brows furrowed ever so slightly. You couldn’t be sure, but that looked to be Han Jisung squatting under an oak at the edge of the park. Thinking the last thing you wanted was Jisung to see you spying—no, simply watching as you, too, strolled through the park—on him, you ducked behind a tree.

A few feet away from Jisung, assuming it was him, a squirrel sat on its haunches. It looked like he was talking to the squirrel, holding out his hand with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in its center. As you watched, the squirrel, clearly used to this sort of thing, scurried forward and then away, its prize of seeds securely held in its mouth. This happened several times: the squirrel snatching a few seeds, stashing them around the other side of the tree, then coming back to retrieve more from Jisung’s hand. Strangest of all, you could have sworn you heard cooing along the lines of, “Aren’t you so good? Yes, you’re such a good little squirrel. Ooooh mhmm that tastes good, doesn’t it!”

Seeing the boy stand, you pulled your torso back behind the tree and peeked out as he walked away with a spring in his step. Yes, that was definitely Jisung.

Lost in your thoughts, you began to walk home. Feeding squirrels and talking to them was not “bad boy” behavior—of that much you were certain. So, did this mean that Jisung wasn’t as bad as you’d thought? Or was he slowly killing the squirrel by lacing the seeds with poison?

You shook your head, scolding yourself for such thoughts. But the fact remained: Han Jisung fed the squirrels and acted distinctly cute around them, and seemed to drop the persona he cultivated at school.

In a nutshell: you were confused.

The next day, you walked home the same way and at the same time, hoping you’d catch Jisung with the squirrel again. As you neared the edge of the park, sure enough, there was Jisung. You wrestled with your conscience for a moment, then walked the last meters to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, shooting to his feet and almost hitting you in the nose with the back of his head. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I was walking home,” you said innocently, giving Jisung a bright smile.

The young man in front of you was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Did you see—“

“Did I see you talking to a squirrel?” You grinned now, crossing your arms. “Yes. Yes, I did, Han.” Jisung spluttered. “Not so bad a boy, are you?”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!” he begged. “Just because I wear all black, brood, and write emo poetry—“

“Hah! So you do write it!”

Jisung gave you a look. “Yes, I write poetry and song lyrics for my friends. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirped.

“Can you-“ Jisung sighed. “Can you at least not tell anyone that I feed and talk to the squirrels? It’s, like, my own way of doing good, you know?”

“Sure, I won’t tell anybody. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, the more you know…” Jisung said and, yet again, winked at you before striding away. You admired the stark contrast between his black clothes and the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaves on the ground.

↠↞

A couple of weeks later at the end of October, your English class was lucky enough to go on a weekend camping trip to experience the misty atmosphere in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Part of you thought that your teacher was a bit odd for wanting them all to get spooked by mist, but you couldn’t argue with the fact that the foliage was beautiful. After a long day of traipsing through the forest to find the perfect lookout point for the next morning’s mist viewing, the class gathered around a fire to eat and talk.

The fire was warm in front of you where you sat on a conveniently placed log; if you'd been any closer, you would have definitely singed something. You'd been a bit stupid and hadn't brought a proper jacket, thinking the evenings would still be warm at the end of October, but oh how wrong you were. Your nose was cold and your hands were even colder, a fact you tried to hide by sitting on your hands. Soon, however, your shoulders and back felt the slight breeze the rustled the leaves surrounding the clearing.

Across the fire, Jisung tracked your every move with bright eyes. In truth, he’d been watching you all evening and noticed that you were now cold. He noticed a lot about you these days, really. You didn’t see him quietly staring, his black clothes turning him nearly invisible, but you knew he was there on the other side of the flames.

You jumped a little, shoulders shrugging as warmth settled around them, and looked around. On the log next to you sat Jisung, like the piece of the night sky come to earth.

“Better?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah.”

The two of you sat there silently as your classmates gossiped and ate around you. Occasionally, you saw someone glance your way, then turn back to their friends as if Jisung’s stare repelled them. You’d expected to feel awkward around him, expected to feel some dark aura radiating off him, but it was easy to sit with Jisung. His leather jacket was wonderfully warm, it’s weight around your shoulders oddly comforting, and the faint smell of whatever soap Jisung used caught on the collar made you smile.

“Here,” Jisung said softly, holding out the flask that always hung at his hip. “Have a sip—it’ll warm you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m not going to drink, especially since we’re on a school trip,” you hissed.

“It’s just tea, Y/N,” Jisung said, tone affronted. “What did you think I had in here?”

“I- Tea is fine. Thanks.” You took the proffered flask and sipped what was perfectly brewed and sweetened black tea. The hot liquid sliding down your throat to your stomach was a delicious feeling. You returned the flask to Jisung, your fingers brushing as you did so.

The fire crackled, sparks flying up as sticks fell and broke apart. But these were not the only sparks that were flying around that fire. Between you and Jisung there seemed to be a thread of energy along which those other sparks danced, and, unexpectedly, you wanted to follow that thread to its end with the young man beside you.

Every now and then, you glanced at Jisung. And, every now and then, he glanced at you. After five tense minutes of this madness, you finally glanced at each other at the same time and smiled nervously.

“So,” Jisung began, “um…”

“Hmm?”

“May I say something?”

“I- Yeah, sure.”

Jisung took a deep breath, hands twisting in his lap. “Y/N, I have what’s got to be the biggest crush ever on you. And if you don’t return the feelings, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll make sure to leave you alone or whatever you want,” he said in a rush.

You wrapped Jisung’s jacket closer around yourself and turned slightly on the log to face him. The firelight danced in his eyes, the look in them soft and searching. His lips were parted slightly, as if to say something.

“It’s okay, Jisung,” you murmured, realizing that this was the first time you’d called him ‘Jisung’, at least to his face. “I think— I think I like you, too.”

Jisung’s face lit like the sun that would rise hours later with the dawn, his smile glorious. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Mhmm, I do.”

“That’s great,” Jisung breathed, and made to shift closer to you but stopped himself. “Um, so what now?”

“Want to cuddle?” You hardly believed that you’d just said that, but with Jisung’s jacket around you and him sitting so close, you couldn’t help it.

Jisung laughed and held out his arms to you, and you scooted closer to him so that you leaned against his as his arms went around you. After a couple minutes of shifting positions, the two of you settled. You could practically feel Jisung smiling behind you as you rested your head against his shoulder. Like your own, his heartbeat was faster than usual from nerves and excitement, which made you feel quite proud. You’d actually made the cool, seemingly confident bad boy of the school nervous.

Thinking you’d mess with him a little, you turned your face up to his and kissed his jaw. Jisung nearly jumped, which would have deposited both of you squarely on the cold ground, and then looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“Won’t know until we try, right?” you replied.

Jisung needed no further prompting and brought his lips to yours, sending a current of warmth along that thread between you. You had to smile because, completely unexpectedly, you liked kissing Jisung. You liked it a lot and would be perfectly happy to continue kissing him all night long, if given the chance.

Drawing back from Jisung, you noticed your classmates staring at you and Jisung, and smirked back at them. Unlike you, they didn’t have a cute boy to kiss and cuddle with. They weren’t the chosen person for the Han Jisung.

[kindahoping4forever]

When The Sun Came Up, You Were Looking At Me (Part Two) // Ashton Irwin

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this series so far - @cal-puddies​​ and I are having such a blast reading all of your comments and tags! Keep ‘em coming! (I’m especially curious to see the reaction to this installment. That’s all I’ll say for now.)

If you missed any previous chapters, you can find them all on the series masterlist linked below. And don’t forget we’re alternating posting duties so the story concludes tomorrow over on Cass’s blog! 

Warnings: Tension, teasing, tenderness. Alcohol, angst, arguments as foreplay. Scenes including female masturbation, rough, unprotected sex, bondage, spanking, manual stimulation of a female, male oral sex, hints of cum play and some general dom!Ash vibes.

Word Count: 7705

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Series Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

Ashton lets out a deep sigh as his alarm goes off. He tossed and turned all night and during the fleeting moments where he did sleep, the sounds he heard you making through his bedroom door last night invaded each and every one of his dreams.

He groans at the realization he’s so hard he can barely think straight. He doesn’t know how to process any of this without coffee so he meditates for a bit, attempting to will his body to calm down enough for him to head to the kitchen. He enters the room and rolls his eyes; the sight of you once again wearing that absurdly thin nightgown certainly doesn’t do his situation any favors.

You busy yourself at the counter as he approaches, not ready to deal with what happened last night. You were up all night thinking about it. Does he know you heard him? Did he hear you? As you move around each other, you avoid his eyes, afraid he’ll somehow detect the depraved things you dreamt about still lingering in your mind.

He reaches for the bag of coffee and doesn’t even realize he’s pressed himself against you until he hears the half gasp, half moan that falls from your lips. You drop the fork you’re holding and grip the counter, breathing heavy. Without thinking about it too much, he presses his lips to the spot below your ear, letting out a low groan as you jut your ass out to grind against him. You turn around to look him in the eye and there’s a silent agreement before he helps you hop up on the counter.

He reaches to pull your panties off and smirks when he realizes you aren’t wearing any. He tugs his shorts down and doesn’t even wait a beat before he pushes into you.

“Fuck, Irwin,” you moan, wrapping your arm around him, pulling him in so you can suck on his neck. His hands grip your thighs tight as he starts to pound into you, with little regard for whether or not you're ready. You love it, this was one of your favorite ways to be had by him: hard, fast and with no conversation.

Ashton's hands move around to your ass, pulling you closer, driving his hips harder against yours. He’s quiet, seemingly focused on getting off as quickly as possible, while your whines start pouring out quickly and loudly. He’s stretching you just the way you like, hitting the exact spot you need. It’s rough, it’s dirty, it’s Ash. You don’t ask for more because you don’t have to.

His soft grunts egg you on, quickly bringing you closer to climax. Your fingers dig into his skin as you whimper and squeeze around him. He lets you finish, waits for your grip to relax on his body before he pulls out.

He works his hand briskly over his cock and you rush to pull your nightgown over your head, not wanting to get cum on it; he aims for your stomach and chest as he finishes with a groan. He grips the counter on either side of you, boxing you in again, letting the hotness of his breath fan across your skin. He lets his cock soften up before he puts it away and when you reach for a paper towel to clean yourself up with, he leaves the kitchen without a word.

“Fuck… he didn’t make coffee,” you murmur to yourself. You decide you need to get out of the house before you do anything else you might regret; you take your breakfast upstairs and quickly eat while you get dressed.

You head into town, finding a coffee shop and some nearby stores to wander around. You try your best to clear your mind of his sounds from the night before, to not think about the way he just knew how to primally fuck you a few hours ago. But you can still practically feel him against you, his hands wrapped around your thighs.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you return to discover Ash finally left for his run; you make a drink to have while you relax by the pool, where you’ll likely spend the rest of your day.

