#i wish i knew how to do analysis of numbers in a fun way like i see people doing sometimes

[buggerup-busters]

pretty big number!!

[bambiraptorx]

What is your opinion on the mystical magenta goat man? (Draxum)

Good dad? Deserved more screentime/emotional moments with the bois? (they gave us like 2 moments like that in the finale, and I'm sad that it's all we got)

owo

Ooh, I have so many thoughts about Draxum. Buckle up.

First of all, it's worst mentioning that when I started watching Rise, I knew ahead of time that he would get a redemption arc. (Reading the wiki and watching clips/analysis videos is what got me interested in the show, after all.) So admittedly, my view of how his redemption arc went was a little skewed just because I knew from the start that it would happen.

Personally, I wish more of it had been actually shown in the show. We get about ten seconds of him helpless in an alley then a hard cut to him in his apartment being bullied by Mikey, and I would love to see how that series of events played out. Also, his arc from mortal enemy to somewhat trusted by the turtles happened in one eleven minute episode, and I would have loved to see that tension be played with a little more. I do understand that the show was cut short, though, and I'm pretty happy with what we did get.

*looks at all my fics* honestly, I think part of the reason that they're all more or less about Draxum spending time with the turtles one way or another is because that dynamic was so underdeveloped and several things went unaddressed in order to give the show a decently cohesive finale.

For example, the roof incident. Leo is clearly very bitter about it and clearly mistrusts Draxum because of it, but the show just didn't have the opportunity to address it. Another issue that had to go unresolved was Draxum's relationship to Cassandra, because she seriously looked up to/trusted him in their episode together but he more or less threw her under the bus.

Not to mention all the little things that canon hints at but doesn't show. Like, somehow Donnie has Draxum's phone number, meaning they had at least one conversation off screen. How did that happen? Do they hang out or something? And really, the whole story of how Mikey got Draxum to move into an apartment and let him come over is so unexplored, at least within the show.

And speaking of things that canon doesn't show, I find Draxum's position among yokai to be absolutely fascinating, especially given that the only yokai he deals with in the show itself are antagonists to him (Big Mama, the Council of Heads, the cops) aside from the gargoyles.

There's a pretty big hole there about how he interacted with the rest of the Hidden CIty-- did he have friends? DId people know about his research and mutations? What did people think about him? And obviously the narrative doesn't address this because the story is about the turtles, not him. But still.

And why did he choose to create mutants in the first place? Its fascinating that the prophecy that motivates him is never actually shown in the show itself, just referenced. Why was mutating humans the best option to him? Did he try other things? When exactly did the Council tell him not to create warriors?

The timeline is pretty fuzzy, and frankly Draxum's motives aren't actually all that clear. That's probably why there's so many different interpretations of why he's doing what he's doing (and what, exactly, he's actually doing) throughout the fandom-- canon doesn't address it super deeply.

So yeah, his relationships with the turtles are really fun to think about and mess around with, but the gaps in the narrative (not a perfect phrase but the general idea) around him are fascinating to explore in their own right. And whether canon would have explored him more or not, I think its fun so I'm gonna do it lol. I have built so much lore about this man (almost none of which has showed up in my stories) because he's fun.

And he is genuinely a fun character, whether pre or post redemption. He's dramatic, he's arrogant, he makes bad quips (seriously, he has a line about "how very NOT NICE to see you" at one point, and that's how my sister used to talk before she figured out how to actually be sarcastic). He, the big bad of season one, ends up as a lunch lady at one point, which is frankly absurd and absolutely in tone for the kind of show that Rise is. He's a powerhouse at times and completely out of his element at others.

And once he's no longer actively fighting the turtles most of his screen time, there's a goofiness to the nature of his character, a powerful alchemist/warrior trying to live a normal life (mostly because a thirteen year old will yell at him otherwise) and not even trying that hard. Season 2 especially does a lot of fun things with his character, and I only wish that they're been able to do more.

TLDR: Draxum is probably my favorite character, and also I want to hit him with the hammer of 'forced to deal with teenagers'.

[homeofjonicles]

What Are 'The Jonicles'?

Hello. It's me, [Number1RatedShitposter1997] Jeremy here writing this at 2 in the goddamn morning! After having finished the first few entries of 'The Jonicles', I feel like I should write a note explaining what they are and why they exist in more detail and I wish this will be of better help for any (normal) people failing to understand.

'The Jonicles' are a series of journal-like entries often written in a satirical, overly formal and jokey style where I document my strange infatuation and (now hyper)fixation on Jon Arbuckle from Garfield, dates and all. Whilst these are often satirical, the fixation is real and I truly do feel a strong connection with Jon to the point where it would probably concern someone. Some entries are deeply personal, whilst some simple express my enjoyment of the cartoonist and his fun personality. This fixation started on the 19th of May, 2022 on a Thursday at 4:24 am and is currently ongoing.

I introduced this concept in 'The Jonicles - Entry 1' briefly, as I decided to do it on a whim while VERY tired. Initially, it started out as just that, and I was planning in my head that it would be a daily thing, like a journal. However, that immediately changed when I forgot to write an entry for the next day after writing 'The Jonicles - Entry 2', so now it's more of a "kinda daily but i write it whenever i feel like it so its not really daily" thing.

 As mentioned before, 'The Jonicles' was only supposed to be simply a journal, but after the second and third entries, it's more than just a journal. It's a place to put my character analysis of Jon, my deep and complex feelings about him, and how much I resonate and relate to the cartoonist (see 'The Jonicles - Entry 3'). It was also supposed to be mainly satirical because I literally could not believe that out of any character, my brain chose him to fixate on. But after feeling the way I feel about Jon... Well, it's definitely more than a joke now, and I knew it would inevitably be this way, as my hyperfixations tend to end up. It's still pretty satirical in nature, but just know that my emotions past the second entry are all real and genuine, and that my tastes in men are definitely a little wacky compared to a normal human being who doesn't call Jon a "cum guzzler" after seeing THE comic (you know exactly what i'm referring to).

Anyway, I hope this more detailed explanation and small history helps you better understand this series, weirdo snooping around in my phone. I hope my Jon Arbuckle fixation both interests and frightens you as much as it did to me when it first happened. You will never understand my thought process however, maybe. No sane person would understand it but me, and no one will know nor understand why this fixation even happened in the first place.

At the time of writing, there are currently 43 images containing Jon in my downloads folder, a number I suspect will reach over 100 soon. And that's just on my phone. There's heaps on my computer, so much that it'd be silly to try to find and count them all (my downloads folder has over 3000 items not including the folders i'm not even gonna attempt that)

Last edited at 3:13 am. I am tired.

Update as of August 2nd, 2022 at 6:15 pm: I have counted, and there are now 388 images of Jon Arbuckle in the downloads folder in my phone, there's waaay more in my computer, but there's no way i'm gonna be able to count them all, there's just too many. So, I'm going to make an estimated of aboooouuut.... 400, which doesn't sound like a lot for 75 days at the time of writing, but trust me; that's a lot of Arbuckle, and that's just in my downloads folder. There's an extra 100 or so in my other folders, give or take.

I find it funny how I mention the fabled Entry 3 in here a few times considering it's not public... yet. I mean, I even say "(see: 'The Jonicles - Entry 3')" and yet... you can't see it. There will be a day where I may post it, but unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how i feel about it), that day is not today it seems. And also the "No sane person would understand it but me" quote, paint me surprised when I found out there are quite a few people who feel the same way I do about this fantastic cartoonist!

Also, the reason it says "weirdo snooping around in my phone" is because at the time of writing, the only place you could find 'The Jonicles' would have been in the notes app on my phone. I guess I had an inkling that there'd be more than one person reading these one day, and that inkling came true, obviously.

Cheers,

Your Local Jonnoisseur

Posted on the 2nd of August, 2022 at 6:32 pm.

[theyarebothgunshot]

jib 6 breakdown and analysis

standard disclaimer: i am not gonna be linking to every single thing i talk about, but i will try my best to link to the moments that stand out to me the most. i have read long posts about this panel before, so not everything in this post is gonna be original or said for the first time ever, simply because there is a good chance that information has stuck in my mind and has subconsciously formed my view of this panel. this is also in no way, shape or form gonna be coherent, unfortunately. i’m just gonna hope that the cockles hivemind will be able to make sense of this regardless. love and light. and lastly, this is all in good fun, so don’t come at me if you think this is too out there please and thank you.

if i would have to give this panel a signifier, i would say this is the panel of the inside jokes. it’s the panel that shows us how well they know each other, to the point that they finish each other’s sentences and start telling the same punchline to a joke at the same time. 

but besides all of that, it was also the panel of the shoulder touches, husband behavior, and rescuer misha. let’s dive into it.

-

i adore the fact that they are laughing and joking with each other from the first second they get on stage. the way that they tell that story about how they planned to have misha nap and have jensen drink whisky and humm, really reminds me of something that i mentioned a lot during my jib 7 analysis: they are very much in sync.

jensen slinging his arm around misha of course had to be compensated with a manly face and manly grip. the rituals… i know they are intricate.

it’s kind of cute how misha tried to both encourage jensen to try that step, and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself lmao. dare i say husband behavior? (i do dare and i will do it again, bam bam!) 

something about the way they talk about j*red just makes me feel like they are such a team, if that makes sense? like, they both think the same things about j*red’s antics and talk in such a united way about it (“and jensen and i were like…” “i don’t even care. he [points at misha] doesn’t care.”) that it just sounds kind of coupley to me. *whispers* husband behavior.

i love that jensen’s first instinct after talking about missing j*red was to go over to misha, put his hand on his shoulder, and talk about his fucking flirting way of pranking misha versus j*red’s painful pranking of misha. “with you it’s like my friend and protector is....” i truly wish the audience wasn’t as loud as they were in that moment because i would love to fully hear that sentence. 

the look on jensen’s face when misha says “save it for when we take off our pants” is just priceless. ‘oh god here we go again, when will he ever learn’ but the funny thing is, he will make the same face later on in the panel, after talking about riding a dragon. that’s the face he makes when one of them goes slightly too far. just thought that was interesting.

what stands out to me the most is his reaction when misha turns around just as he is ‘fake unbuttoning’ his pants like: ‘i’m just kidding i’m innocent’ literally no reason to respond like that if misha is just his buddy.

misha’s “what are you doing?” as jensen is tying his flannel around his waist also stands out to me. he clearly does not like the look and can’t keep his mouth shut (“that was bothering me too”). why would you find the need to comment on your buddy’s fashion choice. (....husband behavior.)

just wanna take a moment to say that it’s very fucking funny that jensen said “don’t take selfies” when you know that just a few years later he would take the chest to chest selfie with misha. oh, jensen. 

we have all heard the “jensen pranks misha on set by flirting with him” story countless of times, but it’s still funny to me how flustered misha seems to get by the fact that jensen can get to him that easily. and jensen’s laugh here is so cute, he fully knows what he is doing. 

misha jokes that he spends more time sunning on rocks now as a merman than he used to, and jensen immediately starts to walk to the apple juice, something i have noticed that he does whenever he wants to avoid something (be it a question or a situation that’s happening on stage). it almost feels like he is stopping himself from making a comment or something. it’s interesting, because he just turns right back around and starts telling the grasshopper joke without getting anything to drink.

which leads to one of my favorite moments between them: misha, beaming, says that he has heard it before but he wants to hear it again, and mouths the words to the punchline along with jensen. he looks at the audience as if to say ‘good one, right?’ and when jensen goes “is this thing on?” misha immediately tries to distract him from his failed joke by using an inside joke (the first inside joke of the panel) with him. aka good husband behavior.

something tells me that “i’ll see you again, grasshopper” is another inside joke, so we’re counting it: number two. 

jensen. jensen pspsps come here. can you please explain to me why you are so horny for misha’s indianrussian accent? i cannot believe him (i can), trying to get him to use the accent to ‘help the girl in the audience’. 

so uhm. i think i just heard something while i was rewatching this panel that i never caught before. when misha reads what is on the box that was put on stage, he says: ‘please take this box and open later in private - daniella.’ and jensen goes: ‘yeah that’s from me’ with a flirty Look on his face like. hello??? why have i never seen anybody talk about this??? i’m??? internally screaming??? rest assured i had to take 5 when i saw this shit. 

can we take a second to appreciate the fact that jensen gave misha a once over when misha says the glitter is everywhere, and then jensen said “fairy herpes”. why did your mind go to a sexual reference jensen? why? (we know why).

“i hate when you get that look in your eyes. don’t! i’m sorry!” is one of the most coupley things to say, ever. just wanted to point that out. 

i love the playful vibe they have during this portion of the panel: jensen asking misha what he will do for the audience (thinly veiled excuse for wanting misha to do something that jensen will also enjoy), throwing the rings at misha, both of them “panicking” and lapping up the spilled apple juice.

look, i couldn’t not include the shirt lift. i had to. especially because of the way he looks at misha afterwards lmao and misha, darling misha, tries to defuse the situation by making a joke and it works because of course jensen does his signature unicorn laugh. sidenote: how cute is jackles when he grabs the guitar, begging people to erase the picture jsfhs. gotta love that man.

“you done messed up” inside joke number 3.

you know what is funny to me? the fact that jensen and misha often pretend not to know certain things about each other when they are on stage together. one example of this is during the underbear debacle, when jensen asks misha to proof he wears orange underwear and pretends he is shocked, even though the whole world knows that misha wears orange underwear. 

in this panel, it happens twice. the first time is here, when misha asks jensen ‘do you actually not smell?’ as if he isn’t one of the people in this world who would know that best. and then he, of course, immediately takes this opportunity to sniff jensen’s armpit. i mean. okay. which is extra funny because jackles doesn’t play along with the whole ‘i have no clue’ bit and just goes “yeah you’re not a stinker” without checking because, clearly, he already knows. 

i love jensen’s little smirk when he hears misha’s dragon would be pink + misha’s reaction to it.

before i read this post i always thought jensen meant that his own dragon would be salmon colored. but now i think that it’s not far fetched to believe jensen was actually thinking about the fact that he has stated he was wearing a salmon shirt. which means that, in this moment right here, he was implying that instead of pink, misha’s dragon (aka jensen) would be salmon. which makes his reaction (looking down, laughing but shaking his head as if he can’t believe himself) very understandable. remember what i said about that being the face he makes when one of them takes it too far? yeah.

but then, something happens that is quite remarkable to me. instead of backing down from what he said, he fully commits to it. he turns to misha, and goes “if i could ride a dragon”. listen to the way he puts extra weight behind “ride” and “dragon”. 

then he asks if he understands the question correctly and repeats “what would it look like?”, the girl in the audience says “yes, but also any special abilities…” but jensen just ignores that because obviously, in his head the dragon is misha and he is not gonna shake that thought process any time soon. so naturally, he goes “i think my dragon that i would want to…” but stops JUST before saying “ride”, the guy KNEW what he was sounding like. lmao jensen i gotta give it to you buddy, good effort. you did well. you came far. you even said “look, i’m just gonna go for it here” even though misha’s face speaks volumes. i love you for that. because everything that came out of your mouth right then sounded very not straight.

in fact, it’s only because of misha’s interference (a reoccurring thing during these panels) that he stops himself completely and goes to talk with misha. i really wonder what would have happened if misha didn’t stop him. i also REALLY wonder what misha and jensen discussed when they turned their backs to the audience. sigh. 

now we get to the juicy stuff. jensen’s little slip up here is really really strange, when you think about it. he says “i have kids” before quickly covering that up with “i have a kid now.” i’m not saying the ackles and the collins are one big happy family or anything like that, but i do think that they are close enough for him to slip up like this. maybe the kids hang out together a lot. maybe they have given each other enough support during those early days of raising kids that it sometimes feels like he had multiple kids at that point in time. idk. but in any case, i don’t think that’s a slip up you’d make unless there was some sort of truth in it. he also kind of stumbles over his words right after that. [before anybody runs to my inbox to tell me that j/2 tinhatters think this is about him and j*red raising their kids together: trust me, i know, but we’re not talking about that.]

misha’s cheeky “i thought you were talking about danneel” followed by the both of them simultaneously saying that jensen does not tell her what to do, made me grin like a fool. that is all. 

the way jensen says “misha, apparently you were looking pale and you need some sugar. there you go.” is so SOFT AND CUTE idek how to explain what i am feeling but it’s just. a lot. oh wait a minute, i do know what to call it: HUSBAND behavior.

“by the way we’re gonna pay so dearly when we get home” “yeah we are” lmao the jdmv vibes are strong in this one. 

look. i know it’s possible that misha woke up alone after that dream, thought to himself ‘i miss her’, went for breakfast, saw jensen, and told this story to him verbatim. but misha is literally telling the story from the pov of waking up from a dream and saying that out loud. it would make sense that he would explain that dream to the person who he woke up with, and that he would follow the dream explanation up with “i miss her”. plus jensen is REPEATING IT as if he was right there when misha said that. add to that the way jackles stumbles over his words here and gets flustered and sits down? and misha’s face? yeah. you done messed up jackles, part 2. 

jensen doesn’t know what to do with himself. just look at his face right after he sits down. and misha, once again, comes to the rescue, trying to continue the conversation about poop in order to distract both jensen and the audience. bless his soul. 

it leads to the second instance of misha pretending that he doesn’t know something about jensen, namely that jensen can’t stand poop even from his own daughter. misha goes: “no? not for you?” as if he didn’t already know that. 

round of applause for the jib team, for putting on ‘this thing called love’ to get jensen and misha to dance……. just saying.

jensen’s little nod to misha right here? husband telepathic communication at its finest. even their silly dad dances are in sync. 

jackles you are NOT being slick we can SEE you tossing the mic to your other hand so you can pull misha in by the waist (or honestly maybe his hand landed lower idk idk it’s possible).

it really is something special, though, what happened right here: jensen, macho masculine grumpy performative jensen, is smiling and laughing and enjoying dancing on stage, doing some ballet moves, all because of misha (and by some extent felicia). not just with felicia or by himself, but with rob, osric, etc. honestly it’s heartwarming to watch. it makes me smile so much. 

-

and that was jib 6. thanks for reading everybody <3 

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter One- “Nightmare”

“Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware” -Halsey

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: (Suprisingly) none!

Characters Mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Erin Strauss, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & David Rossi (briefly mentioned)

A/N: The first chapter!! I am super excited to see everyone’s reaction to this one. It’s the tamest chapter we’ll have, and we’ll dive into the backstory and ~murders~ as the story progresses. This was super fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!! Also, I know the characters would likely NOT treat a member of their team like this, but it’s for the plot. And as always, please reblog/reply/send asks with feedback and please correct me if there are any gendered pronouns for reader! Happy reading :)

Prologue 

Next chapter

“You’re fired, Y/N Y/L/N.” Your former Section Chief, Erin Strauss, said from where she sat on her side of her desk. “Please turn in your credentials and your gun, and promptly collect your things from your desk.” You unclipped your ID from your blazer, took the gun holster off your belt, and slid the badge out of your pocket before setting the items on her desk. “I’m truly sorry things worked out like this, you were a promising asset for the BAU. I wish you nothing but success in your future endeavors.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” You nodded briefly at Strauss and stood up, ignoring the burning in your eyes. You turned and took a deep breath before leaving her office. You walked to the elevator and pressed the number six for the last time- the floor for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The team in which you were a member of for the last year. God, you remembered your first day at the BAU. You were an agent out of the Sex Crimes division, and you had been apart of the team for five years the day you met Erin Strauss.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked as you stepped into your boss’s office. You faltered when you saw a woman standing with her back turned to the door.

“Yes, shut the door behind you, Y/L/N.” You shut the door and he motioned for you to sit.

“Is everything okay?” You were wary as you sat down, the unknown blonde woman still not having turned around.

“Everything is fine, Agent Y/L/N.” The woman spoke as she turned around. Erin Strauss. She held her hand out and you stood up, shaking her hand firmly.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am.”

“Likewise. Take a seat and we can get started.”

That day, you were offered an opportunity to transfer into a new department- the BAU. Strauss told you that you had forty-eight hours to make your decision, but you had made your decision almost immediately. The Behavioral Analysis Unit was the division of the FBI you had wanted to work in since you were in the Academy, and you were thrilled you had an opportunity to join. You loved your team in the Sex Crimes division, but you’d be stupid to pass up a chance to work with the BAU. You’d been hoping for an opening for the last two years since you went to a seminar that the team members held. This is what you were meant to do, you knew it.

Your first day at the BAU was nothing like you imagined. Watching how the team interacted with each other before and after the seminar, you could practically feel the fondness they had for each other. The two eldest members, Agents Hotchner and Rossi, were like the “parents” of the team, while the other agents all bickered and acted like siblings. Your team worked well together, but nothing like you witnessed that day. And you hoped that you too would one day be apart of the familial relationship the agents showed two years ago. But your entrance to the unit wasn’t exactly accepted with open arms. In fact, besides Erin Strauss, no one seemed to want you there. The bubbly personality you witnessed from tech analyst Penelope Garcia was nowhere to be found, the teasing quips between the members turned to hushed whispers and surprisingly blatant, watching eyes. Hotch was even more open with his judgmental watching, while Rossi was the only semi-subtle profiler in the bunch. They all, for the most part, showed professional courtesy with you. But outside of work, you may as well have been just another person on the streets to them. At first you thought it was because you were new. Of course they’d be skeptical of someone new joining out of the blue.

“I’ll give it a week.” You had said to yourself. “Maybe then they’ll warm up to me.” Then one week turned to two, which then turned to a month, and up until your last day, you never felt like a valued member of the team. Hell, you felt like you were never even a part of the unit. You loved your job as a profiler, but you longed for your days back at the Sex Crimes unit. At least there you felt appreciated.

A beep interrupted your thoughts and the elevator doors opened, and you lifted your head as you stepped out of the elevator. You could feel the gazes of your former colleagues burning into you, which you ignored as you walked to your desk. Even breaths, relax your posture, don’t let them get a read on you. You grabbed your go-bag you kept stored under your desk, set it in your chair, and began to clear your desk. You heard a few whispers and fought the urge to say something.

“You’re really leaving?” You could feel him standing behind you before he spoke. Doctor Spencer Reid. Where do you begin with him? Spencer was the youngest member of the BAU and arguably one of the smartest when it came to the books with his three PhD’s, his ability to read twenty thousand words per minute, and his eidetic memory. Social cues were a little hit-or-miss when it came to the young doctor, but he was a great profiler.

“Yep.” Your answer was short, but that’s all you felt you could say without cracking. You had been at your dream job for a year, and now you were fired. If Hotch had anything to do with it, you’d never work for the FBI again. You’d have to go back to your job from college, cleaning houses until you could find a more permanent job. Maybe you could use your master’s degree to pick up teaching. An awkward silence filled the air until Derek spoke.

“Are you going back to your old unit?”

“Nope.” You turned to Derek. “Excuse me. I need a box.” You brushed past him, keeping your eyes straight ahead of you as you walked away and towards the storage room. A door was opened for you and your eyes met the brown ones of Penelope Garcia. “Thank you, Penelope.”

“Where are you going?” Penelope asked as she followed you. Penelope was the one person on the team to eventually warm up to you, even if it was limited to light conversation and basic civility.

“I was fired, Garcia. I’m getting another box to finish packing. Then it’s back to D.C.” She gasped and you let out an “oof” when she wrapped you in a hug. After a few seconds, you wrapped your arms around her and felt your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll miss you so much.” A tear slid down your cheek and you hugged her tighter.

“I’ll miss you too, Pen.” Your voice wavered. You cleared your throat and pulled away, wiping under your eyes. “Sorry. I really need to get that box.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You started to walk off and Garcia called your name.

“Good luck. In whatever you do next. Not that it counts for anything, but I think you were a great fit for the team.” You offered Penelope a smile before you went to the storage closet. You walked in and shut the door and tried to pull yourself together. God, you’re so weak, Y/N, pull yourself together. You took a few deep breaths and grabbed an empty cardboard box before you left the closet. When you walked back to your desk, you noticed a little knickknack that was undeniably from Penelope’s “bat cave” and you couldn’t help but smile as you finished packing your things.

-

“Y/L/N.” You looked up when you heard Aaron Hotchner’s voice from where he stood from the door of his office. “My office.” You nodded and walked up the stairs towards Hotch’s office, and you shut the door as you walked in.

“Can we make this quick? I need to leave, and D.C. traffic will be terrible soon.”

“It will be. Take a seat.”

“I’d rather not.” Hotch gave you a pointed look and you sighed, but took a seat anyways. “Do we really have to draw this out even more? It’s humiliating enough with all the pitiful glances and whispers I’m getting.”

“I’m sorry things played out the way they did. You could’ve been an amazing profiler, Y/L/N, and a valued member of this team.”

“I guess Strauss made a mistake when she brought me on. Maybe I’m not meant for this job after all.” Neither of you said a word for a minute before you cleared your throat. “I should be headed out.”

“Sorry for holding you up. And I’m sorry again for everything, Y/N.” You nodded at Hotch, stood up, and left his office. You walked to your desk, grabbed your go-bag and box, and walked to the elevator. You allowed yourself to look around the bullpen one last time, your eyes taking in your co-workers as you stepped into the elevator. You pressed the first floor button and the doors closed for your last time as an FBI agent. As you walked out of the FBI Headquarters building, you felt a strong wave of emotions hit you all at once. Sadness turned into frustration, which turned to pure anger, which led to a lightbulb going off in your head. If you couldn’t be a good agent for the BAU, you were going to become their worst nightmare.

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[scripts4dreamers]

I literally JUST sat down, pt. 1

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: Nuh uh, nope. Not this again. You did not sign up for this.  Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol, eventual NSFW content

Prompt: After watching 7x07 “This episode is so scary man... Imagine just doing your job which is pretty morbid at times but oh well and then suddenly you have to go to this place where there's a lot of tornadoes and you're like well at least I'm inside and safe and then your boss is like "we gotta go right to these tornado places lol" and then you think "well that's scary but at least we have this handy dandy live map showing us exactly in real time where the tornadoes are so we'll be fine and then the internet is like "haha nope have fun dying in a tornado" 

- @pirateismywayofspeaking​ who is a literal genius.

This will be a multichapter piece! So lemme know if you want to be tagged in subsequent chapters. 

—————————-

Usually, when terrible things happen, people say the same few things: “I never thought it would happen to me! You never think something like this will happen to you until it does!”. You’d never really been that type of person. You were naturally cautious, and an ex FBI agent, you saw danger pretty much everywhere. You’d seen some of the worst things human beings could ever do to one another and, if you’d learned anything at all, it was that bad things happened everywhere and to pretty much everyone. There was nowhere that you could definitively say was safe from violent crime, but this was just ridiculous.

