#in case anyone ever tells me i'm smart i'll just show them this

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

wait guys hold on what day is it

[queerholmcs]

the mind of moriarty 👑🧑🏻‍💻♟️

I had the absolute pleasure of doing the original "the game is now" escape room experience immediately followed by the new moriarty-centric escape room (as though the first one wasn't moriarty-centric enough?) with @victorianpining and @647763 back at the end of July, and I did promise a full write-up when I came back to my senses at the end of it!

First off, I could not have been more pleased with the experience; I do absolutely recommend giving it a go yourself if you have the chance. Now, if you're in the mood for spoilers, I'll be detailing some thoughts and recollections below the cut. 💙

Just in case the first escape room experience didn't quite convince you, Moriarty is dead. It's very important that you know that going into this. He's the most dead anyone has ever been. He's so dead he "wishes he could die twice!", after all! They have to keep saying it because otherwise you might forget it, you see. Especially after Sherlock had a whole drug trip on a plane to prove how someone might have faked their death in such a manner only to conclusively decide that dear old Jimmy boy is in fact dead.

I'm assuming everyone reading this is already relatively familiar with the first escape room, and the whole bit where the Network is operating under the guise of "Doyle's Opticians," so I won't spend any time discussing that, except to say that we did get a few confused looks from the various Stamfords when we reappeared (after finishing the first escape room and making the choice to stick to non-alcoholic beverages at the Mind Palace prior to the second) to say, "Oh, no, we didn't get turned around or anything. We've just got a second appointment." (You mean to tell me that most people who go do one experience and then just... leave? Without doing the second one the very same day? What an absolutely unfathomable concept.)

The opening puzzles before the "John Watson held at gunpoint" briefing video (which was the same as that used for the first escape room) were particularly fun: you're shown a series of four images, and you have to figure out the pattern of what's changing (being mirrored, one might say?) between each one to choose the fifth of the sequence from a selection. (Ref. 1: Into the Woods: How Stories Work and Why We Tell Them, John Yorke.)

And then you go on to 221B Baker Street for photos and a brief moment of shenanigans, and I must add a note here that the Stamford who was working with us on this round was brilliant, you could tell she was absolutely loving her job, and there was a bit of a spiel about observation and logic and deduction that turned out to actually be helpful in solving the puzzles in the first room. (Shocking, that she wasn't just harping on about those concepts for fun!)

Anyway, Mycroft shows up via video feed, per usual, and introduces the premise of this game: James Moriarty (who is most assuredly dead, by the way, it's very important that you remember that) programmed an AI before he died—"an archive of maniacal data"—and your job, as new (read: expendable) recruits in the Network, is to go into a virtual-reality space called the Nexus, where you need to hack into the AI and replace Moriarty's mind with—well, not yours, obviously, you're "far too, as they say, basic"—but with Sherlock's. But why not use Mycroft's mind? you may be asking. Especially if he's the smart one.—because, dear reader, "One Mycroft Holmes is already too great a gift for this world. Two would be an indulgence." And that's verbatim from Mycroft Holmes as protrayed by Mark Gatiss himself. I am going to haunt him in whatever comes after this life. Still can't believe that you give them money and in exchange they insult you for approximately ninety minutes and at the end you say 'thanks, this was so much fun, I will definitely be doing this again!'

Right before you go into the first room, you are helpfully reminded by Mycroft one last time that "despite what video games suggest, you absolutely can die in the virtual world." Bit of a theme they seem to be harping on! It's almost like they're trying to get you to really believe that Jim is actually dead or something!

(Photos are all from the official 221b social media accounts.)

The first room is a sort of fusion of the pool from TGG with a chemistry lab and a hospital corridor, and also a miniature version of Jim's prison cell from THOB is there. There's a mannequin of John Watson decked out in a Semtex vest in the corner, and you get the usual experience of solving lots of intellectually- and tactilely-satisfying puzzles, which included opening a bordering-on-comical number of lockers. The John mannequin has a key in his hand labelled "007" (classic!) and a phone in his pocket so you can text Mycroft. Moriarty reminds you that he's the good old-fashioned villain in this fairy tale, and that Sherlock needs him or he's nothing, and that John is Sherlock's "live-in ordinary person."

I also particularly enjoyed the little chemistry puzzle in this room—they do give you a periodic table on the wall, so you have all you need to solve it without any prior knowledge, but who goes to a Sherlock escape room without a graduate chemist in hand?

(We also decided after the fact that the gift shop definitely should have been selling packs of the stickers seen on the lockers in this room, one of which was notably a pixel-art TV with a rainbow screen and the phrase "brainwashed".)

The highlight here, however, was definitely the prison cell. There's a letter on the chair that's on Pentonville Prison letterhead and signed by Mycroft and otherwise consists of a paragraph or two of fully redacted text. The walls have a number of fun phrases scratched into them, like "THREE SIGNS IS NOT ENOUGH" and "TOO MANY THATCHERS", which continue to live in my mind rent-free. (Some of the other phrases were helpful hints for the puzzles you had to solve, but those two weren't even relevant for the puzzles, as I recall. They were just bonuses. Specifically designed to haunt me, personally.)

At some point in here, Moriarty—no, sorry; his recorded voice, because he's dead, remember! We're just poking around in his virtual mind! ("Jim recorded lots of little messages for me before he died," anyone?)—insults you over the speakers, saying, "Goldfish, goldfish, goldfish have better recall than you!" (Mycroft Holmes in TEH, "I'm living in a world of goldfish," anyone?)

Anyway, you solve all the puzzles and put the phone you were using to text Mycroft in Jim's prison cell and continue on your way, going further into the mind of Moriarty, in the direction of the "Watson Ward" and "No Sherlock beyond this point" arrows. (Big moment for "there's definitely a reason that every other character in the canon has the initials J(H)W or its respectable inversion JM" girlies!)

Also there's an audio clip of Jim saying "choo choo!" as you leave the room. (Big moment for TFP girlies! I think my exact words were "I am going to kill myself.")

Onto room two! Green lasers everywhere! (They definitely intended you to do a fun little acrobatics situation here but we were content to hit the floor and crawl to find the buttons to disable them.)

After you disable the lasers, you get to focus on the primary puzzle of the room: a wall covered with sketches of people and copies of incriminating evidence, and you have to connect the scarlet thread red strings between each member of the jury and the evidence that Jim was blackmailing them with—you know, from way back in TRF? When the key code wasn't important at all, it was just about knowing someone's pressure points? (There's a Mary who's having an affair and is a lesbian, btw. Just like our mystery corpse in the original escape room, we should never assume someone is straight when there's room for them to be gay.) This puzzle as a whole was really satisfying, I will say, though it did make us wish for either a notepad or a massive whiteboard to make notes on while we solved the little logic puzzles to match the people to their blackmail material. (They could give you little branded notepads and pens to take with you through the rooms, and to keep as a souvenir, like the ones hotels give you! It would be so fun!) This was definitely the puzzle we spent the majority of our time on.

And then you get to the highlight of this room: opening the safe to reveal Jim Moriarty himself—well, a mannequin version—decked out in the Crown Jewels, happy as could be. There's a reminder that nothing in the Tower of London is as valuable as a few tiny lines of computer code that can open any door. And Jim's written a silly little poem of sorts and draws far too much attention to both "the rod of power in his right hand's grasp" and "the Orb" between his legs (and then we were at the Tower of London two days later and found out that that's not just a euphemism, it's literally called the Orb? Unhinged behaviour. And I don't even know who to blame for it now. The "rod of power" bit was all him, though. Could have been normal and called it a scepter!) and you have to figure out a code and (spoilers!) the code is 7437. Which is fine and perfectly normal and I'm sure the vast majority of people who complete that room think nothing of it, but unfortunately, we were not a group of "the vast majority" and so our experience was not what you might call "fine and normal", because Mia input the code and there was a little beep of success of and then she, without missing a beat, went on to say, "Oh, that's so funny! That's the numbers for S-H-E-R," at which point Rebs and I immediately sank to the floor to stare into the abyss while waiting for the next door to open.

So, just to recap: the point of TRF was definitely that there was no code, there was never any code, it was just about knowing people's pressure points and getting them to do what you wanted, but now that we're inside Moriarty's mind it's definitely all about codes and there's a silly poem to draw attention to various things including, but not limited to, the Orb between his legs, and the code that you need from him so that you can go deeper into his mind is S-H-E-R. Yeah. Sure. Why not. This is Fine! What really haunts me is knowing how many people will do that escape room and will never know that that's what those numbers mean. Because why on earth would you?

(Just to prove how normal I am about this, I won't even say anything about a potential parallel between Moriarty's "Orb" situation and the globe on Mycroft's desk under Whitehall. See? I'm not even mentioning it, why would you bring up something like that? No M-theory here, no sir! Not a single trace of it!)

Congratulations, you've made it to the rooftop, where Sherlock jumped off a roof and James Moriarty met his end, and I swear Jim has a line somewhere in there complaining about how hard it is to plan this sort of thing. (Whatever that means!)

We've got screens playing clips from all thirteen episodes of the show—okay, that might be an exaggeration; I didn't actually check to see if there were clips from every single episode. But there were definitely clips from series four, which is very funny considering how the universe that these rooms seem to be set makes exactly zero mention of John's wife at any point in time. (Hey, hello, hi, it's me who's writing this. Obviously I noticed when there were shots from TFP on those screens.)—and there are computer-code-esque symbols on the walls and Jim is lying dead on the floor and Sherlock is standing on the edge of the rooftop.

Here are some fun facts for you: the gun is still in Jim's pocket. (He's definitely dead, though! You know how you shoot yourself in the head and then return your gun to its rightful place before you politely lay down and die?) And Sherlock's mannequin is wearing the purple shirt of sex a purple shirt, which is a detail that might not be noticed unless you're thoroughly ransacking his every pocket (twice) to check for a missing key, and I was going to say something about how of course he is, because what else would you expect him to be wearing when we're three levels deep in Moriarty's mind and the code to get this far was S-H-E-R, but then I went back and checked and Sherlock is, in fact, wearing a purple shirt at the end of TRF. (Which somehow still doesn't actually negate any of the above, imo.)

Anyway, the first puzzle in this room involves finding a bunch of physical puzzle pieces to solve a puzzle, and figuring out how to unlock doors to obtain all of the pieces, and some of the padlocks use code words that they give you by putting phrases from their "sophisticated and cerebral" merch on the screen and highlighting letters, and some use numbers that you get by solving other riddles, but one of them is a padlock with a physical key and (spoiler!) it turns out that you don't even need to get the key for that one, because there's another way to get the puzzle piece out without unlocking the door at all! (Was his grand daylight robbery scheme a matter of keys and codes, or was it just about knowing people's pressure points and blackmailing them? You decide!)

And then it's time to manage the final task of uploading Sherlock's brain to the AI, which is accomplished by running around hitting buttons while music plays over the speakers to instil a sense of great urgency. You definitely would not want to do this with fewer than three members in your party. This is where they use Jim's line of "Surprise! You didn't think I'd just disappear, did you?" as seen in one of the teaser trailers, and they also plaster every screen with the classic "Did you miss me?" footage that mysteriously appeared on every screen in the country at the end of HLV.

But when you do manage to complete the task, Mycroft's voice comes back to congratulate you, and to sort of threaten you (though that's par for the course when it's Mycroft Holmes we're talking about, I'll admit), and to leave open the possibility of your returning for another job someday. I, for one, cannot wait to see what they're going to do for round three. (Personally, I think it would be very funny if they put one of the rooms on the Demeter for the next one. No rebranding necessary, no discussion of Dracula at any point whatsoever, but for some reason you find yourself on a boat, in cabin number 9, playing chess with the Devil himself Moriarty! What a shocking and unforeseen turn of events that would be!)