When he gets back a while later, he passes the kitchen and watches you puttering around, getting ready to make another drink, noticing the way your bikini rides up to show off your ass. It takes everything in him to not walk over and smack it. Instead he changes clothes and heads outside, jumping into the pool.

By the time you’re settling back in your chair, he’s done swimming laps. He gets out in front of you, shaking out his curls, sending water flying everywhere, including on you.

“Ash!” You squeal, covering your glass with your hand.

He shrugs and drags his chair into the sun, collapsing in it to rest. “How many is that?” He asks, gesturing at your drink.

You scowl. “Sorry, I forgot where it was your business how much I drink.”

“Just wanna make sure you don’t drown… can’t have that on my conscience.”

You roll your eyes and carry on ignoring him until finally the sun gets too hot and you have to get in the water. You abandoned your latest drink to appease him but he's still watching you like a hawk.

You grumble as he jumps in the pool after you. “What’s your deal?”

“It’s hot, that’s all,” he replies before splashing you. “Relax, grump. How could you be upset? It’s a beautiful day, you got to cum this morning, you’re at this great house with a nice pool and an even nicer guy…”

“You know ‘nice’ isn’t my chosen descriptor of you,” you tease, splashing him back.

“Oh right… you prefer ‘asshole’,” he grins, swimming over to where you are.

“Well, your self awareness has certainly improved since we split.”

“So has your ability to handle your alcohol,” he bites back, playfully.

“Just trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings. Sierra said to be nice.”

“Literally the only time in your adult life you’ve ever done something that was asked of you.” He swims closer and you retreat back against the pool wall.

“That’s not true. I used to do what you asked in bed all the time,” you smirk, thinking you bested him.

Ashton licks his lips while looking at yours, arms settling on the wall above you. “In your own way, sometimes, you’d do as you were asked, but let’s not get carried away with ‘all the time’.”

“What can I say, I have a mind of my own,” you lilt, watching his tongue dart out to wet his pink lips.

Suddenly you can’t stop yourself. You pull him in and press your lips to his. He scoops one arm behind your back, pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss. His tongue is exploring your mouth and he’s nibbling on your lip when you finally realize what’s happening and push him away, giving yourself space to breathe. Both of your chests are heaving as you stare at each other for a minute before you turn and lift yourself out of the pool.

You wrap the towel around your body and grab your things. You turn to look at him again, still stunned in the pool, and you quickly run to your room. You can’t believe you were stupid enough to kiss Ash, can’t believe it still drives you wild. Your head is spinning and you’re not sure if it’s from his tongue or from the alcohol; either way, you decide it’s best to sleep it off. You change out of your swimsuit and curl up on the bed.

You wake up a while later, your mind still clouded by Ashton. You decide to shower and wash the day off; the last 24 hours were filled with him and hopefully it'll rinse him away too. You undress in front of the mirror and notice bruises his fingers left on you this morning, reminding you just how untouched you’ve been since the breakup. You stand underneath the shower head and try to focus on cleaning yourself, or literally anything other than how you used to shower with Ashton, but it’s not working.

You think about his large hands rubbing soap over your body, paying extra attention to your tits, the way he’d press himself against you when first getting in with you. The way he’d make you laugh while kissing on your neck or massaging your head when he’d wash your hair.

Your mind betrays you further as you remember the times he’d push your chest against the wall and take you from behind, holding you there until he had pumped you full of cum. Afterwards, he’d help you clean up, watching in fascination as his cum ran down your legs and towards the drain.

Before you know it, your fingers are on your clit, your other hand working over your tits, tugging your nipples. But the orgasm doesn’t come. You get close but your mind keeps reminding you that Ashton is in the house and he can do it so much better if you let him.

“Fuck,” you groan, hitting the wall. You get out of the shower and toss a robe over your shoulders, loosely tying it as you practically fly across the house to Ashton’s room. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with the door open and notices you immediately. You quickly close the distance, straddling him and pulling him into a kiss.

He pulls away and tries to ask a question but you hold your finger to his lips. “I was in the shower and I couldn’t stop thinking about you… your hands on my skin, the way you’d have me against the wall. Why take care of something myself when I could very easily have you do it?”

You go back in, kissing his neck. His fingers tighten on your hips and you feel him start to get hard. You slot your lips back with his, deepening the kiss until he’s grinding your hips down on him. Without hesitation, you ask with heavy breath, “Quick question: what were you thinking about last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were getting off last night?” You ask, pressing kisses to his jaw.

“Oh, you mean when you were listening and also getting off?” He lets out a filthy laugh. “Tying your ass to the bed and having my way with you like I used to.”

“Please, Ash,” you breathe in his ear.

“My cock in your throat, you choking on it,” he continues and feels you shudder, a slight moan rumbling in your throat. “I don’t have the patience for that right now and judging by the way you’re soaking through my shorts, you don’t either. So… guess I’ll just tie you up.”

He hungrily kisses you before grabbing your hips and lifting you off of him; he goes to the closet and pulls some bed ties out of his backpack. He struts back over to you and you lick your lips while staring at his hard on.

“Don’t get any bright ideas,” he warns. He pulls the tie on your robe to reveal your naked body and then gets you settled on the bed. He grabs your wrists and ties them together before securing them to the bed. He grins down at you and runs his fingers over your exposed skin.

When he starts to move on, you clear your throat, “You’re not going to finish this?” You ask, kicking your legs.

“Thought you’d behave since you want it so bad,” Ash mocks, sliding his fingers through your wetness. “But if you insist.”

You grin while he does it, enjoying the feeling of his hands all over you. He pulls his shorts off and kneels on the bed between your thighs. “To have you like this again… just a fuckin’ wet mess for me, huh?” He murmurs, rubbing soft circles over your clit with both thumbs.

“Yeah… yes.” You toss your head back at the feeling.

“Yes what?” He asks, smacking his hand over your pussy.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, you haven’t forgotten.”

He sinks his cock all the way into you and before you can fully enjoy it, he pulls his hips back and snaps them roughly into you again. Once he sets his brutal pace, his hands are everywhere: your thighs, your nipples, your throat, touching and teasing you the way you love, the way only he can. He grabs a handful of hair, pulling your head back; his teeth trace along your skin until his lips are at your ear. “Such a dirty fuckin’ Princess, aren’t you?” He asks, thrusting particularly hard. “So good for me though... pussy fits me so perfectly.”

Ashton pushes himself back up, taking full advantage of having you tied up for him: groping you, holding your hips as he pounds into you, smacking your thighs, leaving handprints on you. Every little thing he does works to push you towards the edge.

He feels you getting close and he smirks down at you darkly. “Already, Princess?” He teases, thrusting harder than you can ever remember him doing before, knocking your head into the headboard.

“Ash... Ash… sir… fuck fuck fuck.” You moan, pulsing around him, finally getting the release you wanted.

“Feel good, Princess?” He asks, slowing down. He feels your legs squeeze, trying to push him away a little but he continues even slower, giving you long strokes.

“Ash… fuckin’ hell…” you whine.

“You’re OK, Princess, you’ve taken more,” he soothes. “I’m almost there.”

“Cum for me… cum in me.” You pant, desperately. “I need it.”

He scoffs. “I don’t think so, Princess.” He pulls out and starts handling his cock, quickly sliding his hand over the shaft, letting out a loud groan as he sprays your torso with cum for a second time today.

He sits back on his heels a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you before untying your hands and gently rubbing your wrists. He does the same to your ankles and disappears into the bathroom.

He comes back with a washcloth and kneels over you to clean his cum off your body; you eye him, trying to get a read on the tone of the room. “I said cum in instead of on me because I just took a shower, asshole,” you comment with a twinkle in your eye, taking your chances that he’ll know you’re teasing.

Ashton has no problem catching your tone and matches it with a smirk. “Funny how I remember you saying you needed it,” he responds smugly, tossing the washcloth onto the nightstand and pulling on his shorts.

“Probably couldn’t hear me over the sound of the headboard obliterating that wall.” You sit up to tie your robe tight around your body, feeling unusually exposed now that the moment has passed.

He shrugs, laughing. “This is all on our friends’ dime, let them worry about the damages.”

Ash sits next to you on the bed and the two of you joke back and forth about the destructive sexcapades you could engage in just to rack up the cost of the rental as punishment for your friends’ meddling; your laughter mixes with his in a way it hasn’t in a long time and things feel calm for the first time today.

You absentmindedly rub your fingers over the slight indentation grooves on your wrist from the ties and he notices, grabbing your arm to inspect. “Oh, that’s nothing compared to the marks your hands left on me this morning,” you insist, pulling your arm back gently. You recognize genuine concern on his face instead of the arrogance you expected, so you backtrack a little. “I’m fine, Ash, relax… Why’d you have those things with you for a ‘writing session’ anyways? Planned on finally sealing the deal with Cal?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood and change the subject.

Ash snorts. “Last time the band stayed here, the night life wasn’t too bad,” he shrugs.

It takes a beat for it to click what he’s implying. “Oh… so… you’re upset about us enough that you need to come out here to write through our anniversary but not too upset to tie up some townies while you’re here?” You accuse, voice dripping with what you hope is enough judgement to mask your hurt.

He sighs loudly, running his hands through his hair. “Because it’s so much healthier for us to just emotionlessly fuck each other this week.”

“Good, glad we can both agree that this means nothing,” you snap, launching yourself off the bed and slamming the door behind you.

Ashton stares at the closed door, head spinning from how fast that went south. Part of him wishes he hadn’t been honest with you, said he’d forgotten those ties were in his backpack, spared your feelings, maybe even asked you to stay the night. But part of him wonders why he even cares about your feelings at all anymore.

He lays back on the bed, contemplating things. You’ve made it obvious day after day that you’re not interested in addressing what went wrong between you and up until he heard you moaning outside his door last night, he was convinced you didn’t want anything to do with him at all. If sex is all you want this week... well, he’s not going to deny he’s interested but he’s not sure if he can set aside how much he misses you. All of you.

The more he thinks about the situation, the more exasperated he gets; before he has the chance to talk himself out of it, he grabs his phone and dials Sierra. Her cautious “Hello?” is barely finished when he starts going in. “I know you think you’re doing us a favor here but you really crossed a goddamn line with this one,” he snarls.

She exhales loudly. “What are you talking about, Ashton?”

“This was none of your business! This was not your job to fix this and even if it was, this was a piss poor way of going about it,” he rants. She starts to interject but he cuts her off. “This isn’t a prank, this isn’t a social experiment, this isn’t even a cute story that gets told at weddings, this is real people who have real emotions being toyed with by a so-called friend.”

“I am your friend, Ash,” she says quietly.

“Friends don’t play god like this, Sierra.”