You looked around the ruined bookshop you’d poured the last year of your life into with a kind of detached sadness. Even before you opened the door, you could see the carnage. The shelves were upended, tables flipped, every vase in the building was smashed...except one. You sighed, stepping into the store, your eyes scanning the wreck with a practiced efficiency. No broken windows, the door was still locked when you’d arrived and your security cameras were blacked out, there were no signs of forced entry. If anything that made you more uneasy and, not for the first time since you’d left the bureau, you missed the weight of your gun against your hip. You crinkled your nose against the smell, the copper-iron of fresh blood that you were all too familiar with as you crept through your store.

“Son of a-fuck!” You swore loudly, cursing your luck as you took in the scene.

There was a body laid out in the middle of the Fiction aisle: face covered with a burlap sack, wrists and ankles bound with rope and blood seeping into the carpets you’d just had cleaned. Your training kicked in and you noticed, without meaning to, that the rest of the aisle was untouched. The shelves were upright, books in order, even the vase of white roses you’d put there the night before were all completely the way you’d left them. It was like he’d just completely bypassed the entire section.

Huh.

You looked up at the sky, “Really? Right now? You throw this at me, now? Unbelievable.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your chest, along with a nervousness that you were telling yourself was irritation as you pulled out your phone. It had been a long while since you’d done this, but you still knew the number by heart.

“This is agent Jareau with the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“JJ, it’s me,” you said, “you’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————

You sat in the ruins of your store until the cops arrived, wondering who exactly you had murdered in a past life to end up with this kind of luck. You gave your statement without much incident, directing CSU to the body and alerting the detective to the abnormalities you’d spotted.

JJ had promised to get the team on the case as quickly as she could, and you knew JJ tended to get exactly what she wanted in that regard, you just didn’t know how you felt about that. It had been over a year since you’d left the BAU, since you’d done one case too many and just got fed all the way up. It really wasn’t any deeper than that. One day you’d come home and found that you couldn’t sleep. It had all just become too much, so you packed up your stuff, tendered your resignation, and started over.

It had been hard at first, but now you owned a fairly successful bookstore with a little coffee shop where you sold good coffee, and homemade biscuits. And it was nice. You felt good, kinda. You definitely slept better at night. Your life was finally starting to feel normal and now this? A dead body just happens to appear in the center of your bookstore in just weird enough a way to warrant a call to the BAU? No, you’d seen too much to consider this a coincidence. Whether you liked it or not, you were about to get thrown back into your old life head first, the life you’d worked so hard to get some distance from. So why weren’t you more...upset?

“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice called.

“In here,” you answered, your voice raspy from disuse. You cleared your throat and pushed yourself up onto your feet, “I’m in here.” You tried again.

The figures who stepped in were painfully familiar and you couldn’t help the tired smile that slid onto your face, your eyes going directly to the blonde woman walking at the very front.

“Y/N!” She greeted, her voice dripping with relief as she pulled you into a hug, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, JJ,” you assured her as you broke apart, the rest of your old team filing in behind her.

She eyed you like she wasn’t sure, pressing her lips into a thin line as she looked around the trashed store. Derek Morgan swooped in behind her, giving you a second hug.

“Long time, Y/L/N,” he smiled.

You sighed, “Wish it was under better circumstances, Morgs, but I’m glad you guys are here.”

“Y/L/N,” Aaron Hotchner greeted, giving you a firm handshake.

“Thanks for coming, Hotch, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” You admitted.

“No, you made the right call. The BAU has officially taken on the case. Reid, Prentiss and Rossi are coordinating with the local PD from our headquarters, the rest of us are here to help,” he said, pausing and meeting your eye, silently asking the question you’d been waiting all morning for.

“No sign of forced entry,” you started, “the front door was still locked from the outside when I arrived.” You walked him through the crime scene, glass crunching beneath your feet as you went, “It looks like someone sprayed black paint over the security cameras I had installed, everything’s been smashed but there’s no cash missing from the register. In fact, they barely touched the front desk at all.” You explained, “And this,” you gestured at the Fiction aisle, “is where I found the body.”

Morgan stepped forward and, just like that, the team moved like a well oiled machine.

“White male, looks like he’s between the ages of 19 and 27.” Morgan started.

“His wrists and ankles are bound, but it doesn’t look like he struggled against his restraints at all,” you cut in, without meaning to, crouching down beside the body, “it could mean he was tied up postmortem.”

“We’ll have to wait on the M.E’s report to know for sure,” Hotch agreed, “Y/L/N, can I talk to you?” You nodded and let him pull you aside. He glanced over your shoulder and lowered his voice, “I know you’re out and we can do this investigation without you-“

“But?” You probed.

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile, “But, I would also welcome your help if you’re willing to give it. The team is still a man down and, something about this scene has me thinking-“

“That whoever did this isn’t finished,” you agreed, sighing as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Everything was so messed up in your head. You just wanted to go back to bed and start this day all over again. Hotch looked at you and you recognized his brand of quiet concern. It was familiar and comforting, and it helped you process your thoughts.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you frowned, “yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll come back.” Hotch smiled and you wagged a finger at him, “But just for this one case! After that I’m straight back to my boring normal person life, alright?”

“Of course,” he agreed, something almost mocking in his tone.

“I’m serious, Hotch, just one more case.”

“I’m agreeing with you!” He insisted, already walking back to the rest of the group.

But he wasn’t and, much to your chagrin, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as you turned back to the scene of the crime.

“Hotch, Y/L/N,” Morgan called, holding something in his gloved hand, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

“Here we go again,” you sighed.

————————-

Walking back into the BAU had felt like stepping back in time. After you’d gotten everything you could from the crime scene there was nothing to do but brainstorm, but walking through those doors again...well, let’s say you hadn’t been prepared for how it would feel being back. For the most part, everyone had been glad to see you, especially Garcia, but you could tell that there were still some resentments bubbling under the surface. It made sense, the BAU survived by relying on one another, by acting like a family, and you’d left that family.

Still, there was a rhythm to this kind of work, a flow that was almost painfully easy to fall back into. You’d worked together for years after all, bouncing ideas off of one another like it was nothing and that kind of bond didn’t just go away.

“Admit it,” Derek teased, bumping your shoulder with his as you studied the evidence board, “you missed this.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Oh you so did,” Spencer agreed, leaning against the table next to you and giving you a fond smile, “I’m sorry about the bookstore though, it was the only store in town with a proper selection of classics in their original languages.”

You shrugged, “I’ll get it up and running again soon enough, just as soon as we catch whoever did this.”

“Speaking of our UnSub, what do you think the relevance of him leaving the body in the fiction section is?” Spencer asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to say that this is some kind of fairytale?” Prentiss suggested, “Like he’s trying to draw us into his story?”

“Maybe, but this has gotta be more personal than that, right?” Morgan said, “I mean, this isn’t some body in an alley, it was dumped in an FBI agent’s coffee shop.”

“Ex agent,” you corrected.

“Sure thing, Princess,” Morgan teased.

“Why does everyone keep talking like that?” You asked.

“Because you leaving is ridiculous. You love this job,” He replied simply, “you’ve always loved this job.”

You opened your mouth to respond but, before you could, you heard the clacking of heels against the marble floor.

“Um, guys?” Garcia said, coming into the bullpen with a stormy look on her face, “we just got word from the officer who went to Y/N’s apartment.”

“And?” You asked nervously.

“They found something,”

“Another body?” Prentiss asked.

“No, weirder, a letter and what looks like a smiley face drawn on the wall in blood.” She said, pressing a button to display the new crime scene photos on the big screen.

Your heart froze in your chest.

There it was; a crude smiley face drawn right above your headboard and a crisp white envelope resting against your pillow. He’d made your bed too, some small part of your mind noted. How polite. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest as you were hit with a mixture of panic and disgust.

“Of course,” you sighed, “of course there is. Why wouldn’t there be? It’s been that kind of day.”

“Do we know what the letter says?” Morgan asked.

Garcia nodded, “And it’s a doozy. The letter contains a poem written with letters cut out from magazines and newspapers. It reads:

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain …”

You could feel your friends staring and you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and you could hear the blood pounding in your ears as you thought of a murderer setting foot in your space; him touching your bed, running his hands over the photos on your nightstand, defiling your possessions with his presence. You’d never felt so vulnerable and exposed, and bile rose up in your stomach like your body was physically rejecting the whole thing. Distantly you heard Prentiss and Morgan discussing theories, and you felt one pair of warm brown eyes staring into the side of your head.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like joking around anymore.

“Sorry,” you muttered, standing up and striding out of the room without looking back, “I need some air.”

You were so angry by the time you made it out into the courtyard that you’d balled your hands into fists and your breath was coming out in short little bursts. Hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your chest felt painfully tight.

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer ask.

You sniffed, wiping your face quickly, “Reid, hi. Sorry, I just-“ you let out a slow breath, “I needed a break.”

He nodded like he understood, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stepped towards you. You wanted to tell him to go away, to head back inside and leave you the hell alone, but the words wouldn’t come.

It had always been like this with Spencer. No matter how hard you tried to be tough and brave and put together, he saw right through you and broke down your defenses. At one point, he’d been the closest thing to family you’d ever had, in fact you thought you might…..

Well, it didn’t matter now. Over the last year things had changed, you’d grown apart. It happened, but the fondness was still there, and the trust, and those damn eyes.

“I get it, Y/N, I can't even imagine what this whole thing must be like for you,” he said, “having your home be violated like that….and the store?” He shook his head, “I know how hard you worked setting that place up.”

Your bottom lip trembled and, for the first time that day, you let yourself feel afraid as tears slipped down your cheeks.

You shook your head, “You know, when I saw the glass all over the floor, and all the books….I just felt tired, like bone tired. I wasn’t scared of that, but now?” You paused, glancing up at Spencer, as a tear slid down your cheek, “He was in my home, Spencer. He made my bed before he left, he wrote me a letter.”

Spencer worked his jaw and hesitantly reached out, touching your shoulder gently.

“We’ll catch him, Y/N/N, we always do.” He promised.

“And until then?” You asked, “Do I just pretend it never happened? Go home and act like it’s all okay?”

“No,” another voice cut in from behind you, “you rely on us. We’ll take care of you,” Morgan explained.

“Yeah,” Garcia agreed, her big blue eyes clinging to yours, “We’ve talked about it already. You’ll take turns staying with each of us a few nights a week and then, on the weekends, we’ll all stay with Rossi to go over the case. And we’ll spend every free moment tracking this son of a bitch down for you.”

Emily nodded and, for the first time since you had opened your store that morning, you felt your chest swell with something a little like hope. You knew the BAU was special, you knew that the bonds you’d formed over the years were damn near unbreakable, but this? This was too much. Seeing your friends rally around you when you needed them most just reminded you how much you loved them, and how much they still loved you. Even now. Spencer gave your shoulder a squeeze and you smiled back at him.

“I really missed you guys,” you said with a watery laugh.

Penelope crooned and threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a familiarly bone-crushing hug.

“We missed you too, Sugar Plum,” she promised.

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!” Morgan smiled, joining Penelope’s hug.

“You know we did,” Emily agreed, ruffling your hair and pulling herself in close.

Your eyes found Spencer where he was standing just outside of the group hug, both hands in his pockets and a sad smile on his face. You pressed your lips together and, in response, he nodded.

“We missed you,” he said softly and then, as the hug broke up and you allude your way back inside, even softer, “we still do.”

---------------- 

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

[safertokiss]

Concentrated Interests

A/N: Hola my friends! This fic was my entry for the Secret Fic Swap I participated in with a couple of close friends on here and it was written and dedicated to @nerdgirljen​. It was so much fun to write and thank you guys so much for all the support and love!

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: Fluff and SMUT

Word Count: 3.3k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

Spencer had never really understood the concept of soulmates or love at first sight.

In his mind, it defied pretty much every scientific law about human interaction out there and was simply a coping mechanism for those who were romantically unlucky. At least that was what he had thought until a certain tech analyst walked through the BAU’s doors and into his life. 

He was frozen. Totally and utterly enamored by the woman his eyes were currently attached to. He watched her stumble into the bullpen, a large box situated in her arms, seemingly impairing the entirety of her vision and coordination, evident by the way she kept bumping into things in her path. It wasn’t until she hit a particular desk corner and spilled the contents of the box, her belongings scattering across the floor, that Spencer broke out of his stupor and took action. 

“Woah there, let me help you with that!”, he exclaimed, immediately rushing to her side and starting to collect some of the fallen items to put back into the box.

“Oh, thank you so much. Gah, this is so embarrassing. I promise you I’m not always this uncoordinated and clumsy”, she explained with a nervous chuckle. After everything was picked up and they both had stood up from their crouched positions, she hurriedly straightened out her skirt before outstretching her hand. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” She immediately noticed the slight panic that crossed his features at her gesture and was momentarily confused.

“I-uh-I kind of don’t, um, do the whole hand shaking thing. Yeah, uh, the number of pathogens spread through a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to...oh god I’m sorry you didn’t ask for a full-out science lesson. It’s, um, really nice to meet you, I’m Reid. Doctor. Spencer”, he sputtered out nervously.

Chuckling softly, Y/n retracted her hand, opting to instead lightly nudge his shoulder. “Well Reid Doctor Spencer, it’s nice to meet you too”, a teasing smile adorning her face as she spoke. Spencer quickly felt a warm blush spread across his features at the absurdity of his introduction.

“S-sorry about that. What I meant to say is that my name is-”

“Pretty boy!”

Both of their heads swiveled towards the sound, searching for the source, before landing on a man across the room.

“Hotch needs us in the briefing room. Stop flirting with the new girl and get your ass in here!” They watched him walk away chuckling before turning back to each other.

“Pretty boy huh? Well I guess it’s fitting, I mean you do have really nice cheekbones and dimples. And your eyes are kind of beautiful. Not that I ummmm-not that I think you’re beautiful or anything, it’s just uhhh...um...I’m gonna stop talking now.” Spencer could feel the blush returning to his features, watching the same happen to her, from the frenzied rambling that had just poured from her lips, but he found it endearing on her and quite honestly, really adorable. 

“I-uh I gotta go, you know, um deal with that, but it was very nice meeting you”, he sputtered out, sending a small wave in her direction. She shyly giggled at his nervousness which was surely reflected on her end as well. “See ya around Reid Doctor Spencer.”

“Spencer. It’s um-it’s Spencer.”

“Spencer”, she repeated back softly, nodding him off with a gentle smile on her face.

~~~

Spencer Reid was in love. The longer she was around him the more he realized he was completely and utterly in love with her, all of her. She was perfect in his eyes, intelligent, funny, a bit nerdy and just so adorable. The problem was just that he had absolutely no idea how to tell her how he felt. He had never really been the type to express his feelings to someone, especially to a girl as beautiful as Y/n. 

The female species wasn’t exactly his strong suit and he was very aware of that fact, painfully aware. However, he stayed hopeful that someday soon he’d muster up the courage to express his affinity for her. Realizing that today was definitely not that day, Spencer tried to push his conflict to the back of his brain so he could try to get some work done. Not before noticing that Y/n was slightly late, though.

Less than a minute after he noticed her absence, she came bursting into the bullpen with the largest grin adorning her features, an obvious pep in her step. Spencer watched as she skipped over to the rest of the team who were gathered around Emily’s desk, close enough where he could pretty much hear the majority of the words exchanged and profile their reactions.

He heard JJ ask what was making her so chipper this morning, and he chuckled softly to himself as he heard her immediately start rambling about whatever had her so elated. 

“Oh my god guys, you’ll never believe it! So a couple of weeks ago a good friend of mine asked me to help her with her website, because well...tech geek and all, so I got to mess around with all the software and went crazy! I was able to fiddle with the source code a bit and authorize a super high CRO and SEO to get her website out there. Not to mention all the growth hacking I was able to curate! Cool right?”

Y/n stopped to take a breath and noticed that the entirety of the team was staring at her with vacant expressions on their faces. She looked on with widened eyes as she asked, “What?”

“CRO?”, JJ questioned. Morgan awkwardly chuckled out a similar questioning tone, “SEO?” Of course that left Emily to bring up the rear. “Did I hear growth hacking in there?”

Her face scrunched up in confusion at all the questions that had just been hurled her way so suddenly. “Huh?”

“Baby girl we have absolutely no idea what any of the things you just mentioned are or what they do”, Morgan explained with a sympathetic smile on his face, as the other members nodded in agreement.

Spencer watched as Y/n’s face quickly morphed into one of utter disappointment at the knowledge that her colleagues had no clue what she was going on about. She had seemed so excited when she entered the bullpen earlier so he assumed she was probably very much looking forward to getting to talk all about it with her friends.

“Oh...that’s ok. Sorry for bothering you guys, sometimes I just get a little too excited and tend to ramble. I’ll um-I’ll talk to you guys later.” Y/n flashed them a small smile before making her way over to her desk, situated across the room near Spencer. 

“Hey Spence”, she shyly waved as she passed, a deflated look on her face. Trying to lift her spirits at least a little, he returned her gesture with a huge grin and wave, happy to see her smile brighten a bit at his enthusiasm. 

Once she was seated and facing away from him, he immediately found himself feeling overwhelmingly upset over her predicament. He hated seeing her look so defeated and down, she didn’t deserve to ever feel like that. She was simply too angelic for those kinds of feelings to permeate her mind. 

Spencer wished more than anything that he knew what she was talking about so she could go to him. He’d let her ramble to him for hours on end if it meant he could listen to her melodic voice and see her beautiful face up close. 

All of sudden Spencer slapped his hand against his head and groaned, “Of course you dipshit”, before pulling up a couple tabs on his computer.

For the next few hours his work was forgotten as he studied and learned pretty much everything there was to know about technical analysis and the programming that Y/n seemed so ecstatic about, anxious to give her, at last, a companion to discuss her passion with. 

~~~

“See you later Reid!”

Spencer’s head snapped up as he heard the people around him saying their goodbyes and goodnights, realizing that he had been distracted by his screen the entire day and that it was already time to go home. He watched as his friends walked out together, all laughing about something that Morgan had said, before noticing movement in the corner of his eye. 

As he turned his head he noticed that the only person who was still there in the bullpen with him was Y/n, and she was staring at the posse that had just exited the room, a longing look plastered across her features that broke his heart. Taking a deep breath and deciding it was now or never, he rose up from his seated position and made his way over to her, hoping that he had learned enough to lighten her mood.

“Hey there!”, he exclaimed when he had found himself right behind her. As soon as the words started escaping his lips, she jumped in her seat, her hand flying to her heart.

“Jesus Christ Spence! You scared the complete shit out of me!”

Chuckling softly at her overreactive response, he moved to sit on her desk, facing her heavily breathing sitting figure. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just saw you that you were still here and was wondering why you hadn’t left with everyone else?” She quickly looked down and blushed at his questioning, embarrassed of her answer.

“Oh I-um they just looked like they were having a lot of fun and I didn’t really want to interrupt so I thought I’d stay back for a little bit to-uh finish up some stuff.” Once she finished her unconvincing explanation, Spencer leaned back a bit and studied her. While this was something he found himself doing often, always getting distracted by her spectacular figure, he focused on her body language more than anything, noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Y/n, you look absolutely exhausted. Have you even been sleeping lately?”, he asked, genuine concern laced within his words.

“Y-yeah I haven’t really. I’ve kind of been pretty preoccupied in the last few days helping out a friend. It’s really fun, but it’s also very time consuming”, she stuttered out, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Oh right! I had heard you mention that earlier today! That must be awesome getting to basically build your own website!”

“I swear I feel like a kid in a candy store doing that kind of stuff. I just find it so relaxing and exciting at the same time!”

“I totally get it. I was really impressed with how well you were able to manipulate the site’s conversion rate optimization-did you know that a site’s CRO and SEO are considered as two of the most essential tools required to run a thriving website or online business. It’s actually astounding how much the results differ between competition depending on their efficiency.”

All Y/n could do, while Spencer rambled on and on about her most passionate subjects, was sit there in complete awe. The sound of the tech-geeky words that spilled from his beautiful lips was simply orgasmic. Never had she met someone who seemed as enthused as her when it came to all her technical endeavors, and she didn’t know exactly how to react. Her biggest crush on the entire planet was sitting in front of her spouting off facts like they were going out of style.

However, amidst all the wonder that circulated through her being, confusion washed over her.

“Wait hold up! What’s going on Spence?”

“Uhhh, what do you mean?”, he questioned shyly, a blush coating his face.

Narrowing her eyes at him she expanded her questioning. “I’ve known you for months now and I can guarantee I have never once heard you mention anything even remotely technical. In fact I’ve heard you explain time and time again how confused you are by the complexities of the simplest of technology. Spill, pretty boy”, she demanded, maintaining eye contact with him.

Figuring out that he had been caught, he shyly lowered his head as the blush on his face deepened, embarrassment coursing through his veins. “I-I noticed how excited you were this morning when you came parading into the office, the wide grin that adorned your face, the skip in your step. And I heard you ramble on and on about your friend’s website and you just seemed so damn happy and then they basically just shut you down right away because they didn’t understand and I-uh I hated seeing you like that and wanted you to have someone to talk to. So I spent all day today researching and learning so you could have someone to talk to, so you wouldn’t feel alone. I-I’m sorry if that’s creepy or if it’s too-”

Spencer was suddenly cut off mid-sentence as lips smashed against his own, effectively shutting him up. His eyes immediately widened at the bold action, before he melted into the kiss, desperately responding to her fervent advances with an equal passion. 

Y/n moaned into his mouth as his tongue probed at her wet lips, begging for entry. The feeling of their tongues entangling was euphoric and they both wanted, needed more. Spencer gently grabbed her and, turning so they were both facing it, lifted her onto the desk and stood between her legs. As the kiss deepened, their hands began to tear at each other’s clothing, Y/n hastily undoing his tie and dress shirt as he all but ripped off her blouse, groaning at the sight. 

“God Y/n you’re so fucking beautiful.” He watched her eyes roll back into her head at his words as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. “Please Spence, I need you. I need you so much baby.” His eyes sparkled at her desperate plea, mirroring her need wholeheartedly.

Backing away slightly he unzipped her skirt and dragged it down her legs along with her panties, quickly reaching up to also unclasp her bra. “You’ve got me baby, you’ve got me.”

She surged forward and reconnected their lips, her hands weaving their way into his hair and tugging hard. The groan that escaped his throat lit her body on fire and further ignited her need for the man in front of her. His hands, that had been cupping her face, drifted downward stooping to briefly toy with her breasts before reaching his intended destination.

She moaned loud and deep as his hands cupped her sex, gently rubbing his fingers against her. He could feel her buck her hips slightly, searching for more. Receiving the message loud and clear, he inserted his pointer finger into her, reveling in the throaty groans that poured from her lips. As he added more digits into her and gently rubbed her clit, their lips moved rapidly against each other.

Y/n needed more, letting her hands lower to the obvious bulge that was straining against his slacks, palming him incessantly. Moaning hoarsely, he pulled away and quickly undid his pants, desperate for some sort of relief. As he stepped out of his slacks and boxers, he watched her eyes widen as they took in the sight in front of her.

“Woah.” He nervously chuckled at her response.

“Uh t-thanks?”

Giggling at his uncertainty she reached out and dragged him in once again, feeling his swollen tip bump against her, both of them moaning at the euphoric feeling. Realizing how fast things had moved, he pulled back slightly to search her eyes. “Are you sure baby?”

Falling even more in love with him, her smile widened as she nodded. “I am so very sure Spence. I-I love you.” She watched the grin that spread across his face at her confession.

“God Y/n, I love you so fucking much.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he lined himself up at her entrance and swiftly thrusted into her dripping heat. The overwhelming feeling caused both of them to let out matching groans of pleasure, Y/n latching onto Spencer and wrapping her arms around his shoulders to get a grip. Once he was sure she was ok, he started slowly thrusting in and out of her, soon setting a steady pace.

“Oh Spencer! You feel so perfect inside of me! So, so good!”, you exclaimed, cries of pleasure leaving your mouth.

“Baby you’re so warm and tight around me, I love you so much!” 

“I love you t-too!”

He gradually increased his already brutal thrusts, Y/n feeling herself fastly approaching the brink of ecstasy at the hands of the resident genius. Leaning back on her elbows, Spencer used the opportunity to pound even harder into her wanting body, his own release just around the corner. 

“Are you going to cum for me pretty girl?” She couldn’t control herself after hearing his dirty words, unaware that he was capable of such a thing, feeling her eyes roll back once again. She nodded fervently, about to crash over the edge. All rational thought was out the window once his fingers found her throbbing clit, rubbing incessantly, catapulting her into her climax, her pussy clenching around his rigid cock as she came.

“Oh my god Spencer!”

Her reactions were simply too much for him, groaning and moaning uncontrollably, finding his thrusts sputtering out of control as his cock twitched deep inside of her, quickly reaching his highly anticipated orgasm. She felt his seed fill her up completely as he panted out her name over and over again, both of them coming down from their highs, breathing deeply.

“Wow. Fucking wow,” she blissfully sung, a wide grin coating her lips.

“Y/n, baby, that was insane. You’re insane.”

He helped her off the desk so they could redress and finally leave the office, noticing how late it had gotten. They couldn’t help themselves from sending each other giddy smiles as they put on their clothes and eventually made their way down to their respective cars. 

Neither one of them seemed ready to leave each other just yet, some unspoken feeling crackling in the air between them. Taking the initiative, Y/n leaned forward, gently connecting their lips in a kiss that held the same passion from earlier, but was much more relaxed and romantic. Pulling back after a few moments, Y/n’s eyes sparkled up at Spencer’s as she spoke.

“Spence, what you did earlier...no one’s ever done something like that for me. You have no idea how much it means to me that you would go out of your way just to make me feel comfortable and happy.”

“Y/n, I promise you I wanted to wholeheartedly. Nothing matters more to me than your happiness. I just-I just love you so damn much. I think I have since you walked in and dropped all your shit on the floor”, he said chuckling. 

“Heyyyy, that was one time jerk”, she defended, a matching chuckle evident in her voice. “But I know what you mean. I think I’ve loved you since you introduced yourself as Reid Doctor Spencer, that memory will forever be embedded in my mind.” She couldn’t stop the light giggle that fell from her lips at the thought of their first meeting.

Meeting her eyes, suddenly a bit shy, he gently cupped her face, “What if, from now on, I introduced myself as your boyfriend?”, he asked cautiously, anxiously waiting to see how she reacted to his proposition. Instead of answering right away she jumped forward, throwing her arms around his neck and connecting their lips once more.

“I would love nothing more, my gorgeously intelligent boyfriend.”

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[jangmi-latte]

I heard you wanted help with a character analysis! I have come to help out, if I can! So, I have a question for you that may help out with at least one character we have information on, do you think Jamil Viper truly hates Kalim Al-Asim because of how the two's families' situation or Jamil is lying to himself? If you wish, I can discuss it with you and help you come to a conclusion, I am more than happy to help you if you need it.