(The only real downside of them doing a third room would be that I would then have to make time to do three of these in one day. And that might be a bit excessive. I mean, three eye exams in one day? Someone's definitely going to say something.)

We had a very lovely time at the Mind Palace bar after that, to debrief a bit, and there was a logic puzzle that I still need to sit down and crack at some point when I have a moment. I was personally very pleased to find drinks called "The Diogenes Club" and "The Lying Detective" (both of which I was contractually obligated to order, naturally), and did you know you can rent out the bar for private events? I'm sure I would be very normal about such a situation. (Good job I'm not local to the area, truly!)

This has already gone longer than I think I intended, and I'm sure I could keep going, given the opportunity, but I'll close things out here, and say again that I do absolutely recommend doing the escape room(s) if you have the opportunity; I could not have been more pleased with the experience. My sole complaint is that they don't let you wander back through the rooms after solving the puzzles to have a moment to appreciate all the small details when you're not working against the clock. And also they should send me the scripts, as a treat. Along with any remaining unused video or audio footage. (Moftiss, my DMs are open, feel free to drop the links at your earliest convenience!)

[atopvisenyashill]

that bit about joffrey is FASCINATING have you ever written about this in depth? I've always loved his character but I would never be able to like. Describe why exactly he is the way he is so I really appreciate your analysis of him loving BOTH parents and incorporating only their flaws - I always just assumed that he hates his dad and is annoyed by cersei (still loves her) but then the way we sexually humiliates and abuses sansa etc is so robert-coded like of course he emulates the bevavior of his father.

Also slightly off topic but i always forget that Joffrey is like canonically so good at all the proper princely things (thinking of that scene at Sansa and Tyrion's wedding when she's so upset that a monster like Joff could be so good at dancing) and - not to go on about GOT again - but I wish we had actually gotten to see that and him being charming etc. Huge props to the show for giving Joff the perfect wardrobe (the only thing they did right) but also f them for waiting all that potential

yes, they really said joff gets to have all the swag and then the moment he died they put cersei in that fuck ass bob and no one in the lannisters was allowed to serve again smh. and thank youuu i actually had to stop myself from rambling over him before haha, but i'll go into more detail here! so this was the comment from the other post-

joffrey is a kid just ruled by his first, most base instinct. his instincts, his core emotions, tell him to love and trust both robert and cersei, and imo he twists himself into a MONSTER to try to appeal to both of them. no one else matters - not his siblings, not his uncle, not his grandfather, not the realm. he needs to be the sort of vicious person they could both be proud of, he needs to be better than them both at violence, so he absorbs all of their faults and none of their virtues.

i definitely do see very often that people feel he only loves one or the other parent and while I do understand that reading, I don't think it's quite how Joffrey operates. I think he does love them both, and holds them both in high esteem. I do agree that he's annoyed by Cersei but that doesn't mean he doesn't value her opinion (as much as Joffrey puts value on anyone else's opinion, I mean).

Joffrey and Cersei

Joffrey relies on his mother more than almost any other male character we see in the series. We see him call for Cersei basically every time he's hurt, in trouble, or wanting to whine about something. Not only that, but you have everyone from Robert to Renly to Tywin himself saying that Joffrey is doted upon and inseparable from his mother. A few choice quotes:

"Fear is better than love, Mother says." Joffrey pointed at Sansa. "She fears me."

He takes Cersei's lessons to heart, however flawed they are. Her opinion matters to him, he wants her to see him as strong.

Nine cases out of ten seemed to bore him; those he allowed his council to handle, squirming restlessly while Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, or Queen Cersei resolved the matter. When he did choose to make a ruling, though, not even his queen mother could sway him.

It's Cersei he listens to the most. We know that if a little King, even with his mother as Regent, doesn't want to deal with her, he can simply ignore her - that's what Jaehaerys does with Alyssa, after all. But Joffrey doesn't do this; he'll fight with her, he'll insult her, and he's not shy about doing it in public but he never disregards her out of hand.

Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed.

His instinct, every time, is to turn to her for help. He loves her. He adores her. She's the only person around who tells him he's strong and smart and will be a good king. He leans on her for guidance, for comfort, he talks to her about fucking whores. He shares everything with her because he doesn't have a single friend. She models anger and violence for him constantly, she excuses his disturbing proclivities, so he molds himself to be the person she wants him to be, the king she wants him to be. People - including Tyrion and Tywin! - are always wondering why Cersei is blind to his cruelty, but the reality is she knew he was cruel and loved him for it.

Tommen did as he was bid. His meekness troubled her. A king had to be strong. Joffrey would have argued. He was never easy to cow.

For Cersei, cruelty is strength and in her eyes, Joffrey is as strong as they come. This isn't by accident; just like his constant cries for her are reinforced by her rushing to coddle him, his cruelty is reinforced by a mother who sees it as strength. It's almost like what Coldhands says to Bran - Joffrey is a monster, yes, but in Cersei's eyes, Joffrey is her monster.

Joffrey and Robert

Joffrey had never had a close friend of his own age, that she recalled. The poor boy was always alone. I had Jaime when I was a child . . . and Melara, until she fell into the well. Joff had been fond of the Hound, to be sure, but that was not friendship. He was looking for the father he never found in Robert.

From Cersei's point of view, I think she knows very well that Joffrey is searching for love, acceptance, and himself in Robert. She doesn't like it, but she seems to accept that it's natural for Joffrey to search for some sort of father figure, and doesn't seem to begrudge him that - imo, I think because she knows Robert is always going to reject Joffrey for his cruelty.

“Why would he [care]? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I’d allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I’d kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things…”

Whenever they interact, the few times they do, there's violence. People always take this as Cersei not allowing Robert to "teach" or "properly discipline" Joffrey but, well...does the above seem like helpful discipline? Knocking out your child because he freaked you out? Punishing extreme violence with more extreme violence? And it's not just Cersei that this moment sticks with, because Stannis brings it up as well-

"Joffrey . . . I remember once, this kitchen cat . . . the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him."

Since Cersei says Robert would "say things" and we see him threatening Cersei (the "or I'll honor you again" line), I don't think it's a stretch to say that Robert threatened to beat Joffrey nearly to death several times over.

And yet...Joffrey compliments his father, especially in comparison to his other relatives.

He wrenched free of her. "Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock." The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. "A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk."

And Cersei believes this came from Robert-

"Father, I am sorry," Cersei said, when the door was shut. "Joff has always been willful, I did warn you . . ." "There is a long league's worth of difference between willful and stupid. 'A strong king acts boldly?' Who told him that?" "Not me, I promise you," said Cersei. "Most like it was something he heard Robert say . . ."

And of course, Jaime is the one who pieces together why Joffrey sent the catspaw-

“Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best. ‘We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children’ he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink.” Robert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. “Were you alone when Robert said this?” “You don’t think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children.” Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. “Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?” It was meant as mockery, but she’d cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. “Not Myrcella. Joffrey.” Cersei frowned. “Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself .” “A child hungry for a pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father.”

When you put it all together, you have a child who is ignored by his father unless he's being threatened with a beating, who is constantly calling him a monster, who watches his father harm and humiliate his mother day in and day out, who has no other paternal figure around but this violent, angry man who he is supposed to model himself off of, and a mother who encourages his cruelty because she believes it's the only way to protect herself, to protect her son. He's not just emulating his mother's cruelty, he's emulating Robert's violence specifically when he humilates Sansa at court, when he openly talks shit about Cersei - it's what he's seen modeled for him as kingly behavior!

The Abuse And Jaime Of It All

King Joffrey's face hardened. "My mother tells me that it isn't fitting that a king should strike his wife. Ser Meryn."

He knows Robert is abusing Cersei and he takes her dislike of it seriously even as he doesn't make the connection that she means he shouldn't be striking his wife period. Whether it's because Cersei directly told him (which could make sense; she's purposefully hiding it from Jaime but perhaps she confided in Joffrey) or because he witnessed it himself, he's aware of the abuse enough that he takes his mother's comments about not personally striking Sansa to heart.

"No," [Robert] thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to see the king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!" Everyone was staring. Sansa saw Ser Barristan, and the king's brother Renly, and the short man who had talked to her so oddly and touched her hair, but no one made a move to interfere. The queen's face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. "The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer." He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!" Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. "As you say, Your Grace." His voice was stiff. Lord Renly came forward, smiling. "You've spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you a fresh goblet." Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. "It grows late," the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. "Do you need an escort back to the castle?"

I think it's pretty clear that Joffrey is dissociating here which also explains his very detached way of looking at Robert's abuse of Cersei. It freaks him out enough that he uses Sansa as an excuse to leave (giving her the Hound, then running off himself) but he doesn't show it. He's not even particularly upset during this scene, not throwing a tantrum or making whiny remarks like he does when he's usually upset. He only has a "queer look" - the stress of trying to reconcile his adoration of Robert and his love of Cersei just makes him fully shut down instead of confronting it.

Joffrey gave a petulant shrug. "Your brother defeated my uncle Jaime. My mother says it was treachery and deceit. She wept when she heard. Women are all weak, even her, though she pretends she isn't. She says we need to stay in King's Landing in case my other uncles attack, but I don't care. After my name day feast, I'm going to raise a host and kill your brother myself. That's what I'll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother's head."

I think people often take his comments about how women are weak to mean he doesn't view his mother as a competent advisor. But you notice a pattern here - he gets shitty with her when it's about Jaime specifically.

"A great many people are sorry for that," Tyrion replied, "and before I am done, some may be a deal sorrier . . . yet I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where might I find your mother?" "She's with my council," the king answered. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles."

"She's with my council" he says, because he sees no reason to not let Cersei run things without him, something Robert never lets her do. But "your brother Jaime" not "my uncle Jaime" which is a shift because he doesn't stop calling Renly or Stannis his uncles even after they rebel. He knows, he suspects, and what he resents is not Cersei fucking Jaime but Jaime fucking Cersei.

My read on this is that Joffrey sees his mother as weak for allowing herself to be seduced by Jaime, and sees Jaime as a lecherous seducer who is the cause of all his problems. If only Jaime hadn't seduced his mother, maybe his parents wouldn't hate each other. His claim wouldn't be under question. His mother should have just taken the abuse and bided her time instead of putting herself in danger and having bastards.

He loves his mother. He loves his father. And that's the human heart in conflict with itself that resides in Joffrey. Does he honor his mother, the only parent he has, or does he honor Robert, the patriarch he is supposed to emulate? If he has no other example of what strength looks like, is he even capable of figuring out a different path for himself?

[beegalactica]

Comparison is the thief of joy.

In a world where it seems like everyone else is doing so much better than you, how do you stop comparing yourself to them? You know it's unhealthy and unhelpful but you just can't seem to help it. Don't worry, I've been there and I know exactly what it's like.

Why We Compare Ourselves

Whether we're comparing our appearance; from our eyes to our hair, to even the shape of our fingers; or the grades that we get; the outfits we wear; or the person we are; I believe comparison stems from our insecurities. We may feel like we're not enough in our own right, so we look for people we think are better than us to justify it.

For me over this past week, I've been comparing myself a lot, and that's fine. I can be this confident and self-assured person, but I I still have moments where I don't feel like that - it's just how life works.