She sighs, used to Ash’s valid complaints being muddied by his self-righteousness. “Listen, I understand you’re upset and believe it or not, I didn’t love having to lie to get you two in the same place so I am sorry for that. But think about it from our perspective for a second? Notice I’m saying our because we were all in on it,” she points out. “We have the advantage - the heartbreaking, annoying advantage - of seeing this from both sides. We wouldn’t have done this if we thought you guys would get hurt, if we didn’t think good would come of it.”

In an unusually small voice, Ashton says pitifully, “She hates me, S.”

“You know how she is, she’s afraid if she lets you know how much she cares, she’ll get taken advantage of. You used to be the same way, dude.”

Quietly, he thinks out loud, “But if I’ve changed and she hasn’t… maybe we’re not compatible anymore.”

“I mean… that seems like a conversation you should have with her, Ash,” Sierra offers gently. “You just need to find a way to get through to our ice princess. But trust me, without giving up privileged information, I can tell you that what each of you are going through is really not that different.”

“Tell Luke he’s a rat for giving you intel,” he jokes, wanting to change the subject because he knows she’s right.

“Well at least that takes some of the heat off me,” she laughs. “And Ash? I love you guys but I’m blocking you both for the rest of the week - you have got to talk to each other and stop using me as a sounding board.”

He hangs his head in defeat. “That’s fair,” he admits.

“And everyone else knows to do the same,” she continues.

“Got it.”

The line beeps and Sierra cackles loudly. “Well. I guess I’m about to give an encore of this speech because guess who’s sent me 5 texts and is now calling me?”

Ashton laughs in bitter amusement. “Whatever she says I did, she did it first,” he says half-joking.

“See you when you get back, buddy. It’s gonna be alright,” she reassures him and then with a click, she’s gone.

You wake up once again feeling remorseful for how you acted the night before; you don’t regret going to Ash’s room specifically for sex - you could find dozens of reasons to justify that in your mind - but you know you shouldn’t have blown up at him afterwards like you did.

You hadn’t been with anyone since the breakup and Luke had let it slip weeks ago that Ash hadn’t either. So what if he had planned on blowing off steam with randoms when he thought he’d be here with the guys? Just because you’re taking it slow doesn’t mean he has to as well. You had no right to be hurt by this information because he’s not yours anymore; after months of reminding yourself that, you’d think you would’ve gotten used to the idea by now.

You figure he’s probably not ready to talk to you yet so you decide to show you’re sorry in smaller ways; you can tell he hasn’t been in the kitchen so you make coffee to the best of your ability and cut up some fruit for yourself, making up a small bowl for him, figuring he can either eat it or throw it into the juicer again.

You don’t want to drive yourself crazy waiting for him to come out of his room and you don’t want him to find you in the pool and misinterpret it as thirst trapping again so you go out for a light jog. It’s a good way to pass the time and although the quiet gives your mind a few too many opportunities to consider how Ash’s hands felt on you last night, you ultimately feel better when you return to the house.

You stop by the kitchen to refill your water bottle and while you can tell he’s definitely been in there, both the coffee and fruit you left for him are untouched. You shrug and peek outside where you see him reading by the pool, with a cup of coffee and breakfast sandwich he’d clearly had delivered. You roll your eyes a bit but resolve to be a good sport and poke your head out the door, tapping quietly on it to get his attention, and wave kindly. He looks you up and down in your sports bra and tiny running shorts and gives you the minimal greeting of a head nod before returning to his book. You feel like you can count that as a win under the circumstances.

Ashton watches you through the glass doors as you flutter around the living room before heading upstairs. He knows ordering in was bordering on petty but after his conversation with Sierra, he decided the best approach was to freeze you out until you decided if and when you wanted to come to him; things would be back on your terms and maybe you’d feel comfortable enough that progress could be made. He wishes these games weren’t necessary to get you to share your feelings but he respects the fundamental role they play in your relationship and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss them.

Your afternoon drags without any attention from Ash and you hate admitting how much you miss him. You busy yourself any way you can: showering, napping, you even answer a few work emails on your phone because you’re so bored. You hear him in the pool at one point and you sneak a few peeks out the window, just to see if he looks as good as you imagine.

Evening rolls around and you tell yourself you’re heading out to investigate your dinner options but really you’re hoping to see what Ash is up to. You find him shirtless on the couch, half paying attention to the TV, half paying attention to whatever is on his phone. You pass through to the kitchen as loudly as you can, hoping he’ll look up but he never does.

You slam every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen and he still seems unphased; you stand in the entryway of the living room and ask him if he’s hungry. You get a shrug in response and it both infuriates and excites you. If there’s anything you love more than being given his attention, it’s having to work for it.

You take a seat in the chair across from him and wait for him to acknowledge you; of course, he doesn’t. “Thinking about getting pizza, you interested?” You toss out, bracing for him to be irritated that you have a house full of groceries and still want to order in.

“Whatever you think,” he says flatly, eyes glued to his phone.

You read him the list of possible pizza toppings, trying to force even the smallest crack in his resolve; you only get a “Sure, whatever” and he turns up the TV.

You grit your teeth. “Do you want me to just let you starve since you’re mad at me?” You snipe. You see his jaw clench and for a second you’re almost sure he’s going to jab back at you. Your heart is beating so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if it was visible through the very tight, very thin shirt you intentionally put on before you came out here.

Instead of fighting back, he evenly says, “Not mad, just bored.”

The last 24 hours had been anything but boring so you’re not sure what to do with that statement. You try a different approach. “Well if you expect me to apologize for last night, you’re in for a long wait,” you say combatively.

Ashton’s eyes shift and for a second you think you may have finally won a glance from him but he’s now focused on the TV.  “I stopped expecting things from you even before we broke up,” he retorts.

That remark stings a little but at least you’re getting him to engage with you now, you can work with this. Once upon a time this banter was your foreplay and judging by the way he’s been absentmindedly licking his lips since you sat down, it still might be.

“So then you didn’t expect me to go to your room last night?”

He doesn’t even flinch at your question. “Did it surprise me that you were still needy even after I gave you my cock earlier in the day? No, you’ve always been like that.” His voice drips with disdain and you feel yourself involuntarily clench. “Didn’t expect you to be willing to admit it, though. Must’ve been pretty desperate.”

You get out of your chair and stand directly in front of him, blocking the TV, willing him to look at you. He remains nonplussed and goes back to his phone; a combination of desire to win this game and desire for him overwhelms your senses and you impulsively drop to your knees.

The way he’s manspread on the couch is annoying but convenient for the situation. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you slowly rub up and down his thighs a few times before running your hand over his crotch. His face continues to feign disinterest but his cock tells another story; he was clearly starting to get turned on from your bickering and you feel him hardening more as you stroke and squeeze him through his shorts.

You tug at his waistband and Ashton remains silent but lifts up to help you take his shorts down. Wasting no time, you push his half-hard cock up against his stomach with a plop and swirl your tongue around his balls before licking a stripe along the seam and continuing up the underside of his length. You run your tongue up and down, making sure you catch on every ridge, trace along every vein, enjoying the feeling of it growing firm underneath your tongue.

You kitten lick along the head for a bit, looking up at him to see his face wearing a blank expression, staring at the TV. “I don’t know, I’d say getting hard just from an argument seems pretty desperate to me,” you taunt.

Ash finally shifts his eyes to yours and victorious adrenaline shoots through your entire body; your celebration is short-lived, however, as he matter of factly states, “I’m not the one on my knees, Princess,” and immediately turns back to the TV.

You narrow your eyes, disappointed he’s refusing to play your game. Or is he actually playing it even better than you are? Either way, his attitude spurs you on and you wrap your lips around him, exaggeratedly sucking at his tip, taking your time before taking more of his length at a torturously slow pace. You make it about halfway down before you sloppily pull back up and start over, letting as much spit fall from your lips as you possibly can; you repeat this process a few times, hoping to make him impatient enough to say something to you.

Your plan works as you pull back up again and Ashton scoffs, “You plan on sucking that cock or just slobbering on it?”

You sit back, defiant. “Wasn’t sure you noticed I was down here,” you sneer. “Why put in effort if you’re not even going to appreciate it?”

He leans in close to you and the tone of his voice sends chills down your spine. “Please, you fuckin’ love that I couldn’t care less that you’ve got my cock in your mouth. You’ve been on your knees for less than 5 minutes and I’ll bet you’re already dripping,” he reads you in a smooth, low voice. “You’re so desperate for my attention? Try earning it, Princess.”

You breathe deep, willing yourself to ignore the urge to press a hand between your legs. His gaze is still fixed on you, challenging you with intensity. You reach for him and stick out your tongue, slapping his cock across the surface of it, trying to give him a show. He rolls his eyes and starts channel surfing.

Without missing a beat, you take him into your mouth and start bobbing again, only this time you brace yourself on his legs and try swallowing him into your throat; you’re out of practice so your first few attempts have you gagging around him. While it doesn’t feel great, when you pull off to catch your breath, you notice he’s muted the TV, presumably to better hear you choking on him.

You try again, taking him a little further before you have to pull off; you lick up and down his shaft and your eyes flutter up to see him actually watching you this time. When you take him again you reach for his hand and place it in your hair, hoping he’ll take the hint; he doesn’t have to be told twice and as you wiggle your head, trying to work him into your throat, you feel a soft but increasing pressure from above as he tries to help you down.

You pull up again, coughing, and Ashton dryly muses, “Feel like you used to be better at this.” You turn to glare at him but even through the tears in your eyes you can see the hint of a smirk on his face; he knows that comment is only going to make you work harder.

With no hesitation, you slide your mouth down his cock, bobbing rapidly, swallowing him further and further until you’ve reached your limit. You silently congratulate yourself when you hear a surprised groan above you; his hands come down to hold you on his cock and you stay there - sputtering, choking, and drooling but you stay. He lets go of your head and you take your time pulling off, hollowing out your cheeks, giving him some good suction before your next breath.

You raise back up, an obscene string of saliva leaving your lips connected to his cock. You move your hand briskly up and down his shaft as you look at him with self-satisfaction, “You were saying?”

He grins at your hoarse brag. “There’s my filthy Princess,” he praises, hoping you’re too caught up in the moment to catch his affectionately possessive slip-up. “So fuckin' needy, the second it's not all about you, you use it as an excuse to choke on my cock. Can never get enough of the feeling of me using your throat, can you?"

Ashton's harsh words serve as a delicious contrast to the tender way he's brushing his hand through your hair, smoothing out the knots his grip had caused; you close your eyes and bask in the intimate gesture. You try not to read into how much you're enjoying his care, as far as you're concerned this is just part of having won his attention.

The sound of his voice jars you out of your reverie. "Get up," he says sternly.

You do as he says and with his eyes now refusing to leave yours, he runs his hand up the leg of your shorts and over the front of your panties, which as he forecast, are soaked straight through.