You know, I have been observing Jamil’s actions ever since Chapter 5 started. It has been very visible that this vice-dorm leader has gone through a lot and the fandom knows that for sure. It bothers me sometimes seeing some Jamil x Kalim one-shots where it focuses on Jamil being all friendly with Kalim – friendly in a way the servant master relationship doesn’t bother him when it’s the other way around. I hope this essay of mine helps out expound on Kalim and Jamil’s relationship starting from pre-enrollment to post-enrollment. Before I jump straight into the main question, I’ll slowly expound on Jamil’s progress throughout the Scarabia Arc towards Pomefiore’s Arc.

i would also love to created the TWISTED WONDERLAND WIKIA and for the translators who are behind this site for providing the translations. this analysis won't be complete without them. it has been a very big help.

do note this analysis is NOT SPOILER-FREE so if you don’t wanna get spoiled, this meal is not for your dear customer.

01. Jamil’s freedom

First, let’s differentiate how Jamil acts with and without Kalim around. In most of the main and personal stories, Jamil was always with Kalim. In one instance – like in his PE card – we have seen Jamil without Kalim around. We can see how Jamil has a tendency to be bossy and how he has a way with words in terms of helping Floyd with his desire to do a headstand. Yes, he may have shown this personality around Kalim, however, it is noted how Jamil didn’t hold back into explaining to Floyd (very detailed at that) about the one thing he’s good at. Until he has caught himself again and realized he spoke too much.

We can see how Jamil desperately wants to share who he really was (his talents, his ideologies, etc.) to others, something he couldn’t show when he’s around Kalim.

He said it himself, “my inner dancing soul started to ache…” which is why he shared his own thoughts.

“Ahem! …It’s nothing. When I went out with Kalim in the past, there were occasions where I did a bit of dancing.” He held back again just because Kalim was mentioned. Ace even mentioned how it wasn’t A BIT of what Jamil did in dancing.

It’s obvious how Jamil actually wanted to dance more and teach Floyd what he’s good at except Ace mentioned how it was a basketball club and not a dance club. It’s clear how he’s used to adjusting himself and hold back with what he wants to do. We’re just glad Floyd somehow persuaded that made Jamil show his real self.

Do note how Floyd complimented Jamil when he did a handstand and how happy he must’ve felt about himself.

He was willing, his own choice, to teach Floyd and NOT because he’s obligated to like he was around Kalim. He even shared what techniques he could do.

In his voice lines, we can see how Jamil actually wants to be more powerful. Not like that’s already not obvious, however, there was always the resentment of holding back. He wanted to enjoy himself, as noted in Fairy Gala where he went all out and didn’t hold back, and in Dances and Wishes where he mentioned that he wanted to travel alone. In one of his groovy lines, he said “Sometimes it’s nice to just forget about everything and enjoy yourself. It’s been a long time since I felt like that.”

HE DOESN’T WANT TROUBLE ANYMORE!!! Please, give this man a break, he really hates getting into other people’s business. Let alone getting dragged into them. Why is this under his freedom category? Because anywhere Kalim is, there will always be trouble. Meaning, not only is his safety in the line but also the way he acts. Stiff, robot-like, servant, guardian, you say it. Is Jamil one of those? No.

He always tries to find something beneficial with being around Kalim. Dancing, for example. He stated that whether he likes it or not, Jamil has eventually found fun in dancing and let alone develop strength just by chasing him around.

It has always been mentioned how Jamil is good at cooking and I even read that his kitchen is his go-to when he's stressed and whatnot. But let's remember that Jamil DOESN'T really likes cooking that much. He's only obligated to do so. He mentioned it in his SSR dorm uniform voice lines. Don't associate him with the kitchen too much. 

He ALWAYS mentions Kalim!!! In every voice line, in every personal story, hell, even the main story, there wouldn't be ONE instance where he wouldn't mention Kalim. Why? That's what he was born to do. To always mention his master, to mention his position, to keep the focus away from him and move it towards who he's serving. That's his life. Imagine his happiness when he finally gets a chance to shine on his own.

Connecting to the previous paragraph, either Jamil notices it or not, he consciously and subconsciously lies to himself and to others — except to those who have Asim as their last name. We all know Jamil would go boast about his intelligence, skills, and talents when he wants to and as noted in his overblot, he didn't hold back (he was in a state of no control, yes, but when someone overblots they most often spill what they were truly feeling deep down). Yet, Jamil has grown accustomed into lying to himself and to others that, "This is what I can only do. This is what I am for, etc." He always belittles himself to others and it wasn't a choice of his. 

I noticed how Jamil would always say he doesn't want to stand out and I couldn't point out whether this includes him lying to himself or he genuinely just doesn't like attention. Why this confuses me is because he said he wanted to be number one and known for his own talents yet he doesn't like standing out. I would assume that he wants to be known for who he is in a way of recognition and not by any loud or crowd settling attention. 

Now, Jamil often jokes about "I'm the master now, serve me" in his SSR birthday card and it's easy to point out that (1) he isn't used to attention being placed on him and he's growing accustomed to it, (2) it's a form of control mechanism for him that he knows he's still a servant despite getting such privilege for a day. He is used to his position but that doesn't mean he won't fight for what he wants/believes. After all, Kalim already told him and he's slowly trying to do so without breaking his position still.

02. Jamil’s relationship with Kalim (post-overblot) 

Jamil has vocally stated his hatred for Kalim which happened after his overblot. He doesn’t want to be friends, he doesn’t want ANYTHING that involves being with Kalim. He is there solely for the purpose of being a servant and to finish school. Just like I stated, Jamil tries to find benefits with being around Kalim, whether he likes it or not, he is getting a good dose of education, a good shelter, food, etc. Even though Jamil wants not only him but his family as well to get out of the traditional servant position, he knows he doesn’t have the power to do so. My only conclusion here is that Jamil has very limited choices and that he knows that he has to endure Kalim maybe a bit longer.

Now, this is where we start answering the main question, does Jamil Viper truly hates Kalim Al-Asim because of how the two's families' situation or is he lying to himself? The answer is no – in the prospect of hating Kalim. BUT the most logical answer I could give is that Jamil is slowly warming up (VERY SLOWLY) to Kalim AND NOT HIS FAMILY’S POSITION. Those are two different things:

Jamil’s obligation is to look after Kalim, feed him, protect him, teach him, etc. That’s what he hates. What I’m trying to say here is that Jamil still cares about Kalim. Why do I say this? Notice in the Fairy Gala event, not only did he prove himself to the audience and to Vil but he also was having fun. Despite the harsh training he went through, I believe those smiles he shared with Kalim showed the progress in their relationship with each other.

In Chapter 5-34, we can see Kalim talking about how he was poisoned and mentioned he doesn’t like the idea of the culprit (whoever plans to poison him)  never apologizing when he ever was poisoned. Based on Jamil’s silence, what he probably felt was guilt. He never apologized for what he did but he knew what he did was wrong. At the beginning chapters of Chapter 5, he did explain what happened between him and the dorm students and how he’ll just stick to Kalim from now on. He despises Kalim’s sweet, sunshine, nature because he’s the exact opposite. He knows he’s the villain, he knows he can’t accept Kalim’s personality due to his nature. Kalim’s too nice, Jamil isn’t, they go well together and he (Jamil) doesn’t want to do anything with it. Let Kalim live his own life, he’ll live his.

“We’re not friends, remember…?” Remember Jamil’s tendency to lie? He’s lying to himself. He always tries to make himself hate Kalim but he can’t.

Want to be even more convinced? Chapter 5-30, why would Jamil eavesdrop on MC and Kalim’s conversation? He’s watching over Kalim, yes, but what do you think he felt after hearing Kalim finally learn? Don’t you think he felt relieved? I know for sure he won’t feel guilt over that, all he wanted was for Kalim to be aware of their differences and to be independent. That’s what’s happening to Kalim right now.

Ah, additional to that, the Halloween event. Jamil checked on Kalim, didn’t he? He trusted Kalim on his own. He was actually smiling when Ace pointed out how he keeps checking his phone. He was only checking on Kalim, okay, but please. The trust he actually placed on Kalim was big. Improvement in friendship.

Concerning his position, that’s the sole thing Jamil wants to change. That has always been his goal. To change his family’s position as servant, get a break, have freedom. Who knows? If Jamil ever did get what he wanted, he might go back to Kalim. He’s hard to read.

Conclusion:

I wanted to expound more on the depth of their relationship but this post has gotten too long. To keep it short, Jamil is still contemplating to himself. We can’t instantly jump into the ‘yes and no’ into his hatred for we are still ongoing with Pomefiore’s chapter which will unfold more of their relationship. He somehow hates Kalim but doesn’t in a way of personality and ideology, not the whole person himself. He also hates his position but again, Jamil did something wrong and he knows it. They’re both still learning, they’re both still progressing throughout their relationship. I hope this analysis answered your question! It was fun ^^.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Lucifer/Satan

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Please allow me to introduce this villain. He’s a man of wealth and taste...

Satan, or Lucifer, or whatever of the hundreds of names across multiple religions, folk tales, urban legends, movies, books, songs, video games, and more that you choose to call him, is without a doubt the biggest bad of them all. He is not just a villain; he is the villain, the bad guy your other bad guys answer to, the lord of Hell. If there’s a bad deed, he’s done it, if there’s a problem, he’s behind it. There’s nothing beneath him, and that’s not just because he’s at the very bottom of Hell. He is the root cause of all the misery in the entire world.

And if we’re talking about Satan, we gotta talk about Lucifer too. They weren’t always supposed to be one and the same, but over centuries of artistic depictions and reimaginings they’ve been conflated into one being, a being that is a lot more layered and interesting than just a simple adversary for the good to overcome when handled properly.

Motivation/Goals: Look, it’s Satan. His main goal is to be as evil as possible, do bad things, cause mischief and mayhem. Rarely does anything good come from Satan being around. If he is one and the same as Lucifer, expect there to be some sort of plot about him rebelling against God, as according to modern interpretations Lucifer fought against God in battle and was then cast out, falling from grace like lightning. When the Lucifer persona is front and center, raging against the heavens tends to be a big part of his schemes, but when the big red devil persona is out and about, expect temptations to sin, birthing the Antichrist, or tempting people to sell their souls.

Performance: Satan has been portrayed by far too many people over the years to even consider keeping count of, though some notable performances of the character or at least characters who are clearly meant to be Satan include the nuanced anti-villain take of the character Viggo Mortensen portrayed in The Prophecy; the sympathetic homosexual man portrayed by Trey Parker in South Park and its film; the hard-rocking badass Dave Grohl portrayed in Tencaious D’s movie; Robin Hughes as a sneaky, double-crossing bastard in “The Howling Man” episode of The Twilight Zone; the big red devil from Legend known as Darkness, played by Tim Curry; the shapeshifting angel named Satan from The Adventures of Mark Train who will make you crap your pants; and while not portrayed by anyone due to being entirely voiceless, Chernabog from Disney’s Fantasia is definitely noteworthy in regards to cinematic depictions of the devil.

Final Thoughts & Score: Satan is a villain whose sheer scope dwarfs almost every other villain in history. It’s not even remotely close, either; Satan pops up in stories all around the world, is the greater-scope villain of most varieties of three major religions, and his very name is shorthand for “really, really evil.” Every other villain I have ever discussed and reviewed wishes they could be a byword for being bad to the bone. Even Dracula, one of the single most important villains in fiction, looks puny in comparison to Satans villainous accomplishments.

Satan in old religious texts tended to be an utterly horrifying force of nature, until Medieval times began portray him as a dopey demon trying to tempt the faithful (and failing). Folklore and media have gone back and forth, portraying both in equal measure – you have the desperate, fiddle-playing devil from “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and the unseen, unfathomable Satan who may or may not exist in the Marvel comics universe who other demons live in fear of the return of. Satan is just a very interesting and malleable antagonist, one who is defined just enough that he can make a massive, formidable force while still being enough of a blank slate that you can project any sort of personality traits onto him to build an intriguing foe.

One of the most famous examples of this in action is the common depiction of Satan as the king of hell. This doesn’t really have much basis in religion; he’s as much a prisoner as anyone else, though considering how impressive a prisoner he is, he’d be like the big guy at the top of the pecking order in any jail for sure. But still, the idea of Satan as the ruler of hell was clearly conceived by someone and proved such an intriguing concept that so many decided to run with it.

I think that’s what truly makes Satan such an interesting villain, in that he’s almost a community-built antagonist. People over the ages have added so much lore, personality, and power to him that is only vaguely alluded to in old religions to the point where they have all become commonplace in depictions of the big guy, and there really isn’t any other villain to have quite this magnitude on culture as a whole. It shouldn’t be any shock that Satan is an 11/10; rating him any lower would be a heinous crime only he is capable of.

But see, the true sign of how amazing he is is the sheer number of ways one can interpret him. You have versions that are just vague embodiments of all that is bad and unholy, such as Chernabog from Fantasia, you have more nuanced portrayals like the one Viggo Mortensen played in The Prophecy, you have outright sympathetic ones like the one from South Park… Satan is just a villain who can be reshaped and reworked as a creator sees fit and molded into something that fits the narrative they want. I guess what I’m trying to say is that not only is Lucifer/Satan one of the greatest villains of all, he’s also one of the single greatest characters of all time.  

Now, there are far too many depictions of Satan for me to have seen them all, but I have seen quite a lot. Here’s how Old Scratch has fared over the millennia in media of various forms, though keep in mind this is by no means a comprehensive or exhaustive lsit:

“The Devil Went Down to Georgia” Devil: 

I think this is one of my favorite devils in any fiction ever, simply because of what a good sport he is. Like, there is really no denying that Johnny’s stupid little fiddle ditty about chickens or whatever sucks major ass, and yet Satan (who had moments before summoned up demonic hordes to rip out some Doom-esque metal for the contest) gave him the win and the golden fiddle. What a gracious guy! He’s a 9/10 for sure, though I still wish we knew how his rematch ended…

Chernabog: 

Chernabog technically doesn’t do anything evil, and he never says a word, and yet everything about him is framed as inherently sinister. It’s really no wonder Chernabog has become one of the most famous and beloved parts of Fantasia alongside Yen Sid and Sorcerer Mickey; he’s infinitely memorable, and really, how can he not be? He’s the devil in a Disney film, not played for laughs and instead made as nightmarishly terrifying as an ancient demon god should be. Everything about him oozes style, and every movement and gesture begets a personality that goes beyond words. Chernabog doesn’t need to speak to tell you that he is evil incarnate; you just know, on sight, that he is up to no good.

Quite frankly, the implications of Chernabog’s existence in the Disney canon are rather terrifying. Is he the one Maleficent called upon for power? Is he the one all the villains answer to? Do you think Frollo saw him after God smote him? And what exactly did he gain by attacking Sora at the end of Kingdom Hearts? All I know for sure is that Chernabog is a 10/10.

Lucifer (The Prophecy): 

Viggo Mortensen has limited screentime, but in that time he manages to be incredibly creepy, misanthropic… and yet, also, on the side of good. Of course, he’s doing it entirely for self-serving reasons (he wants humanity around so he can make them suffer), but credit where credit is due. The man manages to steal a scene from under Christopher Walken, I think that’s worth a 10/10.

Satan (South Park): 

Portraying Satan as a sympathetic gay man was a pretty bold choice, and while he certainly does fall into some stereotypes, he’s not really painted as bad or morally wrong for being gay, and ends up more often than not being a good (if sometimes misguided) guy who just wants to live his life. Plus he gets a pretty sweet villain song, though technically it’s more of an “I want” song than anything. Ah well, a solid 8/10 for him is good.

Satan (Tenacious D):

It’s Dave Grohl as Satan competing in a rock-off against JB and KG. Literally everything about this is perfect, even if he’s only in the one scene. 10/10 for sure.

Robot Devil:

Futurama’s take on the devil is pretty hilarious and hammy, but then Futurama was always pretty on point. He’s a solid 8/10, because much like South Park’s devil he gets a fun little villain song with a guest apearance by the Beastie Boys, not to mention his numerous scams like when he stole Fry’s hands. He’s just a fun, hilarious asshole.

The Howling Man: 

The Twilight Zone has many iconic episodes, and this one is absolutely one of them. While the devil is the big twist, that scene of him transforming as he walks between the pillars is absolutely iconic, and was even used by real-life villain Kevin Spacey in the big reveal of The Usual Suspects. This one is a 9/10 for sure, especially given the ending that implies this will all happen again (as per usual with the show).

The Darkness:

While he’s more devil-adjacent than anything and is more likely to be the son of Satan rather than the actual man himself, it’s hard not to give a shout-out to the big, buff demon played by Tim Curry in some of the most fantastic prosthetics and makeup you will ever see. He gets a 9/10 for the design alone, the facty he’s Tim Curry is icing on the cake.

[vorish-musing]

Risky Business (IT Chapter Two)

Summary: Eddie is a monster hunter, he’s called back to his hometown, there's another man eating monster, he just never realized how fucked this job could be.

Warnings: this story contains soft, safe, G/t vore. if you do not like this, I suggest not reading. this is also not a story for the faint of heart, there is (not super graphic) moments of fatal/hard vore, digestion mention (does not occur), fearplay, and the usual cussing warning.  

Hi guys! its been so long! I’ll be honest, i was not planning on posting this, since this was a WIP discarded back in march, but while watching the movie again, I realized I needed to finish this, I really hope y’all like it!

NSFW DO NOT INTERACT

Risk analysis? Was that Job invented before fun?

Well, it Depends on what you call ‘fun’

For Eddie Kaspbrak, risk analysis is fun.

He couldn’t remember much of his past, all that he knew was that monsters existed, the ones that hid under your bed, the ones that prey in the night, he didn’t know how he discovered this for the longest time, he just... knew.

He knew he had to have encountered a monster at one point, but he just couldn't remember when.

His first instinct was to kill these monsters, though after further consideration of how the ethics of that worked, plus the morality of him being the judge, jury and executioner was pretty skewed. He decided to analyze these creatures, at least the ones he found. Witches, Vampires, werewolves, ghosts.

So yeah, he was a Risk Analysis, he analyzed creatures that we’re a risk to human kind.

And yes, it was Fun.

Being a part of a small group of people who knew these monster movie critters existed was something he wished he could brag about.

Though everything changed when he got that call from Mike Hanlon, Begging him to come back to Derry to fight that clown. That damned clown.

His memories flooded back, the childhood trauma of that summer, 1989, when everyone they knew started turning up missing, really they were dead, nothing more than food to the demon living in the sewers

It was then, fighting that demon, when he realized that analyzing these monsters wasn’t enough anymore.

They were not a risk, they were a threat.

Once he got back to his home in new york, he began his own business, he tried finding his way into different circles, ones he never thought existed, multiple people with stories of slaying beasts of all shapes and sizes, and he was now one of them.

He got a second phone, one he could use for his side job, he went under an alias, Richie Marsh. Not creative, a little embarrassing,  but it worked.

He would get calls almost daily, he made pretty good money, but he had one rule, only kill if it had harmed first. He always turned the monsters who had done no wrong away, allowed him to get some sleep at night, knowing that he was saving others lives while doing this.

Hell, the first time he met a vampire, the dude just chilled alone in a cabin in the woods. Not bothering anybody.

He began making a name for himself in the business and it had only been a year, it was impressive to all about his knowledge, how much he knew about these creatures, how fearless he could be.

Up to this day, he scribbled down notes about the varying creatures he saw and met. Sitting in his living room, the constant scritch of his pencil was interrupted by a ringing from his pocket.

He took his ‘work’ phone out of his jeans, putting the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Richie Marsh?” A familiar voice was heard on the other end, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, thankful his phone had a voice modifier, just in case he actually knew the person on the other line.. Even though chances of that were slim to none. “Depends who’s asking”

with one hand, he took a sip of water in a glass, while with the other he opened a new page in his notebook, ready to write down this stranger's name.

“My name is Mike Hanlon, I was given this number by a friend, he told me you could help me”

Slim to none huh?

Eddie coughed up the drink back into his cup,“M-Mike Hanlon?”

“Uh...yes, I...I need your help”

Eddie scribbled down the name very quickly, though nothing in the world could make him forget it. “with what? What's going on?” he felt his heart racing, he didn’t want any of his friends to know what kind of danger he was putting himself into, he didn’t want them to know, or even try it themselves.

“Well… I live in Derry, Maine. There was a curse in this town...right? A monster, it killed a lot of people, but me and my friends… we stopped it.” Mike's voice sounded nervous.

“I...see…” Eddie’s voice wavered, hoping that this wouldn’t be another call back to defeat a killer clown “if you stopped it, why are you calling?”

“Because people are going missing again, but I know it's not what we fought, it's something else, nothing is being left behind, they’re just...vanishing.”

Eddie scribbled a few words down, his throat getting dry as he began to sweat nervously “okay...what's the age range of the missing persons?”

Please don't be kids….please don’t be kids.

“All adults, the other creature went for children, and those killings lasted for a year at least. This happens every few weeks, from my calculations, it's once every 3 weeks, and if I'm right, they're supposed to be here by Friday, they start hunting at night.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he wrote what mike was saying down, opening his laptop and began booking a flight for Friday afternoon “okay, got it. have you seen this creature.”

There was an awkward pause, before Mike answered, almost embarrassed, “No.”

“Then how do you know all of this?” He wanted to believe Mike was reading too much into things, that Derry wasn’t being terrorized with another monster.

“Because one of the missing people has come back, and she came to me-- I’m somewhat of a Private eye in this town” Eddie smiled--good for him, making a name for himself in Derry.

“I talked with this one lady, she told me that she didn’t remember much, but whatever was out there, her two friends were killed, she didn’t tell me how they died, or even how she escaped...she just woke up..”

Eddie scribbled some more “do you know how many there are?”

“No. but I believe there's more than one, if you come in the next few days we can meet up and-”

Eddie shot up out of his seat “NO!” he heard mike go silent, before adding “uh...no...i’d rather uh...keep my face a secret”

Mike let out a laugh “of course, of course. We will have to talk more though, I have many notes and things that I’ve observed-”

‘Text me them, I have to go”

“But-”

Eddie hung up before he could hear the rest of that sentence, falling back into his seat. He put both hands on his face and sighed loudly.

He had to go back to Derry, and he had to avoid seeing Mike there too. He let out a groan, sitting up and finishing the booking process, it was only two days away, but that gave him enough time to pack everything he needed.

Those two days went by very fast. Mike tried to pay, but Eddie insisted it be free, not wanting to take money from his friend. Next thing he knew, he was on a plane to Derry, a rental car waiting for him and another traumatic nostalgia trip was in his future.

Once the plane landed, he quickly made his way through the airport, wearing a baseball cap in a poor attempt to hide his face. He got into his rental car, driving as fast as he (legally) could on the roads to his hotel room, texting Mike that he had landed, and was going to scope out the locations where Mike had claimed the creatures were.

As he drove through the streets, he began noticing the missing persons signs, it reminded him of when he was young, and there were people he knew going missing. He shook his head. Whatever those creatures were, He was sure he would stop it.

He parked his car in front of the hotel, getting a room key and making his way up with his bags. He used to be very particular where he stayed, but as the months went on with this job, he would just take what he could get.

As he settled in, he got another call from Mike.

“If you need any help, I’m no stranger to killing monsters, just give me a call” Mike sounded worried, but it also sounded like he wanted Eddie to say yes to him coming along, but the man couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“I’m fine Mr. Hanlon. Thank you.”

“Okay, most of the missing persons were last seen around the woods, be careful, the trees go on and on, outside of the town and basically into the next, which is an hour away when Driving” Mike explained a few more things about the town, which of course, Eddie already knew about.

After speaking for a few more minutes about the plan, Eddie hung up the phone, it felt so awkward to be speaking to him under his alias, it was the most disconnected he had ever felt while on the job.

Once he gets all of his hunting gear in order, he puts it under the bed, just in case housekeeping decides to come in, and promptly leaves the room.

If he had to be here for the next day or so, he could at least go out and get some food.

As he walked down the streets of Derry, he made sure wherever he would go, nobody was following, and that nobody who knew him could recognize him.

He soon settled on a cafe near the hotel, walking into the establishment and ordering coffee with a BUNCH of espresso shots inside, after all, he needed all the energy he could get. He was usually much more healthy, but on jobs, he needed as much caffeine as humanly possible.

Sitting at an empty booth in the cafe, he took his journal out, scribbling a few notes down, his plan, he never really needed a plan, but it was nice to have one. He was sure this was a simple case that would be solved in less than an hour, so he didn’t pay much mind to it.

The barista comes to his table, setting his cup of pure caffeine down. Before she could leave, Eddie pulled out a $20 bill out of his wallet, giving it to her

“Save up every cent, get out of this town, it’ll be good for you” she gave him a confused look, like she was expecting him to pull it away as a joke, but with a look in his eyes, she took the money.

The barista smiled, her eyes bright and much more charismatic than his, “thank you sir.” she pocketed the money in her apron “ and that's the plan, as soon as I have enough money, I’m leaving this hell hole--just me and my shitty van. all the way to broadway”

He nodded as she walked away. He took a sip of his bitter drink, going over his notes a few more times--now should I ambush or wait--

“Eddie?”

His heart stopped dead as he snapped his head up, hearing his name, slamming the book closed.

His eyes met Richie's, who seemed equally as shocked to see him there. They stared at each other for a few moments.

W...why is he here?! He...he can’t be here now...what the fuck?

There was something off in Richie's overall appearance, he looked very sick, malnourished, hunched over and wearing clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks, his eyes looked like he was coming straight from the morgue.

Though his face was one of shock and confusion as to why Eddie was in Derry that night, Eddie was almost disappointed Richie was not happy to see him there.

“Holy shit trashmouth” Eddie sat up straight “What the hell are you doing here?” He motioned for Richie to sit down, which the man obliged to very quickly.

“Just passing through, I have to get down to uh… Ludlow, Maine.” to this, Eddie was confused, it sounded like Richie was making things up on the spot “I uh...got a show down there, w-what are you doing in Derry?”

He knew when Richie was lying, he always knew, he never told Richie this, but since they grew up together, he watched the mannerisms he had when lying, and could always tell ever since.

But that's because he didn’t want to look stupid, believing what Richie said. Definitely not because he liked to watch the man, and DEFINITELY not because he admired him for lying with so much ease.

Definitely not.

Eddie nodded, taking a sip of coffee “Just uh…” he quickly thought of a lie, “Visiting Mike, I wanted to surprise him, plus, wanted to get away from New York for a while”

“Interesting.” Richie’s eyes fell to the journal Eddie was desperately trying to keep hidden “Aw, does Eddie have a diary?”

Eddie let his face falter a bit, showing off his worry, pulling his journal “its it’s for work, asshat” he narrowed his eyes.

Richie, one who usually would keep poking at Eddie, slumped back a bit “Well, I gotta get going, Nice seeing you around.” he stood up, ready to walk away.

“Wait, come on.” Eddie looked up at the man, extremely confused “are you okay, man? If I'm honest, you look like shit.”

“Yeah i'm...fine.I just gotta get some...thing to eat” Richie eyed him up and down slowly, before exiting the building without another word.