My first point of comparison was with a grade that I got in class. I got the second highest and of course, the first thing that popped into my mind was not how good I did on my own, but what I didn't do that relegated me to second place. Reflection is great for improving and bettering yourself, but you know that it has crossed the point into harmful comparison when you start to think: "I'm better than this person at x, y and z so how could they do better than me here?" We often resort to mentally trying to put the other person down so we don't feel so alone 'below' them, but that perpetuates unnecessary negativity.

My second point of comparison had to do with my 'love life'. There is a guy that I like, but we didn't work out, and now the thought of him possibly getting with someone else made me feel so low. It felt like a rejection in the worst way. It felt like the world was saying to me that "I wasn't good enough", not that the timing wasn't right or that it just wasn't meant to be. Obviously, I spent a lot of my time looking at the girl, thinking about all the ways she was prettier than me, taller than me, skinnier than me, etc. I started trying to pull her down in my mind, thinking of all the flaws that she 'had', to hide the fact that I was just insecure that I wasn't enough on my own.

But I refuse to let these events take a toll on my mental health and turn me into a bitter, jealous person because I know that I'm better than that, and I know that you are too.

How To Stop Comparing Yourself

To be honest, I don't know if I can ever get to a point where nothing can faze me at all, because I am human at the end of the day. What I do know is ways to cope and stop myself from spiralling as a result:

Accept the situation - accept the fact that it is what it is. I believe that things happen in life to teach me a lesson or to show me how I can come out of it stronger, and the first step in that journey is to accept that it happened. If things are meant to work out in the end, they will.

Plan your next steps - what are you going to do to give yourself peace of mind? In my case, I'll just have to work harder but also learn to congratulate myself more for the things that I do. I will also have to take some time to figure out why I have these insecurities and work on ways to uplift myself.

Affirm, affirm, affirm - I believe positive affirmations are amazing because who knows you better than you? If I say that I am a smart, hardworking person who is perfect just the way they are, who dares to tell me that I'm not? If I say that I am enough, how can anyone prove that I'm not? Sometimes your biggest enemy can really be your self-concept, but you need to train it to face setbacks and use them to further prove that you are above it all based on the way you deal with it.

Don't act out - don't become a hateful person. It can be hard because we think that it is the only thing that will make us feel better, but it makes us the same as all those other people who seek to pull others down to uplift themselves. Don't let a temporary event change your character.

Comparison is inevitable because the way that our world works is rooted in competition - who is the best? who is the prettiest? who is the smartest? But if you can answer all of those questions saying that you are, then don't let little things get you down. Life is all about growing and evolving, but don't forget to take a moment to celebrate your strengths and remind yourself of just how amazing you are.

You are enough.

I am enough.

[soobrat]

siren

genre for entire series; dating show au, angst, smut, fluff, a touch of humor

genre; a touch of humor

warnings; mc will mention having had plastic surgery, future smut, insecurity, may be triggering for anyone who was ugly in high school or experienced being the "ugly one" in their friend group (I'm writing this to heal my own trauma, and bc I love single's inferno)

preface; this is going to be a very relaxed series with short parts and minimal to no editing. please don't pressure me about new parts for older fics (especially ones I didn't really intend to have a part two anyway) i've just decided that I'll get to them when I do.

siren masterlist

Going last is the best case scenario here. It gives you more time to think.

“Hiii! My name is Ning Yizhuo!” The woman with large round eyes waves both hands excitedly at the camera. You can’t tell if it’s the bright, large screen singing your eyes or her bright aura. She’s a cute type, and you’re pretty sure you’re already fucked. 

“I’m twenty-one years old and I’m a college student! I’m in college, hoping to get my BArch degree soon!” She laughs in an attempt to undercut the genuine fatigue that slipped through. Cute and smart? Shit.

The woman who walks in front of the camera next is the utter opposite of Yizhuo in every way possible. From her blonde hair, her tan skin, to her sultry gaze. 

“I’m Jeon Somi. I uh… I’m twenty-two. And um! I’m a model. I mostly shoot music videos, hip hop is my main genre so some people call me a video vixen.” This time the laugh isn’t to undercut anything, it’s to drive home her tone insinuating how silly that label is. 

“But I do photoshoots sometimes. Mostly editorial and experimental shit. Not your average insta model.” She smirks, cementing her confidence. Confident and Sexy. Not for everyone, it’ll be fine.

“Hi, I’m Roseanne Park.” The Australian accent makes your ear perk up. “I graduated from a performing arts college with a bachelors in music. So now I mainly write and produce for other artists but hopefully I’ll release my own music some day.” She smiles slightly, pursing her lips. “Oh! And I’m twenty-six.” 

She’s eloquent but not too flashy with how she speaks. She screams normal but not in a bad way. In a “girl next door” type of way. Fuck.

What did you expect? That they’d cast mediocre women? In a reality show meant for dating? When has that ever happened?

You exhale sharply, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. Just get through one more and then do your own. Don’t overthink it. You hear the sound of heels clacking but give yourself another moment to collect yourself as you close your eyes.

Once you open them, you’re faced with that of an angel. Except not an angel, not a doll either because she’s natural. She’s believable. And dammit she’s effortless. Her features fit together perfectly, nothing hogging the spotlight. She turns to the side briefly and you catch a glimpse of her nose. As if she needed anything else, she has a perfect nose too. She’s elegant with a hint of innocence. She’s cute but with a tempting edge. There’s something about her eyes that tell a deeper story that any man lost in them can craft to their liking, pull them in deeper.

“Hi. I’m Jung Chaeyeon. I’m twenty-six and I’m a freelance model and actress.” She gives a captivating smile and walks off camera. Fuck.

Shit.

siren masterlist

[azrielgreen]

Hi! I really hope that this doesn't come across wrong, because you're my favorite author of all time, but I am curious about how and why you write pairings with Billy? I mean, he's a violent and awful racist who tried to kill a kid. I'm just curious about Billy shippers, and I wanted to know what you think about all that! You really are my #1 author, and I really, really hope this doesn't come across as mean!

I debated answering this at all because I really don't involve myself in anything remotely related to fandom unpleasantness or the kind of immaturity that leads to "ship wars" and outright bullying, but I can tell your question was asked in good faith so this will probably be the one time I answer anything like this.

I write for myself. I write characters that interest me. I'm interested in complex characters. They have the most wiggle room for expression and interpretation of angst and growth and suffering within my kind of creative narrative. I fully appreciate that the Stranger Things fandom is where I gained traction, but I've been in fandom for a decade and I've written for Hannibal, Supernatural, Vampire Chronicles, Dragon Age among many others that I usually orphan because writing for myself is essential. I don't write to appease or instruct or create a moral guideline for how to be or how to love.

I won't reel off a list of reasons "why" i write pairings with Billy because I don't need to justify anything to anyone. I don't endorse what I write. I explore complicated characters and I feel things through them and I write and follow my creative instincts where a story might lead. I don't write to be popular, I never have, and I never will and if I thought for a second that the only reason my fics gained traction in this fandom was because anyone saw me as some kind of Anti-Billy Flag-waver, I'd delete every single thing I wrote including my AO3 username. Luckily, I know that's not the case and those who like my writing and stories enjoy them because they're smart enough to select what they like and leave what they don't.

I think there's a stunning level of dissonance between people who are insecure and fandom and those who are secure. It's fanfiction. It's literally transformative works. I can transform whatever I like and I write what I'm drawn to and I am drawn, always, to complicated characters with the potential for growth and evolution from low places. I've written so much for so many fandoms and some of what I've written has been pure, ice cold horror, straight up. The idea that I'm supposed to be someone who only ever writes Fandom Stamp-Approved Characters is hilarious to me. I write about murderers, people who kill, soldiers, assassins and even serial killers. I could spend time and energy explaining why I'm drawn to writing darker elements and giving them a bright, hopeful growth arc but I shouldn't have to explain ANYTHING and I don't, so I won't and please, anyone else reading, do not ever feel like you have to explain or justify what you write. That path leads nowhere good. No one should regulate what people write. NO ONE has the right to bully someone out of a fandom because they disagree with what they're writing about. No one.

I have always tried to be very open and supportive about encouraging people to feel safe exploring their interests, be it kink, trauma, whatever. I'll fight fiercely to defend people's right to enjoy literally whatever the fuck they want because life is hard, time is short, real life is disappointing and AO3 at the end of a long day can be comforting as fuck. The idea that some people are handwringing because people write about a "violent awful racist who tried to kill a kid" is so ridiculous to me it makes me laugh every single time. It's not real. It's a story. It's a TV show. I can explore whatever I want and so can everyone else.

Here's the very closest you'll come to hearing me give reasons why and I'm only doing it because I want other people who feel belittled and bullied and shamed for exploring what they're drawn to, to see this. The person I was at 17 years old is nothing like the person I am now and I cannot emphasise that strongly enough. I come from an abusive home. The girl I was at 17, 18, 19 and even 20... if I met her now, I wouldn't know her and she absolutely wouldn't know me. I lost who I was as a child because I was abused and it's only in the last ten years I had enough experience, distance and self-exploration to rediscover myself and really grow. Nothing excuses racism or violence. Me writing these characters is not excusing it. Writing domestic violence is not endorsing domestic violence. People need to understand this because it's a massive problem in the queer publishing community; this idea that all queer media needs to be morally squeaky clean, to be flawless and sexless and adhere to the perfect cis-heteronormative outline in order to be "acceptable" and not cast a pall on queers overall. I believe people can change. I believe people can see themselves in a piece of media and WANT to be better. I know because it happened to me. People can change. I like to think there are circumstances in which Billy could change. In which there was an intervention point, the possibility for redemption.

Fanfiction isn't real life. I would be so happy if people could understand this. Fiction is FICTION. It's exploration, it's themes, it's freedom of expression, it's art, it's for fun. It's not for everyone. No single thing is for everyone and it never, ever should be. My writing isn't for everyone. That makes me really happy because it means those who might resonate with what I write, will find it and have their own space to enjoy it. I'm a person with finite energy and time who dedicates a lot of that energy and time to this corner of fandom where I reasonably expect to be able to write whatever the hell I like however I like and if anyone has a different opinion of that, they'll be sorely disappointed. Complex, flawed characters whose experiences mirror my own will always be compelling to me and I will always be drawn to exploring redemptive narratives for them. If people don't like it, they don't have to read. If they get upset that I'm writing something they disagree with, that's on them and if they feel the need to draw attention to their discomfort, that's far less to do with the person they're complaining about and more an indication they need to do some serious shadow work.

Thank you for your question, no harm was inferred and I wish you all the best. Az. 💜💜💜

[marleyybluu]

Miss Ivy part 2

here we are again.

if you need a refresher or haven't read part 1 you can check it out here

Other than that, hopefully, yall enjoy part two. We love a slow-burning romance 😏it won't be that slow I promise

Word count: 2.1k

Another weekend had come and gone and in the blink of an eye, it was Monday again. A bittersweet day for Ivy, happy to go back to her students but forever wishing the weekend was longer than two seconds. She sighed taking a sip of coffee at her desk while her student piled in, she never understood how they were so chatty in the morning-- she missed being that young and alive. Almost all of her kids were in except for a young boy named Ruby and Cesar, they were close friends and always sat together after usually walking in late but they were yet to be seen.

She frowned looking at the clock and then the door frame, she was about to start class and there were still two empty seats in the middle row. "Alright, uh, good morning kiddos. How was everyone's weekend?"

A majority of them replied with the simple, "Good," But others started telling stories. She allowed it knowing she was genuinely interested in what they had to say. In the middle of a shocking revelation by one of her students, light footsteps entered the room, she saw Ruby in the corner of her eye. He was alone. Ruby sat in his chair and sulked in his seat placing his bag in the vacant chair. Where the hell was Cesar?