He rubs your clit through the wet material. "Aww, Princess, what's got you so wet? Is it my cock? Me finally giving you even a fraction of my attention? Or is it because you have no way of knowing what's going to happen next? Maybe you'll get my fingers, maybe a thigh. You hope maybe I'll even let you sit on my face but you know there's a good chance the second you swallow my cum, I'm just gonna get up and lock myself in my room and you'll have to get yourself off, thinking about what I might've done to you. And that? That's somehow what turns you on the most, that's what has you feeling like you could cum for me right now but you wouldn't dare without my permission, isn't that right, Princess?"

You’re so turned on you don't think you're capable of giving him a coherent answer but it doesn't matter because suddenly his fingers dip inside your panties to give your clit a few rough, direct rubs before he pulls his hand from your shorts entirely; he wraps his hand around your wrist, yanking you onto the couch with him. You scramble to steady yourself, ending up on all fours next to his lap, head hovering above his dripping cock.

"Back to work," he growls, slowly but purposefully guiding your head back down. "Let's see how much of my attention you fuckin’ deserve after all this."

You feel one of his hands stroke down your back and settle just above your ass, his other hand on your head, gathering your hair between his fingers, getting ready to pull if need be. You take the hint and slip him between your lips, setting a slow pace to start with, curious how he’ll react.

You get your answer right away when you feel the sting of a sharp smack come down on your ass over your shorts; your jaw drops as you cry out in surprise, his cock falling out of your mouth.

“Teasing is a bold move at this point, even for a brat like you,” he remarks, spanking you once again, in the exact same spot so the sting never stops, just like you used to ask for.

You get your mouth back on him and feel him tug your shorts down as you work; his fingers trace over the skin of your inner thighs - just out of reach from where you want him but close enough it has you trembling.

Ash slowly moves between your legs as you try to deep throat him again; wanting some friction, you rock your hips but he puts an end to that almost instantly with a harsh spank that takes you by surprise, jolting you forward, shoving his cock into your throat, leaving you gasping for air.

You pull off, coughing forcefully. “Jesus, Ash,” you complain, glaring at him, breathless and annoyed.

He sweetly wipes away the tears running down your cheeks but his response couldn’t be more condescending. “Aww, Princess needed attention and now that she’s getting it, she’s mad it’s not exactly what she wanted,” he mocks. “Typical.”

“Do you want me to get you off or not, you ass?”

“I was minding my own business when you came over here and pulled my cock out,” he shrugs, smirking as he watches your face turn from annoyed to annoyingly pleased when he starts touching your clit. “Of course, if you stop, I stop.” Proving his point, he removes both his hands from your body and reaches for his phone again.

“God, you’re the fucking worst,” you grumble, mouthing over his tip nonetheless. You sink down, determined to disprove his claims of indifference; you bob with renewed vigor and start fluttering your tongue on the underside of his cock as you pull up. He must approve of the decision because he gruffly praises, “That’s a good girl,” and his thumb finds its way to your clit.

The two of you continue playing with each other, caught in a seemingly endless cycle of antagonism and lust: when you take his cock deep enough to make him moan, he can’t let you have that satisfaction so he teases your pussy relentlessly, causing you to dig your nails into his thighs until your legs stop shaking.

As your game nears its end, something resembling affection sneaks in on the both of you; praises and encouraging murmurs easily spill from both your and his lips and when he squeezes your shoulder and mumbles something that sounds a lot like “Baby, I’m gonna cum,” you think nothing of it.

You raise up, cheating your body out so Ashton gets a view of you licking over his slit, jerking him off into your open mouth; he slips his hand under your shirt so he can paw at your tit while he watches. Finally with a heavy groan, he starts cumming on your tongue; you let him see the first couple spurts before you wrap your lips around him, enveloping his cock with your warm mouth for the last moments of his release.

When he’s finished, you sit up in his lap and pull him in for a kiss, eliciting a surprised growl from him. You’d always talked about wanting to feed him his cum but never got around to it when you were together; his tongue darts out to swipe across your closed lips, trying multiple times to gain entry but never succeeding. He pulls back to look at you in confusion and you smugly open your mouth, showing him the substance you denied him and before he can say anything else, you swallow with an exaggerated “mmm.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” he mutters, pulling you into a real kiss, moaning into your mouth when he detects the faintest taste of cum left on your tongue.

The kiss continues as he shifts your body to lay in his lap, essentially cradling you in one arm while his other hand works its magic on your clit. You’re so worked up from this whole ordeal that your body starts shaking long before you reach your release and Ashton’s demeanor changes accordingly; he strokes your hair and speaks softly to you, telling you how good you’re being for him.

You lose yourself in the feeling, whimpering loudly when your orgasm takes you by surprise and you cum harder than you have all week, which is saying something. You softly cry his name and he answers with a soothing, “I’m here, Princess.”

He hugs you to his chest as you come down; you’re quiet, not wanting to break the spell you’ve both fallen under, not wanting to admit how much you’re enjoying being close to him. You trace over the tattoo on his rib cage; you’ve been admiring it by the pool all week and you wonder how long he’s had it but you don’t want to disrupt the silence to ask.

You move to straddle his lap and fit yourself against him, wrapping your arms tight around him and he does the same to you. You rest your head on his shoulder, tucking your face against his neck, trying to memorize this smell and this feeling, because it will end too soon.

He lightly kisses your cheek. “You still want dinner?”

You shake your head, not ready to return to reality.  

Ash grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps you in it; you groan when he reaches for his phone and you try to push away but he holds you tighter. “I’m just ordering us that pizza,” he reassures you. “I haven’t seen you eat anything today besides cum.”

You smirk against his skin. “I had breakfast.”

“Well… we’re getting pizza… Do you want breadsticks? Of course you do,” he chuckles to himself. “And ranch and garlic sauce and marinara… anything else?”

You smile that he remembers what you like. “No, that sounds good.”

After placing the order, he wraps his arms around you again, thinking about how much he misses your affection, you wanting to be on him like this. He knows fighting, silent treatments and pure aggravation is built into the foundation of your relationship - it's just who you both are - but he's always loved the quiet moments like this most.

This was what he was hoping to achieve by playing your game; he's not sure how long it'll last but he'll take as much of this as you're willing to give. He presses soft kisses to the top of your head and listens to you breathe.

After a while, Ash guides you upstairs and the two of you are cleaning up when the pizza arrives; he leaves you to answer the door and his heart flutters when he sees you come back to the living room wearing one of his t-shirts. He sets a water for himself and a mixed drink for you on the coffee table; you sip the alcohol sparingly, not wanting to dull anything you’re feeling in this moment.

After dinner, you decide to put on a movie and within the first 10 minutes, he’s pulling you to lay next to him, tucking you into his side. You fall asleep long before the film is over and he can’t get over how peaceful you look. He gently kisses your forehead and whispers, “Time for bed.” He starts gathering up the dishes and smiles to himself when he sees you get up and head for his room.

When he climbs into bed next to you, you immediately start pressing soft kisses across his skin; he hums, you can feel it in his chest under your hand and lips. “You know I’m not so tired anymore,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Thought you might say that,” he smiles. Your lips meet and he gets you both naked, pulling you underneath him. It’s a simple makeout session to start and you can tell by his actions he plans to keep things a little tamer than they’ve been. He runs his hand up your side and your leg instinctively comes up to wrap around his waist.

You didn’t get this side of Ashton a lot when you were together but it still feels natural as ever. He slips in gently, pressing his mouth to yours. It’s slow and easy, the two of you just fit and he loves feeling that. You slide one hand down to his ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he works into you. He falters slightly before pulling your thigh up to get deeper.

Your quiet whimper of “Ash” is almost enough to send him over the edge and he has to work hard to not let it. He’s missed hearing it so much and he’s forgotten the way it goes straight to his cock, something only your sounds have ever done for him.  

You let your head rest back against the pillow, exposing all of your neck for him as your back arches with his thrusts. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your neck. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He hooks his finger on your jaw to kiss you. You grab onto his wrist and he intertwines your fingers, bringing you closer together, the way he used to when feelings were raw between the two of you.

You whimper again, “Ash… I’m gonna…”

“Please, gorgeous,” he encourages, kissing you, moving his hips just the way you like. “I’ve got you.” You let your orgasm overtake you and with a muted groan of his own, he cums inside you shortly after.

He collapses next to you and you instantly push yourself onto his chest. You rest your head low enough to peck at that rib tattoo you can’t get enough of.

Ash watches you and has to bite his lip to stop the “I love you” that’s on the tip of his tongue. It never seemed like you wanted to hear it when you were together so you probably don’t want to hear it now. And he can’t risk pushing you away again. Not now. Not when it feels this good.

A beat passes and you quietly confess, “I don’t wanna go to my own bed.”

He gives an easy reply, as if it’s the simplest, most uncomplicated thing in the world. “Stay here then, Princess.” And that word just doesn’t have the bite it once did.

————-

Taglist is breaking the links in the post and I currently do not have the brainpower to figure out the problem lol. We’ll try again tomorrow but in the meantime, if you aren’t notified, you can always check the masterlist which will be updated everyday!

@mymindwide​​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​​ @pxrxmoore​​​ @loveroflrh​​​ @ghostofmashton​​​ @sexgodashton​​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​​  

​​​@cashtonasfuck​​​ @megz1985​​​  @angelicfluffs​​​ @findingliam-o​​​ @youngbloodchild​​​  @irwinsbetch​​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​​

@wiildflower-xxx​ @metalandboybands​  @realisticnotes​  @makeamovehemmings​ @golden166​​ @burstintocolor​

​@youngblood199456​​​​ @notinthesameguey​​​​ @seanna313​​​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​​​ @stardust-galaxies​​​​  @zackoid​​​​

@lovelybonesetc​​​​ @xsongxbirdx​​​​ @justhereforcalum​​​​   @ashtonangst​​​

@calumrose​​​​ @karajaynetoday​​​​ ​​​ @jazzyangel242​​​​ @babylon-corgis​​​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​​​ @calmsweetcreature​​​​

@spicylftv​​​​ @talkfastromance4​​​​  @holystxne​​​​

@meetmedowntown​​​​ @myloverboyash​​​​

@irwindoll​​​​​​​ @carrielfisher​​​​ @lukedorkyhemmings​​​​ @creampiecashton​​​​ @lovelywordsblog​​​​

@trix-arent-for-kids​​ @uh-huhh-honey​​ @tobefalling​​ @aladyofalbion​​ @likehuhdude​​

@curlycalums​​​​  @cxddlyash​​​​  

@fedorable-killjoys​​​​  @iamcalumswhore​​​​   @i-like-5sos​​​​  

@aquarius-hood1996​​  @babylonashton​​  

@begluketostay​​   @mateisit-balsamic​​​

@crazyforcal​​​   @neso-k​​​   @deliciouslydisturbed365​​​  @blxndeprincess​

[nambamjun]

Star Stuff {SMG}

Pairing: (Hufflepuff) Song Mingi x (Hufflepuff, Gender Neutral) Reader

Genres: Hogwarts AU, mutual pining, friends to perhaps lovers, fluff, some angst

Warnings: I think one or two instances of slight language? Nothing too too bad though

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I’m finally and officially done with university for the semester! Off and on break till the fall, which means I’ll have a lot more time to write! I’m home with my cat and it’s missing Mingi hours (as per usual) so I figured why not put a lil thing out here super quick? Comments and (constructive) criticisms are always welcome, hope you enjoy ~<3

You stood on the top most floor of the astronomy tower, pulling your jacket closer to your frame and breathing outwardly before burying your nose deeper into your house scarf that wrapped tightly around your neck. The crisp October air swirled around you, miscellaneous leaves dancing around the floor as it tousled your hair. You looked at your wrist watch, a gift from your muggle friend back home. Staring at the face you wondered how she was getting on these days. Sure, it had only been two and a half months since you had seen her last before leaving for this term, but knowing that didn't really make you miss her any less.