Eddie just stared at the door as Richie walked away, well, not really walking, he was pretty much stumbling away.

Though as he left, the two men from before waved at Richie, like they knew him...probably just fans, Eddie couldn’t afford to read too much into things.

He shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee and reopening his book once again, Richie was probably drunk, and there was no surprise there. Eddie noticed how much Richie would drink last time they met, and this behavior didn’t surprise him.

But it was strange.

He quickly finished up his cup of coffee, placing his cup at the edge of the table, another waitress quickly coming to pick it up as he left the coffee shop, holding onto his journal tightly as he walked through Derry.

He checked his phone, a few missed messages from Mike, sharing a few more of his findings, but Eddie couldn’t bother to read them, his mind was only on Richie.

Why was he lying? What was he doing here? Questions whizzed around his head. Did Richie know something? Did Mike call him too?

Eddie sighed, he better get back to his hotel room, no use thinking about it now. He had a task at hand, and he had to get ready in the next few hours.

And that he did.

He was prepared for everything, he had a few guesses to what the monster was, a werewolf, a demon? but nothing really fit perfectly. demons kill people, but it's not like they would let people escape. Werewolves fit better, you could escape one, but they were not very...cleanly with their kills.

Whatever it was, it was going to be killed, no matter how many there were.

An alarm went off in his phone, letting the man know it was time to leave, get to the woods and start investigating.

He grabbed his bag, filled to the brim with gear, and headed out the door, texting Mike that he was headed out, and that the man needed to refrain from further messages, until Eddie had texted first of course.

He placed his phone back into his pocket, swiftly leaving the building. It was only a twenty minute walk to the forest, but if it felt like forever, his body felt shaky, like he should just turn around.

He never felt like this before, he chalked it up to nerves, with being back in Derry. Something in him still believed it could be IT, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If it was, ‘Richie Marsh’ wouldn’t be out, it would be the losers.

Before he even knew it, he was in the woods, walking down a manmade concrete pathway, exactly where Mike told him to go, trees making it seem like he was walking through a hedge maze.

As he walked down the path, it seemed to get more and more confusing, like he couldn’t even remember where he was going, but thinking it was nerves, he kept going.

His heart stopped as he heard a woman's scream break the cold silence of the night, the sound of heels clicking on the concrete coming closer and closer.

As quick as he could, he bolted towards the sound of the woman, following her voice. He carefully took out a  gun from his bag as he ran down the pathway, his finger on the trigger.

Soon enough, a woman came into his field of vision, she was wearing a black apron, a dirty white shirt caked in blood, and a tattered pair of shorts.

it was the Barista from the coffee shop, She waved her arms wildly as she ran towards him, stumbling around like an animal.

“Please! Please help me! He’s gonna kill me!”

Eddie placed the gun back into his bag, putting it on his back and grabbing onto her as she ran into him.

Her makeup was running down her face, blood all over her skin, her hair was a mess, what once was a perfect simple bun, was now tangled with branches and all kinds of dirt in it.

“Ma’am calm down its okay we just-”

“No you don't understand! We can’t stay here we have to run!” She whisper-yelled at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the trees, straying from the pathway. “If they find us they’ll kill us!” she pulled him into a ditch, her breath shaky and tears flooding down her face.

“Okay… Okay take a deep breath, what the hell happened?” Eddie reached into his bag, grabbing his first-aid kit, ready to seal up any wound on her.

She took deep breaths, holding onto her arms as she shivered “these two guys, he… came into the cafe I work in, He was so nice” she let out a laugh, sniffling a sob. “I was so stupid, he asked me and my coworker out, and we said yes, it was supposed to be a walk in the woods, a nice walk… “

“Where’s your coworker now?” Eddie pulled out a cloth to wipe her off with, before he could give it to her, she began sobbing.

“The man…the thing! It ate her!” she said through her sobs. “While we were walking, they… they began saying weird things, like ‘dinner is ready' we didnt know what they meant! They meant us! This man came out of the woods, i called out to him, he just looked away, I think he was one of them.”

As she spoke, he watered down the cloth, giving it to her. “he...ate her?”

She sighed, wiping her face with the cloth, “this is going to sound crazy…”  she hesitated, sniffling again as she looked at him.

“I deal with crazy almost 3 times a week, this is why I’m here, you’re gonna be okay, this is my job.”

She nodded nervously “there was another man there, he was in the trees, before we could even say anything, all three of them...grew..into giants...and… my coworkers date...he picked her up and…”

She suddenly fell into a crying fit once more, falling into eddies lap, he rubbed her back, trying to console her.

“He… he bit her in half!” she screamed through sobs. “I got away, the one in the trees just watched me, who knows how close he is.”

He felt sick as she cried, and Eddie looked away from her… this wasn’t what he expected, no wonder nothing was making sense, there was nobody, because they would eat it.

He was about to say something, as they heard the sound of leaves crunching and branches breaking. “It's not my fault you lost the bitch”

The girl froze, her cries stopping out of fear, she covered her mouth. She shared a terrified look with Eddie, who shared the same look.

“Well it's not mine either, I was in the middle of eating!” the man sounded so nonchalant when talking about murder, but then again, most monsters weren’t remorseful.

“Will both of you shut the fuck up and just get on with it?” the voice sounded eerily familiar, but he couldn’t concentrate on it now.

The three men kept bickering, and the barista nodded to eddie, pointing to the other side of the ditch, mouthing the word “run”

He shook his head wildly, mouthing the word “no” over and over, if she did this, she would be dead.

Either she thought it would work, or she didn’t care if she died, but she ran up the side of the ditch, then began dashing through the woods once again, ignoring Eddie's silent pleas not to.

Instantly two out of the three men yelled, and began running as well, though their footsteps began getting louder and louder, Eddie shrunk back, trying to hide as best as he could.

He watched in horror as one of the giants walked over the ditch, which took them only one step, right above him, then another, then another, it was too dark to get a good look at any of them from his disadvantaged point.

But luckily, with all the noise they were making, he was able to run to the other side of the ditch, running up and hiding behind a large tree, digging through his bag, the best luck he would’ve had with killing these things, was his machete, thanking god that he actually brought it.

Eddie held it tightly to his chest, slowly turning to see what was happening.

“Let me go!” the Barista screamed as she was picked up by the giant, flailing around in his grip.

“Oh I’ll let you go alright,”

She gave him a strange look, before returning to her screams as he lifted her up over his head, his mouth agape.

“I’ll let you go now”

Eddie turned back behind the tree, hearing her screams as she was dropped into the giant's mouth, he wasn’t looking, but his mind pictured it. He felt sick to his stomach, anger bubbling up inside of him

He heard the screams of the woman suddenly stop, and a silence filled the air. Eddie knew what this meant, he felt like he was ready to vomit, his stomach twisting in knots

“Y’know you don't have to drag it out.”

“What? You’re just mad because you got jack shit, maybe you shouldn’t be so picky”

Eddie listened to the three bickers, waiting for the right time to move from tree to tree, making sure they couldn’t see him as he got closer.

In his head he knew this was a bad idea, that he was going to get caught, but this was the first time he had ever actually met a victim, he talked with her, even if it was brief, it pushed him more than anything else did, this wasn’t about money, for the sake of the town, no…

It was for Her.

He took a deep breath as he prepared to move to another tree, planning to climb it and attack in a much better position.

“Ah! I thought I heard something!” Eddie froze, hearing a booming voice behind him.

He. was. Fucked.

He instantly spun around, waving the machete up, he heard the giant let out a yell as the blade bit into its hand, which was about to grab eddie.

shitshitshit

Eddie backed up a bit, before taking off in a run, but it didn’t help, another came barreling in.. barrelling in Eddie's eyes, it was pretty much just a few steps for the giant, the last one just hung out in the back, basically ignoring the interaction.

Eddie prepared to swing again, but the giant in front of him didn’t move, just smirked, catching Eddie off guard, allowing the one behind him to snatch him up.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled as the sneak attack made him drop the machete on the ground.

“You little fucker…” the giant lifted him off the ground at a speed that made Eddie sick, never in his life had he wanted to be on the ground more than he was now, the cold wind made him cringe as he was face to face with the Giant.

Surprisingly, the man looked fairly normal, he wore a plain blue shirt with some black jeans, nothing like any fairy tale would describe it.

His eyes were damn near murderous, he held up his other hand ‘look what you fucking did.” Eddie struggled in the giant's grip, which only made the man laugh, “what? Little hunter doesn’t know what to say?”

Eddie sputtered a bit, how did they know he was a hunter?

“Looks like you got dinner after all, huh Rich?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Rich...Rich...that voice...is that...NO….NONONO

Eddie's head whipped around as the third giant came closer to the other two...those glasses, those clothes...those eyes.

When those eyes met him, they shared the same look, the exact same look that they shared at the coffee shop. Eddie wanted to yell, but it seemed all the sound had left his body.

That's why Richie was in Derry...

“What's the matter?” the giant holding him pulled him closer, “don’t like knowing that you’re dinner?” he chuckled devilishly, Eddie didn’t respond, too horrified at richie to even register what the giant was saying “hey fucko! You listening?”

The giant shook Eddie a bit, still nothing, he gave a look to the other stranger, who just nodded, the same devilish smile pasted onto his face.

Without another word, he let Eddie go, plummeting towards the earth.

Eddie let out a loud yelp, it was almost in slow motion for him, falling through the air, hitting the cold, hard ground, he was sure a rib or two were fractured just by the pain he felt in his chest, but the pounding in his head was much...much worse. He couldn’t move, he could only listen to what they had to say.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Richie pushed the giant who was holding Eddie, not even caring to remember his name “you could’ve just given him to me.”

Richie's heart sank as he saw the hunter in the giant hand, Eddie, he knew Eddie was lying about why he was in Derry, Eddie was just simply, a bad liar. But he had never expected something like this, he never wanted any of the losers to find out about this. It was bad enough he was hunting in Derry, only a mere half hour from Mike.

“Why not? The little fucker wouldn’t listen, so I gave it what it deserved.”

He felt anger overflow him as the giant talked about Eddie in this way, but he stayed silent, bending down, and picking up Eddie by the collar of his jacket, his body dangling at it rose up.

Eddie could barely move, everything hurt, he knew he was being lifted up once again, but he couldn’t do anything about it, what was he to do, his ribs were broken, he was winded and he was basically a doll to these guys.

He could hear Richie talking to the two, but he couldn’t really understand it, until one sentence was asked.

“So, You gonna chew ‘im?”

This sent Eddie back into his fit of panic, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he began cursing, kicking, wildly flailing. The two giants just laughed.

“Come on richie, you can chew this once, trust me, so much better experience.” Eddie couldn’t tell which of the two giants spoke, but he begged to whatever was out there, that Richie wouldn’t go through with it.

“I’m not a fan of blood, you should know that by now.” Richie rolled his eyes, his gaze back to Eddie, his heart breaking as he watched the man flail around, knowing he was in pain by the look on his face.

“The bitch thought he was going to kill us, he cut my fucking finger! Let him have it!” the giant pushed richie slightly, Richie giving him a glare.

“He's going to die anyways, why can’t I let myself enjoy him squirm?” Richie spoke, monotone. “I like how it feels when they go down.”

It was enough to make Eddie sick.

“It's your last hunt with us, go out with a bang! You got a fucking hunter after all…treat it like it treats our kind!”

“Fuck off, let me do it.'' His tone seemed almost protective, but with Eddie hearing a low gurgle of the man's stomach, Eddie knew it was like an animal protective of its prey.

The two just sighed, watching Richie...just...waiting.

Eddie paused as the giants fell into silence, staring up at Richie with tears in his eyes, his vision was blurry, and his head kept feeling worse and worse. “Please...don’t do this…” he found his voice, only to say that.

What else was he supposed to say? It was rich! The man he grew up with, the man he fought a killer clown demon with….the man...who was about to eat him.

Richie just sighed, lifting Eddie up carefully, much more carefully than the others would even dare, tilting his head up and placing Eddie right on his tongue. Letting go of the man and shutting his mouth.

Eddie's heart dropped at the quick action, Richie not even hesitating before putting Eddie into his mouth.

The heat inside richies mouth was enough to make Eddie let out a yell, going from chilly weather and a biting wind to a human sauna was not the best transition. The sensation of the wet, squishy muscle underneath him giving him a dose of reality-- He pushed against the roof of the mouth, hoping to re-open the mouth, but from the angle he was at, the throat was just becoming him.

He attempted to climb up the tongue, but no matter how close he would get to almost getting out, the saliva around him beckoned him down the tight, hot throat.

“Let me out!” Eddie yelled, but he knew it was no use, that Richie wouldn’t let him go, not after this. “Let me out you...fucking bastard!”

This was it? This is how he would go, he fought almost every dangerous creature in the book and won but he HAD to be eaten by someone he called a friend?

He felt himself getting weaker and weaker, his breath becoming more and more shortened with each breath. He found himself almost allowing his body to be pulled and squished around by the tongue, which happily licked at him.

He yelled as richie rolled him around, coating him in thick saliva in the process, but he really couldn’t do anything about it, the fear and fatigue getting to his head.

As the throat beckoned him down, he clawed at the tongue to keep himself out of the hot, wet esophagus “don’t do this!”

His words were met with no answer, but with a swallow.

Eddie yelled as his lower half was pulled into richies throat, he couldn’t move, which made him flail around even more, this was met with another swallow, thick muscles pulling the rest of him into the hungry throat and down the man's gullet, it was almost second nature to the man.

It must’ve been only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as he slid down the esophagus, unable to move and his Eddies head spinning with anxiety.

The one word spilling into Eddie's mind was only ....”Why?”

He pushed against the esophagus in an attempt to stop himself from sliding down any further, but all the saliva clinging to him and his clothes wouldn’t let him.

Suddenly, Eddie felt his legs slip into the stomach below him, gurgles and growls heard below him. As the rest of him slipped inside the belly, the whole experience became very...very real.

His head was dizzy from the lack of oxygen in the throat, and he couldn’t stop shaking at the thought of this being the final place he would be alive, nobody would know Richie had done it.

And that's the last thing Eddie Kaspbrack remembered, before passing out completely.

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

Richie paused as he felt eddie go limp on his tongue for a few moments, he was scared this was too much for the little guy and his heart gave out, but the small man began to thrash around once more, which in a dark way, got him relieved, so he could continue.

This was a disaster, he hated how he had to eat people already, but the fact that it was Eddie made everything so much worse.

Richie should’ve known something was up when he saw Eddie in that cafe, he just couldn’t focus with the hunger eating him up inside.

Now it wasn’t only hunger eating him up...it was guilt.

He rolled Eddie around on his tongue a few more times, capturing the taste of the man.

he hated to admit it, but people tasted so good. It was almost like a drug for him, nothing really could sustain him for long, except for this. The longest he could go without eating a person was three weeks, he would move town to town with his tour, every few weeks swallowing a person to keep his energy up.

He carefully swallowed a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he brought his head back down, he could feel Eddie sliding slowly down his gullet, esophagus stretching as he did so it felt so...normal for him, like it was second nature.

One thing he was grateful for, was that he was the only guy that night who didn’t have a meal already lined up.

The past few weeks, meeting up with these guys got worse and worse, they were cruel, but for some reason they liked him, and would not leave him alone no matter how much he demanded them to, but tonight they agreed that tonight could be their last night

They always wanted it to be Derry, maybe because they lived there, maybe because the people tasted better. Richie didn't know, all he did was agree, since he didn't want one of their victims to become someone that he cared about. .

He felt guilty knowing the fates of the other two girls, but he knew he couldn’t stop it, they chose to kill those girls, they could’ve safely eaten them, but they chose to kill, which they thought he chose as well. He couldn’t change this, and it made him sick just to think about it.

As the two other giants shrank back down to their normal height, RIchie didn’t even bother to remember the jackasses names, they looked up at him.

“Sad to see ya go! Maybe we’ll meet up again!” one of them spoke, the other just nodded, before they both walked away.

sickos...

Richie stayed silent and still until they got out of sight, before letting out a deep breath, holding onto his stomach as he felt eddies body slip inside of it, it felt so...good to have someone in there again

But all according to plan,  he felt Eddie pass out, feeling his shallow breaths as he lay unconscious in his belly.

He was going to be okay...

----

It's too hot, It feels like I’m melting...I can’t move...I have to get out of here...I have to…

Eddie's eyes snapped open at the sound of a car horn, and a familiar yell, his head throbbing and he almost jumped out of his seat, he would’ve if he didn’t have his seatbelt on…

Seatbelt?!

Eddie's head snapped in every direction as he looked around, he was in a car, a blanket covering him...not where he thought he was...did...did he actually...no...he wasn’t...he couldn’t be… he wasn’t inside of a...

Richie let out a yell as Eddie popped up, making him swerve the car violently into the left lane, then back into the right lane, causing a chorus of more car horns to indicate that what he just did was an asshole move.

“Jesus fucking christ Eddie!” Richie yelled, “you scared the shit out of me!” he kept his eyes on the road, but the shock poured off of him like sweat.

Eddie just stared at richie as he drove, he could feel his body shaking at the sight of the man… he stammered for a moment, but he was only able to get out one word.

“Y-you…” his voice cracked a bit.

He didn’t want to believe it was true, but his clothes and hair being damp pointed out that might be the case, he felt his eyes sting with the threat of tears, never before had he felt this much Terror.

“I what eddie? I saved your life, what the fuck were you doing there?! If I wasn’t there you’d be fucking dead!” Richie turned to Eddie, giving him an angry look.

Richie was angry… at him?!

As Eddie got a good glypse at Richie, he noticed the man's face was red, his eyes a bit puffy, and he was shaking profusely, not to mention the cracks in his voice and the tears rolling down his face.

Richie was crying...Richie never cries…

“You actually...you fucking ate me?!’” Eddie finally worked up the courage to yell “What the fuck man?! I thought we were friends?!” his hand fell to his side, instinctively grabbing his knife holster, though only grabbing nothing, his knife lost in the fight earlier.

Richie didn’t respond, he just kept staring at the road. This just made Eddie angrier.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Eddie pulled the blanket off of him, shivering as his damp clothes absorbed the cold air around him. “You didn’t even tell any of us, you are a fucking m-monster!”

Again, silence, but he could see richie white knuckling the steering wheel.

Eddie could feel hot tears coming down from his eyes, “what's your plan now?” he couldn’t see himself leaving this vehicle alive, unless he hopped out the car door right now, even then he had a higher chance of ending up dead. “you should’ve made it quick like those other two fuckers did” he mumbled quietly.

Suddenly, Richie swerved across a few lanes, making Eddie slam into the car door instantly, which caused another abundance of yelling and anger from the man.

Richie didn’t say a word as he moved off of the highway, onto a local road, close to the treeline of the woods, slamming on the breaks at the closest place he could pull over at.

Eddie couldn’t help but be afraid of Richies silence, his slight shakiness as he held the wheel and the fact that Richie refused to make eye contact as he cried.

“I could’ve killed you.”  Richies voice cracked a slight bit.

Eddies heart sunk hearing those words, he could feel every bit of fear he had felt before hit him once again “R-Richie...I-I-”

“I could have done everything I said I would out there, and you could imagine what they would do if I wasn’t there…”

“Richie...p-please-”

“But I wouldn’t...I...I can’t Ed’s!” Richie lost all of his composure, and began yelling “I couldn’t let anything happen to you! What the hell were you thinking going after us? You could’ve died, Killing IT was one thing, but you’re alone!”

Eddie stared at him with a shocked expression, he felt his face flush, even if he was angry and scared, he was almost embarrassed, he felt like a child being berated by a parent, he frowned.

“You. ate. Me.”  Eddie spoke, emphasizing each word. “You ate me and you’re giving me shit?”

“But you’re still alive, hm?” Richie gestured up and down to Eddie, “nothing Hurt huh? You’re welcome.”

Those words actually got through to Eddie, “how am I...not dead…”

Richie sighed, hearing Eddie's tone, not angry, just...scared. “I’m not like them, Eddie. It's safe, because I’m safe…” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose “fuck that didn’t make sense, I..Its just something I can do.”

Eddie got a good look at Richie at this point, the man was no longer disheveled, he looked like he was good as new, no bags under his eyes, he didn’t look like he was going to pass out anymore...he looked healthy.

Eddie, felt tired, nauseous, and felt like he was about to pass out, they practically switched places. t

“What did you do to me…?” Eddie asked, which richie let out a small chuckle.

“Unlike Them”  he spoke of the two like it was bad luck to even think of them “I can’t digest living things, i uh… do have to eat living creatures though” he looked at Eddie, answering before the man could ask the question “I take energy, that's why you passed out, you came on the right day honestly, i usually wait a while before eating.”

“That's why there were survivors, that's how Mike knew--”

“Mike knows?” it sounded like a stupid question, but it had never crossed his mind. “How much does Mike know?” his voice was desperate, almost terrified.

“Not much… one girl that you...let go...talked to him about what she remembered…”

Richie shook his head “Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the wheels. “I left her on the pathway, watched her wake up, she shouldn’t have known about what happened.”

Eddie jumped at the slam “She didn’t remember anything, she thought escaped on her own, Mike has no idea what's going on, he...doesn’t even know he sent me here.”

“How the fuck doesnt he know?”

This is where Eddie began to feel nervous again-- what to say?

“A simple alias and a voice modifier did the trick.” Eddie rolled his eyes “and this isn’t my first time doing this.”

The shifter's heart sank.

Richie began piecing it all together, “You’re actually a hunter…?” he asked, “Tell me your joking Ed’s, you’re fucking with me…”

The thought of Eddie being an actual hunter was almost as absurd as knowing richie was a giant. Eddie was pretty fearless, but he didn’t act like the other hunters he’d met, if Eddie was actually a hunter, Richie was most likely a dead man.

“I uh… did tell you that I’m a Risk analyzer, I just didn’t tell you what kind of risks I worked with…” Eddie looked away, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t think I’d even run into you...or any of the losers on the job… Especially if the job is on one of you.”

Richie just stayed silent, Eddie. Eddie fucking Kaspbrack, kills monsters, just like him...all the time? He just silently turned on the car, driving back onto the main road. He felt this...intimidation now, and Richie did not like it at all.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, staring at the man, who just kept his eyes on the road. “Richie what's going on…?”

“I’m going to drop you off at your hotel, and guessing that there’s only one hotel that's not a total shithole, I’m guessing that's where you’re staying.” he spoke fast, like he didn’t want to talk to Eddie, which made the other man frown.

“You’re right...but...you seem...off.”

“Finding out my best friend is a killer isn’t something I really enjoy knowing.”

Holy shit…”Richie, are you...scared of me?” Eddie asked, utterly confused. He got no answer except for Richies face turning a slight red colour.

Eddie turned a bit red, but quickly changed the subject when Richie pulled into the driveway of the hotel, parking. “Are you going to answer me, dickwad” he only added the last part to get a reaction out of the man.

Richie snapped his head over to Eddie,  “we’ll finish this talk in the hotel room, I’m not staying in this car the entire night.”

“In the hotel room? What makes you think I’m letting you up there?”

“Because you can’t fucking walk.” Richie snapped once more, pointing to Eddie's legs, “Just try.”

Eddie just nodded, giving Richie a snarky look, then getting out of the vehicle.

“See!” Eddie spoke as Richie started, just waiting.  “What was that about---!”

Eddie couldn’t finish the sentence of glory as his legs wobbled. Making him fall to the concrete of the parking lot with a painful groan.

Richie got out of the car, a smug look on his face “what was what about?” He stood, hands in his hoodie pockets, holding back a bit of laughter.

Eddie just looked up, about to yell once more, but his own fear silenced him as he had to look up at Richie again, towering over him as he was on the pavement.

Richie frowned, seeing the fear in the hunters eyes, sighing

“Fuck--Here” Richie bent down, grabbing onto eddie, pulling the mans arm over his shoulder as to stablize him and help him move.

At first Eddie pushed back, not wanting Richie to even touch him at the moment, but something made him turn red as he got so close to him.

‘Do. not. Even. think. About. It.’

The walk up to the hotel room was silent, only minor grunts or breaths from either of the men.

Richie was practically going nuts with Eddie so close again--He would never admit it, but having eddie so close to his nose, he couldn’t help but smell him once again, and he smelled so...delicious, and the fact that he was able to taste him once meant that he knew that eddie was delicious.

‘Stop it….fucking stop.’

As they reached Eddie's door, the man tried to get the keys out of his pocket, only for Richie to just grab it out of his pocket himself, unlocking the door.

“T...thanks”

“Get in.”

Eddie sighed as they both walked in, the door shutting behind them. Eddie turned red as his luggage bag was sprawled on the bed, knives visible.

Richie groaned, seeing the blades, setting Eddie onto the bed, “Have enough fucking Knives man?”

“What? Scared?”

Richie said nothing, but looked away.

“The man who Eats people alive, is afraid of me?” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, dry and sarcastic, “and I’m not a killer…”

Richie gave him a disbelieving look, eddies laugh faded

“Well I am a killer, but it's not like that...I researched creatures like you for a while, I made like four journals just observing you guys…”

“Wow, a nerd in literally everything. Even murder” richie rolled his eyes, but it was very noticeable when his shoulders relaxed slightly, though still seemed on guard as Eddie spoke, his eyes narrow and hesitant.

“After IT,” Eddie turned away. “I realized that some of these creatures, they just want to Hurt people… and...I just can’t let that happen. So I became a hunter… it was tough at first, but i’ve gotten better.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck nervously “B-but I don’t kill people who are just trying to live their lives, only the ones who are killing people...which doesn’t make me that popular.”

Richie gave Eddie a look, not disproving, but just...intrigued, “Damn, a hunter with a moral backbone? Where have you been all my life”

Eddie paused, “I’ve been in your fucking life” He almost felt offended “suddenly I haven’t been with you because of my fucking career choice? Newsflash fuckface, I’m still fucking eddie kaspbrack”

Richie’s eyes widened “I didn't mean it--”

“You fucking EAT people. And I still see you as my...friend” Eddies voice lowered, looking away, “trust me, if I didn’t you’d be dead.”

Richie fell silent, somehow the word ‘friend’ still hurt him. Eddie could see the hurt on his face, looking away as well.

“All the other hunters i’ve known never gave me a chance to explain” Richie finally spoke after a few minutes, “They just see me as a monster.”

“i-I’m sorry.” Eddie responded “I didn’t mean--”

“Oh shut up.” Richie flashed a smile “You get a pass, I fucking ate you. I didn’t get a chance with any others.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the comment, something so absurd about the situation allowed him to. He was a hunter, who had been eaten, and is now talking to the person who had eaten him.

“So...the other losers?” Eddie fake coughed, trying to change the subject “Do any of them know”

“FUCK no.” Richie shook his head loudly, “If they knew that I’ve wanted--” Richie paused mid sentence, sputtering, clearly not wanting that to come out.

Eddie's eyes widened, “No no no, you don't get to say that shit and NOT finish the sentence, dickweed.”