All day there was no sign of him and his absence continued the next day, she wanted to poke and prod at his friends but kept her mouth shut waiting until Wednesday to see if he reappeared and he did, he acted as if nothing happened. Ivy stopped herself, maybe she was becoming too involved but Cesar was one of her best students, he was a smart kid, very passionate about schooling and she didn't want to see that go to waste. The school day ended and he appeared in her empty class. "Hi miss Ivy," She smiled looking up at him. "Hey, what's up?"

He shrugged tossing his bag on a random desk. "Nothing, do you need help with anything around here?" She had a puzzled look on her face. "It's parent-teacher night, sweetie. I kind of have to leave early."

Cesar scratched the back of his neck, he didn't have a ride home and lately, there'd been no sign of his father, and whenever he asked his brother he'd say that Ray was just at work or he would shut down the conversation altogether. He knew their father had a job that he somewhat liked and seemed to be good at but it wasn't one that kept him away for this long. He was getting worried and found that Spooky was pretty much the complete opposite. In fact, it seemed that ever since last Friday he'd become even colder than he was before.

He felt like he couldn't ask Spooky or even talk to him about feelings, they just bottled that shit up and kept it moving. Ivy noticed his silence, "Is your dad coming tonight? I mean I know you haven't been to class in a while but I gave an extra sheet to Monse just in case she saw you." He awkwardly chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think he's gonna show. You can just tell me how I'm doing in class right now and we'll call it that."

Ivy laughed. "Well, is anyone coming to get you a bit earlier than usual?" He looked down and she sighed. "Maybe I'll just walk," but she didn't like that idea. The streets of Freeridge weren't really the best place for children to roam alone in her opinion, with all the gang violence going around and some of these joy riders blazing down the street she didn't want him getting caught in any crossfire. She looked at her watch, she had a good two hours to set up her room, go home, eat and take a quick shower before she had to come back for her first meeting.

She pondered looking around her classroom. "Tell you what, I do need help making the class look a little more presentable so if you help me with that I'll drop you home. Sound good?"

His face lit up. "Really? You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Ivy put on some music and the two began to work around the classroom, she poked around at his love life with Monse asking him how the date went and if they were finally an item. She found it sweet the way he talked about her, how he'd describe her-- she was starting to wonder how the hell a thirteen-year-old kid was more romantic than the grown-ass men that lived in this town. It all made her mind wander back to her own love life, or rather the lack thereof. Again, she was okay with being the single friend, often telling them it was cool because she didn't really want another person around her house which was true. She had everything where she wanted it and how she wanted it. But she wouldn't mind someone misplacing something once in a while.

"I'm thinking about taking her out again this weekend," said Cesar as he hooked his bag over his shoulder. Ivy smiled as she grabbed her purse and car keys. "Where to this time?"

"There's an arcade somewhere in town, it looks like a lot of fun."

She smiled. "Well, I hope you have fun."

They made their way out of the school and through the parking lot until they arrived at her vehicle, Cesar sat on the passenger's side and checked his phone hoping for a text from his brother but there was nothing. He rolled his eyes putting the device face down in his lap. The car ride was a bit silent except for the sound of the keyboard on Cesar's phone as he texted back Monse, he gave Ivy directions to where he lived and it led her to a part of Freeridge she hadn't really stepped foot in-- yeah she'd occasionally pass by but never actually looked around.

Soon, she found herself in front of a house that looked a bit run down on the outside, it wasn't in terrible shape, to be honest, but it wasn't necessarily a "clean" look like some of the houses near it. In the front yard were about five men who chatted amongst themselves, two sat on a couch that was planted on the lawn while three hung out on the porch step. Whatever they were talking about had been put on pause once they saw the unfamiliar car pull up to the curb.

They didn't do anything yet, they just watched as Cesar got out of the car with a woman stepping out with him. Their defences were down once they saw her. She didn't bother to walk him up to the door, a bit too intimidated by all the grown men who were ogling at her-- she was becoming uncomfortable. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Ivy. Thanks for the ride."

"No worries kid," She was about to retreat back into her vehicle when she saw Spooky emerge from the house. "Yo, what are you doing home so early?" She heard him ask, Cesar pointed behind him and he followed only to see the young woman at the end of the street. She instantly caught butterflies, she started to feel queasy.

Spooky was surprised, to say the least when he saw her in front of his house, his boys even took notice of how long they were staring at each other. He cleared his throat and instructed Cesar to go inside the house. Ivy's heart was in her ass as he stepped off the porch and onto the lawn heading her way. "Miss Ivy," She could almost moan at the way he said her name. "What'd he do? Shake you down for a ride home?" A dimple popped out as he smiled. She bit her lip. "Nah, I just have parent-teacher night and I gotta get out of these clothes and put on more... professional ones."

He looked over her attire, she wore a large black shirt with Tupac's face dominating the front with the words Poetic Justice under him-- it was her favourite movie and she knew that script better than some of the things she was teaching her own kids, she had paired it with a pair of black joggers, she hated wearing jeans to work it always made her feel restricted. He kinda liked that she didn't dress like a regular teacher, with a pencil skirt and a buttoned-up blouse or whatever. "Only parents are allowed?" Spooky asked.

The inquiry made her blush she wouldn't mind seeing him again and actually having a conversation, she could hear him talk all day.

"No, uh, any guardian can come really."

That's what he wanted to hear. "Cool, maybe I'll swing by."

"Cool," Ugh! Why did she feel like she was being lame all of a sudden? Ivy had to remind herself she still had to drive home, eat and get ready to go back to school. She sheepishly excused herself from his presence and returned back to her car. One last wave and she was out of sight.

It quickly became dark outside as Ivy wrapped up parent-teacher interviews, some parents she got along with and others had strong opinions on their children obviously not knowing that their child acts like a completely different person outside of the home. She was exhausted and ready to go to bed. Although she didn't want to admit it, she was a little disappointed Spooky didn't show up she would've loved to have more than two words with him.

As she reached under her desk for her bag a knock was on the door. "Yes, Mr. Taylor, how can I-" She hadn't been paying attention and assumed it was the janitor about to ask her a question but she was wrong, it was Spooky. "Hey." He nodded. "Hi."

"Still doing interviews?"

She smiled. "Yeah, for sure. Come in." Spooky carefully closed the door behind him and took a seat on the chair in front of her desk, she pulled out Cesar's file and placed it in front of him. He watched as she opened it and spread out his brother's work in front of him. "So, Cesar's doing great I really have no complaints. I'm probably not supposed to say this but he's one of the smartest kids in here."

He was proud to hear that, proud to know that his hard work in raising his brother didn't go to waste. He took his time to go through his graded sheets, mostly seeing A's and maybe a couple B's but nonetheless he was satisfied with what he saw. "That's great to hear. He likes school, likes this class too, trust me. He won't shut up about you."

Ivy beamed glad to know she was making a difference in someone's life. "And uh, it's nice knowing someone else is looking out for him and I wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean to insult you if I did."

She leaned forward and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "You didn't, I'm just letting you know this ain't a babysitting service. I stay with him cause I care about him. Would do it for anyone in this class."

Her fingers tapped against her skin, a goofy ass grin on her face as she examined his features again, this time noticing a tattoo on his neck- a crucifix with the word Santos down the middle. Another tattoo under his eye, a teardrop. She was grown enough to know what that means but for some reason it wasn't going to turn her away, he seemed like he'd only harm someone because he had to, not just 'cause he wanted to. "Can I ask something though?"

Spooky leaned back in the chair he mindlessly spread his legs a little wider to get comfortable.

Fuck.

"Go ahead."

"What happened with Cesar on Monday... and Tuesday?"

His face fell and his eyes landed on the floor. A question he didn't want to answer, he didn't need her to think less of them for what he had kept his brother home for. "My dad came home on Sunday, and uh he just wanted to spend time with Cesar I guess."

Ivy squinted. She wasn't buying it, but she didn't interrogate any further, if he didn't want to tell her didn't have to and maybe she shouldn't have asked in the first place. "Fair enough."

She gathered Cesar's work and placed it back in the file, "Uh, do you have any questions for me?" 

"Yeah, what are you doing this weekend?" He didn't hesitate, almost laughing at the way her eyes widened practically popping out of her head. "I, um, nothing." She wanted to come up with an excuse but she couldn't, it's not like she wouldn't want to hang out with him but she hadn't been out with someone in a long time she didn't want to make a fool out of herself so she felt it'd be easier to not go altogether. But maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

Spooky smirked and slid his phone on her desk, she picked it up and typed in her name number before handing it back. He stood up placing it in his back pocket. "I'll call you aight?" 

She felt like she was floating. "Okay." 

"Bye Miss Ivy." He said in a teasing tone, "Bye Spooky." 

He turned around and said, "It's Oscar, you don't have to call me Spooky." 

"Okay, Oscar, I'll see you this weekend." 

[ase-trollplays]

When We Were Kids (Part One)

...s-so... how are you feeling?... ...s-still s-sore?...

Y'all got no idea. The only thing that don't hurt is blinkin'. I swear, soon as I can move again, I'm suplexin' Dan inta next sweep.

...he only picks on you because he cares... ...its his way of making s-sure you dont obsess over everything...

Ya mean like the fact I fucked myself an' can never have anythin' close ta a normal life ever again cuz I lost my fool head?

...yeah... that... ...im just relieved you werent killed... ...i... ...i was going insane thinking id have to bury another moirail...

I wouldn't be too relieved. I can't go out in public ever again with legis an' fleet dogs out fer my head. Prolly got a hefty bounty, too, an' rewards fer turnin' me in. Y'all two ain't safe either if anyone finds out y'all know me.

...yeah... ...when dantli comes back... we s-should all talk about where were going from here...

Ugh, I can't even get my shit from my hive. It's prolly bein' watched or somethin', or it's been raided an' bugged by now in case me'r one a y'all shows up. God, my lusus ain't gon' know what happened ta me, an' he can't come here like yers. I ain't sure he'll wait a sweep fer me ta come back like when I was a kid.

...that reminds me... ...when i was in the hospital... you s-said you knew exactly how i felt when i was being held captive... and that i s-should ask you about your childhood...

Yeh. Yeh, I did say that, didn't I? I'm guessin' this is yer way a askin'?

...yeah... if you dont mind...

Alright. It ain't a happy story, but I'm sure ya already figured that. I guess I'll start from the beginnin'.

I was even more a a hotheaded stubborn shit when I was a kid, if y'all can believe that. Pickin' fights with every troll I saw an' tryin' ta befriend the ones who beat me. Which was damn near all a them cuz fer all my bluster, I was a twiggy scrawny little toothpick, ain't had a ounce a muscle on me. I didn't want nobody thinkin' I was weak just cuz I was a skinny rust.

I was always gettin' my dumb ass beat up an' hurt tryin' ta prove I ain't no wimp, but I did get some good friends outta it. Even had a li'l flush crush on one a them, a girl who beat me in a fight just by knockin' me down an' sittin' on me 'til I wore myself out tryin' ta get her off. I had a whole group a friends back then. I can't tell ya what their names'r caste was, but we were a happy li'l group.

Here's the part where everythin' goes ta shit. When I was five, I was out patrollin' my li'l territory when I spotted a scraggly-lookin' teal prowlin' around. He was a adult an' a lot bigger'n me, but I challenged him all the same. He hauled off an' kicked me dead in the stomach an' told me ta get lost. If I was smart I'd a left it at that, but who said wrigglers are smart? I wasn't ready ta say I lost, so I picked myself up, grabbed a big ol' rock, an' chucked it square at the back a his head. Hit him so hard he started bleedin' an' staggered a good bit.