To keep you company while missing old friends, though, you made new ones. Friends that you didn’t have to hide a pretty substantial part of your life from... aka, anything to do with magic. While it wasn’t as if you were popular you did have a few people who really exemplified the saying “quality over quantity”, and you knew that just as you would always have their backs, they would always have yours. Seeing as most of them were hufflepuffs including you this wasn’t too surprising. Most, not all, but hey the value of loyalty was held quite highly in your close knit group.

Speaking of a hufflepuff friend… you zoned back in to your wrist. 11:37pm. You stuffed your now icy hand back in your pocket and huffed. Where is he…? This wasn’t the first time you two had snuck out after hours, far from it. Still, you hoped he hadn’t been caught. That would have definitely weighed on your conscience. I’ll give him until ten of midnight. Thirteen minutes is enough time, if he isn’t here by then… I guess I’ll head back and hope that he just fell asleep or something.

And that is what you did. Five minutes... eight... eleven... thirteen... heck, fifteen. You gave an extra two minutes, but you could only wait around for so long. Briskly walking towards the door the only thought in your head was that you hoped he was warm in bed and that’s all there was to it. Well, that and the hopes that you, too, would be in that same placement in your own room. Lost in thoughts of blankets and pajamas, however, you failed to see someone start to come through the doorway just as you were about to exit. Your bodies crashed together and you stumbled backward, about to give them a right piece of your mind, but any anger faded instantly when you looked upon the apologetic yet smiling face of your best friend.

“Song Mingi how dare you keep me waiting,” you pointedly whispered, lightly pushing him with your fist. “You had me worried! I had half a mind to send an owl straight to your room!” He started chuckling at your reaction and despite wanting to just be a tiny bit dramatic you couldn’t help but let his contagious smile spread to you. “So you’re laughing at me now, okay, I see how it is-” you started to throw your hands up in mock frustration.

“Oh come on, stop being a drama queen. Besides, I’m here now!” You crossed your arms and tried your best to look as indifferent as possible. He sighed and gave you a big eyed stare. “I’m sorryyyyyyy...”

Well who could stay mad at that face?

You relented, stepping forward to give him a short hug before returning to your bundled up state, nose once again deep in your yellow and black scarf. Wordlessly you two made your way over to the usual sitting spot on the side steps and sat down, backs leaning against the wall. You allowed yourself to scoot right next to him and lean into his side, sharing the warmth as your eyes gazed out into the expansive night. You didn’t know he was looking at you until he lightly muttered, “is it just one of those nights…?” You looked up at him, his eyes soft and compassionate, and felt a flood of warmth bloom outward from your chest. You hummed and slightly nodded your head before lightly placing it back down onto his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, just put his cheek on the crown of your head and moved even closer.

It was times like this that you felt truly at peace. Here, with him, thoughts of all of the assignments you had to do didn’t even cross your mind. School drama was little more than something to chuckle at. Being homesick wasn’t even an issue, because although you were far from your family, you felt at home with him. Yes, the assignments were still there, and maybe two of your other friends were in the middle of a fight that put you in between them, but all of it would work out eventually. You’d be able to get through it all with him by your side. You grew up together, him having been one of the first friends you made upon arriving and being sorted into the same house. Now it was both of your sixth year. The fact that you didn’t have all the time in the world for moments like this loomed over your head sometimes, and it scared you that after this it would be time for the real world, where summer breaks would be no more and nights like these… you hoped they would still happen but who knows? Adults go their separate ways sometimes.

Actually, no, it wasn’t adulthood that scared you. It was the change. Being ripped away from everything you knew, maybe even everyone, just to start something else, whatever that would be. But you were especially afraid of losing him. Not being able to see his beautifully unique smile every day, hear his laugh that was sweeter to you than bird song, or even just exchange little looks so many times a day to have two second long silent conversations that the others wouldn’t be privy to.

Did you have feelings for your best friend? No.

Were you in denial about that? Well… maybe…

Were you going to do anything about it? Absolutely not.

Because he’s your best friend, and you his. You couldn’t - you wouldn’t - afford to change anything from where it is now. Moments like this still had to happen. You wouldn’t know what you would do if they didn’t, let alone if he looked at you differently. Treated you differently. Or even, worst case scenario, left altogether.

You blinked and forced yourself out of your head. You wanted to be in the moment and enjoy every moment with him you could, as fully as possible. All of that could wait until later. You took a deep breath inward and released it, letting yourself revel in the serenity you felt beside him. Little did you know that Mingi was thinking almost the same exact thoughts, with the same worries, and the same fears pitted in the bottom of his stomach. Looking up at the stars without tilting his head he thought to himself that he wouldn’t let any of that happen. He wouldn’t let you drift apart, in fact he would do everything in his power to make sure that the bond between the two of you would be stronger than ever. He allowed a small grin to work its way onto his lips. Right there and then he started plotting.