“I-I..er--” Richie couldn’t form a coherent sentence, too busy turning redder than a tomato.

“Richie...Have you thought about...Eating us...like all of us? The losers?”

At first, Richie resisted, sputtering out a shaky ‘no!’, but Eddie just stared at the man, his expression not changing, it was a trick he would use when they were kids, Richie would always break.

“Fuck you Kaspbrak!” Richie finally broke, throwing his hands in the air “what do you want me to say? There's not one goddamn day that goes by since the reunion where i don’t think about it! There! Judge me all you fucking want! It's not gonna change the fact that I wanted to Eat you!”

Richie turned red again as eddie just stared “forget it”

“Did you ever try?”

It was richie's turn to look offended “you think im fucking stupid? If I tried anything on that trip, you’d think i was IT, I wasn’t about to be killed by my friends!”

Eddie put his hands up defensively “Okay okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist! It was a fucking question!”

Richie slumped back, defeated “I’ve thought about it sure---I never planned to though!” Richie almost sounded like he was trying to promise Eddie this, rather than convince him “I never planned on telling you guys, not that you’d believe me if I did.”

“Well you didn’t exactly tell me...so you kept your plan?”

Richie gave him a ‘are you kidding me’ expression

“I will eat you again”

“Don’t make me pull out the Knives, Tozier.”

Before Richie could even say another word, a loud ringing came from the luggage bag. It was his backup phone, Eddie reached for it, Richie first shook his head not to answer, but Eddie did anyway.

“Mr Marsh? Oh thank god you answered, it's been so long I thought the worst? What happened?” Richie tensed up, hearing Mike's voice on the other end of the phone, Eddie looked at the frightened predator and shook his head, mouthing the words ‘voice modifier’ which made Richie calm down slightly, still uncomfortable to hear Mike's voice.

Though on the other hand, Richie couldn’t help but laugh at the ‘Mr. Marsh’ mouthing to Eddie ‘are you fucking serious?’

Eddie shook his head, trying to wave the man off “Sorry Mr Hanlon, I understand your concern, everything is--”

“Ed’s?”

Eddie's sentence came to a full stop as Mike said his name, and so did his heart “w-what?”

“i-I” Mike stammered on the phone for a second “Eddie is that you?”

Richie, in an act of pure instinct, snatched the phone away from Eddie, who yelled out a quick “wait!” Before Richie hung up, turning the phone off.

There were a few moments of silence, you could practically hear the two’s hearts pumping loudly and full of anxiety.

“Shit.” they both said in unison.

---------

its good to be back...again!

[duhragonball]

Chi-Chi

I think I’m gonna wrap these up today so I can get back to work on my fanfic.    For the record, I got Buu, Frieza, Jolyne Kujo, Father Pucci, and Jobin Higashikata left to go, and then I’m done.  

But I hate to call it here, because this has been fun.   Maybe I’ll bring this back some time.  

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: I started watching DBZ back in the fall of 1998, and I didn’t get very serious about it until 2000.   Chi-Chi didn’t have a very big role in the Saiyans or Frieza arcs, and I wasn’t making a point of watching every episode, so it took a while for her character to be fully revealed.   Starting out, she was basically popping in every so often to remind us that she wanted Gohan to study.   She stood up to Garlic’s henchmen in Movie 1, but didn’t really get a chance to do anything.    In the Garlic Junior Saga, it’s stated that Chi-Chi is the strongest woman in the world, which sounds pretty impressive as long as you don’t think too hard about how many women are on the show.  

I don’t think I really understood Chi-Chi well until I got to the part where Goten spars with Gohan, and he reveals that Chi-Chi had been training him while Gohan was studying.   That was where it became clear to me that she only emphasized book-learnin’ over ass-whoopin’ because she knew Goku had that side of things covered.    With Goten, Chi-Chi had to be both mother and father to him, and she didn’t shirk from that.   

I guess what I’m trying to say is that Chi-Chi’s a great supporting character.   She maintains a presence in the story whether she’s on-screen or not, and you learn about her gradually through these short appearances.    And when she does show up, it’s just a treat to see.   She’s always got something to say, and she’s cute and she can beat your ass.    What’s not to like?  

Why I don’t:  Yeah right.   Look, the biggest gripe people have with Chi-Chi is that she makes her son do homework, which is dumb.    She explains this a number of times: There’s more to life than fighting, and she wants that for her son.   And Gohan’s not exactly worse off for her style of parenting.  

I think the disconnect here is that people watch this show and they want to see Goku and Gohan screw around and go on adventures, and they feel like Chi-Chi is here to kill their buzz.   I guess it’d be like watching a football game, and every so often some guy wanders out onto the field and scolds everyone for playing football.    But that guy would be right, because football is dangerous, yo.   Everybody keeps telling Chi-Chi that the only hope for the world involves her little boy getting his ass kicked by aliens, and she’s like “no, that’s bullshit,” and she’s absolutely right.   She’s a saint for tolerating it as much as she does, but I think a lot of fans refuse to look at it from her point of view.    They just want the fighting.  

I remember Lanipator observing that he used to hate Mr. Satan when he was younger, but the older he got, the more and more he appreciated the character.    I can’t relate to that, because I was old enough to drink when I started watching this show, so for me, there is no “when I was a kid” perspective on Dragon Ball.    I thought Mr. Satan was awesome from the start, and I never had much of a problem with Chi-Chi either.  

They did tend to overexpose both characters in the anime, cutting to them when they needed a filler moment to pad out an episode or five.   So maybe that’s got something to do with it.   But that’s not the fault of the characters.    But yeah, if I was watching the Cell Games at age 10 I’d probably get really sick of them constantly cutting to Mr. Satan or Chi-Chi for analysis.    

Favorite episode (scene if movie):  It’s probably hard to top the one where she fought Goku.   That was one of the last Chi-Chi moments I got to see, because I didn’t get caught up on OG Dragon Ball until 2004.   It’s an excellent use of the character and her lengthy absence from the show.   By the time she reappears, no one recognizes her, and she’s upset about being forgotten.  

Favorite season/movie:  I think I’d have to go with the Buu Saga, on the grounds that she got more time to shine, mainly due to so many other characters being unavailable.    It was a real roller coaster ride for her too.    Her husband’s dead and she’s raising two kids on her own, then he comes back, then he leaves again, and maybe Gohan’s dead too, and now Goten has to fight, and then she’s dead, and then they’re all back together in the end.     Wild.

Favorite line:  In the Cell Games Saga, there’s a TV show where Mr. Satan drags three buses onto the set, cuts a scathing promo on Cell, and then punches one of the buses to put an exclamation point on the whole thing.   Wait, I take it back, I’m pretty sure 10yo me would have loved Mr. Satan.  

Anyway the live audience is marking the fuck out for Mr. Satan, but at Kame House Yamcha and Krillin are unimpressed, because they punch holes in like fifty buses every morning as a warm-up.   But in the dub of that episode, Roshi remarks that Mr. Satan’s theatrics are “sad”, and Chi-Chi goes “It sure is.   Somebody could have used that bus.” Classic, total classic.

Favorite outfit: It’s hard to pick, honestly.   I like the Buu Saga yellow, but I prefer the way her hair looked in the Saiyans Saga.  And that outfit she wore near the end of DBZ was pretty great too.

OTP:  Goku. come on.

Brotp: I think Bulma sort of stepped into that role after Trunks was born, but Chi-Chi seems like a loner to me.   She basically rolled in, got Goku to marry her, and then retreated deep into the mountains to interact with as few people as possible.   I need me a freak like that.  

Head Canon: I think she’s genuinely proud of Goku and the boys being so great at super-karate-laser wars.   She doesn’t talk about it much, because there’s plenty of other people to congratulate them on that sort of thing, and I think they sort of look to her for as someone who grounds their family.  

To put it another way, I don’t think Goku wants Chi-Chi to talk a lot about the androids or the Saiyans or whatever.   I think he wants someone to bother him with household matters and chores and ordinary stuff.   And Gohan and Goten just want a regular mom to balance out their alien monomyth dad.    And she plays that role well, because that’s who she is.   But she’s still proud of them for saving the world and so forth. 

Unpopular opinion: Chi-Chi was right. 

Look, how was Gohan going to make a life for himself as a fighter, in a world where Goku and Vegeta have that market cornered?   

Where’s he live?  In a big-ass mansion.    Why?  Because he married a rich man’s daughter.   Where’d he meet her?   In the school Chi-Chi made him go to.  How’d he get in to said school?   He aced their entrance exams.    How’d he do that?   Chi-Chi made him study.

What does Goku do all day when he isn’t training?  He drives a tractor?  Why?  Because his wife has a thing for farmer aesthetics.   Why does he just do whatever his wife tells him?   Because he didn’t study.

A wish:  I wish all the Chi-Chi haters would stay out of my soup, because it’s salty enough as it is.   (Heyoooo!)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I’ve been seeing Manalorian spoilers lately, and I don’t want to give anything away, but it seems like every time something happens on Mando, all the chuds come out of the woodwork to complain about Episode VIII and/or IX.     They’re like “thank you, Disney, for giving us the [Star Wars thing] that Disney refused to give us.” 

My fear is that Star Wars has become balkanized into this thing where people praise half of it as fixing or undoing the damage caused by the other half.   Used to be, people would either like the Ewoks or hate them, but they couldn’t ignore the fact that they were there.   Now it’s like any movie that doesn’t feature Ewoks is done to cater to the anti-Ewok crowd, and any movie that does is solely for the purpose of keeping the pro-Ewok side engaged.   

My point is that I worry that this will happen to all media franchises, and Dragon Ball Q will feature a Chi-Chi that gets turned into a hateful she-hag to satisfy the haters, and then Ultra Dragon Ball Deluxe will feature a more nuanced version of Chi-Chi as a make-good, thereby pissing off the haters.   And they’ll go back and forth trying to please everyone while the character ends up becoming an incomprehensible mess from it.  

5 words to best describe them: Adorable tiger mom/bus advocate.

My nickname for them: Cheech. 

[soopersara]

I looooove Zutara so much. But I’m exhausted by how much the Zutara fandom focuses on salt and hate on Aang/Mai/Bryke/ATLA so much rather than celebrating Zutara, I can barely find 100% Zutara positivity blog spaces. Even in the Zutara Discord there’s never-ending activity in the salt tags. Like, I had no idea it was possible for a fandom to be so consistently angry, but that’s what a lot of Zutarians literally are like. 1/2

The Dramione fandom in contrast is never like this, Dramione shippers just love to celebrate without hating and dissing on canon events so much. Who cares about canon when we know what we love? Why spend so much energy thinking about something they hate? 2/2

I really don’t have any frame of reference for what other fandoms or ships are like. The ATLA fandom (and Zutara specifically) is the first fandom I ever joined, and it’s still my only fandom. I had to stare at your asks for a minute before I even knew where to begin, so bear with me. 

The thing is, people enjoy things in vastly different ways. While you may not enjoy analysis and criticism of the show (which is perfectly valid!), the fact that a lot of people participate in criticism doesn’t mean that they’re always angry or dedicating all of their time to things that they hate. If we genuinely didn’t like the show, we wouldn’t be here, it’s that simple. But a lot of us (myself included, at times), find it satisfying and even fun to pick apart and articulate the things that fell short for us. 

When I first watched the show, there were parts of the ending that niggled at me, and it was frustrating not being able to express what bothered me about it. It wasn’t until I spent time digging around some salty/critical blogs that I started seeing some of my problems with the show being pointed out in ways that helped me figure out how to articulate both what bothered me and the ways I wish they’d been done instead (which, incidentally, has fed into all of my fics). But I wasn’t angry about the show. I didn’t (and don’t) hate the show. It’s like I told an anon who asked if I hated Aang... oh, god, it’s been MONTHS ago now: It’s possible to like/love things and still wish that they were better. And that, for me, is where critcism of the show, characters, and relationships comes from. I love so many things about this show and its characters that I really notice the things that bother me, and I like talking about them because I care about the story, and discussing the things that could have been different has helped me improve as a writer. 

Now I’m not a mind reader, so I can’t say for sure, but I’m almost positive that the vast majority of Zutara shippers are coming from the same place. We love the show and its characters, and yet we wish that certain things could have been better. It probably looks like we’re angrier than we really are when we get into deep discussion mode, because... honestly, it would be exhausting to preface every statement with “I love _____, but I wish they’d done ______ instead.” So we don’t say that. Probably ever. Because most of us who do engage in critical/salty discussions come into the conversation with the base assumption that that’s where all the criticism comes from, and it’s easy to forget that there might be people in those spaces who don’t know that.

Of course, there are people who genuinely dislike certain characters or whatever, but of everyone I know, I can think of maybe... two? -ish? who truly hate the characters that that Zutara fandom is most critical of. That’s fine! Those people don’t have to like things just because they exist in the show! But the vast majority of us criticize because we saw potential that wasn’t realized and we want to analyze that, not because we hate the foundation of the show/character/whatever else.

I’m glad that you’ve had a positive, salt-free (or low-salt) experience in the Dramione fandom, but like I said, I’m not in any other fandoms, so I don’t have personal experience with how they work. I’ve heard from other people that there’s salt to be found in every fandom, but I’m guessing that Harry Potter is such a massive fandom that it’s easy to avoid if you don’t want to see it. The Zutara fandom is medium-ish, so there’s fewer niches to carve out within the ship itself.

That said, if you still want to cut back on the salt in your Zutara fandom experience, don’t be afraid to use the tools that social media platforms put at your disposal. If you notice someone whose posts bother you on ANY platform, it’s okay to unfollow or block them so you don’t see their stuff. On Discord, you can mute and hide any salt channels or categories that are bothering you (or depending on the server, have the whole salt role taken away completely if you’re sure you’re not going to use it). And it’s totally okay to redirect people to salt channels if they start geting off topic in other places! I do it fairly often when people start slipping into NSFW content in general channels. On Tumblr, you can filter tags (I admit that I suck at tagging reblogs because I’m LAZY, but the OPs generally tag correctly, and Tumblr’s filters use the OP’s tags too). “Anti-character/relationship”, “character/relationship salt”, and “character/relationship critical” might be good tags to start with, since those are fairly common. I wouldn’t recommend following the Zutara ship tag on Tumblr, because there’s sometimes mistagged stuff from other parts of the fandom (*cough* antis *cough*), but following a small number of blogs you do like and letting them sort your content for you is pretty nice. And... that’s probably all the advice I have, since I’m only on those two platforms. But remember that the block button is your friend and you’re fully within your rights to customize your social media experience any way you like!

...wowza, I got chatty. Anyway, I hope you’re not too discouraged by your experience in the fandom. The criticism really does come from a place of love and wanting to be able to create better fan content, and as proof, I think I’m going to squeeze in one more writing sprint before I fall asleep so I can bring more Zutara content into the world. 

Hugs, anon! I hope you can figure out how to make your time in the Zutara fandom what you want it to be.

[myghostmonument]

13xReader: Inhibitions

Notes: I’ve been writing a lot more “canon” pieces recently (non-readers, posted on my ao3), but it feels nice to go back to my fandom roots, so to speak, and finish off some requests like this one! Each style has its own challenges to work through, and it’s fun to move between them and keep things interesting. I plan to keep writing for both, so no worries to anyone who prefers one over the other. This is, as always, gender-neutral for the reader, and is also border-line a disaster!reader fic, a loose characterization style created by the incredible @lilaccoats​ that I stole bc she loves me 

Summary: The Doctor takes you and the fam to a trendy bar, promising a night of relaxation and fun. Shenanigans ensue when you maybe-not-so-accidentally get a little too inebriated. 

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drunkenness, hangovers, mentions of vomit, and attempted assault. It’s more an uncomfortable conversation than anything, and nothing graphic happens, but please be warned!

WC: 7500 please don’t look at me like that I just picked at it to unwind as I worked on my zine piece and it got entirely out of hand honk honk goes the clown mobile 

The decision to go to a bar had been Ryan’s. That alone, that the destination had been picked during his turn, ought to have been enough forewarning; it seemed that whenever a trip went sideways, it almost always fell on Ryan’s turn (or the Doctor’s, but you and the others excluded that data — her choices were always catastrophes and not worth including in the risk analysis amongst yourselves).

But faced with the usual question of “where and when to next?”, Ryan had requested a bar, and the Doctor had delivered. You had landed on an asteroid, which according to the Doctor was the location of a top-notch bar, situated along a very popular intergalactic trading route. It was certainly busy, as you all left the TARDIS in an alley and approached the sleek, shiny building; there was a short queue to get in, but people — aliens and humans both — congregated in clumps around it and as you moved through the line and entered the bar, you even looked up and noticed people on the roof.

“So,” Yaz said, propping a hip against the bar counter and taking in the sights. “This is where the great Ryan Sinclair works his magic.” She let her eyes rove around the noisy crowd, and grinned over at Ryan. “You feeling right at home then?”

Ryan shot her a scowl, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets. “Ha ha,” he said. “This is not what I had in mind when I suggested drinks.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, looking around at him. “Really? I thought I did all right.” She put her hands on her hips, surveying the crowded, noisy bar.

“Well I think it’s great Doc,” Graham said, already perusing a menu with interest. She beamed at him.

“Thank you, I try my best,” she said. She had her hands in her coat pockets, something that usually indicated she was being (or feeling) cautious. In this case, you thought she was merely trying to avoid knocking into anyone, or any drinks; the bar (if that’s what it was, it did seem more like a sort of club) was packed with people, and it would be all too easy to hook an elbow or bump a precarious drink.

Yaz and Ryan were still bickering, and although you generally enjoyed wading into those sorts of things, a menu caught your eye and you pulled it closer. You could read it, thanks to the TARDIS’ help, but translation could only go so far.

“Are these all alcoholic?” you wondered aloud, frowning at something listed as a Greyhound.

“Are they even all drinks?” Graham added, and you glanced up with a smile, knowing he was hoping for food.

“I think so,” the Doctor answered, moving over to you. She reached over to pull your menu towards her, and her sleeve brushed against your shoulder. “Hmm,” she said, still standing very close. “Sorry Graham, all liquid.” She didn’t actually sound all that sorry, you noted. Graham obviously noticed it as well, because he gave a theatrical sigh.

“Every drink has an inebriation agent of some sort,” the Doctor continued, scrunching her nose. “Different sorts for different races and species, this is a very diverse bar.”

“Are they all safe for us?” Yaz asked, also crowding your shoulder to look at the menu.

“Y-e-s,” the Doctor said slowly, followed by an “actually no,” and an eye-roll from Yaz. “Well, sort of. Depends on what you mean by safe. Humans are common enough here, but some drinks will still have a stronger or weaker effect than they would for their intended consumer. They’re coded, see?” She flattened her (your) drink menu on the counter and pointed. “This is the symbol for human, with standard colour rankings. Green means intended for you, yellow means it will have less effect, and red more.”

“Get in,” Ryan said, and you knew without having to look that he was perusing the red-coded drinks.

“You don’t want to try a Red,” the Doctor said sternly. “It could have any number of effects.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Ryan muttered, and then it was Graham’s turn to bicker with him while you and Yaz  scanned the menu.

“How do you think we order?” you wondered, after deciding to try the Greyhound, which was coded green. Yaz had decided on yellow-coded drink, which cited a lack of alcohol. Its kick came from the flavor combination and carbonation, apparently. Yaz’s particular choice sounded disgusting, and you were very much looking forward to watching her try it.

“Yeah, I don’t see a barkeep,” Graham added, craning over the counter and apparently done with trying to persuade Ryan to make good choices. “Though I suppose you might not be able to pick one out from this mess.” It was true; though you were congregated around a counter, there was no discernible life-form keeping tabs or otherwise running it, and the crushing ebb and flow of the crowd was a confusing riot of clashing voices and species. Over it all thrummed the heavy beat of music, alien but still somehow recognizable as upbeat and catchy. You had the distinct sense that this was a trendy bar, and wondered how the Doctor even knew about it.

“It’s simple,” the Doctor said, and she bent over you to again point at the menu, her arm resting against yours. “You see this bit here? You press it with your finger, then press the box next to the item you want.”

“How’s that work then?” Ryan asked dubiously.

“It’s DNA activated,” the Doctor said calmly, as if that were in any way a normal thing for a drinks menu to be. “We were all scanned when we walked through the doors, didn’t you notice?”

“Did we notice the DNA scanners in an alien bar filled with aliens?” Graham asked. “No, must have slipped my mind Doc, no idea how I missed them. ”

“Well,” the Doctor said loftily, “you were scanned. So order your drink like I said, and it’ll be brought to you.” She bent over her menu, some of her hair brushing against your face. You sat very still, swallowed, then reached for a menu and dragged it towards you (seeing as how your own had been commandeered.)