He looked back at me real mad at first, then he started smilin'. Said I had a lot a fight in me for a twiggy brat. I told him there's more where that came from if he don't git, an' he laughed an' said he'd have a ball breakin' me. 'Fore I knew it, he was right up on me, an' I didn't have no time ta react 'fore he got me in the gut with a stun gun an' knocked my ass right out.

I woke up in a cell with a couple other young trolls. I asked where I was, an' they said I was in the slave camp. Said I was here cuz they were gon' break me, train me inta a perfect li'l pet slave, then sell me off ta the highest bidder. Needless ta say, I wasn't havin' that shit. I made it my mission ta put up as much a a fight as I could an' refuse ta be domesticated.

First handler they assigned ta me was that teal that grabbed me. Since I already fought with him once, I knew what ta expect. He got a lotta good licks in over the first couple nights, but eventually he slipped up an' I was able ta steal his stun gun an' shock him dead in the eyes. After that, they decided to gimme their toughest, meanest, biggest handler.

He was a big blueblood who made us call him "Mister," an' he took that shit serious. I called him asshole exactly once an' he slapped me 'cross the face so hard he damn near snapped my neck. I couldn't feel my face fer a night afterward. Most a my abuse came from him, an' I just know he was havin' fun beatin' my ass every night tryin' ta make me give up.

But I'm the most stubborn bitch ever hatched, so I didn't make shit easy fer him. He beat me ta shit, starved me, locked me in a tiny li'l cage, an' made sure no one talked ta me'r tried helpin' me'r they'd be in the same boat. His favorite punishment fer me was the post. There was a big wooden post in a sort a courtyard outside with a pair a manacles attached. He'd lock me in, hike up my shirt, an' tear me ta ribbons with a whip. Afterwards, he'd leave me out there fer nights with only a thick blanket thrown over me ta keep me from bein' completely cooked ta death by the sun durin' the day.

He liked hearin' me cry an' scream in pain, so I'd try my damnedest to keep my mouth shut no matter how hard an' how much he whipped me. I'd stay quiet for the first thirty seconds, but after that I could never hold it in anymore. Then he'd whip me more fer resistin'. So many times I was close ta givin' up if it meant he wouldn't torture me no more, but I didn't wanna let him win.

...oh my god... ...im s-so s-sorry... ...i cant even imagine... and i s-said all that--

Y'ain't gotta apologize fer bein' mad. I get it. Ya were in a scary situation, an' hearin' that I never even tried ta find ya when this whole thing was my damn fault ta start with? I'd a been pissed, too.

...s-still though... ...it was s-so insensitive...

It ain't like y'all knew any a this at the time. It's fine.

...how did you get out??...

Heh, that's where shit gets real interestin'.

They kept me at that camp fer half a sweep torturin' me, but I held on. I dunno why they didn't just cull my stubborn ass a long time ago. My guess is cuz Mister wanted the satisfaction a breakin' me cuz ain't no one else been this much a a challenge fer him fer so long. If he let them cull me, it ain't a real win. But eventually he reached the end a his patience with me.

I managed ta get a hold a a fork an' taunted Mister 'til he grabbed me 'round the throat an' got right in my face ta threaten me. I stabbed him in the eye an' tried ta make a break fer the exit while he was screamin' an' cursin' an' bleedin'. A course, I didn't make it nowhere close ta the door 'fore I got caught. Mister was fumin' somethin' fierce, and I didn't even get a chance ta register what he was about ta do 'fore everythin' just became blindin' pain.

I remember one a the supervisors cussin' him out cuz they was plannin' on sendin' me ta The Pit, an' now I ain't in no condition ta be transferred. That fucker cut me open from rib ta hip with a dagger. I spent nights in the infirmary tryin' ta get stabilized an' patched up. I was so weak from bein' starved an' beat on a regular basis that I almost died.

But like I said, I'm the most stubborn bitch ever hatched. I was able ta recover enough ta get my stitches out, but after they they decided ta cut their losses and finally cull me. Mister wanted ta do the honors himself. After what I did ta him, he didn't care about winnin' no more. He wanted me dead. He filled a tub full a water, threw me in, an' held me down with his foot while I thrashed an' tried ta free myself 'fore I drowned. Eventually I lost consciousness.

I woke up chokin' on water an' hackin' the shit out my lungs in the middle a the forest. I figured they dumped my body fer the undead an' the animals ta eat once I blacked out. I didn't know where I was or how ta get back home, an' I was fuckin' scared. But I was free after half a sweep in captivity, an' that was more important than bein' afraid. I picked a direction an' started walkin'.

I didn't have no way a huntin' ta feed myself, an' I was still fuckin' weak as shit, so I didn't eat much a nothin' 'cept whatever bugs an' small animals I was able ta catch. I had ta sleep up in trees durin' the day ta avoid the roamin' undead. Eventually between the hunger an' bein' exhausted all the time, I dropped.

Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up in a hive belongin' ta some li'l jade even younger'n me sayin' him an' his lusus found me. I was still a ornery li'l shit an' wasn't exactly a good hiveguest. He still helped me an' everythin' though. Kept me fed, gave me a place ta sleep. Once I was mostly healed an' had my strength back, I robbed him blind an' ran. Took every piece an' scrap a food I could carry, stole a couple knives, an' I was off. I'd prolly apologize ta him if I ever see him again, not that I remember what he even looked like, an' I'm sure he don't remember me or wouldn't recognize me now.

I spent the next half sweep doin' whatever I could ta survive an' try ta find my way home. I stole, I killed, I broke inta hives, I did whatever I had ta do ta make it ta the next night. When I finally made it hive after that half a sweep, my pa was there waitin' fer me. He waited fer a whole sweep fer me ta come back instead a takin' in a new charge. I bawled the hardest I ever have in my life. Makes me feel extra shitty that I can't go back an' say my goodbyes ta him. He's prolly still waitin' fer me ta come back just like I did last time I went missin'.

...if you want... i can ask dantli to go to your hive and tell your lusus you arent coming back... ...i dont think hes on anyones radar s-since he doesnt s-socialize... ...i can tell him to make it look like he's robbing you s-so they dont get s-suspicious... and itll be a convenient way to get s-some of your things for you...

That ain't a bad idea. S'long as he don't say nothin' stupid'r incriminatin', that could work.

Anyway, speakin' a going back hive, when I finally made it back ta mine after my sweep in Hell, I couldn't function fer shit. I didn't wanna reach out ta my friends cuz I didn't want 'em ta see how broken I was. I didn't wanna look weak ta them, an' none a them reached out anyhow. In just that one sweep, they moved on from me, which still kinda hurts ta know that's all it took ta lose 'em.

Fer perigees after, I'd have daymares a bein' back at the slave camp, weak an' in pain with Mister standin' over me with the whip, then draggin' me out ta the post. I was barely gettin' any sleep, I couldn't eat, an' I was terrified a bein' in water. That's when I decided ta start bulkin' up an' gettin' stronger so I couldn't be taken back there or anywhere else.

Fer three sweeps, I had the mother grub a anxiety. A lotta nights, I couldn't even get the nerve ta leave my hive. I'd get anxiety attacks an' panic attacks when I saw highbloods, 'specially male blues. An' y'all know me. When I start gettin' anxious, I get real mad an' itchin' fer a fight. Even now, I don't hate highblood s'much as I get anxiety bein' around 'em. An' I do also hate 'em.

That's when I started drinkin'. It wasn't about gettin' drunk. It was a way ta calm my frazzled nerves an' keep my anxiety under control. Over time, though, it turned inta a addiction, an' y'all know how well that ended up workin' out fer me in the end.

That's basically everythin' about my childhood, so believe me when I say I know exactly what it's like ta not know if yer gonna live ta see another night, an' cryin' yerself ta sleep durin' the day cuz everythin's so awful, an' prayin' that yer loved ones ain't next or won't be too tore up if ya don't survive.

...i... im s-so s-sorry... ...no one s-should have to endure that... especially not a child... ...i... i...

C'mon now, y'ain't gotta cry about it. It sucks, but it's in the past now, an' fallin' ta pieces over it ain't gon' fix nothin'.

...i... i know... but...

It's okay, I get it. If it'll make ya feel better, go ahead an' cry it out. I can hold ya if ya want.

...but arent you s-still sore?...

Not so sore I can't comfort my pale. It ain't gon' kill me, so get yer li'l cryin' sniffly self over here.

[archived-from-the-realm]

My idiots' general opinions about companions and each other

Astarion

Artemis: His skills are useful. I like his drive, but he could do to gain some sort of moral fiber rather than just seeking amusement.

Astrophel: Oh, he's the best. I would like to know more about him, but I get the feeling that the two of us are too alike for an honest conversation.

Azriel: Hm... he's a hunter in his own right. I can respect that... he also has a pretty good sense of humor.

Kieran: He's odd and livelier than most undead that I've met. I don't know how to feel about it, but he's nice, I think. He's sneaky sneaky, too.

Shadowheart

Artemis: Her devotion is admirable, but I wish she would allow herself... something more while she has her whole life ahead of her.

Astrophel: A kind and devoted soul. I... feel a little bad for her, the gods, especially ones as petty as Shar, rarely reward such things, but as long as she's happy, then whatever.

Azriel: She's a nice person and a good friend to have.

Kieran: Her goddess freaks me out, but she's nice. I like helping her heal the others.

Gale

Artemis: An ambitious wizard is hardly a novelty, but straj, he'd put a lot of them to shame. Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen.

Astrophel: Oh, he's a delight. Normally not entirely fond of wizards, but he's nice to listen to. Hm, wonder if he'd loan me any books...

Azriel: He's smart, but he's not the wisest guy there is, huh....

Kieran: ...I don't think he likes me or thinks much about me, but I... wanna get along with him. ...maybe learn a few words, too...

Lae'zel

Artemis: She's a devoted warrior. I... don't exactly trust her goddess. Vlaakith isn't like my father's goddess, but I can't help but be unsettled by an entire race showing one deity such reverence.

Astrophel: I knew a githyanki, once, before I met her... he was... very different than how she is, not sure they'd get along. That said, she's one of the more unique souls I've ever met.

Azriel: Heh, I like her style.

Kieran: ...I want to know about the funeral rites of her people, just in case.

Karlach

Artemis: Heh, she's strong... very strong. I want to aid her in getting her heart fixed in whatever way I can. Someone like her is worth facing the hells for.

Astrophel: Oh, she's... wow. The better poets would have a field day writing about her, as they should, really. She deserves to be immortalized, I think.

Azriel: I'm really glad she isn't dead, and I'll do whatever I can to keep her from begin dead.

Kieran: She's fun! ...I'll be sad when that weird thing goes out.

Wyll

Artemis: He's an honorable man, one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He will regain some of what he has lost. I will make sure of it.

Astrophel: ...at least he sold his soul for an honorable cause, but I'm sure there is a loophole in his contract somewhere...

Azriel: I don't think much of the noble prince thing he has going for him, but he isn't a bad person to know.

Kieran: When he passes, he will be honored greatly by everyone who's lives he played a part in. There are few that can attest to the same.

Halsin

Artemis: A wise man. I'd seek out his council on most matters.

Astrophel: He's unique, I'll give him that. He's the type of elf that has a lot of stories to tell, and I'd love to hear his most interesting.

Azriel: His connection to the earth is admirable...

Kieran: He's wise and respects the natural order of things. I can respect that, though... do I wonder if he would... make a little wooden duck for me...

Minthara

Artemis: She was wise to reject Lolth, but I do not trust her. My honor is unstained and my hands are ready to deliver justice for all that she has slain... but everyone deserves a chance at redemption, even those like her.