Maybe Yunho could do me a favor and get the Gryffindor quidditch team involved. That would be so cool, with sparkling letters in the air that would fly out of the ends of their brooms! Is there even a spell for that…? What about maybe putting something like a slip of enchanted paper into that one book? No that might be too subtle and easy to miss. Maybe she’s not into grand gestures though. What wouldn’t be too big but yet still somehow grand? OH! OH! What about that one plant in herbology that blooms those little flowers she loves so much? Maybe I could…

~~~~~

As his mind ran away from him the stars twinkled on above you, hearing the way your two minds crossed so beautifully and whispering to one another about where they thought it would lead. They looked down on the pair and sent some good old fashioned celestial luck to the young romantics. They knew soulmates well enough, and knew that luck wasn’t exactly something they needed in the first place, but why not? It couldn’t hurt. And besides, Mingi was coming up with so many ideas. He could use that energy to help him pick one of them and make it as perfect as possible. After all, to him, you were deserving only of perfection. Nothing less. And he’d be damned if that wasn’t exactly what you got.

[gisellelx]

Hi! Saw you mention Carlisle, Esme, and Rose display signs of PTSD, and Jasper is sociopathic. I agree on Esme, but was stumped by the others. Could you explain what you meant?

So I admit this is mostly coming from that fateful dinner table conversation we see in Midnight Sun. A lot of the Cullen family dynamics get revealed in that conversation. Having read the draft dozens of times years ago, I noticed every single tweak SM made in the final published version. And she brought all of these aspects even more to the fore in the final version than were present in the original.

Mind you, I tend to disregard a lot of this because I read the characters as presented in canon as cardboard. Meyer needed them as props to Edward and Bella's epic love story and so she gave them these very rigid personalities so that they didn't affect the story in ways she didn't want them to. So I tend to assume they are more complex people than they are presented as when I write them. However, the way they are presented is consistent with major issues, and that, too, can be fruitful to think about and explore.

Let's start with sociopathy. First, let me acknowledge that this is not a term that gets applied by psychologists. It's antisocial personality disorder. Sometimes, people who have it are described as not having a conscience. Now, Jasper's gift makes that kind of impossible--by the time we meet him in canon, he's suffering from the weight of the feelings he feels. But we don't get remorse from Jasper. He's not spending a lot of time thinking about what he's done in his lifetime before Alice (directly contrary to how I have written him in the past). His solution to the Bella situation is just...let her not wake up some morning.

Jasper's entire approach, throughout the saga, is pure strategy. Fighting James? Do what is necessary, including splitting everyone else's mate off from them. Fighting the newborns? Train everyone, recruit the wolves at whatever cost to them. And the only reason we don't get his take on His focus is singular: Alice. Whatever the safest outcome is for Alice, that's the one, no matter who else is implicated.

One might think that an empath might approach this all differently--that someone who is forced to suffer the heartbreak of all the other people around him might choose paths which mitigate his own suffering, at least a little. But he never takes this road. Even Carlisle, who by all accounts, seems to be able to sway all the other members of the family, is powerless against Jasper. It's only Alice who can keep him in check.

Psychopathy and sociopathy are sometimes described as being the difference between whether someone has a conscience or not. Sociopaths have a conscience but are theoretically willing to sidestep it when the outcome is favorable. This is canon Jasper to a t, and the fact that he remains this way, after gaining his vampire curse gift, just says all the more about him.

Rosalie, in canon, has mostly disassociated. She is absolutely singular in her pursuit of the only thing that matters to her--making everyone else pay for the fact that Carlisle robbed her of her humanity. The reason I'm willing to armchair psychologist this as PTSD rather than sociopathy like Jasper is that this is not about winning or having a particular outcome. She is acting out of woundedness. We see this in the way she acts at the dinner table--mostly concerned with the effects on her personally, if the Cullens have to move, on the way she handles Bella's humanity, taking until almost a year of elapsed time, even without the New Moon separation, to explain to Bella what what her issues are, and then her hyperfixation on Renesmee, which was not at all about Bella, of course. She responds to the world out of the pain of the worst moment of her existence. Some other PTSD symptoms that Rose exhibits is a general sense of hopelessness, difficulty maintaining close relationships--even with Emmett, we get the impression that their relationship is based on his adoration of her beauty and their wild sex, not on their intimacy. And of course, of all the Cullens, she's the one most prone to angry outbursts, yet another symptom. I happen to think those are usually justified, but they could be read as pathology just as easily.

Ah and Carlisle. This might veer into my headcanon a bit too much, but I'll try to stick to what's on the page. He is constantly, constantly reacting to Edward’s rebellion. I don't think that Rosalie was turned to be Edward's mate. But I do think she was turned because Carlisle was thinking of Edward. He has spent three hundred sixty years running from who he is. There are some theological reasons for this, but there's a perfectly valid worldly explanation for a lot of his behavior in the saga that he's constantly acting out of trauma to keep his family together by hook or by crook. Turning someone into a vampire just because his daughter, who hates him, asked? Drugging a woman by the side of a Phoenix freeway? As a writer, I find several of his actions to be just bad, uninspired writing. But if we take them at face value, you have someone who is constantly trying to patch together things that won't patch. The part where my headcanon comes in is that I read everything that happens after 1931 as a desperate attempt to keep Edward from ever rebelling again. We don't get a sense in canon of exactly how Carlisle felt about that, except for the intense feelings Edward has about Carlisle. If one assumes those feelings are mirrored even a little, Carlisle was undoubtedly traumatized by what Edward did (and, by extension, what that means for his own neediness and loneliness to have turned Edward in the first place), and his every choice after then is about keeping Edward from ever doing that again. Perfectionism, unwillingness to let down one's façade, ineffable optimism--as weird as it seems, these are also very classic trauma responses and Carlisle has them all.

This post is long enough already but there's another layer here in SM's canon that vampires can't change and what that means for the way they respond to trauma. Suffice it to say that I don't think Twipires experience mental health the same way humans do, and that some aspects of what is canon about who they are results in people who must, by definition, be quite effed up.

[of-tatooine]

for the record. | chapter 1 - alpha

off-duty time would not last you for too long.

After all these years, the world never ceased to remind you that rules never changed.

While the players of the game always rotated along with the enemy and the friendly alike, this dangerous life that many chose to lead had undeniable constants - etched onto your brain in a devout mantra, something to remember in your darkest or most fleeting moments.

Kill, or be killed.

That was the first thing that they taught you, at the beginning of those long and arduous days of training in the barracks. Scout out the situation and if there is any sign of remote danger, pull your gun first, or you will end up with a bullet in your head. Sometimes, it was better to shoot first and then ask questions - if you were still alive by then.

Though in your line of work, the learning phase never ended. Warfare shifted and changed constantly, forcing you to adapt. It was something you had to just come in terms with. At that point in your career, as sad as it was to think about it from a civilian’s perspective, it was all more creative and effective ways of getting confirmed kills. New weapons, new tactics brought with them new problems - along with new ways of dealing with them. Technology tackled advanced aircraft and armor, adding up to your arsenal.

One thing remained the same.

It all added up to the big stirring pot of the everlasting recipe - mass destruction.

And with destruction came in the casualties. The aftermath of modern combat. The rivers of blood on pavement, hands clawing at the burnt metal, scathed bodies crawling out of the smoky debris. Sights and sounds and screams you wanted to erase from your memory for a lifetime. The pain coarsing through the body after the penetration of a bullet. Sickening roars of helicopter engines giving out.  

Yet, as a soldier, all you could do, all you were authorized to do was to bury them deep down - so you could live to see another day. Another day to fight for the flag. For peace, for honor and for the sake of lives.

The lives of many against your only.

The warm mug a welcome distraction in your hands, your eyes would wander around the busy Regent Street of London, people walking around in the usual hustle and bustle of the shopping district. The smell of freshly ground beans from the cafes scattered around, mixing in with the pleasantness of the gray post-rainfall. A spectrum of vibrant colors of shopping bags and clothes pleasing your eyes - it had been a while since you had gotten to enjoy a couple of hours all saved for yourself. The book whose pages were between your fingers moments ago then closed, as your conscience lost itself within the faces creating the sea of people.

The lives you were sworn to protect. Sometimes it felt like remembering another life, far far away - that you had been one of them. A civilian. Who needed protection in times of immediate danger.

Some were smiling and laughing, without a care in the world, radiating energy and happiness which had been a blessing in the usual London gloom. Some were in professional attire, their strides just a bit faster  and their expressions harboring that of stress, concern and exhaustion. Not too long ago, you had been one of them - but your brain did not let you dissociate from the constucted reality you had left just yet.

None of those troubles mattered when snipers left and right rained bullets on you. The stress of studying for a big test was nothing compared to being caught in blast radius, fearing to look around you so you do not see your friends dead and gone.

The echoes of your last name originating from an accented, deep voice reached your ears, rippling inside the busy cafe you had chosen to visit for the day. Coming closer and closer until they associated with a couple thuds of heavy feet and finally, a face, as you turned around to face whomever was looking for you.

Out of all places, Captain.

It did not take you too long to get to your feet out of respect and sheer habit, offering him a nod in an attempt to hide your surprise. “Sergeant,” he would greet you with your rank, the commanding voice he used on the field to lead dampened - yet still powerful. It even had a small smile attached to it too, which was not unusual.

It made the thumping of your heart slow down. A civilian visit from your Captain usually meant bad news and noticing his mouth curl up under the beard calmed you down more than you ever thought.

“Captain Price,” you greeted back, arm gesturing to the seat right in front of you across the marble table, inviting him. “Please.”

The man, whom you had become so used to seeing in the famous military green was dressed in the simple and casual combination of a black jacket   with jeans. It was a welcome change - not often did you see your commanding officer at a coffee shop in the heart of the city. Consequently, the air had been a bit awkward - just like how it felt when you felt the need to always show your best self, like there had been no room for mistakes.

That did not mean you could not try to get on his better side.

“Can I get you anything, Sir? Tea? I doubt they have a good pint here.”

That was when he looked directly in your eyes.

They said all soldiers had this blur in their eyes wherever they looked at. That no matter how happy they had been, no matter how much sparkle covered their worn-out irises, the dusty haze that veiled them was ever present. His familiar blue glint was subdued by some unknown, yet not lifeless. Not soulless. There was some sort of drive fueling him, the origins of it unbeknownst to you - the only thing you could discern was that it must have been for some good, judging by his chuckle and the slight shake of his head.

A file stamped with the all-too-familiar red confidential sign slid across the white marble along with him as he got settled in the chair, leaning his elbows slightly over the top.

“Raincheck, Sergeant, but I do have something that you might like.”

And with that, his fingers pushed the rather thin file over to you, blue eyes gazing around the shop as he undoubtedly made sure everyone was minding their own business. Here at London, he knew he had been safer than most places and yet you could only attest to the cautiousness of the man.

An eyebrow slightly raised as you leaned a bit forward, the initial welcome surprise slowly yielding to apprehension of what was inside the document. Another mission assingment had been the last thing you wanted to see after the literal living hellhole of the battlezone you had last been to. A part of you did not want to open up that cover but the other half of you yearned desperately to.

With a quick look to confirm, once you got his nod, you yielded to your other half.

And with every second spent looking at the papers containing profiles and overviews adorned with the faint Crusader shield watermarks, your eyebrows would furrow even more in confusion. Towards the bottom of the page, you could spot the one-liner character profiles for soldiers - some you had recognized and worked with, some names ringing no bells at all.

Then there it was. It was a mystery to you why it had taken you that long to find it. Right under the line occupied by a certain “John ‘Soap’ Mactavish” was your full name, with a old picture of you that belonged to one of your earlier days of training.

What the hell kind of a name is Soap?

“Now, I know you’re on the reserve for the time being,” Price spoke, breaking you out of your silent concentration as your head snapped up to divert focus into him. “But your skills in combat were not unnoticed.”