After some consideration you ordered your Greyhound, and it arrived in an interesting, fluted sort of glass, delivered by a waiter. The drink was a pleasing sanguine colour, complete with a wedge of fruit on the glass rim. The whole effect was quite good, too, which was more than Yaz could say for her yellow-coded drink, which she almost choked on. You didn’t deign to try it after that, but Ryan and the Doctor both made a big show of tasting it and being subsequently horrified. Graham, equable as ever, took the abandoned yellow in hand and sipped it serenely, something the rest of you took in with an impressed sort of horror. The Doctor drifted away shortly after with no drink of her own, which wasn’t too surprising; you rarely saw her ingest anything more than a taste of food or drink before flitting away, like some sort of overgrown and absent-minded hummingbird. Ryan and Graham wandered off too. You lingered at the counter with Yaz for a while, as she ordered a new (and improved) yellow-coded drink. You found your own glass empty, and after some hesitation, shrugged and ordered another Greyhound. It hadn’t been too strong; you simply felt warm, and bright. It was nice. Second drinks in hand, you and Yaz decided to do a circuit, it was dark and loud and you were quickly separated in the swirling crowd. No matter, you thought cheerfully, as you took another sip. You’d catch Yaz up eventually, no doubt. The music was blasting, and you unconsciously matched your footfalls to the beat, feeling it warm and sizzling in your blood along with the drink. You tipped the glass in your mouth at the end of the song, and were surprised to find it empty. “Well that’s rude,” you told the empty glass, which flashed  in your hand in a thoroughly unimpressed manner. You pivoted in the press of bodies around you, trying to find a free table and a menu. You needed replacement drink, seeing as how your current one was clearly faulty. “Must’ve shorted me,” you mumbled to yourself. “Typical. Think I can’t handle my glasses - I mean, hounds. Dogs. Drinks.” You stumbled as you pushed through a group of people, but regained your stride easily enough. You even spotted Ryan in a shadowy corner, chatting with a very lovely alien indeed. She seemed to be trying to entice Ryan to dance; you wished her the best of luck. Ryan was a hilarious dancer. Not bad, but definitely hilarious, and he took some convincing. You reached a table on the edge of the dance floor, and pulled a menu towards yourself. It took you a couple of jabs to correctly order your Greyhound — your finger kept slipping. Or maybe it was the menu, actually. “Faulty drinks, faulty menus,” you complained to the room at large, leaning back against a pillar as you waited. The people swirling around you were difficult to focus on, and you wondered suddenly if the room was tilting — surely the room itself wasn’t faulty! “Have to get the foundations checked,” you informed the alien server who appeared with your drinks. They gave you an odd look and vanished. You reached for your drink, but paused, hand outstretched as you considered the not one but three glasses set before you. Two Greyhounds, and one that was something else, a smaller, opaque glass. The liquid shimmered in a very interesting way indeed, and it was difficult to look away. Well, perhaps they had brought you the extra drinks on the house, in order to make up for all the faults you’d been uncovering left and right. You stumbled as you pondered this, which as far as you were concerned was proof enough of the foundational flaws; you were, after all, standing still, so what other reason would you have to stumble? Unbelievable. You reached for the Greyhound, but your hand paused, then changed course halfway through and grasped the smaller, shimmering cup instead. It was very light in your grip. You tasted it and stumbled again; it had hit your tongue with a wallop, your entire body was fizzing with a bolt of what must be pure electricity, there was no other possible explanation. Everything around you was abruptly brighter, louder, richer. You blinked, fascinated. “Not too many humans can handle their reds,” a voice said next to you, and you set the cup down with a thud, squinting as the alien next to you came slowly into focus. “You usually so squiggly?” you asked him, and he titled his head, dark eyes moving from you to the half-drunk cup, and back again. His smile flashed in the low light, and for a moment it was all you could see, becoming somehow the brightest, sharpest thing in the room. “It’s a curse,” he said, and you nodded sagely, taking another sip. His eyes followed the cup, and his smile sharpened. “Could cut myself on that,” you observed. “Teeth,” you added, when he looked confused. Perhaps he was drunk; it was ridiculous how many people couldn’t hold their liquor! “Want to try?” he asked, and his hand was on your arm. You weren’t sure when it got there. “Excuse me?” you said, loftily, aiming for a bit of the Doctor in your speech. You thought you did quite well, but the alien didn’t look as annoyed as anyone on the receiving end of one of the Doctor’s questions usually did. Rude. “Do I want to try what?” you asked belatedly, and realized that you were being towed towards the dance floor. When had you made that decision? Time seemed to be leaping ahead and then stalling out in great lurches, and everything was fuzzy and dull. You felt the glass taken from your hand, and were vaguely surprised to find that it was empty again. Another faulty glass? Really? You might have to register a complaint. “Not a lot of humans here,” the alien said, and his hands were on your sides, moving you to the music. People pressed all around you, bumping your shoulders and making it difficult to get your bearings. Your shoes squelched on the slightly sticky floor as they moved. You wanted to stop and see if you could get the room to stop spinning so much, but the hands on you kept you in motion. The alien was speaking again, close to your ear so you could hear him over the din. “You come here alone?” he asked, his fingers warm against your side, and tight. You tried to pull back to get a better look at him but he kept you where you were.“No,” you said, blinking as you tried to orient yourself. Your eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. “Came with m’friends.” “And they left you all alone, to drink a red?” he murmured, and his grip tightened. He was pulling you across the dance floor; the light was fading, and you realized all at once, as you moved into a more shadowed section of the room with only the gleaming crescent of his smile visible, that you were actually quite drunk, and didn’t know where any of the others were. “Should - should get back to them,” you tried to articulate, and he laughed, one of his hands sliding lower. “You’re right where you want to be.”  You stiffened, and tried to pull away. “No, I want to find my friends,” you slurred, jerking back. He held your arm, and pulled you into him in a great twirl, and suddenly your back was against a dark, slightly sticky wall. He loomed over you, one hand still vise-like on your arm, the other pressed against the wall by your head. He smiled down at you, except it didn’t really look so much like a smile anymore, but just a lot of very sharp, gleaming teeth. Your face was very cold, and you wished the room would stop spinning enough that you could push him off and find the others. “I could be your friend,” the alien said, his breath fanning across your face, his hand sliding lower again. The hand on the wall touched your hair, curled a lock of it musingly through his fingers. “I just love red-drunk humans, all alone and lost and looking for a friend to help them.” You struggled again in his grip, and this time he let you go. You lurched sideways along the wall, falling against the corner in a heap. You thought you should feel sick, but you only felt annoyed, and cold, and something else, something like confusion that was tipping towards fear. The alien lifted you back up, hands on your arms, then pressed you back against the corner, his weight against you. Annoyance flared and you tried to push him away. “Let go,” you ordered, but he only laughed, touched your face. “You don’t want to be alone right now do you little Red?” he asked. “I’m sure that’s true,” a new voice interrupted. It had a familiar, lilting cadence, but you didn’t recognize the sharpness to it, or the way danger simmered beneath the surface. The alien didn’t glance away from you. “We’re busy,” he said, touching your face again. “Find your own —” but then he was ripped away from you in swirl of grey fabric and flashing eyes. You swayed, then jerked back as hands touched you again, but — “It’s okay,” that voice said, “it’s alright, it’s me,” and you recognized it this time. The Doctor tucked you against her side and you inhaled that familiar scent of tea and vanilla, and it cleared your head a little, enough to let out a shaky breath. “He’s being - rude,” you told the Doctor, your voice muffled as you glared at the alien. “Yes, he is,” she answered. Her voice was still light, and soothing, and you weren’t able to see the way she was looking at him.  He scowled, gaze darting from you to the Doctor and back before making a dismissive sort of hand gesture and melting into the crowd. The Doctor stood very still for a moment, and you all you could hear was the thunder of her hearts. She let out a breath, then turned you. Again you found your back against that wall, only the hands on you were gentle, and cool. The Doctor touched your face as she looked at you, and that was better too. “Are you okay?” she asked, and you wondered at the appearance of that crease in her brow. She looked dangerous, in the half-light, but her hands were still so light. You nodded, and suddenly her grip on you was tight as she kept you from toppling over. “Wouldn’t - leave me alone,” you told her. “Rude.” “You already said that,” she observed, removing one of her hands to fish in a pocket for her sonic. You blinked at her, swaying on your feet as she ran it over you. She read the output and exhaled. “Tell me you didn’t drink a red.” “I didn’t drink a red,” you repeated dutifully, and watched as her entire face scrunched up in exasperation. It was nice.“You’re so pretty,” you informed her. It was important that she knew in that moment how pretty she was, with her face all scrunchy and the flashing lights making a halo of her head. “So pretty. Too pretty.” You stumbled, and again she caught you. “Okay, I think it’s back to the TARDIS with you.” “Says who,” you slurred, even as she steered you away from the wall and towards the exit. “You’re not — you’re not the boss of me.” “I certainly am,” she muttered. “Especially when you’ve gone and had a red, and I explicitly told you it was a bad idea.” Her grip on your arm was firm and cool, and infinitely preferable to the alien’s. The other alien, that was, because obviously she was alien too. So many aliens! “You’re the best alien though,” you mused aloud, and she darted a quick look at you, tongue poking briefly out of her lips. You liked that quite a lot. You wanted her to do it again, in fact, but she had drawn her lips back into a thin line as she watched you. She steered you towards the exit, but the crowd seemed to have doubled in size, and she was forced to shove her way bodily through the dancing, yelling patrons. A much larger person staggered into her and she grunted as she took the blow. “I think I hate bars,” she said, her voice all but inaudible over the din. “That’’s new. Maybe.” Someone else knocked into her, and the force was heavy enough to jar your arms from her grip. She receded from you in a blurry tunnel of light and sound, and then it was just you, pressed between strange bodies on the dance floor while the music thundered through your bones. Huh. Almost everyone was taller than you, and you had no idea which way the exit was, or the Doctor. You didn’t care much about the exit, but it’d be good to find the Doctor; you had felt less…. fuzzy, when her hands had been on your arms, and more like yourself again. And also she was just so pretty. Wandering in a blurry haze of music and voices, you began to wonder if maybe you might locate another drinks menu. You weren’t so sure about another red, but it also didn’t seem like quite as bad of an idea as it had an hour ago. That was interesting. Weaving and stumbling, you tried to push through the press of bodies, and had made a little bit of progress when — — hands, there were hands on you again — You lurched sideways as you tried to bat those hands away, but there was nowhere to go, the wall of people bounced you back, and the lights were flashing and people were shouting and there were hands on you again — “ - alright? Hey?” The hands succeeded at spinning you around, and a person loomed out of the crowd. Two things followed in short order: you recognized Yaz, and you threw out a defensive fist. They didn't happen in the optimal order, however. “Oi!” Yaz cried, dodging your fist and catching it in her own. “It’s me, what the hell?” She was still sliding in and out of focus, but you were aware of the fact that she was quite pretty too. "’M sorry,” you told her, wondering why she was pulling away from you. You hadn’t actually hit her, after all. Had you? “Sorry,” you repeated, swaying.She was peering at you, her hands firm on your arm. Her eyes were very dark, but they reflected the dancing lights all around you and you blinked, fascinated. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. “Absolutely corking,” you slurred, proud to remember the phrase you had heard Graham use (and Ryan mock) earlier. You weren’t sure why it made Yaz look so alarmed. “Yaz — oh, good —” The Doctor popped into your view as she squeezed between two dancing aliens who took no notice of her, which was probably good because her expression was quite stormy indeed. She still looked quite pretty. How’d she manage that? It wasn’t fair. “Doctor,” Yaz said, turning, “I think something’s wrong —” “Someone decided that they should have a red,” the Doctor said, grim. “I also had two - three - I had - greens!” you told them both, proud. Yaz’s look of alarm deepened, and it was so comical that you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. When that did nothing except make her and the Doctor’s brows both snap into synchronized, angry little v shapes, you only giggled harder. “Right, TARDIS,” the Doctor said ominously. “Yaz, can you find Ryan and Graham and let them know?” Yaz nodded and between one blink and another, she had vanished again. “Just like magic,” you told the Doctor, wondering why your lips were numb. She gave you a swift, searching look, her eyebrows still angry little vs and her tongue still poking between her lips. “Come on,” she said, wrapping a cool hand around your wrist. The contact was steadying, and very nice. She kept you close, clearly not wishing to be separated again as she towed you towards the exit. “Don’t want to go,” you told her abruptly, and you couldn’t hear your voice over the crowd and the music. You didn’t even know why you said it; it wasn’t true, strictly. You still felt like you could fit in another drink or two worth of fun, but you didn’t really care where you went, not if the Doctor was with you. Even if she looked so angry as she glanced back over her shoulder. She had heard you, evidently. She had very good hearing; you and Ryan and Yaz had been working on an experiment to test the limits of it, but hadn’t put it in action yet. Someone bumped into the Doctor hard and she grunted, but her grip on you remained iron-clad and she pulled you closer, actually folding you into her arms to protect you from the jostling crowd.“This is not what I had in mind,” she muttered, her lips very close to your ears as she spoke. It was nice, and extraordinarily distracting. “Do people actually enjoy these places?” “Ryan does apparently,” you said, remembering him chatting up that pretty alien. “This was his idea wasn’t it?” the Doctor mused, moving again and pulling you with her. You were still very close. “I don’t suppose we’ll be letting him choose the next adventure. Ah. That’s better,” she added as she stepped out of the bar and into the night, towing you with her.  A blast of cool, humid air hit you, wrapping around your body and cooling your cheeks. Even though the bar itself had been fairly dark, your eyes still relaxed as the flashing lights fell away.The Doctor let go, and the sobering effect of the night seemed to pull back, a little, as if you’d lost your anchor. The world tilted around you, the stars overhead wheeling and dancing. It made you feel a little bit sick, but it was also beautiful. The Doctor was talking, and you struggled to focus.“Think we parked just over there, yeah, must’ve. Let’s go — where are you going?” The last was delivered with an air of extreme exasperation as she turned in time to witness you bolting away. “I want to be colder,” you told her as you stumbled through the night. You were on pavement (alien pavement, anyways) but in the distance you could see the shadow of what had to be trees (alien trees) and maybe some grass (alien grass). You wanted nothing so much as to lay down on that grass. The Doctor’s protests followed you as you reached the tree and hurled yourself down at the cool earth. Well, not earth. Whatever passed for earth here. What was dirt on an asteroid called? A shadow fell over you, blocking the stars, and you turned your cheek in the grass to look up at the silhouette of the Doctor, hands on her hips, stray hairs blowing in the wind.“You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” she said. “You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” you replied cheerfully, and even though you couldn’t see her expression very well in the darkness and swirling stars, you could feel the scrunched-up scowl she leveled at you. “Come on,” she said, and her voice was exasperated but her hands were gentle as they lifted you off the ground. Gentle again, as they caught you when you stumbled sideways. “Careful, now. Come on.” “Don’t feel - so good -” you told her, and it was true; the fuzzy, warm glow was fading and the whirling of the stars wasn’t so much aesthetically pleasing as it was now sickening. “I expect not,” the Doctor muttered. “What could have possibly possessed you to drink so much? To drink a red?” “I didn’t mean t’ order it,” you defended yourself. “It was just - just there.” “And you drank it? Something you hadn’t ordered?” the Doctor demanded. “Surely you know not to do that!” “Just trying to have fun,” you mumbled, guilt rising up in you alongside the nausea. “Just wanted —  didn’t mean to — I wasn’t —” “Okay, it’s okay, I know,” the Doctor said, her voice softening. She shifted you against her as she spoke, and you realized she was fumbling for the TARDIS key. The blue box was humming at an almost inaudible frequency, but you could feel it moving through you bones, cooling your blood, steadying you. “Thanks,” you said weakly, patting a hand on the wood as the Doctor steered you through. The interior slights dimmed as you came in,  and it was a soothing balm on your eyes and raw nerves. “She’s spoiling you lot,” the Doctor muttered, but you could hear the fondness threading through her voice. “She likes us,” you thought, or maybe said. The Doctor made a soft sound, not quite a word, and you weren’t sure if she’d heard you. Weren’t sure if you’d spoken. “Okay, try and eat this,” the Doctor said a few moments later. Or maybe hours, you still weren’t entirely sure how time was progressing. Her fingers brushed your lips as she placed a fizzing sort of tablet on your tongue, and you realized all at once that your lips weren’t numb anymore, but blazing with sensation. “Swallow it, it’ll help,” she added. You blinked, looking into her face, so close to yours. There was still that furrow by her eyebrow but she didn’t seem angry, anymore. Not like she had with she’d stared down that rude alien. Her eyes were bright, glittering like the star field outside of the bar. “Too pretty,” you complained, then promptly choked on the tablet you had forgotten on your tongue. “Swallow,” she repeated, placing two fingers on your mouth. Your breath hitched, which did not help the choking one bit. You did, at least, in the midst of the resulting coughing fit, manage to swallow the tablet,  but it burned and your eyes streamed as you blinked at the Doctor. “Good,” she said, placing fingers under your chin. Her touch was somehow both cooling and blazing, comforting and so very distracting. You made an indeterminate sound, and her eyes flicked to yours, a brief touch, before flicking over your face. “That should kick in soon,” she said, dropping her hand. “Is it — gonna cure me,” you asked, and the breathless quality to your voice was due to the lingering affects of drunkenness, surely, and not the Doctor’s touch. She snorted, pushing hair out of her eyes.“It’ll speed up the process, burn the chemicals out of your system faster,” she said. “And it’ll make for a quicker hangover.” She fixed you with an amused look. “Quicker, but not easier. You’re in for a fun night, I think.” You groaned, throwing yourself down on the couch. You regretted it at once, as your head spun and your stomach roiled, but the drama of the moment had dictated.“I didn’t mean to,” you complained, shutting your eyes as the lights spun around you. The spinning didn’t stop, in the darkness behind your eyelids, but it was a little bit better. Maybe. A cool hand brushed your forehead, and that definitely was better. “I know,” she said, and you could hear the gentleness in her voice. “Am I going to die?” you asked, not because you thought that you were — you’d been sick before, though admittedly not from alien alcohol — but it had the right flair of drama to it. It also made the Doctor snort again, and regrettably, her hand slid from your brow. “You’re drunk, not dying,” she said, and her voice was receding as she moved around the room.  “Humans and their substances, honestly.” Something was placed on your brow, cool and damp and soothing. The Doctor tucked the cloth against your head with deft, gentle fingers even as she continued to explain her thoughts on humans and all of their myriad of flaws. “You’ve never been drink — you don’t drunk —” You stumbled over the words, and felt her fingers still, then fall away from the cloth. You opened your eyes and with the room spinning and the dim light and the serious, difficult to read expression on her face, she looked as remote and otherworldly as she actually was for all that she was your friend. “Time Lords are an advanced race, we certainly don’t have the same genetic predispositions towards inebriation or the desire to attempt so,” she said finally, still looking down at you. You grunted, considering her words as they slid in and out of your head.“Didn’t answer the question,” you observed, and were rewarded with a scowl. “Hm,” was all she said, but she was smiling slightly. “Try to rest now, and if you need to be sick —” she kicked something on the floor that gave a hollow thud. “Try to aim in here, yeah?” “I am not going to be sick,” you said firmly, and the Doctor’s smile flashed in the dim light. “I hope not, the pill’s supposed to help with that but,” she shrugged expansively, and even through the spinning room you were able to focus in shocking clarity on the pull of her shirt across her frame she did so, “I don’t really know what combination of ingredients you drank, and how they’ll react to the other things you drank or your own biology. So. Bin.” She nudged it with a boot again. “I’m going to check on the others, and you’re going to stay here. I’ll be right back.” You didn’t want her to go, but you were feeling worse by the moment as the alcohol was burned out of your system and, as far as you could tell, migrated to your head. You could feel each heartbeat rattling in your skull like knives, and your roiling stomach kept speed with it. You moaned something that the Doctor took for agreement. Time passed, although you weren’t in any way able to keep track of it. You suspected it had been a century based on the pounding in your head, but it could have only been a few heartbeats. Either way, you were still alone when you realized that what you really needed was some water. Nobody was around to hear you, but you still complained and groaned and generally made a spectacle as you swung your legs off the couch, sitting upright. Your stomach made a solid pass at leaping out of your throat, but you steadied yourself with a snarl; you were not going to need the bin, you were not going to be sick. And you were right; all thoughts of nausea fled as you pushed yourself to your feet, because your skull might as well have shattered. Your headache pounded so violently that you thought it might be slamming you through the floor; it felt too heavy, too thick, too white-hot with blinding pain. Death was infinitely preferable to this miserable thing called life. “Never — drinking — again —” you vowed, swaying, hoping the floor might just swallow you whole and end your suffering. “A noble sentiment,” the Doctor said from behind you. “But one rarely adhered to, I suspect. What are you doing off the sofa?” She appeared at your side, a steadying hand on your elbow. “You didn’t sick up somewhere did you,” she added with sudden trepidation, looking around your feet apprehensively. “I just wanted something to drink,” you told her, wretched. Your head was still pounding, and even the dimmed lights were still too bright. They stabbed your eyes with sharp, splintering shards of pain. You groaned, and leaned your head instinctively against the Doctor’s shoulder. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink,” she said, with a touch of asperity, but her hand was gentle as ever as she smoothed hair back from your forehead. “Water,” you clarified, your voice muffled from the folds of her coat. It was soft, and cool, and smelled like home. “Ah,” the Doctor said, steering you back to the couch. She eased you down again. “Stay, I’ll get you some water and a new cloth.” “Where are the others? Are they coming?” you asked miserably as she reappeared, setting a glass of water in your hands. It had a truly spectacular bendy, swirly straw that was almost as long as the glass itself, a vibrant purple and orange that hurt your eyes to look at, but you appreciated the gesture as you lifted it to your mouth with weak hands. “They’ll be here soon, they’re trying to find Ryan,” the Doctor said. The cushions dipped as she settled on the other end of the sofa. “They might have to expand the search,” you said, thinking of that alien he had been speaking with. You groaned as your head gave another spike of pain, and slid down the couch as sitting became too much effort. “Just rest,” the Doctor said. “It’ll pass.” “Promise?” “I promise,” she said, and your eyes were closed, but you could hear the slight smile in her voice. “I am the best alien, after all.” You could definitely hear the smile, now, and something niggled at your memory; you suspected that the Doctor was poking fun at something you had said while in the bar, but the memory was sliding in and out with tremendous spikes of pain and you let it go. You suspected that you had said many unfortunate things, and you could only hope that the Doctor hadn’t heard or remembered most of them. You drifted for a time, after that, surfacing to occasional bursts of pain or nausea or, more welcome, cool hands on your brow as they took your temperature or readjusted the the damp cloth. Clarity — and more importantly, an absence of that all-encompassing pain — arrived abruptly. You sat up gingerly, feeling weak and shaky and not even remotely good, but it was a normal not-good, not I’m going to die and if not I wish it would hurry up about it not-good. “Ah, here we are,” the Doctor said, and you looked over to see her curled up at her end of the couch, a book in her hand.  She closed it and tucked it in the cushion. “Feeling better?” “Yeah,” you said, peeling off the now warm and dry cloth from your head. You looked down at it, then the mercifully empty bin at your feet. Something else rolled in your stomach, almost worse than the earlier nausea: shame, with a side of guilt. “Ah. Sorry, about all that,” you mumbled, darting another look at the Doctor. She was watching you, a slight smile curving her lips, but her eyes were sharp as they flicked over you, still assessing. “Accepted,” she said, scooting over to you and fishing her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Deep breath,” she said, resting it against your chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for anyways,” she added.  “It’s not your fault you got served a red, or that someone tried to take advantage of you for it.” You had forgotten about that, had forgotten about that other alien and his heavy, unwelcome hands, and his sharp, hungry smile. You shuddered, and the Doctor’s eyes touched your own, a welcome distraction. “I’m okay, you don’t need to waste time on me,” you muttered, but she was pushing a fresh glass of water into your hand. “Drink. And yes I do, or do you not remember bolting up and trying to climb the  TARDIS console?” You goggled at her. “Apparently not,” she said with a wicked grin. “No, don’t apologize again, it’s okay. You got me out of that bar anyways, I really wasn’t vibing with it. ”You had been awash in horror at your actions, but the Doctor’s last words snapped you out of it. “Vibing with it?” you repeated, incredulous.   She shot you a look, tongue poking slightly between her lips.“Yeah, am I using that right? Ryan taught me.”  You were still goggling at her, but the sound of a door opening and a rush of voices distracted you both. “Ah, finally,” the Doctor said, brushing off her legs and standing up. “I wonder what kept them. We’re in here,” she added, pitching her voice to carry to the others and making no effort to define where “here” was; it was obvious to her, and that apparently was to be enough for everyone else. It was very her. Everything she did was very her, you mused. Not just because it was her doing them, but because she did everything with such one-hundred percent commitment, energy, and enthusiasm. You smiled slightly, watching her as she stood with her hands on her hips. She’d taken off her coat at some point, and she looked smaller without it, more wild and fleeting, something ephemeral. She glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled when she met your eyes. That smile was also wild, fleeting and ephemeral, but it grounded her, a little bit, in the here and now. And you, too. “Hello,” Yaz said, stepping into the room. She looked tired, her hair coming out of its braids, her jacket mussed, but it was a happy sort of tired. “Have fun?” The Doctor asked as Yaz threw herself down on the couch next to you. “Yes,” Yaz said, leaning her head back on the cushions. “Not as much fun as some other people, though,” she added, and turned her head to fix you with her dark, glittering eyes. “How are you doing?” “I feel like death,” you told her, and stuck out your tongue when she grinned. “That’s what you two get for going off-book,” she said smugly, wiggling her shoulders deeper into the couch and kicking off her shoes before lifting her legs and curling them up on the couch. “Oi, I didn’t drink a red,” the Doctor said, indignantly. “Not that I would have been affected, if I had. You humans are so — ” “She been going on like this the whole time?” Yaz asked you, and the Doctor gave her a dark look. You giggled, and it only made your head split down the middle a little bit. It was worth it, for the expression on the Doctor’s face. “Definitely,” you confirmed, wincing as you lifted a hand to rub your temples. “This is the thanks I get, for spending my night chasing after red-drunk humans? Mockery and false accusations?” “Not you,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “I was talking about — “ “Hellooooooo TARDIS!” “That,” Yaz finished, turning to watch as Ryan crashed into the room, with an aggrieved Graham in his wake. The Doctor groaned, throwing her hands up. “Ryan! Not you too!” “Guilty your honor,” Ryan crooned, spinning a wild circle and narrowly avoiding the couch with his flailing feet. You hastily copied Yaz, drawing your feet up onto the cushions and settling in to watch the show. “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love! Congratulate me.” “You’re not in love, son, you’re drunk,” Graham said wearily, trying to grab Ryan, but he spun out of reach. And fell over. The room shuddered. You gasped, Yaz clapped a hand over her mouth, Graham cursed. The Doctor closed her eyes. “Ow,” Ryan said, but he was smiling beatifically up at the ceiling. “What happened?” The Doctor asked resignedly, crouching by Ryan and taking his pulse, then pulling out her sonic. He ignored her, still smiling happily up at the ceiling, his toes clicking together as he hummed. He was still firmly in the “fun” stage of the Red inebriation, it seemed. “What do you think, Doc?” Graham answered tiredly, moving to stand by them. “He wanted to impress a pretty girl.” “Did he?” you asked, interestedly. The situation was a lot funnier when it wasn’t happening to you, it turned out. “Well, he chugged a red and challenged some bloke to a dance contest,” Yaz said. She was grinning, and it was the grin of a sober woman witnessing the carnage wreaked by foolish friends. “We almost didn’t get him out of there.” The Doctor stood up, pinching her nose. She came to a decision.“Right. I’ll get him a pill, but I’ve done my babysitting duty for the night. He’s your problem after that.” She stode from the room, and you heard her mutter something about never going to a bar again. Yaz heard her too, and you shared a grin. Ryan, it turned out, had very little interest in taking the hangover-speed-up pill from the Doctor. It also turned out that red-inebriation or no, he could still move very quickly, and it took the combined efforts of Yaz, Graham and the Doctor to get the pill in his mouth. You filmed most of on your phone you'd fumbled quickly out of a pocket, which as far as you were concerned did just as much to help the situation as any of them. The Doctor threw herself down on the sofa next to you with an explosive sigh. “I am never,” she said, tipping back her head, “taking humans to a bar. Ever again.” Ryan moaned from the floor, punctuating the statement with eloquence. Yaz sat down on the Doctor’s other side, then scooted over to make room for Graham who was looking silent and shell-shocked. You found your shoulders rubbing the Doctor’s, and you curled your feet up under you to make more room while leaning your head against her shoulder. You could hear her twin heartbeats, and after a moment she rolled her head so that her chin was resting in your hair.“You’re all on probation,” she said, firmly. You hummed skeptically, and Yaz snorted. Graham was still grimly silent, but you knew he’d come around. Silence, for a moment, interrupted only by Ryan’s increasingly pathetic moans.“Shall I pop in a movie?” Yaz asked finally. “Go on then,” the Doctor said, resigned, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to be here for a while.” “‘’m never drinking again,” Ryan groaned from the floor.  He clapped his hands over his ears as you all began to laugh, which did exactly nothing to help. “Humans,” the Doctor said to the TARDIS ceiling, but she was still smiling. “You love us,” Yaz said, standing up and moving to put on a movie. “Yeah,” the Doctor said after a moment, so softly that you thought you might be the only one who heard it. “I do.”

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly Tropes Duos I’d like to read something containing 24 (jealous Sherlock) and 39 (Reflex Affection) Nice game, I’m curious how it turns out! 😊

Taken from this prompt list.  Blimey, this was hard.  Not the jealous Sherlock part, that’s always easy (and so much fun!), but I couldn’t find a way to fit the reflex affection in until the very end.  Still, I’m pleased with the turnout.  Thanks for the prompt!

*

Molly tried to listen to the conversation, she really did, but her attention just kept creeping back to the scowling detective across the table from her.  She had stumbled upon Sherlock and John while looking for a place to have dinner with her cousin, Ivan, who was in town for the weekend.

They’d been close growing up, being close in age and neither of them having any siblings, and though he now lived in Scotland, he always made time for her, whether it was coming to London for a visit, or their weekly phone calls, or if she went to visit him in Edinburgh.  That became even more true when her father passed, leaving Ivan and his wife and children the only family she had left.

John, always friendly and polite, invited them to join him and Sherlock, who were just on their way to Angelo’s.  Sherlock was on a case, but John would be eating there, even if Sherlock did not.

Throughout the exchange, Sherlock remained silent, his eyes trained on Ivan, narrowed in scrutiny.  Molly cringed, hoping he would at least keep from blurting out any unpleasant deductions to Ivan’s face.

Now, here they sat, munching on bread and butter (except Sherlock), half the party oblivious to the other half’s unease.  John and Ivan quickly found common ground through medicine, as Ivan was also a doctor.  They were currently swapping stories of the strangest patients they’d encountered.  Molly listened and laughed along, at first, but as Sherlock continued to scowl, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but him.

Why on earth was he so upset?  And so quiet?  She couldn’t believe he hadn’t said so much as a word to Ivan, not even a passing deduction.  Normally, he would eagerly demonstrate his intelligence by rattling off details of where a person grew up, their family life, their drinking habits... but now? Nothing.

“Molly?”

She started, and by the way all eyes were on her, she guessed someone had just asked her a question.  “Oh, um... sorry, I didn’t hear...”

“That’s Molly for you,” Ivan teased with a grin.  “Always has her head in the clouds, this one!”

Molly opened her mouth to retort, having plenty of fodder to meet her cousin’s teasing and then up the ante.  But before she could say a word, Sherlock finally spoke, “Perhaps you don’t know Molly nearly as well as you think you do.”

What?

“What?” Ivan echoed her thoughts, laughing openly.

“Well, I’ve known Molly for nearly ten years, and have never once thought she ‘always has her head in the clouds.’  As a matter of fact, she is easily the most intelligent and competent pathologist at St. Bart’s, able to read minute details and extrapolate data with precision and efficiency.  She also has the cleanest Y-incision I have ever seen.  Would she be able to do all that with her head in the clouds?”

Now, all eyes were on Sherlock, stunned by this outburst.  Molly’s heart swelled at the remarkable praise he’d given her.  She’d rather expected him to agree with Ivan’s remark.  Heaven knows, she had a tendency to fantasize... especially about him.

“Well,” Ivan cleared his throat.  “I won’t worry about you making friends here anymore, Molly.  Clearly, you’ve made an impression.”

Sherlock frowned at this statement, but before he could say anything more, John cut him off.  “She certainly has.  You really are brilliant, Molly.  And I’m sure your cousin agrees,” he added, emphasizing the word with a pointed look at Sherlock.

His eyes widened, and he looked at John.  “Cousin?”

“Well, yeah, Ivan is Molly’s cousin,” he replied.

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told us, you ponce,” John rolled his eyes.  “I knew you weren’t bloody listening.”