Astrophel: As lovely and twice as deadly as the most lethal of nightshades... I do not envy anyone that invokes her ire, but if she calls me a faerie again, I'm stabbing her in her sleep.

Azriel: Deadly and loyal, a good mix.

Kieran: She reminds me a little of those in the cult of Myrkul I knew... calculated and cruel, but she's different in the fact that she'll at least kill while the enemy can fight back sometimes.

Jaheira

Artemis: A just and stern soul. My mother used to read me stories about her when I was still a child. Words do not do her justice.

Astrophel: Others of my profession tell such tall tales of her, but I must admit, her actual story seems far more interesting.

Azriel: She knows my true nature and allows me to live anyway... it's more than I deserve, probably.

Kieran: She'll live forever in the hearts of many for her heroic deeds from before and now... though, for her sake, I hope the bards get it right this time.

Minsc/Boo

Artemis: He's a warrior, and I would hope to spar against him one day.

Astrophel: Well, his hamster is adorable, but I'm not so sure what to think about the man himself. He's an honest soul, and those usually don't associate with the likes of me.

Azriel: ...I don't know how to feel about him calling himself my uncle, honestly.

Kieran: Boo is cute, but uh... Minsc... worries me.

Artemis

Astrophel: Ah, the noble, just paladin... truly the heroine of a great tale of chivalry and honor... forgive me if I fall asleep halfway through.

Azriel: Her thirst for spider's blood is only matched by her love of shiny things. Just need to keep her focus on our enemies.

Kieran: She's kind... I really like her. She gave me rocks that were kind of shiny that I like to keep with some bones I thought were neat.

Astrophel

Artemis: He's a more prolific liar than poet, and it shows. Though, whatever he's hiding, he doesn't seem to want to harm anyone.

Azriel: He's useful for his charms, but I prefer Alfira over him.

Kieran: He likes to tell me stories about all sorts of things... he said he's going to teach me to read when we get time, but I doubt he'll be able to.

Azriel

Artemis: If we can keep his bloodlust focused on the enemy rather than on us, then he is an asset. Should he lose control, though... I will put him to the sword.

Astrophel: I don't trust him, but I don't dislike him either. He... tries, so I'll support him... but he'll have to forgive me if I'm not eager to get too close after the last bard he was left alone with.

Kieran: Unnatural death follows him like a shadow... he is a killer, but he is kind, too. I don't know what to think about it all, but he is strong enough to fight his own demons...

Kieran

Artemis: I have... never thought I would meet a cleric who does not know the name of the god they serve... nor one that was so flippant about life and death.

Astrophel: I've never met someone so blunt before, but it adds to some of his charm... They just need to learn to read, and I'm sure they'll be... well, not better, but maybe more articulate.

Azriel: He's wiser than his naivety would imply. I would trust them to bury me with the greatest care and not much else.

[tammyjackson50-blog]

Five years ago || P.3

Summary: What happens when you find your way back to a good friend from the past through a song he wrote five years ago?

<- last part // next part ->

@ Michelle86

Hey, I saw what you wrote about the song. I'm not the one who wrote it,sorry to disappoint you, but I know someone who wrote something similar. I'm not sure where you live, but your username reminds me of someone—I'm not sure who.

Anyway, we can meet up and talk about the note if it's that important. I'm going to visit one of my family members in "C/n" (the city name). If you live somewhere close, we can meet, of course, in a public place. I'll be out with friends, so you won't think that I'm some weirdo.

-Michelle

It was the next day, and I called Kat to tell her about

the message that I got.

" Well, that's interesting " I looked at his ring that I put right next to his note.

" Yeah, interesting " " What are you going to do? " She asked as I laid down on my bed and sighed, "I don't know, probably just text her back. " " Aren't you going to meet her? " I giggled, "Heard about stranger danger?"

Two days later

Eventually, we decided to meet, and yes, I know that's probably one of the weirdest and least smart things I have ever decided to do.

At least it's going to be in public, so if I see some grown ass man, you know that I'm out of there.

Kat was on the phone with me while I was waiting for that "Michelle." Sorry, I'm not trusting anyone until I see them with my own eyes.

I was texting Michelle, telling her I was here, we were supposed to meet next to this coffee shop. I was waiting behind some trees, just in case—don't judge me,in this world, everything can happen.

And when I say everything, I mean everything, because Michelle actually showed up, she was wearing a yellow t-shirt with black jeans and black shoes.

" Kat, I see her. I'll update you later. " 

" Okay, but if something feels wrong, call me! "

I started walking towards her, my heart was pounding. I don't know why I was nervous to meet her, well, maybe because -

" Y/n L/n ? What are you doing here, omg "

She opened her arms and hugged me like we hadn't seen each other for years— it's a funny story because that's actually the reason.

" I-Michelle?" That's you?  You are THE Michelle? "

I looked at her with a confused and surprised face.

" Uh, yeah, I guess I'm that Michelle? " she laughed - what do you mean, girl? Anyway, that's so funny that I got to see you.

Wow, look at you, you're so beautiful "

I smiled at her " Wait, so what are you doing here?" Are you waiting for someone? " I asked, I don't know why, but I hoped that it would be her, but at the same time, I know that I will lose it .

" Yeah, I'm about to meet someone, wait, how did you...

uh - NO WAY, GOD, I knew that your username reminded me of someone, oh my goodness, Y/N! "

Holy shit

We went to the coffee shop, set down, and waited for our order.

I was a bit quiet, knowing that Michelle probably knows about the note and who wrote it, making me insane.

" Y/n , you shouldn't feel weird or something like that."

Did she just read my mind ? " You know... I hoped that you would find your way back to each other at the end of the day "

Kinda short, sorry:)

And people let me know in the comment if you will like more of this!

[batstorm93672]

He didn't mean to be so emotional about it, it was a creeping thought that he believed to have overcome already.

His worth

His place

His heritage

He's Robin

But he knows... he'll never truly be Robin. He's just a kid wearing a slightly different costume that has already been given to others and modeled for others to see. He's not nor ever will be Robin, he's simply a boy.

Richard, Jason, Timothy and Stephanie the true Robins that he will never be.

The one who started it all, the one who was strong enough to be one, the one who was smart enough to become one, the one who was brave enough to become one. But him? He was basically dumped here and was handed the role after doing horrible things. He wasn't a true Robin, because Batman saw nothing in him. He didn't see bravery, determination or knowledge, all he saw was murder in the form of a kid. That's who Damian Al Ghul/ Wayne is. A stain upon the beauty of the Robin lineage. Disappointing himself and others.

That's the words one would say to describe him. It was all true...

.

Damian walked past the display cases of Robin suits, he could never be as good as them. He's a sin upon the glory of them all. So Damian sat down by the display showing Dick's Robin outfit, sitting down and wishing to be something.

Damian was scarred at a young age, yet every feat he thought meant something... equaled to nothing, he has done nothing to be worthy of Robin. So why... why was he given the role? Pity? A way for Bruce to get rid of him? As punishment from Talia? What made him worth it all... he doesn't know... and it hurts.

It hurts a lot.

A legacy he will never be able to complete like the others. The ones who were better in all the right ways.

.

Damian walked out the Manor, to the graveyard where many Wayne's were buried to rest. Arriving to his own... did it mean anything? Was anyone worried or cared for him? He knows he was, considering Bruce brought him back... but it still felt like the same gaping hole that the Heretic gave him.

Damian huddled closer to the cold stone, he wasn't reported to be dead, he simply was. That thought made sense, but it still hurt.

It began to snow, a cold Gotham night, how original.

Damian got up and walked back in, feeling the hollow feeling overtake him. It just felt easier letting it happen instead of fighting it, too tired and too annoyed to fight. His grandfather would be disappointed, his mother as well. Damian walked into his room and pressed his back against the door sliding down with a sigh.

"What's up Dami?"

Damian flinched, eyes widening as he saw Jason sitting crisscross on his bed. "Todd, what are you doing here?"

"Decided to visit and Alfred told me he hasn't seen you, I decided to check on you in your room and after I couldn't find you here I decided to stick here until you showed up. You look tired and worn out, wanna talk?"

Damian shook his head, standing back up no matter how his legs ached "I'm fine Todd, what is you want from me?" "You don't look too good bud" "My condition does not need concern, I'm fine as you have already heard from me-" Damian fell down and Jason was quick to stop him from hitting the floor. "Yeah okay, totally fine my ass. Spill it" "I can't walk... fucking pathetic what good am I" "Habibi, answer me. What's going on?"

"I'm not good at this..." Damian broke out into tears and his body felt weak as he cried. "Whoa hey now, no need to cry, tell me what's wrong okay?"

"I keep trying, but I'll never good enough to uphold the legacy of Robin. I'm not enough to do it, I wasn't given the role I forced it by almost killing Drake thinking it was the right thing to do, I was wrong. I'm not worthy of any legacy or this family. I'm too wrong, I was raised to be an assassin and used those ways to hurt everyone around me. I shouldn't have been given the role of Robin after hurting Drake. I hurt them all, I'm sick of it. I shouldn't have been Robin, I show no promise I only show what I was taught a killer. Robin doesn't kill... but I have many times. I've killed over and over thinking it was okay! I'm wrong... everything about me is wrong" Damian sobbed and used what little strength he felt in him to curl into a ball and cover his face with his hands. Mumbling over and over just how wrong he was, Jason was in shock. For a kid to want to uphold such a burden so he can feel worth something to others.

Damian kept sobbing as Jason cradled him in his arms. "Come now Habibi no need to stress yourself out now. Ssshhh shhh my little brother you're okay" Damian cried out as the voices got louder, he reached for the desktop and Jason helped Damian take his medicine. After a few minutes of silence, Jason cradled Damian once more the boy shrinking in his embrace as much as he could.

Jason walked carefully as he left Damian's room and made it to the Living room where Dick, Tim and Steph spoke. Their laughter and tone switched quickly as Jason entered with Damian in his arms. "Dames? What happened to him Jaybird?!" Jason looked at Dick and shook his head a little. Too much noise will make him act out again.

"Sshhh you're okay little brother"

Jason walked over and placed Damian onto the couch. "There we are, you're okay see?" Jason looked at Tim and signaled to the hall, then to Dick and Steph to the kitchen.

The three left, Jason putting his hand on Damian's shoulder and smiled "It's okay now, you're okay my Habibi. We're all here for you" Damian whined a bit and Jason wiped away some stray tears.

Steph had plates of snacks and Dick with a cup of water and one of the plates that Steph had trouble carrying. Tim came back with a weighted blanket and draped it around Damian nicely. Dick handed him the cup of water and Steph put the plates down on the table in front of them. Damian kept quiet as he drank his water.

Tim grabbed Jason by his arm, Dick and Steph followed as they whispered "What's going on Jason?" "I went looking for Damian, he came back tired and when I asked him if he was okay he kept saying he was fine. Then he almost collapsed. He went on a whole ramble of how pathetic he is in comparison to us, that he doesn't deserve to he Robin-" Jason looked at Tim as he continued "-because he hurt Tim, he doesn't think he's worth it at all, that he shouldn't even be Robin" Tim looked down "I... I didn't know he felt so strongly about it..." Dick tilted his head a bit "How bad was it?" "He took his medicine, but he's out of it now. I wanted more people around so he could feel more safe" Steph stood back up straight and looked at Damian, sitting next to him and putting her hand through his hair "Hey there Dami, it's Steph. How are you feeling?" Damian didn't respond, he only leaned into Stephanie and took a deep breath. Jason looked calmer at the two and Tim spoke "I'm surprised he's letting her near" "You weren't there, Damian has some sort of connection when it comes to hugging Steph" "Makes him remember of the past I'm assuming" Jason nodded at Dick, who smiled "Seeing him comfortable with someone else is nice, he's a little rough around the edges but I'm glad he's gotten accustomed to everyone here" Tim and Jason nodded as Steph looked at the three and beckoned them over to sit as Steph rocked Damian back-and-forth slowly. "You are an amazing person Damian, an amazing Robin and you never have to feel less. We love you as you are Damian, flaws and all"

.