That made you proud inside, yet on the outside - it manifested in a subtle way of a simple yet courteous nod as you waited for him to continue. Closing the file for the time being, you felt the air shift as he leaned in towards you - voice dropping lower and tone growing grave.

“We have a huge war looming in the horizon, Sergeant,” he said, piercing orbs staring right into your soul. The kind of stare that could have the toughest of soldiers crack and break down, that could stop the bullet in trajectory.

“Millions of lives are at stake. You saw what happened in Urzikistan - you were there, on the frontlines.”

The mere mention of the place made your jaw clench and a gulp run down your throat, the memories of utter bloodshed still fresh in your mind.

“It is going to happen again.”

“How can I help?” slipped out of your mouth before your brain could control it, completely forgetting the fact that you had been granted off-duty time and was currently on it. Forgetting that you had to worry about taking care of your own demons in your head first, before jumping right into a war you thought you had just ended.

“I want you to be on my team,” he simply said, a look of reassurance thrown your way as he folded his arms on the table, head tilting just a bit to gauge yur reaction. His finger reached out to gently tap on the folder, gently opening the tab and pointing to the list of soldiers including yours truly.

“You will be working with handpicked warriors, the toughest of them all. Undertaking the most covert and dangerous operations - changing the world as you do it.”

There was this tone of finality in his voice that made it feel natural for you to follow everything he was instructing you to. Of course it was - he was your commanding officer, yet what he was asking out of you this time was much more than a simple recruitment for an operation.

No, what he made it sound like was that his team would be something akin to a ghost - working behind enemy lines, not alerting a single soul. It honored you that he had included you along with the names of seemingly renown soldiers, selected for off-the-grid duty due to your previous success. But was there really a need to add any additional danger to your already-risky life? It was a miracle you had not died yet and you were not so sure if another covert operation team would help with your chances. These kinds of operations only ended in either of the two ways - your mutilated corpse in a body bag or carrying your friend’s instead.

There probably also would not be many other occassions where Captain Price, one of the most trusted officers in the Services, would approach you with such an opportunity.

As your mind raced in crazy thought traffic, the sounds of the outside world and the otherwise peaceful cafe had been muffled. It was only you, him, and that little paper file you grazed your fingertips on, in order to maintain at least a slice of reality. Decisions like these had never been easy to make, especially when they would completely change your life and possibly your entire outlook. They never would be easy - there was not much “easy” associated to your line of work.

And yet going into it in the first place was something you had willingly chosen.

After all of that blood, sweat and lead - how could you say no?

Taking a deep breath as your lips moved to echo your determined voice, you spoke sofly with a nod. Chest loosening as you let out a breath you had no idea you had been holding for so long.

“I’m in, Sir.”

The ghost of a smile turned into a real one as his hand extended itself over the table, an almost proud nod as you shook it as firmly as you could.

“Welcome to the 141.”

next chapter

[arbitrarygreay]

So the thing about Lois and Clark is that it's His Girl Friday and Lois is Walter and Clark is Hildy, and in an amnesiac-Clark scenario, it's It Happened One Night and Lois is Peter Warne while Clark is Ellie Andrews. Lois is a ruthless gremlin of a classic investigative journalist. She's in it for journalistic GLORY, which is why she can never resist getting involved in all of her stories. In certain ways, Lois should be more like Lex, the ambition, the understanding of power. Clark, meanwhile, is a journalist for the human connection, fascinated with peoples' stories. He wants to tell them, and acts as Superman not to be a part of the story, but to facilitate the continuation of them (becoming part of the story is only a side effect). Where they meet and agree is a hatred of people getting stepped on. Lois hates it because she puts herself in their shoes and she would HATE being in that position, so she wants to fight back. Clark hates it because of his empathy, seeing that their spirits, their potential, is not being nurtured. Lois is about punishingSPITING the perpetrator, and Clark is about making the victim whole. And then, of course, as their relationship develops, they begin to take on aspects of each other. Clark begins indulging his own pettier instincts when it comes to annoying Lois, but also starts seeing the bigger institutional picture under her tutelage. Lois starts seeing the individuals in their own right more, which helps her cultivate sources where she drove them off before, as well as seeing new angles of damage. (Superman is the one who pushes her on her own integrity. Superman makes her Feel Things, but Clark makes her feel things about others.) But also, that I really mean it about His Girl Friday, including the ending. Clark may be sometimes frustrated that Lois is a scoundrel, but he also wouldn't want her any other way. If she didn't do underhanded things to get it done, he would be alarmed. And in turn, Lois will not stand for Clark wasting his talents on things she doesn't deem worthy of him, even if that pesky conscience pokes her every now and then. Damn, but that boy can write. She won't let Clark settle, and the only way that doesn't include her are the few moments when she thinks that she might be the settling option. (The hilarious thing about The New Adventures of Superman, specifically, is that the Lois/Lex relationship is really more like an AU case for Lois/Bruce, and a Clark/Lois/Bruce love triangle.)

[lovelivingmydreams]

A might have been part 2

Okay listen. If you really believed for even a moment that I was going to make an alternative past for @kingcreativityau where King got to be friends with baby instinct/fear and write all the way up to the split and then not include everything that happened after... Do you guys know me at all? My brain will not be sattisfied with this narative until i have written at least up until the return. And if there ever comes a time where the og comic comes to a conclusion, you better believe I’ll write how all of those events transpired in this alternate version of the timeline. So like it or not, at least two more parts are coming. So there. Enjoy!

part 1 here

A friendship for the ages

Creativity blinked in confusion. What… What was he doing? He looked up and saw… Himself? “Wow, you are just like me!” they chorused. They looked at each other stunned for a moment before they burst out laughing. They got up and shook hands. “Creativity,” they introduced themselves, laughing once more. “Wow, no kidding,” they snorted. “King?” a broken voice wondered. Both looked up. Curious about who spoke. Someone about their height took a step closer, pushing away from a smaller boy. Wait they knew this guy right? The name was at the tip of their tongue. “Not me. Is he talking to you?” they both wondered, looking at each other. “Guess not,” they shrugged. But King did sound familiar, though it didn’t quite feel like them. “I call Prince!” the one in the red cape declared. “Why?” The green caped one pouted. “Because I was first to call prince!” the prince reasoned. “Oh… That makes sense. Then I’m duke!” duke grinned. They turned to the boy, both grinning widely. Seemingly unaware of the atmosphere surrounding their appearance. Prince stepped forward proudly. “I am Prince!” he announced with a bow. “Nice to officially make your acquaintance.” Because they did know him didn’t they? Why was it such a mess in their heads? “Duke!” the other cackled. “Duke, dukey!” he giggled then. “I’m dukey,” he exclaimed with glee. “This… Is quite the unexpected turn,” a taller boy with glasses said. “Unexpected? You killed king! And all you can say about it is that it was unexpected?” The familiar boy cried, making the tall boy flinch. “Fear, kiddo…” the shorter boy soothed. Fear! “Oh! Fear! You are Fear!” Duke shouted, jumping up and down as he pointed at Fear. “You are our friend right?” Prince added. Fear looked up at them, tears still in their eyes. “Why are you sad? Whom must I slay?” Prince asked. “Yeah! We’ll make them poop their pants!” Duke added. Fear took a step back and shook his head. “You stay away,” he sobbed and took of. “Fear!” the little boy with glasses pleaded. The twins looked at each other. “What did we say?” “Fear simply needs time to ‘mourn’ your previous form. He’s highly emotional, it was to be expected that he would not respond well to such a big change with no time to mentally prepare. Let him have his tantrum. He’ll be back soon,” the tall boy stated firmly, adjusting his glasses. The boys wanted to believe him but both he and the little guy who introduced himself as Morality and the other as Logic cast worried glances in the direction Fear had ran of to. Sometimes they’d disappear in that direction and come back looking sad. Prince and Duke got to know the mindscape and, more importantly, the imagination fairly quickly and both agreed that Thomas was the most amazing person in the world and deserved everything he wanted. Sure Duke could be a bit gross sometimes and Prince could get a bit egocentric and too caught up with his own thoughts. But they were doing well. Logic was frustrated though that neither had interest in homework. And Morality seemed upset that they didn’t care much for playing with the other kids. Not even Thomas’ brothers. Well that was their problem really. The twins had each other. There was one side they were interested in though. Fear. The ‘tantrum' as Logic called it had still not blown over and everyone seemed worried. So, deciding to investigate to satisfy their curiosity they went looking for him. They knew what direction to go in. The others had gone to talk to Fear a bunch of times since he left. All they had to do was walk in the direction they went until they found him right? The walk was long, but eventually they saw a big willow. No Fear though. Was he in the shadowy part of the mind? “Stop!” The twins froze and looked at the willow. Had the tree just shouted at them? “Hello?” Prince called. “Leave me alone!” They knew that voice! The twins ran up to the tree and pushed the branches out of their way and froze. Fear was sitting up in the higher branches, hood pulled over his face and four spider legs springing from underneath his clothes. He looked down and six purple eyes lit up in the dark. “I said go!” he growled. A yellow snake slithered up from a hole in the tree wrapping itself protectively/comfortingly around his figure. “That is so cool!” Duke grinned getting himself a jab into the ribs from his brother. “Fear. We… We just wanted to know why you don’t want to be our friend. Did we do something?” Prince asked gently. “No! I’m keeping everyone safe. People who are nice to me get hurt.” “That isn’t true fear…” the snake hissed gently, surprising the twins. Fear glared at the snake. “Isn’t it Deceit?” he growled, making the snake recoil. “Thought so. Just… Go with them. I’ll be fine,” he muttered as he curled in on himself and wrapped his legs around himself like a cage. “That’s a lie. You aren’t fine,” Deceit objected. “Is he… Is this because we aren’t king?” Prince wondered nervously. For all his grandness he was terrified of falling short. He didn’t want to be less wonderful than this King person. If he wasn’t as good or better than the original, what was the point of him existing? “This has nothing you do with that! Just leave me alone!” Fear growled hiding in his hoodie. The snake sighed and came down, turning into a teen boy. Duke whistled impressed, while Prince looked away. Something about the scaled half of the boy's face made something in his gut twist. It felt like guilt. But he’d never met this side. What could he have done to feel this way? “Maybe you two have more luck,” Deceit muttered as he left the shelter of the Willow. “Finally,” Fear huffed. “Now if you two would kindly go back to the central consciousness and get back to work. Thomas needs you two too much for you to waste time on me.” Prince rolled his eyes. “As if. Logic is making homework and if we try to have fun now we’ll get yelled at.” That caught Fear’s attention. “You aren’t helping?” he asked confused. “Why would we? Homework is boring,” Prince scoffed as he put a hand on his hip and made a gesture with his other as if to indicate how obvious his statement was. “Yeah, we only ‘get in the way’,” Duke chipped in. Sounding like he was quoting Logic. Fear rolled his eyes. Honestly. “Have you not been listening to anything Morality’s been teaching you?” he asked. “I am a prince! I know good from bad!” Prince objected, sounding rather insulted. “Not about being moral… Has Logic been showing you around then?” Fear wondered. He had assumed Morality would take up the role of care taker. But maybe Logic had taken up the task of instructing the new sides in the ways of the mindscape? “Showing us around?” Duke wondered as he and his brother exchanged glances. “Wait… so they just… Expected you two to know what to do?” Fear asked shocked. “What is there to know? We are creativity. We found the imagination and that is that,” Prince huffed. Though he was intrigued by the idea of more, he wasn't going to admit to being I’ll informed. Fear jumped out of the tree and took them both in. “You’re not lying to get me to come back are you?” The confusion on the twin’s faces must’ve been enough. “Fine,” Fear surrendered grumpily as he started walking to the central conscience. “I’ll show you the basics, but then I’m kicking Logic’s behind in gear and heading back home.” The twins protested, but were secretly excited. They’d needed someone to actually break their ties when they disagreed. To actually listen to their stories and give input other than almost blind praise or cold analysis. Not to mention the fact that they had known him as a friend when they woke up while the others had been mostly strangers in their eyes. That had to mean something. Surely he was a fun playmate. When they saw the stress bunnies for the first time they were absolutely delighted to have something to hunt. And surely enough, Fear was enjoying himself too. Fear showed them how to make learning fun for Thomas and he even showed them that playing was more fun with others. And though he insisted he’d leave again soon, and avoided the others for a good while, he stuck around. Prince and Duke soon discovered just how far Fear was willing to go to keep them safe. During the first nightmare Fear encountered with them he defended them fiercely. Actually almost injuring himself. The twins were shocked by this and took better care to make sure Fear didn’t endanger himself for their sake again. “You aren’t really going back to the willow are you?” Prince asked one day, almost timidly, though he tried his best to sound casual. Fear shifted. The twins knew how to work with the others, they understood what to do with stress and worries and fears, they knew who to turn to when trouble arose… But he could find a million reasons not to leave them and he knew why. He had grown attached to them. He’d tried not to. It felt like a betrayal to King and he still worried he’d loose them right when he got comfortable with the new situation. But he couldn’t leave their side now. “Nah. I don’t trust you two not to burn down the mindscape without me keeping an eye on you,” he teased. Prince scoffed and gave him a push. Duke just shrugged, because honestly? He would definitely cause chaos and destruction if Fear didn’t redirect him every once in a while. Fear knew that if he was staying he should talk with Logic and Morality. “Padre! Teach! We got someone here who wants to talk to you,” Prince announced. The two sides turned and the twins made way to show Fear was with them greeting both sides with an awkward wave. Morality gasped and clasped his hands in front of his face. “Kiddo! Are… Are you back to stay?” he asked carefully. “I mean… I’ll stay out of the way if you want. I just… Yeah, I’m back. Those two need babysitting and neither of you are up to that it seems so…” He felt two fists push at his shoulders and chuckled. “You know I’m right,” he grinned. Then he looked up at the two sides he’d been rather rude to. “Listen, I’m still not happy about you guys not including everyone in the decision. But Princey and Duke don’t seem to be upset with you two. Not really, so I can’t be either. You tried to do what was best for Thomas. I can’t be mad about that. I just… I was afraid to let you guys back in I guess.” Fear couldn't meet their eyes. He was sure they hated him by now. He'd been pushing them away and…