Sherlock stared openly at Ivan, blinking a few times, and Molly almost laughed aloud.  Glancing at John, she saw him cover his mouth with his fist, eyes dancing with mirth.  “Ah,” Sherlock finally said, and she could have sworn his ears turned a bit pink.  “Right then.”

The chirp of a mobile interrupted the awkward silence, and Ivan glanced at his phone.  “Oh, that’s Emily, wants me to call her.  Excuse me for a moment.”  He stood and walked toward the door, dialing his wife’s number and pressing the phone to his ear.

“‘Spose now’s a good time to head to the loo,” John said, then pointed a finger at Sherlock like he was scolding a little boy.  “Don’t go swanning off without me this time, right?”

“I don’t go swanning off,” he grumbled, but otherwise offered no argument.

And then there were two, Molly thought.  Sherlock seemed intent on looking at anyone and anything but her.  “So,” he began, still averting his gaze.  “Cousin.”

She bit back another laugh.  “Yup,” she replied, popping the “P” as he often did.

Nodding his head, he absently replied, “Good, good...”

“Is it?” she asked playfully.

He gave a quick, one-shouldered shrug.  “I would assume so.  I can’t think of any cousins off-hand in my family, so I have no real frame of reference.”

“Well, Ivan and I are a bit closer than most cousins, so...” she trailed off, still smiling.

“Hm,” he nodded again.  “I suppose he would know you quite well then.”

“Yeah, he does.  But, thanks for saying all those lovely things,” she added.  “I had no idea you felt that way.”

Finally, his eyes met hers.  “I do,” he confirmed.  “Haven’t you wondered why I refuse to work with anyone else?”

“I figured it was because I’m the only one who doesn’t get in a tiff when you start spewing deductions,” she ribbed good-naturedly.

His lips curved up into a little smile that set loose a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.  “That too,” he allowed.

“Sorry about that,” Ivan said, announcing his return.  “Emily says hello, Molls,” he added as he took his seat.  “She’s miffed she didn’t get to come with me this time, but what can you do?  Bedrest means bedrest!”

“Too right,” Molly grinned.

A minute later, John came back as well, and it seemed the awkwardness had dissipated.  Sherlock, though visibly less tense than before, still did not join the conversation, opting to pull out his phone and scroll through his emails.  Molly almost scolded him, but decided against it.  At least he wasn’t scowling.

They were halfway into their entrees when Sherlock’s phone chimed. He jumped to his feet with a loud, “Yes!” that startled the entire restaurant into a hush.  “It’s Lestrade, the idiot’s running this way, just as I expected!  Come on, John!”

John dropped his fork and fished out a few bills to set on the table.  “Here, that should cover my portion, I’m sorry!” he said in a rush, then sprinted out the door after Sherlock.

Ivan stared at the bills for a moment, before turning wide-eyed to her.  “What the hell was that?”

*

Later that night, after explaining Sherlock’s work to Ivan and seeing him back to his hotel, Molly got a text from the detective asking him to meet her at Bart’s, “if convenient.”  Which, Molly knew, actually meant, “Immediately and without question.”  She knew better than to protest, and despite the exhaustion of the day, made her way dutifully to the hospital.

Sherlock was already in the lab when she arrived, at his favorite microscope, peering through the lens at whatever he was analyzing.  Molly sighed.  “I wish you’d stop picking the lock,” she said tiredly.

“Time is of the essence, and a woman’s alibi depends on this analysis.”

“Took me all of ten minutes to get here.”

“And that’s ten minutes less that she’ll have to wait.”

Molly rolled her eyes, but dropped the argument.  “Right, then.  What do you need?”

He stilled for a moment, so brief she thought she might have imagined it, before changing the slide and peering at the new one.  “John’s with Mary.”

“How dare he choose to be with his wife?” she deadpanned.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Molly.”

“Avoiding the question doesn’t become you, Sherlock.”

He finally looked at her.  “I didn’t avoid the question.  I answered it. John’s with Mary, and was unwilling to come.”

“So?”

“So,” he huffed, “I work better with an assistant.”

Another person might have been annoyed at his use of the term assistant. That person may also have been angry about being practically dragged from their home back to work, which they’d only left a few hours ago, simply to babysit a grown man.  But that person wasn’t Molly.  Molly saw the hidden meaning of his words, and she couldn’t help smiling at the ridiculous man.

“You could just say you don’t want to be alone,” she told him.

He blinked in surprise, then frowned, turning back to his microscope.  “Rubbish,” he muttered, and for the second time that night, his ears turned pink.

Satisfied at having guessed correctly, Molly said nothing more, and went about doing some of her own work.  If he needed something from her, he would ask, but until he did, she might as well get ahead on her paperwork.

They worked in silence for close to an hour, before Molly started yawning.  She checked her watch, and groaned at the small hand pointing to the number eleven.   “How much longer have you got, Sherlock?”

“Not long,” he said.  “Just waiting for that last dirt sample—” a loud beeping from the analyzer cut him off, and he darted his gaze to the computer screen.  A wide smile broke out across his face.  “Oh, yes!”  He shot up from his stool and grabbed his coat.  “I knew it was the sister-in-law!  If you wouldn’t mind emailing me those results, Molly, I’ll need to phone Lestrade right away.”

Molly was used to this, Sherlock firing off instructions and leaving in a whirlwind.  Truth be told, it was a bit of a rush for her, as well.  However.. this time, he did something very unexpected and out of character.  As he swung his coat around and pushed his arms through the sleeves, he crossed over to her, standing only inches away.  Then, quick as lightning, his hands cupped her face, and he pressed a firm, searing kiss to her lips.

When he pulled back with a loud smack, Molly stood frozen, eyes shut, listening as he swept from the room.  Eventually, her eyes opened, staring dumbly at the spot he’d just vacated.  She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, which had been claimed by his only moments ago.

“What... the hell...?”

[bauslut]

as you are | iv.

word count: 4.880k

warnings: drinking, intoxication, cursing, references to ptsd, nudity, nc-17, sexual innuendos, flirting, cuddling, fluff

a/n: this is the fourth chapter of my aaron hotchner fic! as always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know! i always appreciate the kind words and feedback, more than you guys know :’) <3

also, a huge shout-out to @sapphicstars​ for helping me with some dialogue, listening to my rambles, n our mutual thirst over thomas gibson. ily <3

| ii. | iii. |

(i do not own this gif)

“you coming with us?”

a brunette blinks, startled, “oh, um, no, i think i’ll pass.”

jj, prentiss, and garcia are on their way out, coats slung over their shoulders, bags in hand. rowan remained perched at her desk, gathering the rest of her things. it was well past nine o’clock, the lights of the office dimmed, everyone stating their goodbyes.

“you sure?” jj arches a brow, “it’s karaoke night. spence is coming too. it would be fun!”

“i’m fine,” the brunette bore a weary smile, “i have a bit of a headache so i would be a bit of a downer. but have fun guys.”

“whatever you say,” prentiss whistled, “you could always hotch what he’s doing after he’s finished with that endless stack of paperwork.”

“you think that man has a social life outside of his office?” rowan snorted, letting out a chuckle, “it’s best to leave him be. he seems irritated tonight anyways.”

“maybe you could go perk him up a bit huh?” garcia teased, a bubbly giggle echoing through the office, “you know he probably likes--”

“that’s enough,” rowan’s tone was firm, “have fun guys, i mean it.”

“you’re missing out,” prentiss sang over her shoulder, shooting rowan a wink, “goodnight rivers! we’ll miss you!”

waving a meager goodbye, rowan sucked in a sharp breath, lips falling to a frown. slowly, her eyes traveled towards his office, beams of light cascaded from the blinds onto the carpet. through the slits, she could pick out his frame, how he was hunched over, knuckle pressed to his temple, brow furrowed with intense focus.

rising from her seat, she bit her lip, forcing herself to cease the staring. all around her was nothing but darkness and empty seats, a chill running through her body, an unsettling feeling creeping in. how could aaron hotchner always be the first one in, but always the last to leave? did the silence not get to him? was he not fazed? why was he even still hard at work, busting his ass?

all of the team was gone. the unsub was apprehended. the only thing left was the void of an office. the only noise the hum of the unit, the occasional chirp of a bird or honk of a car from outside. the only person left was her, but she was seconds away from leaving.

and what was he going to do the moment he stepped into his apartment? pour himself a glass of scotch? call his son? go to bed? would he drink to forget? drink to drown out the horrid images?

whatever the answer was, rowan would never know.

she was on the elevator before she even mustered up the courage to ask him what he was doing after all that paperwork.

elbows deep in paperwork, aaron hotchner let out an exasperated sigh. it was one thing after another. first it was the receipts for the travel expenses, where there was a discrepancy somewhere in the budget. then, it was the lawyers of a murderer from years ago, claiming that their defendant wished to plead not guilty under the reasoning of insanity. why they were contacting the behavioral analysis unit? aaron had no clue. it was not a matter of his concern.

he longed to get up from his desk, trudge towards the door, and not come back till morning. but he couldn’t. not now. he was almost finished. if he finished this tonight, then he wouldn’t have to stay late tomorrow night. he could go home and enjoy a nice drink. something to take the edge off.

leaning back, his shoulders slumped, fingers rubbing circles into his temple, just above his brow. any moment now, he would be receiving a call from haley, asking where he was. of course, jack would be waiting for him, eager for just a few minutes with dad before bedtime.

the second his phone chirped, buzzing, his hand flew to the device, bringing it to his ear, “hotchner.”

“um, hi. i didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“rowan?” his lips parted, “i don’t recall giving you my number.”

a tiny hiccup flooded his ear, “i had garcia give it to me. what are you doing right now?”

her words were slurred, the question dragging out for a moment longer than needed, her breathy giggle erupting afterwards. aaron’s eyes squeezed shut, “rowan, are you drunk right now?”

“it appears i might be a little intoxicated. well, maybe a lot. but, i don’t think i can drive, like at all. you know what they sayyyyy! don’t drink and drive! driver sober or get pulled over!”

his jaw clenched, “please tell me you don’t want me to come get you.”

“m-maybe i do,” she slurred, “maybe i want to see you, aaron.”

aaron. his heart fluttered, softening just for a second.

“where are you? if i remember, you live forty minutes away.”

there was a pause, the flurry of breaths against the speaker, “i think i’m at a park. i’m sitting on top of my car so i can look at the stars.”

“listen to me,” aaron sprang to his feet, “don’t you move a muscle, rowan. i’m going to come get you and just take you to my place for the night. we have a stop to make first, though.”

“what’s this stop? is it an errand?”

“we-- i have to pick up jack,” he was moving at a rapid pace, shoving papers into his briefcase, frantically searching for his coat, “i have to get jack for the night. i guess haley is going on a date.”

“oooooooohhhh,” her laugh was contagious, ringing like bells, “are you mad?”

“i’m not upset,” using his shoulder, he kept the phone against his ear as he threw on his coat, “rowan, you never answered my question. where are you?”

her response was instant, “i am parked at the park off north and second. how funny is that? i’m parked at a park.”

“listen to me,” aaron was now approaching the elevator, “you’re going to stay on the phone with me until i get into my car, okay? i don’t want anything happening to you.”

“okay, okay,” there was a yawn on the other end, “i’ll be awaiting you for, my knight in shining armor.”

“i’ll be there in ten minutes,” no matter how much he resisted, a blush still spread through his cheeks, “stay with me on the line though, i might need help with directions.”

“okay,” she chirped, “i’m right here. sitting so patiently.”

within a matter of minutes, aaron was pulling up to a mint green ford 500, a shadow poised on the roof. turning off the engine, he threw open the door, his throat tightening as he saw her.

her legs were dangling from the passenger side, eyes fixated on the stars, a dumb-founded grin plastered across her features, hair down, strands flowing in the breeze. she was still in the clothes from earlier: a pair of black skinny jeans, black v-neck sweater with white lines around the neckline and cuffs of the sleeves. the thick heels of her docs thudded gently against the windows as she kicked her feat rhythmically.

even in the dim light, he noticed the rose tint painting her cheeks, the way the reflection of the stars glossed over in her stare.

god, she was so beautiful, her skin glowing softly in the moonlight.

“hey,” he cleared his throat, concern creeping in as shards of glass glittered on the pavement below, “d-did you drink an entire bottle?”

“i like to drink my liquor like water,” rowan shrugged, her eyes brightening as they fell on aaron, “i’m so glad you came to get me.”

“c’mon,” aaron tsked, “haley won’t stop texting me. she’s getting impatient.”

“okay, okay,” rowan slid off the side, stumbling as her feet landed, “i’m so tired.”

“i bet you are,” he scoffed, “you need a change of clothes, some water, and a couple aspirin before you sleep though.”

offering her his elbow, aaron helped rowan into the car, spews of incoherent rambles flowing from her lips. every second she was onto another topic, giggling and mumbling to herself. as much as he wanted to be cross with her, as much as he wanted to scold her, he knew he couldn’t. he couldn’t make her upset.

he couldn’t blame her for her actions, for how she would cope with the horrors of the job.

a week had passed since the incident on the jet. afterwards, aaron avoided the subject like it his divorce. he wouldn’t accept that it happened, the emotions and feelings that came along with it. he didn’t want to face the facts. they carried too much weight.

but as she was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, her laugh so melodic and sweet, dripping like honey from her lips as she played with the radio, had him in a daze, corner of lips tugging into a smile, heart swelling at his new favorite sound.

and aaron hotchner wasn’t sure if he was beyond the point of no return, or just starting the journey there.

about an half an hour passed before he was leading her to his bedroom, careful that she didn’t slip or stumble, “you’re going to sleep here tonight.”

“what about you?” her lips curved into a pout, lip jutting out.

“i’ll be on the couch,” the response was cool, his voice low, “since you don’t have a change of clothes, i’m going to let you borrow some of mine, okay?”

“okay,” she nodded enthusiastically.

rummaging around in his dresser, aaron fished out a plain black shirt, along with a pair of sweats, “here, take these.”

rowan grasped the clothes, setting them on the bed. plopping on the edge of the mattress, she fiddled with the laces of her boots, kicking them off with a huff. aaron hovered, lingering as he discarded his coat, suit jacket, tie, and dress shoes. glancing down at his phone, his attention shifted as she rose to her feet, giving her some privacy as she changed.

one message in particular piqued his interest. a text from haley.

who was that?

shoving the phone back in his pocket, he bit back a sigh, “rowan are you-- oh my god.”

her body was exposed, a lace black thong on her lower half. beams of moonlight reflected off her flesh, like a sculptor highlighting the most beautiful aspects of his sculpture. but god, every part of her was so beautiful. from her soft thighs, to her strong shoulders, she was alluring, drawing aaron in.

blood flowed to his lower half the longer he stared, completely savoring the sight, his cock throbbing against the constraint of his slacks. a smirk crept onto her lips, cheeks still tainted a crimson hue as her gaze drifted towards his pants, “what, aaron?”

“rowan--”

“you want to suck on ‘em, aaron hotchner?” she cooed, grasping a breast in each hand, bouncing them ever so slightly, “i know you do.”

“rowan,” aaron swallowed thickly, scrambling to regain his composure, “you’re inebriated. please, put on a shirt.”

“do you not want to suck on them?”

“we need to get you to bed,” his tone was assertive, as if he was scolding jack, “please, put on a shirt and get in bed.”

“i wish you could sleep with me,” rowan mumbled, sliding into the shirt.

once again, he caught himself glancing over. the shirt was huge, barely clinging to her frame, tapering off about mid thigh. rowan folded her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing, “what aaron? are you going to help tuck me in or not?”

“sure rowan,” his annoyance dissolved, crumbling into a bliss as he padded over to the bed, helping throw the blanket over as she curled up, sinking into the sheets.

if only he could see her in his clothes every night. if only she could sleep in his bed every night.

if only she was sober enough to remember all this.

“goodnight aaron hotchner,” her voice was thick with sleep, eyes closed, slurred speech from the liquor, “thank you for being my knight in shining armor. even when i annoy you.”

“you’re welcome rowan,” a chuckled bubbled up in his throat, “you can always count on me to be there for you, even when you piss me off.”

“thank you,” she whispered.

“you’re welcome.”

running a hand through his hair, he exited from the room, pausing in the doorway. giving one last look over his shoulder, he ensured that she was asleep before he left. with each step, exhaustion seeped in, the idea of sleep so tantalizing. even if he was designated to the couch, he would be content. as long as it was a place to rest.

slumping onto the couch, he pulled a blanket over his body, finally at ease now that his son was asleep, as well as rowan. it seemed as if no matter how hard he tried to avoid her, to veer away from her path, they were always bumping into one another.

perhaps they were on separate paths, but always somehow intertwined.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

a wail pierced his eardrums, cutting into the night. blearily, aaron rubbed his eyes, checking his watch.

3:23 a.m.

concern grew as another cry echoed through the apartment, reverberating off the walls. fighting back a yawn, he got off the couch, prepared to comfort his son from a nightmare. it would only be a few words of reassurance, a pat or two on the back, and staying for a couple minutes. nothing that he wasn’t familiar with. clambering to the kitchen, he drew a glass of water, taking a sip.

however, as he approached the bedrooms, his heart lurched in his chest, an icy cold feeling coursing through his veins.

the cries were from his room.

pushing open the door to his room, his eyes widened at the scene unfolding before him. rowan was sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching her head, rocking back and forth.

“we should have saved them. we should have saved them. we should have saved them.”

“rowan?” he called out softly, in an attempt to pull her away from her nightmare, inching towards the bed,  “rowan.”

“aaron?” she blinked, eyes glazed with tears.

“i’m here,” setting down the glass, he sat on the bed, “rowan, it’s okay. i’m here.”

carefully, he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest to alleviate any nausea. fingers glided through her hair. she buried her head into his chest, tears staining his button down, “we should have saved them.”

“i know, i know.”

“why are you still in your work clothes?” she sniffled, “you should get out of them.”

“i fell asleep on the couch.”

“you should stay here and hold me,” her voice faltered, words a broken whimper.

“do you want me to?” the words were delicate, his voice low and hushed.

“yes please.”

“give me a second and i’ll hold you,” lips brushed the crown of her head, “let me change into something more comfortable.”

minutes passed before a tender hand connected with her shoulder, “scoot over. you’re on my side.”

rowan obeyed, rolling onto her right side. his arms engulfed her, bringing her closer to his chest, head nuzzling into her neck. the moment his arms were around her, holding her snug in his tight embrace, she collapsed, any anxiety or worry disappearing completely, sleep taking hold.

“you need to rest, ro,” his breath fanned against her ear, “you’ve been through enough tonight.”

“you’ve been through a lot too,” she mumbled, “if anyone needs rest here, it’s you.”

his throat vibrated against her shoulder blade as he chuckled, “well i’ll sleep soon ro, i promise.”

“promise?”

aaron pressed one last kiss to her cheek, “i promise.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

sunlight filtered in through the blinds, her nose wrinkling as she stirred. reaching over, her heart skipped a beat as there was nothing but an empty void of cold sheets. jolting awake, rowan shot up, panting slightly.

“well good morning to you too.”

heat flared in her cheeks as she peered over in the direction of the all too familiar voice.

aaron hotchner was clad in a pair of pressed ink-colored slacks, and pearly white button up, threading a crimson tie around his neck, “how’d you sleep?”

the sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, the words gravelly, loaded with exhaustion.

“what time is it?”

“6:49 a.m.,” he straightened the tie, crossing over to his closet to retrieve the final piece of his uniform, “your clothes are in the bathroom, washed and folded.”

“oh god,” the blush deepened as fingertips grazed the soft cotton tee, “oh my god.”

“i’m giving you the day off,” he stated, shoving his arms into the jacket, “from the look of it, you need it.”

“but my car--”

he raised a foot to the bed, tying the laces of his dress shoes, “you can either stay here and completely sleep off that headache i know you have, or i can drive you up to your car. but, if you do end up staying, i have a favor to ask.”

“where’s my car?” her mind was foggy, her skull throbbing, “i can’t remember anything from last night.”

“the park off north and second.”

“oh,” chewing the inside of her cheek, rowan assessed the situation, “what’s this favor?”

clearly, she had done something to end up here. to end up in her boss’ bed. the only clear memory she could recollect was driving to the park, turning her car off, and bringing the bottle to her lips.

the rest was a blur.

“i need you to watch jack for me. his daycare provider has the flu and she doesn’t want him contracting it,” his tone was monotonous, as if he was speaking to her the way he did when they were at the bau, “also, you were beyond the point of coherence last night, called me, and i let you spend the night. i didn’t want you driving home or staying at a motel. i’m shocked that you could even speak cohesive sentences.”

“aaron, did i do anything weird?” rowan inquired, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

he paused, exhaling as he plucked the briefcase off the floor, “i mean, you were pretty much naked in front of me.”

“what--”

facing her, her neck burned as a smug grin enveloped his features, eyes glittering with amusement, “you’re quite the flirt when you’re drunk, you know that?”

beads of sweat formed as her forehead, palms clamming up, “oh my god that’s so unprofessional-- you’re my boss--”

“rowan, everything that’s happening right now is unprofessional. now, i don’t really have a set list of rules when it comes to watching jack. just make sure he gets an afternoon nap in, and no bullshit for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, you got that?”

“you realize that i’m trashed right now, right?”

“you don’t look it one bit,” he shot her a wink, her heart fluttering, “i’ll let you meet him when he wakes. he usually sleeps in till about 7:30, so you have a good half an hour to compose yourself. i would suggest taking a shower or at least brushing your hair to look nice.”

“he’s a child--” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“he’s my son,” his eyes hardened with a glare, “and you better take care of him.”

“aaron i can barely take care of myself.”

“well it’s good that i’m here, isn’t it?” he mused, glancing at his watch, “i have to go. call me if you need anything. i would’ve given you my number, but it seems that garcia already gave you it.”

“bye,” rowan murmured, “i’m sorry that i can’t be there.”

“don’t worry about it,” aaron leaned over the bed, pressing his lips to her temple for a chaste kiss, “i suggest taking a nap when jack does. you need it, ro.”

and just like that, he was out the door.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“what’s up with him?” rossi’s eyes narrowed as hotch stepped out of the elevator.

“i have no idea,” prentiss followed his movement, lips pursing, “is he.. is he smiling?”

“he never smiles.”

“hey,” reid cleared his throat, “you guys haven’t seen rowan today, have you?”

“who?” derek chimed in, cup of coffee in his grasp, “rivers?”

“she hasn’t come in yet this morning and she hasn’t answered her phone,” garcia announced, eyes widened with worry as she sipped her coffee, “i don’t know how legal this is but she had me track her car one time when she went on blind date with a guy from the town over. well, that’s besides the point. what worries me is that she left her car at some local park last night and it hasn’t moved since.”

“also,” prentiss stuck out a hand, “hotch was late.”

“he’s not late,” reid countered, “he’s--”

“we know he’s not late,” morgan snorted, “what she means is that hotch is always the first one here, no matter what. today he didn’t even show up till we were all here.”

“should we ask him about it?” prentiss arched a brow, “i mean, maybe he knows where rowan is. after all, he is the unit chief. he’s the one we call for sick days.”

“well lucky for you all you can hold an interrogation before we discuss this next case,” jj cut in, arms loaded with files, “since we’re all here, let’s head into the conference room.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the child teetered over to rowan, wide-eyed as she scoured the freezer, “ro-ro, what are you doing?”

“looking for pizza,” her voice is muffled by the door.

“pizza?”

“do you want some pizza?” she turned, a cardboard box in her hands, “i promise i won’t tell your dad. here, we can watch some cartoons while we wait for it to cook in the oven. would you like that?”

jack hotchner nodded, his blonde locks bobbing, “yes please. i won’t tell dad.”

“do you want to put the pizza in the oven?”

“yes!” jack jumped in place, nearly melting rowan’s heart.

swiveling on her heel, rowan searched for a pizza pan, ripping the box and peeling away the plastic covering. once she was finished, she placed the pizza on the pan, handing it to jack. carefully, rowan opened the door of the oven, “all right jack, be very careful. it’s really hot.”

“i’ll be careful,” he protested, allowing rowan to help guide his arms without touching the heated door.

“would you look at that,” rowan beamed, “you did such a good job jack! you can shut the door now.”

jack gripped the handle, pulling it shut, “i did it!”

“good job buddy!” the smile widened as she witnessed the pure excitement in his gaze, how he gushed and giggled at the praise.

god, he was such a cute kid.

scooping jack into her arms, rowan carried him over to the den, placing him on the couch, “what do you want to watch jack? do you like tom and jerry?”

“i love tom and jerry,” rowan couldn’t help but crack a smile as jack giggled, the sound utterly contagious.

“well, we’ll watch some tom and jerry then,” she chuckled, throwing the blanket over her, sharing some with jack as she plucked the remote off the coffee table.

“ro-ro how do you know my daddy?”

the question nearly sweeps rowan off her feet, desperate to formulate some sort of suitable answer. one that he would understand.

“we met at work. do you always ask so many questions? you sound like your dad.”

the t.v. flickered on, rowan clicking the button of the remote to find the right channel.

“i like uncle spencer but i think i like you more.” his words were slurred as he struggled to enunciate a few words, but it melted her heart nonetheless.

“am i your aunt?” rowan chuckled.

“no you were in the house this morning with daddy so obviously you’re my new mom.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“hotch, you’re never late, what was the hold up?” morgan’s tone was light with a tease, almost conniving.

“sorry, i had to arrange a new babysitter for jack. his usual daycare provider has the flu so i had to meet the new sitter to make sure everything was going to go smoothly,” the unit chief didn’t crack one bit, his focus honed in on the file before them.”

“well that’s inter--” morgan licked his lips, the words ceasing as a shrill ringtone filled the conference room.

“i better take this,” as his eyes scanned the called i.d., hotch rose from his seat, stepping away from the table.

“what is it? everything okay?”

“must be the babysitter,” rossi mused, drumming his fingers on the table.

“uh yeah your son thinks i’m new his mom,” her voice was light, shrill with laughter.

“did you tell him that?” fingers gravitated towards his temple, annoyance flaring.

“no he just thinks it,” he could picture her shrug.

“tell him that you’re not.” hotch shook his head, rubbing his forehead.

“aw well i’ve always wanted to be a mother someday--” she whined.

“rowan.”

“what am i supposed to tell him? just ‘no i’m not’? hotch, that sounds so mean,” hotch could almost hear his son in the background, giggling at whatever was going on.

“rowan we are not dating nor do i intend on having a child with you.”

“that’s not what your eyes said last night,” rowan murmured, the way her voice shifted nearly coating his cheeks a pink hue.

“i gotta go,” he muttered, “i’ll text you later.”

“wait--”

the line clicked before rowan could even finish, hotch shoving his phone back into his pocket. sucking in a deep breath, he faced his team, their eyes hungry, gleaming with satisfaction, a variety of smirks stretched across their lips.

“hotch, did you just say rowan?” prentiss folded her arms across her chest.

“no i said sharon.”

“so where is rowan again?” garcia inquired, pen scribbling doodles.  