Mumford and Sons took over and it will be my doom and I say this with love

Song: Awake My Soul

Now my heart stumbles on things I don't know

My weakness I fear I must finally show

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Makeup [S.B]

Sirius Black x plus size!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: a toxic relationship history and a bit of insecurity because of it.

A/N: I did a questionnaire a few days ago to see what kind of reader you would like me to do. This is the first one I do base on that questionnaire and I want to say the following:

The only reason the reader is specified as "plus size!reader" is that if there is someone who fits this description, feel comfortable.

You will never see something like "her FAT body" NO, NEVER

Much less that the One shot revolves around their weight (neither nationality, nor gender identity, nor sexuality nor all the things that they put in that questionnaire). I only write about NORMAL people in normal situations. All bodies are beautiful, we are all beautiful.

So, if you are a plus size person, welcome. If you are not, you can also read it without feeling left out in any way.

I really hope that you feel comfortable with everything I write and that you know that I seek to be as inclusive as possible. Without more to say, thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. Tell me your opinion, if you want!💕

You looked in the mirror one last time.

Sirius, the boy of your dreams, had asked you out on a date and you wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

You had met him because you both lived on the same floor of the condo block and it was inevitable to bump into him from time to time. It wasn't the best place to live, it was small and a little dirty, but it was the only thing you could afford and the fastest you could find after that happened.

You liked the way Sirius smelled because when he crossed the corridors, you could perceive a mixture of leather (you supposed it was due to all the clothes he used of this material) and an elegant cologne that drove you crazy.

At first, it scared you a little to see him with that piercing in his eyebrow and his multiple tattoos, but later you realized that he was really nobody to be afraid of, on the contrary, he turned out to be a very tender and sweet boy.

The first time you spoke to him it was because you were struggling to open your door while carrying boxes and bags that you had brought from the supermarket. The boy noticed you were having trouble and walked up to you to offer his help, so (still a bit wary) you said yes.

Once he held your purchases, you could open the lock, but when you turned around, you noticed that Sirius was secretly looking at the contents of your bags and when he realized that you had caught him, he blushed.

"Sorry I'm a little gossipy," he said shyly "I'm Sirius"

"I thought you were a gossip"

"No, my name is Sirius" he laughed and it was your turn to blush.

"Oh, sorry"

"Okay, anyone can get confused" he murmured with his charming smile, handing you what he was holding in his hands "I live in the 512" he informed you. Of course, you knew he lived in that apartment; you had seen him come into its thousands of times "In case you need anything. You know, some plumbing or things that have to do with tools and that shit of men" he murmured kindly. You frowned a little and then he quickly added "I mean, it's not that girls can't do that and it's okay if you know how to do those things, you seem like a smart and capable person. It's just that sometimes it's tedious and requires strength... and it's not that you don't have strength, I mean...” Sirius couldn't continue because he heard you giggle and then realized he was looking like an idiot “Just call me if you need anything and if you want to do it, yes?” he explained to you and you nodded with a smile.

"Thanks for offering your help Sirius" you replied, looking at him over your bags.

"You’re welcome, miss..."

"Y/N" you completed. He smiled and wrapped a dark curl around his finger that fell unruly from his ponytail.

"I'll see you later then, Y/N. It was nice to greet you" he said by way of farewell and you nodded to respond.

You haven't felt like this with any guy since you met your dear (sarcasm) ex-boyfriend. The insecurities that he had created in you kept you from thinking about having something else later and you honestly didn't feel ready to have your heart broken again.

But Sirius continued to be kind to you. Whenever he looked at you, he made an effort to have a topic of conversation, even if you were not so eloquent, and little by little, he was gaining your trust and your affection. As the weeks went by, you became good friends who chatted in the elevator or occasionally (when you weren't late for work) went downstairs just to share a little more time.

Until one day Sirius showed up at your door with his clothes stained with something that looked like paint, his hair tied up in a messy way and smelling of burned food. He was so beautiful in his own way and you were so afraid of falling in love with him because you knew beforehand that having something else would be impossible.

After all, no boy would ever love you. It was something that your ex-boyfriend had commissioned to get very well into your head.

"Go out?" you asked a little confused after he asked you. You didn't want to misunderstand things.

"Yes! We could go wherever you want. For ice cream, to dinner, to a park, to the cinema... I don't know, wherever you can think of”

"Why?" was the first thing that occurred to you to ask. Now it was Sirius' turn to look confused.

"Well, I thought it would be an opportunity to meet and... spend more time together" he explained and although you had understood the idea it seemed impossible to think that the boy had any kind of interest in you "But it's fine if you don't want to, I don't pretend be upset"

"I'd love to," you rushed to say, fearful that the opportunity would slip through your grasp. You saw him smile and after exchanging a few more words he left with a smile that you couldn't see, but that was pure joy.

Finally, the day of "go out" arrived and you were about to tell him that you could not go. You were nervous, more than nervous you were anxious about what could happen or what he could say about you.

You had searched your entire wardrobe for something decent to wear and after pulling and removing and taking out the clothes and trying them on, none of them convinced you. You looked in the mirror and didn't feel like it was enough of an outfit to date a man as handsome as him. In the first place, you did not even know why he had chosen to go out with you, because, although you considered yourself a nice person, you could not boast of being the most interesting.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, you kept repeating yourself as you continued to get ready and looked at the wall clock waiting for the time for Sirius to knock on your apartment.

Once you were with your outfit ready, you looked yourself up and down and although he did not completely convince you, you decided to tell yourself that you looked beautiful. Still a little nervous you looked at the makeup bag that was under some things on your dressing table. You hadn't put on makeup for years, because you were still scared to hear the comments in your head with that horrible voice.

You look like a whore.

You shook your head to ward off all the negativity and taking a breath you plucked up the courage to open the zippers and remove the beautiful makeup that you had abandoned. When you were finishing and without giving a chance to regret there was a knock on the door that took you by surprise. You went out and found Sirius wearing a striped t-shirt and ripped jeans that reminded you of that blond singer... Kurt was his name?

"Wow" you heard him say and he caught you staring at him adoringly. But you noticed that he looked at you the same "You are beautiful" he said with a smile. You frowned, again a little afraid that he was lying, but you tried again to push away those ideas of self-sabotage and smiled widely.

"I'm glad you like it. You look very handsome, you look like...”

"A rock star? I know” he said winking at you and managing to make you laugh “It's a joke, thanks for the compliment, sweetie” he replied, with his pretty smile of sealed lips. Just when you were smiling at him you watched him pay special attention to your makeup and put on a face that completely terrified you, taking all your confidence.

"Something wrong?"

"Your makeup" he pronounced. You felt your heart squeeze a little.

"You do not like? I can go take it off if you find it ugly or something like that…”

"Ugly?" he asked offended "No! It’s beautiful, but I feel like it lacks a touch. You know, the cherry on the cake that stands out in your eyes” he explained. You looked at him confused for the third time and he snapped his fingers as if the answer had suddenly come to his head "Eyeliner"

"Eyeliner?"

"Of course! Don't you like to use it? " he said kindly, turning his head to the side. You denied.

"I never learned how to do it" you lied. There was a bit of truth to it, but it also had a lot to do with the fact that he kept repeating that you looked vulgar with the eyeliner.

“I'm good at it! Come with me,” he murmured. He took your hand carefully and dragged you gently through the hall until they reached his apartment. You were a nervous wreck when he invited you to join him. "Sorry about the mess, I'm really the most distracted person on the planet and I forget to arrange things," he said with an embarrassed smile. You looked at some vinyl lying around, clothes, food packages, paintings, a guitar. There was a certain peace and beauty within all that mess, completely reflecting the boy who was desperately searching for his favorite eyeliner.

"Come," he asked once he left his room. You sat in a red leather chair he had and he leaned in your direction, very close to your face "Raise your head and look slightly down" he asked you and you listened. He took you by the chin with one hand and you saw him stick his tongue out just a little bit (as a sign of his concentration) while drawing on your eyelids. When he indicated that he had finished you saw him smile from ear to ear, which you imitated when he saw yourself in a mirror.

"Wow..." you whispered. Years ago, you loved putting on makeup and especially eyeliner, so seeing you again like that you were surprised. Besides, he was right, his hand was excellent at it.

"Now it's perfect, right?" he said excitedly. Perfect, that's how Sirius described what was in front of his eyes.

"Yeah... it looks much better" you admitted shyly. You couldn't believe that Sirius could make you feel so comfortable and calm, as well as help you maintain your confidence in yourself.

"I just hope I don't meet jealous guys for not having someone so pretty accompanying them," he said flirtatiously, making you laugh because of your nerves and making you blush "Shall we go?" he asked smiling and extending a hand to help you up.

You looked at him, still amazed to have found someone like that in your life, and took his hand with a smile.

Who would say that sometimes love stories begin like this?

TAG LIST: @aleksanderblack @voidamy @blackst0nes7077 @bruxa0007 @fictionalcharactersworld @falcvns @iwritesiriusly @navs-bhat @aleksanderwh0r3 @myalupinblack @bohologyc @ itzzzcookie @sexysirius

If you want to be on my taglist, click here

[yourmidnightlover]

never stop loving me

Summary - Spencer lashes out at y/n after being upset for a while, only to be far too harsh and push her away.

TW: mean spencer, swearing, bomb, injured reader, kissing

WC - 5,647

masterlist

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

spencer had been acting weird lately.

and it wasn't his normal, quirky, adorable weird self. it was quiet. too quiet. he didn't ramble like he usually did when you brought anything up.

he was distant. he didn't sit beside you on the plane ride home, or hold your hand as you drove the both of you to your shared apartment.

you didn't want to push him to say anything he didn't want to, but you were getting worried. you rarely had to corner him into talking, but there was the occasional time where you knew he wouldn't get through whatever it was eating himself up until he spoke up and voiced the words in his mind.

so when you both entered the apartment, you hung your coat up on the hook and placed your bag beside the couch as you plopped down.

"spencer?" you asked quietly as he hung his coat up. he turned to face you as you began to pat the seat beside you, wanting him to sit down. he complied with a huff as you took note that he sat at nearly the other end of the couch.

"what?" he asked without looking at you, you could sense the attitude in his voice.

"i'm worried about you," you whispered. "can you open up? what's bothering you right now?" you moved closer to him and placed a hand on his lower thigh comfortingly.

"you're worried about me?" he spat out, looking at you incredulously. "i'm sure that's true," he scoffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he flicked your hand off his leg.

"spencer why would yo-" you started as you scooted closer to him on the couch.

"why would i what? why would i not believe you when you ask me that? you're a smart girl, y/n. figure it out," he nearly yelled at you as he began to get up from the couch. you grabbed his hand with both of yours, not wanting him to leave you like that.

"please, spence. i just need to kno-"

"you should be able to figure it out yourself!" he shouted. "and stop touching me! oh my god all you ever do is touch me! did you ever think that maybe something's wrong with you if you have to always be touching someone? god! just don't ever touch me! you're so annoying! what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i-i'm sorry. i didn't think it wa-" you started apologizing.