Suddenly he was tackled in a hug by Morality.

“Oh kiddo. Of course you're welcome back!”

“Indeed. Though you might not have been talking to us, we have noticed your efforts. Or was I to believe that the twins suddenly got interested in assisting with schoolwork on their own?”

Fear shrugged as best as he could while still being embraced by the heart.

“From what I heard, yeah? I mean you guys seem to expect them to just know how things work.”

Logic nodded. “I see. Well we did attempt to explain at first, but we failed to communicate with the twins properly.” It had been puzzling to him why the twins couldn’t just follow his instructions. He would have to ask Fear what he’d done to get them suddenly interested in helping out. But almost overnight Logic had gone from overseeing the homework by himself to having two eager assistants making Thomas excited to learn again.

Morality finally let go and grinned up at him. “Guess a dad can sometimes learn a thing or two from his son,” he teased. Recalling how Prince had suddenly started to include his family and classmates in the stories he and Thomas made again. How Duke’s unfiltered curiosity started branching out to other people as well. How had Fear done that? Fear rolled his eyes. “Whatever short…” the teasing remark was cut off as Fear looked Morality up and down a few times. “Did you get taller?” he asked perplexed.

He was sure Morality used to be a head shorter than him. But now the difference was less than an inch.

“Um yeah. I guess…” Morality mused waving his hand above their heads in fascination. “I didn't really notice. Gosh. Maybe I’ll end up taller than you. Wouldn't that be something?” he chuckled.

Fear just shrugged dismissively.

“Nuh uh! We'll be the tallest!” Prince declared. “Just you wait!”

“Fear is going to be a midget forever though!” Duke chuckled.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Fear frowned.

In answer the twins flanked him and he could see they were both taller than him. Not by much, but enough that he couldn't deny it once he paid attention to it. Of course. Even when he was no longer the youngest he was destined to be the baby of the group. Well better remind the twins why he's called Fear then.

“You have five seconds,” he smirked.

“Huh?” Duke wondered.

“Four seconds, “ Fear grinned as his eyes lit up with a violet shine.

“Duke run!” Prince urged and the two took of. Fear chuckled for a few seconds before he let his spider voice echo through the mindscape. “One, Here I come.” And then he took off after the twins.

“He’s a little different isn't he?” Morality mused worriedly as he listened for the sounds in the mindscape, relieved to hear nothing but laughter fill the metaphysical air. Fear was just playing.

“As was to be expected. Fear held a strong attachment to king. More so than either of us. I don't think that I would've been able to convince him to help me stage a coup so to speak if it had come to that.

That loyalty and attachment has now transferred to the twins in some measure, but that does not replace what he had with King. The roles seem to have switched though. He is the caretaker now, though the twins seemed ready to fight on his behalf when they first formed…” Logic summarized looking into his notes. He’d been cataloguing the changes in the Thomasphere after the split and how they correlated to changes in Thomas’ over all wellbeing for future reference.

“They are more equal now,” Morality noted. “Fear wouldn't have dreamed to initiate such a game with King, or to say anything suggesting he needed help. I think… “ Morality frowned. There was no way to say this without sounding terrible. “They might both be happier like this. King… he would want this for Fear,” he decided. King cared for Fear almost as much as he cared for Thomas. It was out of concern for them that he’d asked them to do this. He might not have expected this outcome, but he would understand right?

“So long as the progress of the past week keeps up, Thomas will greatly benefit of the situation.” Logic supplied.

Morality let out a sigh. Thomas would be fine and Fear would fully forgive them with time. And then they could build on this new foundation. He would make sure his family stayed happy. That was his job. He was the dad after all.

It was only a matter of time before the twins would run into Deceit. Especially since the Dukes ideas were unpleasant to Thomas more often than not. Fear usually managed to get Duke to use his ‘inside voice’. Sometimes Prince would notice Fear was getting uncomfortable and reign his brother in. But that couldn’t last forever.

“What is going on here?” Deceit wondered as he walked in on the trio. Duke paused in his rambling and Prince looked up from where he and Fear were sitting on the ground, his arm around the nervous side’s shoulder while Fear had been curled up in a ball trying to block out the images Duke was planting in his head. Once he saw who it was though Prince looked down, he still didn’t like looking at that scaled face.

Fear looked up and went from comforted to comforting. He didn't know what happened, but he did know that for some reason king had changed Deceit and Prince had inherited some sort of phantom guilt.

“Snake-face hi!” Duke on the other hand found it amazing.

“You’re clearly the charmer of the two,” Deceit drawled. Fear was pretty sure that some of his change in attitude had to do with him spending so much time with Dee right after what everyone just called ‘the split’.

He had simply rubbed off on him. “Hi Dee,” Fear smiled tensely. “Fear, good to see you out and about,” Deceit smiled warmly. It was odd. When King first discovered Instinct, he’d been sure he wouldn’t like the new side. He didn’t like how excited King already was for a new friend. And by all accounts he should’ve stayed away from him, but he just couldn’t help but feel a bond with him. They both had a job that wasn’t particularly fun to do, both had parts of them the others disliked. And they both took King’s split hard. Not that he had told Fear of the latter. What was the point? And King hadn’t wanted Fear to know anyway.

“Yeah, I guess you were right. I couldn’t hide away forever,” Fear smiled tensely. “What seems to be the problem here?” Deceit wondered. Something had called him here after all. He knew he couldn’t avoid talking to the twins forever, but he had pretended he could. And now he had to make a stellar first impression. Great. “Oh… Did I do the thing again?” Duke wondered. He didn’t get why the others got upset over is suggestions so much, but they did and he tried to not be too much. But now he really was just having some fun. He wasn't saying Thomas should do anything. He was just making pictures.

Still, Fear was clearly upset. “It’s… It’s fine. You can’t always help it,” Fear assured him. Duke looked around and noticed an abundance of stress bunnies and kittens and puppies, most of them slightly more grotesque than Fear’s usual were. He liked it. But why hadn’t Fear gotten rid of them yet? It wasn’t like him to let them roam free for long.

“Want some help with those?” Deceit wondered as he gestured around. Fear looked at the dozens of creatures and let out a tired sigh. “I’ll get it. Just… I need a moment,” he muttered. “Very well. Duke was it?” Deceit asked. Duke nodded. “I need some help maintaining the Willow. Would you be so kind?” Fear frowned. What? Duke just jumped up with a big smile. “Of course double D!” he grinned. “Wonderful. Fear, Prince, you don’t mind if I borrow him for a couple of hours right?” he asked. Fear looked at Prince who just shrugged. “If he’s okay with it. But he will come back after right?” The prince asked tensely. “Of course. I’ll send him straight to the imagination even,” Deceit bowed before leaving, the Duke following right by his side, ranting about one thing or another. Fear looked at Prince. “You sure you are okay with this? You two haven’t been apart since… Well. Ever.” Prince shrugged again. “I… I think so. We don’t have to be together all the time right?” Fear shrugged. “I guess not,” he allowed. They weren’t one person anymore after all. Fear tried to remember that, but it was still strange sometimes. “I’m going to round up those guys,” he announced as he got up. Prince followed his example. “Want some help with that?” Fear hesitated, he didn’t usually ask anyone for help. The point was that he’d deal with them alone right? He'd just told Dee he could handle it… “Morality says that friends should be able to count on us to help them. So… I want to help,” Prince insisted. Fear smiled at that. “Yeah, sounds fun,” he allowed. As Deceit promised, Duke returned to the imagination after a few hours. All the shadow creatures had been dealt with and Duke was back to a level of crazy Fear could handle. Thomas had not been negatively affected by Dukes mood after he went to the back of the mind it seemed. The twins started going off on their own more often after that. Duke tended to venture to the willow to chat with Deceit for a while, while Prince remained on the front of the mind at all times. Fear wandered between the two. He couldn’t really handle not seeing either for too long. Still things started to get to a new sort of normal and Morality and Logic became more and more convinced every day that they’d done the right thing. Everyone was happier now. That’s what Morality thought, until he found Fear, sitting in a corner of the mind by himself. Which was unusual. “Heya kiddo. Where are the twins?” he wondered gently as he knelt down. He was a good inch taller than Fear by now. Which made Fear officially the shortest of the group, a fact the twins loved to tease him about. “Duke is at the willow and Prince is fighting a dragon or a witch, I don’t know,” Fear shrugged, his eyes shimmering. Had he been crying? “Ok… And why are you here all by yourself?” If Prince was fighting something, Fear would usually stick close by just in case. And sometimes that was indeed needed, though Morality and Logic both wondered if Prince occasionally just liked having Fear save him and fuss over him afterwards.

“I… It just hurt too much today,” he whispered, a sob breaking free. Morality felt a sharp pain in his chest. He knew what Fear meant and he couldn’t believe he never picked up on this. Of course spending time with the twins was hard on Fear. “Oh Kiddo… Do you want a hug?” Fear didn’t always allow physical affection. This time however he seemed to be really in need of some, because he almost immediately latched onto the fatherly side and started sobbing. “I care about them, I really do! But I miss him so much!” he tried to explain. “Of course. Loving them doesn’t take away how you felt about him. I think those feelings actually make each other stronger. Remember what he said? That it didn’t matter what name you used, you’d always be his friend? This is sort of like that,” Morality assured him. “I… I know… Most of the time. But sometimes I feel so bad for liking them, and then I feel bad about feeling bad…  What if that never stops? I don’t want to hurt them!” he pleaded “It’ll get better. There will be bad days, but it’ll get better. I miss him too. I know it wasn’t the same as it was for you. But he was important to me too.” “Sorry, I… I didn’t mean-” “No kiddo, that’s not what I meant. I was just trying to say that I understand. And I’m here to listen. Okay? Just come to your dear old dad whenever you need to okay? I’ve got you.” Fear let himself relax into the embrace and cry the tears he’d been holding back for months. He didn’t notice someone was watching them. Morality did though, and he tried not to let the accusatory glare get to him. Deceit could think of this what he wanted. Morality was just trying to look out for his kids. Things got a little better after that. Fear was more relaxed when hanging out in the back of the mind, the vague memories of being an incorporeal instinct not as haunting as they once had been. He got even bolder in his banter with the twins. He was also a bit more comfortable with letting them be without him from time to time. And he got a bit braver when it came to confronting the uglier parts of the past. “I’m just saying. If you ask them they’ll probably change you back,” he insisted as he laid down in the patch of grass underneath the willow. The twins were doing a school project with Logic and he had chosen to catch up with Deceit who still didn’t come up to the central consciousness except to retrieve Duke when needed.

“I don’t want them to change me back Fear, drop it.” “Then why are you hiding away all of the time?” Fear countered. “I know Princey is kinda awkward around you, but that won't get better if he never gets to know you. And the others will warm up to you. I'll have your back remember? No matter what happened between you and him, the twins deserve a chance don't they?” Fear pointed out. Deceit sighed. “I suppose you have a point… And Duke isn’t horrible company,” he allowed. Fear smiled and they both started debating over something Thomas' teacher did that week. The subject laid at rest. Deceit never did ask the twins to return his face to normal. He felt it was fitting honestly. A permanent warning to everyone of what he was. Princey slowly relaxed around Deceit as the later visited the central consciousness more often. And once again things in the mindscape improved.