“she called in with a headache,” hotch responded coolly.

“well her car says she’s at the park off north so where is she?”

“who’s shannon? did you have date with her last night? tell us about it!” morgan jeered, taunting.

“rivers called me earlier this morning informing me that she had a migraine,” hotch muttered, “so are we done acting like children?”

the team nodded, their expressions unwavering. discussing the case was pure agony, everyone oogling at hotch as if he was some sort of creature, an alien from outer space. as much as aaron didn’t want to crack underneath their banter, he was well aware that they were profilers, trained to pick out every single fiber of one’s mind and behavior.

they could see right through him.

and he was an awful liar no less.

as the team departed from the room, scampering out, giggling like idiots, rossi lingered, coughing before he spoke, “i didn’t know rowan started a babysitting service.”

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about.” hotch stammered, tripping over the words.

rossi laid a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently, “mmmm okay, say hi to her for me when you check in later. i kinda miss the kid.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the apartment was silent, the t.v. on mute, light dancing across the room as aaron strolled in. jack was nowhere to be found, the silence nearly defeaming. heart thudding in his chest, he flocked to his room, relaxing as he saw his son sound asleep, chest rising and falling, in a pair of mickey mouse pajamas.

he was curled up with his favorite bear, night light illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. a weary sigh tumbled from aaron’s lips as he backtracked, making his way towards the den.

rowan was upright, head propped up by a hand as her lids drooped, lashes fluttering. believing she was deep in slumber, aaron, plopped down on the couch, throwing his head against the leather.

a single word, so soft and gentle, startled him, “hey.”

“hey,” he whispered, “i’m sorry for getting back so late.”

“what time is it?” rowan brought a hand to her mouth to conceal a yawn, stretching out her legs.

“a little past one in the morning.”

“oh shit,” she chuckled, the noise hoarse from sleep, “what was the case?”

“nothing that we couldn’t get taken care of within a matter of hours. i’m afraid the team was a little more rambunctious than usual today.”

“rambunctious?” rowan snorted, “that’s definitely not the same  behavior analysis unit of quantico, virginia that i know. they’re never rambunctious.”

there was nothing more that he could have wanted more in that moment than to come home to her every night.

if only every night could be like this.

where he could come home, burdened by the stressors of his job, muscles sore from the physicality of it, head loaded with nothing but images of what he saw. what he heard. the monsters that lurked in the shadows.

yet, the moment he saw her, everything would just disappear.

nothing would matter.

nothing but her.

nothing but the heat of the moment.

“hey,” fingertips brushed her jawline, the touch feathery and light, “rowan?”

“yeah?” her irises were a stormy ocean, a torrent of blues and greys, glimmering with apprehension.

“come here.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @sapphicstars​​ @colorlessfl0wers​

[noragami-ru-manga]

Magatsukami. On Yato’s attitude towards his job

I might be a little late for the party with this kind of analysis (I mean, magatsukami who? we only know Yatogami-sama, the god of fortune). Still, have fun with this one *throws another lengthy-ass post at you*

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It probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone that my favorite character in Noragami is the noragami himself. I mean, what did you expect? Yato is an excellent protagonist who holds the narrative focus really well and whose character development is interesting to observe. A lot of things can be and have been written about him, his relationships with Father / Nora /Hiyori / Yukine / Kazuma / Ebisu / etc. What I want to examine is his attitude towards his calling of a magatsukami, or god of calamity, throughout his known life.

Past

I think it makes sense to start from the beginning, i.e. from Yato’s childhood, when his job was nothing but a game to him. Father created him to “cull the heard” and named him Yaboku. He knew what Father’s wish was from the start, even before he got Hiiro as his instrument. Naturally, there’s nothing to say about Yato’s attitude towards his role as a magatsukami at this point – little Yaboku probably doesn’t even know the term.  Here, Father is teaching him how to be a god – in his opinion, anyway.

Rule #1: gods can do whatever they want. Father teaches by example: Yaboku can come and take anything on display in the market without paying for it; since no one can see him, no one will notice anything missing, and if they do, they won’t know who stole from them. A nice little lesson, isn’t it?

Rule #2: gods must fulfill human wishes. Father means his own wish, of course, but divine instincts show through, so Yaboku regards any request as a wish/prayer – like when his victims beg for their lives, for example. Except Father’s wish (or Yaboku’s own wish to make his father happy) is stronger, so those prayers go unanswered.

That’s how Yaboku starts fulfilling his role thinking of it as merely a game. What’s curious is that he seems to have had doubts about Father’s wish before the very first “game”:

But even if he’s had those doubts before, they are completely gone when Father praises him. After that Yaboku hasn’t given much thought to what he’s doing, cause the more ears he brings home, the more Father praises him, and what else can a child dream of?  And as a child he also asks his innocent questions that make your skin crawl – e.g., how come there was another human inside the belly of a woman he “played” with?

That’s how it was before a nameless shinki stumbled upon Yaboku – a shinki whom he named Sakura and who started calling him Yato by mistake. Sakura starts teaching Yato right away, probably without even stopping to think where he got those disturbing habits in the first place. It’s understandable though since she hasn’t been a shinki for that long. Sakura doesn’t know much about the Far shore, including things that are crucial to her survival – like how the water from a spring can heal her blight; it’s unlikely that the thought of a god having a parent who’s raised him to be way he was would have crossed her mind. But she has some very strong views of good and evil, and she starts conveying them to Yato as well, and with a nice and clear reasoning at that. Sakura doesn’t tell him that stealing is wrong “because she said so” – she explains that taking others’ belongings and disrupting the established rules of human interactions by doing so will lead to driving other people away and being left all alone. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have time to teach Yato the value of human life before he takes her to “play” with him instead of Hiiro.

Of course, Sakura is shocked that Yato’s used her to just up and kill an unsuspecting man, so she stings him and runs away. However, she comes back after her conversation with Tsuyu regarding the nature of the gods and keeps teaching Yato to love and have sympathy for humans. Nevertheless, the incident with the man who was dragged by his horse shows just how much Father’s lessons are engraved in Yato’s brain. The first thing to come to his mind is to slay the horse; luckily, Sakura is fast enough to tell him that he’s supposed to cut the rope,  so the man is saved and Yato gets his first show of gratitude from a living human (Father doesn’t really count). From this point on, Yato is not as keen to go and “play” with Hiiro, but he doesn’t abandon his games completely because he still wants to be praised by Father.

So Yato keeps “playing” with Hiiro while also helping out humans with Sakura. It’s the beginning of recurring future situations when Yato will have other shinki whom he won’t use to fulfill Father’s requests and simply disappear for a while to do his job as a magatsukami instead.

It’s pretty obvious that Yato has never got over Sakura’s death – he prefers the name she’s given him, and he also gives his new shinki a part of her human name. But there’s something else to consider. When Sakura explains to Yato what shrines are for, she asks him to be respectful towards any and every wish, and he remembers that.

It’s the same thing he tells to Rabo in “The clash of the gods of calamity”. It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly this extra takes place, considering the only historical reference here is the Toshima clan, which existed in 8-15th centuries, and there’s no way I can determine the time period by people’s clothes. Knowing that Yato was born in 10th century doesn’t help much cause it means that the events of “The clash of the gods of calamity” could take place anytime between 10th and 15th century.

Anyway, for a small extra like this, quite a lot of things actually happen in “The clash…”. Yato is seemingly working on his own now. For the usual payment of five yen he is asked to avenge a girl who was robbed and killed by a female thug from her own village. He and Hiiro come upon some ayakashi-possessed bandits while looking for that woman. They try to kill Yato but fail cause he kills them first, without hesitation or regret.

By the way, the “clash” of the gods of calamity isn’t that much of a clash, really – Yato and Rabo simultaneously slay the last gang member and that’s how they get to know each other. Well, sometimes that happens.

I find the next scene very interesting though. Rabo is pouring wine to Yato’s cup, not knowing that the latter has never drunk the stuff before since Father thinks he’s too young for that. As soon as Yato hears Rabo saying that if his father forbids then he really shouldn’t be drinking, he chugs down the entire bottle. It shows how Yato is already trying to defy his father, even if it is with small acts like that since he’s unable to do much else. And Hiiro calling him Yato and not Yaboku proves that at this point Yato is refusing to go by the name his father has given him and uses the one Sakura’s made up instead. And as they say, drunkenness reveals what soberness conceals; so when Rabo expresses the thought that Yato’s impressive battle skills could attract the attention of samurai, Yato says the same thing Sakura said before, adding a little more of his (or rather, his father’s) thoughts to it.

And yes, Yato actually finds the woman he was tasked to kill by the victim’s brother, and brought back a kimono. After all, the brother’s wish not so much about killing that thug as. It was about bringing back the kimono that was stolen from his sister’s dead body so that she may rest in peace. The drunken confession and the situation with kimono show that Yato, who was torn between Father and Sakura as a child, has learnt to compromise. He will be doing what his father demands of him and fulfill his role of a magatsukami because Sakura asked him to treat every wish with respect.

We don’t know what Yato had been doing for the next 300-800 years. Chronologically, the next event in his life we know of is the slaughter of the Ma clan, which happened sometime 200 years prior to the events of the manga. By that time, nasty rumors about him have been going around on the Far shore.

How true the rumors of Yato’s avarice were is hard to judge. Apart from the Bubble era, when his customers would pay him in thousands of yens, he is shown to only ever take 5 yen per wish. Granted, he’s had some side jobs as well since saving up for his shrine by granting wishes only is pretty much impossible. He’s tried to become a pop-idol, has sold rhinoceros beetles and Bishamon doujins, but even in those cases his prices, apparently, would always fall to 5 yen in the end (or maybe that’s the price he’s wanted to have and simply used the old marketing ploy of fake discounts).

Or maybe what Kazuma refers to as avarice is Yato taking the money for the prayers in person and for every one of them.  After all, renowned gods have a different approach to granting wishes.  They can’t possibly respond to every single prayer left at their shrines, so there’s probably no clear proportion to the number of prayers heard and granted in their case. People simply pray to them and hope that one day their wish comes true and the gods try to grant those wishes whenever they can, but unlike Yato, they don’t actually appear in front of their believers.

Anyway, when Kazuma pleads him to slay the Ma clan, who are turning turning into ayakashi en mass, Yato does ask whether he can actually pay for his prayer. But when Kazuma answers that he’d rather return his name to his mistress than become a nora, Yato agrees to grant his wish without down payment.

If you really think about it, Yato didn’t have anything to gain from this particular job. Suppose Kazuma keeps his word and pays later, so what? He’s a shinki, not a living human; is there any point in granting the wish of someone who can’t help Yato spread his name among the living? The way I see it, Yato shouldn’t care whether other gods or their shinki know about him, as for him the only thing that matters is to be remembered by humans. It’s also not a job from his Father that he wouldn’t have the guts to turn down. And yet Yato takes the request anyway without even telling Kazuma how much he’ll have to pay. Maybe he thinks that Kazuma can figure out on his own that the price is 5 yen; or maybe he doesn’t intend to get the money at all.

The thing that caught my eye in the scene where Yato slays the Ma clan is his reaction to their deaths. He starts cutting them as usual but then stops and doesn’t want to continue, so Hiiro has to persuade him to keep going.

This whole situation is probably an unwelcome reminder that he had to mercy kill Sakura, who also turned into an ayakashi. I actually find it curious how Yato seems to make a distinction between shinki and humans. If we go back to his childhood again, he used to kill humans without giving much thought to the fact that dying kind of hurts. But he instantly recognized that Sakura was a shinki and helped her wash away her blight for no apparent reason. In other words, he knew what compassion was (which Tsuyu also noted when Yato came looking for Sakura to Sugawara-no-Michizane’s shrine) but he only felt it for shinki, not humans. Sakura was the one who made him extend that compassion to humans, too (I’m starting to think that this post should be renamed into “1000 and 1 reason why Sakura is awesome and deserves more love”). What I’m saying here is that maybe, apart from being reminded about Sakura’s fate, Yato is unwilling to kill Bishamon’s shinki because he’s started to value human lives less than shinki’s once again. After all, killing people is his job , and he has to do that a lot. Sakura may have taught him compassion towards humans, but at this point she’s been dead for the second time for like 800 years or so. Yato may have relearnt to not feel sympathy towards humans who he had to kill in order to grant other peoples’ wishes. Killing shinki deliberately, on the other hand, is not something he usually does, unless it’s in a fight with another god.

Anyway, Yato does finish the job and slays every shinki of the Ma clan but one, earning himself both a mortal enemy and his first friend.

Four years later Kazuma seeks out Yato to repay his debt, which only increases my suspicions that Yato had no intention of ever taking the money for killing Bishamon’s shinki. He even fails to recall who Kazuma is and needs to be reminded. Naturally, Kazuma has to ask why Yato, who was rumored to delight in murders, decided to help him. Yato’s answer is curt: Kazuma made a wish, he granted it, end of story. Later, when Yukine asks the same question, Yato responds with “because I wanted to”. I think that he says that automatically to protect Kazuma, who also acknowledges at one point that Yato could have admitted that he he’d killed the Ma clan because he was asked to but opted to silently run from Bishamon instead. It’s obvious that Yato doesn’t tell the whole truth on both occasions. It’s possible that he decided to grant Kazuma’s wish because he’d admired Bishamon since he was a kid and even was somewhat jealous of her power, so he wanted to help. But his main reason had to be Kazuma’s loyalty to Bishamon. Even back then Yato couldn’t keep his shinki from leaving him, and Hiiro has never belonged to him fully – not only was she a nora, out of all her masters she served Father first.

The last episode from Yato’s past before the events of the manga worth examining is meeting Daikoku and Kofuku. It happens around 1900’s; Daikoku is turning into an ayakashi because he’s got mad at Kofuku for releasing their surrogate son shinki Daigo, thinking that it would be better that way. Kazuma refers him to Yato saying that the latter can cut anything, even separate memories from their owner. Yato, who happens to have only a regular knife, not a shinki, pretends to do just that. The circumstances of their meeting are interesting to me cause they solidify a certain trend. It’s ironic that Yato’s job as a magatsukami gave him his first healthy relationships – first his unlikely friendship with Kazuma, who then introduced him do Daikoku (and through him with Kofuku) when Daikoku also sought help from the god of calamity.

In short, here’s a picture of Yato’s attitude towards his job as a magatsukami before the main plot of the manga. In his childhood, he was a god of calamity for a specific person and thought of his calling as a game and a way to please his father. Then Sakura made him reevaluate his views of his responsibilities as a god. The time Yato’d spent with her was not enough to change him completely, but the foundation was made. We don’t know for sure if he started granting other people’s wishes on Father’s order or if it was his own decision to do what Sakura told him, that he needed to answer any prayer no matter what it was. But if the story with the kimono is indicative of what sort of work he’s been doing, then it means that, for centuries now, Yato has taken to granting wishes that had to do with punishing criminals. Maybe the reason he didn’t pity his victims was because they weren’t all that innocent themselves.

Present

Yato is introduced as a “delivery god” in the beginning of the manga. The fact that he is actually a magatsukami won’t be revealed until chapter 27, To be fair, Kofuku does mention that he is, in fact, a warrior god, so he’s killed people, but Daikoku corrects her and says that he doesn’t do that anymore. However, in the very first chapter, when Yato learns that his client Mutsumi’s trouble is bullying, he offers to resort to violence.

Judging by Tomone’s reaction, she doesn’t take him seriously even when Yato says that slaying is the only thing he’s good at and proceeds to ask Mutsumi to list the people whose heads he needs to take. As far as she knows, Yato keeps saying things like that but actually slays ayakashi, not people. Would he really have killed students to sort a problem like that? Considering that later chapters show him only going after criminals, I think not. It’s just that old habits die hard, I guess.

Chapters 27-28 show in detail what kind of jobs Yato does as a magatsukami. Both of these he gets from Father through Nora. What’s interesting (especially compared to the anime) is that he agreed on the first one on his own – he wanted it to be his last job with Hiiro before stopping to grant these kinds of wishes completely. It’s a prayer from a woman who thinks that her daughter’s murderer’s punishment is not strict enough. Contract killing is a pricy thing, so the woman offers Yato a wad of cash that he refuses to take and only accepts his usual 5 yen.

Yato could have taken the entire bundle, which would have solved his financial problems for some time at least. Or he could have chosen any sum other than 5 yen to symbolically detach this job from the requests he takes as a delivery god – but he didn’t. He refuses to accept the whole wad because the life of that criminal has no value to him, but he takes his 5 yen because, for him personally, this wish has the same worth as any other.

The second job is a serial killer who supposedly killed four people and buried them in his garden without ever being caught by the police. This time Yato does not speak with the client directly, so he asks Hiiro if the information is 100% accurate. I personally wouldn’t trust her on that, but apparently Yato finds her words – that the one who’s asked to kill the murderer was his own mother – convincing enough. Except this case turns out to be more difficult that the first. The target has a son, whose mother, according to Hiiro, was the guy’s last victim. Yato decides to go through with the task, but first he locks up the boy in the next room. And again, it’s not clear whether he even gets paid for this job since it turns out that the client is long dead and the second part of her wish was for Yato to find a place where her grandson could live in peace.  The difference in Yato’s behavior in this situation and “The clash of the gods of calamity” is significant. He  felt no remorse in “The clash...” when he was killing those thugs. Here though, he is hesitant at first, just like with Bishamon’s shinki, because he doesn’t want to leave a child fatherless. He only makes his decision when Hiiro implies that the kid is also in danger. And Yato still tries to at least not traumatize the boy by killing his father right in front of him.

And now we’re at the point which was mentioned in the beginning of this post. In Yomi, Ebisu asks Yato why he exists and Yato replies that his job is necessary because the Heavens fail at doing theirs. There’s evidence to that: just before this exchange Ebisu says it himself, that he’s heard Yato’s name in some oral traditions, and Hiiro earlier called the kind of work Yato does “the Yatogami miracle”. So Yato the god of calamity actually has (or at least had) followers other than Father, it’s delivery god Yato that doesn’t. Father and Hiiro also do anything in their power to persuade Yato that people need his job. Of course, he doesn’t like that he has to be kept prisoner to fulfill his functions. He seemingly only agrees to do what he’s told because it’s the best course of action for him at the moment and goes berserk when he realizes that Hiyori might forget him if he doesn’t go back soon. Nevertheless, Father and Hiiro’s manipulations combined with genuine gratitude from those who need “the Yatogami miracle” have an impact on him, which is evident in his answer to Ebisu.

Whether Yato likes it or not, his words about the cracks in Heavenly justice (or more specifically, “the holes in Heaven’s net”, which is supposed to catch all evil-doers) mirror Father’s opinion of the Heavens.  Father’s plan to simply kill people and thus diminish the number of those who believe in gods seems to be really flawed to me. So maybe he understood that, too, and chose a different approach. I’ve written earlier that we don’t know if Yato started granting other people’s wishes on Father’s orders or Sakura’s request. But I can imagine that it was part of Father’s plan. Originally Yato was forbidden from even talking to strangers. However, having noticed that he was changing because of Sakura, Father might have started to teach Yato to answer prayers of revenge/restoring justice – to show him how often gods don’t respond to people’s wishes before it’s too late and the only thing that’s left is revenge. Yato may not have given a lot of consideration to that, thinking that he was doing what any god should be doing – answering prayers to continue his existence. But the number of wishes like those only grew, and so the idea that he really was a “necessary evil”, as Father puts it, became more and more ingrained in his mind.    

Another important aspect of Yato’s attitude towards his job as a magatsukami is that, in a way, he has an addiction to it. The last time he returned to this field of work he was literally kidnapped and held hostage. But he’s never actively tried leaving Father and Nora before.

There are multiple reasons why Yato wouldn’t leave until he was told he was free to go. Firstly, he simply didn’t have anywhere to go. Sure, we’ve been shown that his previous shinki weren’t completely unconcerned about him – after all, they would come to Kofuku looking for him. However, since no shinki other than Yukine (except Hiiro) stayed with him for longer than a year, he probably wouldn’t have much commitment towards them. (The official translators actually raised an interesting question in their blog; at least, I never thought much about it before. As we know, it’s established that there are lots of gods who are born from small wishes and don’t exist for long but still manage to name a shinki or two. Kunimi’s first master was like that – he was a doll-like god with his own miniature shrine, born from a game. This wasn’t enough when the children who made him up stopped believing in him. When that god disappeared, the name he gave to Kunimi did not, so as long as Kunimi has a master, he will always be a nora. Here’s the question: how many of Yato’s shinki thought that he simply stopped existing and went looking for another master? Kofuku says that sometimes Yato would go missing for years,  so the shinki who got the -Ne name not long before he’d return to Father (you know, the ones that would come to Kofuku) were either eaten by ayakashi or found another master and became forever noras).

Secondly, Father and Nora provided him with food and protection from “wild” ayakashi, so Yato didn’t need to think of places to spend the night. After all, he wasn’t always so lucky as to find a large shrine with a roof like Tenjin’s; sometimes he would sleep besides statues of Buddha.

Thirdly, he couldn’t go against his father’s wishes. Even though he’s had other believers (how else his name would appear in those oral traditions Ebisu was talking about?) he is convinced that Father is his lifeline. When Hiyori saw Yato’s reaction to those who commit suicide, she thought he hated them because they throw away the lives that shinki would love to have lived. That is true, but it’s not the only reason. Unlike renowned gods, Yato is in the position of someone who could die any moment. Unlike humans though, he wouldn’t have a second chance as a shinki, or go to the afterworld where he already is – he would simply stop existing and no one would ever remember that he was there. To him there’s no difference between gods who don’t appreciate their immortal lives or suicidal people – from his point of view, they all willingly give up on something that he’s working so hard to gain.

And if he wanted to keep that something, he had to work as a god of calamity.

Fourthly, no matter how different Father’s and Sakura’s lessons and approaches were, the one thing Yato’s learnt from them both is that he needs to grant any wish. Not because someone has to do the dirty work when the Heavens are idle, not because they support his existence as a god – it’s something he has to do because it’s the right thing to do. It’s ingrained in his mind. Even the actual plot of Noragami starts when Yato decides to grant Hiyori’s wish, even though she’s never finished her sentence, and takes her 5 yen on his own initiative.

And we also shouldn’t forget that, even though it doesn’t concern him anymore, up to recently Yato still wanted Father’s praise. Father doesn’t say a single nice thing to him now, but that’s not how it’s been before.

On the other hand, Father keeps newspaper clippings of mysterious deaths caused by “the Yatogami miracle” the same way normal parents have keepsakes made by their children. Except that doesn’t make Yato happy at all.

Finally, Yato reveals one more important reason to Yukine after he’s released Nora and decided to become a god of fortune.

On the surface, Yato seems to be quite full of himself. When he does something impressive or, alternatively, other characters question his competence, he responds with “how long do you think I’ve been a god?” Yet none of the hundreds, maybe even thousands of other jobs he’s done would give him recognition comparable to his work as a god of calamity. Sure, people would sometimes give him beer or food as a tip for his “delivery god” jobs. But Rabo told him that his battle skills could win him glory among samurai. People would offer much larger sums of money for contract killing than for cleaning bathrooms or looking for missing pets, even if Yato wouldn’t take them. The more he killed, the more praise he would get from his Father.

I think this quote from FMA describes his situation perfectly:

Yato keeps saying that the only thing he’s really good at is slaying. No wander he would want to keep doing something he thinks is his strong side. Getting praise and gratitude from others is important, but every person has the need in self-actualization. His job as a magatsukami has been giving him exactly that – not just the chance to know that hi’s good at what he’s doing, but to see it with his own eyes. Kazuma may not have been too far off course when he said that Yato delighted in atrocities: even when he would occasionally have doubts in what he was doing (like killing Bishamon’s shinki or the serial killer who had a son), some part of him must have felt that satisfaction and pride of a job well done.

  In short, Yato’s attitude towards his job as a magatsukami is very ambiguous. It would give him protection from his enemies (ayakashi), food and shelter, the absence of which may not be lethal but is still notable.  It would also deprive him of the possibility to have autonomy in his actions, to move around freely and decide anything in his life. It would bind him to Father, the man whose magnificent child rearing methods are the reason Yato’s mental state alternates between that of a thousand-year-old god, a bratty child, or a rebelling teen.  It’s also led him to Kazuma, Kofuku and Daikoku and later Ebisu, and each of these encounters has brought something good to his uneasy life. It would always remind him that killing is the only thing he’s good at while showing just how good he is.

Future?

Yato found his will to stop doing the job of a god of calamity when  Ebisu showed him that making others happy doesn’t always mean granting others’ wishes. He saw that a god can have their own will, like Ebisu having his own wish to decrease the number of disasters in the human world by controlling ayakashi. He released Hiiro after being unable to do that for a thousand years. Whether he knew that a god doesn’t get to name a shinki they have once released is unknown, but what’s done is done – he will never “play” with Hiiro again.

However, “god of calamity” is not a mere description of his previous functions. A god’s “profession” is also their nature. Kofuku can cause a pandemonium by the sheer force of her aura alone. Ebisu, a god of fortune, is tremendously lucky (well, safe for being falsely accused and executed he is a pretty lucky god). The problem Yato currently faces is that when he was working as a magatsukami he didn’t think twice about how his actions would affect other people. But now he can’t get rid of the thought that even if he isn’t a divine assassin anymore, his nature as a god of calamity hasn’t changed, so he is the reason of all the bad things happening to the people closest to him.

Hiyori says to Yato that he’s been her god of fortune for a while. That’s nice and all, but all the problems that Hiyori’s classmates list have been caused by Yato directly or indirectly. The accident? If Hiyori hadn’t tried to save him from the bus, the accident wouldn’t have happened and she wouldn’t have become a half-ayakashi. The call girl accusations? Yato was the one possessing Hiyori’s body and giving his visit cards to anyone he could find. And the fact that he calls himself a “delivery god” even in original Japanese only exacerbates the matter. In Japan, house calling a prostitute is referred to as “health delivery”, so the reaction to his visit cards is understandable. And though the hospital incident has been staged by Father, he’s done that because he got mad at Hiyori for trying to lead Yaboku astray from his true path of a god of calamity. That’s quite the food for thought. Moreover, even though Yukine and Hiyori go out of their way to make Yato a god of fortune, even though he tries his hardest to achieve that, he can’t get away from being reminded of who he used to be.

To make Yato a god of fortune, Yukine suggests that he keeps doing what he’s been doing, only with a different goal in mind – slaying ayakashi, not humans, and do all that without being asked. But if his methods haven’t changeв, is there a chance that we’ll still see magatsukami!Yato again? I’m NOT saying that this is how the story will end, because it would completely undermine the message of this series. However, when Bishamon nearly killed Father, it was Yukine who decided to strike her when he saw Yato passing out; it was his hafuri power that sundered the Heavens. But Yato also felt something in that moment– something he hasn’t felt for a long time.

So… who knows?

P.S. if you have a Yato overdose from this post, please don’t blame me