"exactly! you didn't think! you never think about anyone but yourself! you never stopped to think about how fucking uncomfortable you touching me is! i hate being near you. i can't do it," he started shaking his head as he ran his hands over his face.

"wh-what?" you asked as the teas you didn't know were gathering in your eyes began spilling down your cheeks.

"you heard me," he said as he started to turn around. "i'm just gonna sleep alone tonight," he started walking towards your bedroom.

"i'll sleep on the couch," you spoke up before he made it to the room, he stopped in his tracks. "your back's been hurting lately, and you're too tall to fit on the couch comfortably. i'll sleep on the couch," you whispered, partially afraid that he wouldn't be able to hear you, wiping at the tears.

"whatever," he said as he finished his journey into the bedroom, not bothering to look at you.

you wanted to wait until he was asleep to get any blankets or anything, so the only things going through your mind were his words to you.

what the hell is wrong with you?

i hate being near you...

just don't ever touch me!

you weren't sure what was bothering him this much, but if you knew anything about spencer it was that that man could hold a grudge.

when emily had 'come back from the dead' it was like it was a different kind of person. it wasn't the spencer you fell in love with and you knew it, but that doesn't excuse his words.

so, you did what anyone in your position would do. you gave him space. you dialed the number of a trusted friend and colleague, praying she would pick up.

"hello?" the groggy voice rang out from the phone speaker.

"hi," you meekly replied. "sorry, i know it's pretty late. i umm," you sniffled, "i just didn't know who else to call."

"what happened, y/n? are you hurt? is everything okay?" she asked worried.

"yea, yea. everything's okay," you sighed. "i think spencer might just need some space is all."

"ummm, okay. is there anything i can do?"

"actually, yea? i hate to ask you this or put you in a weird position, but i was wondering if i could stay with you for a while?" you rambled out.

"of course you can. do you even have to ask?" she replied quietly.

"oh my gosh, you're a lifesaver. i-it might not be for long, i'm not really sure," you began. "it might be until spencer is ready, o-or maybe until i umm," you sniffled again, "until i find my own place?"

"that's okay, honey. i promise," she answered sweetly.

"thank you so much. i owe you, em," you sighed as you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"don't even worry about it, y/n. i'm glad you came to me. are you coming here tonight?"

"if you don't mind... i'm not sure if spencer would want to see me when he umm, when he wakes up," you nodded even though she couldn't see you.

"okay. i'll be waiting."

"alright. i'll probably leave in like half an hour. bye."

"bye," she replied before you hung up.

you snuck into your bedroom, and noticed how spencer was sleeping peacefully.

you had began as friends at the bureau. you didn't even think of him in a romantic way until he admitted his feelings after one drunk night out with the team. it was sweet, a bit sloppy, but sweet.

he kept rambling about how beautiful you were, and how good you smelt when you would lay your head on his shoulder to fall asleep or when you were cuddled up on your couch watching movies. he told you about how you made him feel like less of a weirdo when he would ramble about things he knew, just wanting to be liked by others.

he mentioned how he loved that he could come to you for anything at any time. he also told you about how he appreciated that when you met him, you didn't try to shake his hand. you knew how uncomfortable he was with touching a stranger and allowed him to make the first move. you let him be the one to cross the bridge that was physical touch because you were just that caring for others, and that's truly what he loved about you from the beginning.

then he said that he would never tell you how much he liked you because he never wanted those things to stop.

by that time, you had already driven him back to his place, and helped him into bed. he begged you to stay, so you obliged kindly and opted to take the couch. he told you to stay in the bed with him. he was the one to pull you closer onto his chest. he was the one to stroke you hair as you fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

he didn't even remember that night. he woke up with you in his arms, content with the warmth you provided him. he loved the way you instinctively curled into his chest even more.

you never brought it up.

then you realized that you felt the same for him on one of the later cases. you wanted to hold him while he cried, and rejoice with him when he had his wins. you wanted to hear his stupid rants about something as miniscule as sprinkles on a birthday cake. you wanted that closeness he graced you with. you just wanted him.

and now, as you picked a few more pieces of clothes to pack, you heard rustling coming from the sheets. you turned to see spencer now sitting up in bed, looking at you.

"...hi," you whispered with tight lips.

"what're you doing?" he asked. you couldn't tell what he was thinking since it was still dark.

"i'm umm, i was gonna stay with emily for a while," you said as you wiped the tears from your cheeks for the thousandth time. "i um, didn't think you'd want me to be here when you woke up," you nodded as you folded the clothes in your hands. "i was going to leave in about 20 minutes, so i'll be out soon," you felt your lip quivering.

you didn't want to cry in front of him. maybe it was that you wanted to have a sense of dignity, but if it came down to it you would bet that you just didn't want him to feel bad. even after he basically said he hated you.

because that's who you were.

you were a touchy person. that's how you show love to others. that's how others know you care for them.

but now he said he hated that about you.

he hated the way you would gently graze his hand with yours when you could tell he was upset. he hated the way you ran your hand through his hair when he was stressed. he hated the way you placed your hand on his shoulders when he was sad or frustrated.

he hated you.

and he just looked at you standing there. he didn't say anything. he looked at you as tears welled in your eyes from his words.

the words that felt like a burning blade being dragged along your spine. the words that felt like bile rising from your stomach.

"i'll just go now," you said as you ran out of the room and into the living room, not noticing the way that spencer followed you.

"hey," spencer spoke up as you piled the clothes into your go bag that was still beside the couch.

"yea?" you sniffled, not bothering to look at him while pulling on the sweater that was keeping you warm.

when you finally turned to see him he was looking at you with a blank expression. he was looking at the sweater you were wearing. you looked down at it, not remembering it was one of his he had let you worn during the case in north dakota. it was the one you wore when you realized your feelings for him, almost a month after he admitted them for you.

the one you wore when you shared your first kiss in the snow.

"oh," you said as you felt the tears build up again. "you... want it back?" you asked as the tear fell down your face, leaving a burning sensation that felt far better than what you felt inside.

he didn't say anything. you couldn't even see him since the tears were blinding you. so, you slowly unbuttoned the sweater and folded it nicely as you handed it to him.

"i-i'm sorry," you sniffled. "i didn't um - i didn't want to make you un-uncomfortable," you said as you zipped the bag up and grabbed your keys, heading to the door. "just know that i um, i love you."

and you were gone. you rushed out of the door. you didn't want to wait to see if he would tell you he loved you back, scared that you'd be waiting for a lifetime. so you ran to your car and drove off to emily's place, leaving spencer standing in the living room, frozen from what just happened.

but you couldn't see his heart breaking in return. he pulled his sweater up to his face and recognized the sweet scent of you on it that made him break down.

when he noticed how cold you were from the snow from forgetting your jacket at the hotel, he automatically gave you his. he didn't even care how cold he would get - just that you'd be a bit more comfortable.

he draped the sweater over your shoulders to help you put it on, and rubbed your arms for more friction to get you more warm. then, when you turned to look him in the face, you leaned in slowly and grabbed his face.

"can-is this okay?" you asked kindly.

he didn't even respond. he just connected his lips with yours after giving you the brightest smile. he relished in the moment of feeling content, whole, peace. you.

and now you gave him back that very sweater.

in reality, he was looking at the sweater you were wearing as a sign of hope. he thought that maybe since you were still wearing it, he hadn't completely squandered his chance of forgiveness with you.

but you gave him his sweater back with tears in your eyes.

he made you cry.

he drove you away.

when emily answered the door, you broke down in her arms, which was quite the role-reversal.

you were always the one to comfort the other team members. you never really went to anyone for help, you never wanted to burden them with your problems when they all had lives. you just wanted to help them. that's just how selfless you were.

"i'm here, y/n," emily consoled you. "let it out, sweetie. that's it," she stroked you hair as she led the two of you to the couch so you could cry in her arms.

when you finally calmed down a little bit, you started apologizing.

"i'm so sorry. i know it's really late, i just didn't know who else to go to and i'm just so..." you sniffled.

"don't worry about it. i'm glad you came to me. now, care to tell me what happened?"

so you told her. everything.

okay, so you made him seem like less of a douche bag, but you told her. you just tried to explain to her his side of the story, trying to be more understanding.

"and you feel bad? you aren't mad at him?" she questioned in disbelief.

"yea, of course i feel bad. being myself has made him uncomfortable, em. how could i be mad at him when i'm so hopelessly in love with him?" you asked in question.

"oh, sweetheart," she said as she pulled you back into a hug.

she had a plan.

okay, it wasn't much of a plan.

it was more of just chewing him out.

but she knew that would work.

because she also knew how much he loved you. and she knew there had to be a reason he was treating you like that.

the next day you had gotten called in at 4 a. m. with a new case. you drove to the office with emily and walked in behind her. once you saw spencer sitting at the round table in his normal seat beside yours, you felt a kind of rage boil inside of you.

he was just sitting there with a gloom look on his face, not trying to apologize for what he had said to you or anything. you'd thought that maybe he'd even look at you by now but he hasn't even noticed your presence. nothing.

you huffed, walking over to sit in a chair you normally wouldn't be in. spencer finally turned to see it was you who sat down, so you looked him up and down before turning your eyes towards hotch who was giving you all the briefing.

there was a bomber in charleston, california. he would send bomb to local corporations that had a history of animal testing. He was essentially trying to rid the world of those who harm animals, which is quite ironic since that involved killing humans.

each of the buildings were two stories, yet the bomb didn't level it. that's how you knew the bomb was meant to send a message rather than kill more people.

so until his message was spread and out in the open for all people, he'd continue to kill people without hesitation. human life wasn't valuable to him, so it was your job to stop him.

once you had gotten to california, you had all been divided into teams. you went with morgan and spencer to the most recent bomb site to analyze anything they might've missed.

the entire scene smelled like burnt papers, no surprise there. aside from the fact that people had previously died where you were standing, the tension in the air was so thick it felt as though the smoke had remained from the explosion.

you had avoided spencer, tried to talk to him as little as possible when you had to. unless it was for the case, you didn't speak. until hotch decided to room the two of you together.

you had asked the girls if you could room with them, only for them to refuse and make you 'work things out with your beau.' so essentially, you were screwed.

you trudged into the room before spencer had made it, being sure to lock the door behind you just to annoy spencer. was it petty? sure. did he deserve it? yes. would you apologize? absolutely not.

once you turned around, you realized there was only one bed. of course hotch would do that. what a dick. you sighed before placing your things on the couch, deciding that spencer's back pain is completely different than being temporarily locked out of your room. you were truly doing it for yourself so you wouldn't have to hear him complain the next day about his back hurting.

after you had gotten out of the shower, your body in only a small towel, you heard the door knock. you knew it was spencer, his signature knock giving it away, and decided you could open it for him. when he realized you were practically naked and everyone had a view of you from the hallway, he quickly pushed you further inside along with himself and slammed the door shut.

"what the hell, y/n?" he whisper-yelled at you, gesturing to what you were wearing. "anybody could've seen you and you're practically naked!"

"and?" you crossed your arms over your chest. "i don't see why you should have any say so in what i'm wearing."

"you're wearing a towel," he stated as if you hadn't already known.

"and?" you shrugged. "is my body making you uncomfortable? is that why you don't want to touch me, spencer?" you rolled your eyes before turning to get your clothes from your suitcase.

you decided to just strip right in front of him, just to tease him a bit more. you slowly slid the towel down your body, your back still towards spencer as you shimmied into your shorts that barely covered anything. you turned around to get your shirt, revealing your bare chest to spencer who stood in awe of what was happening in front of him. you put your thin shirt on tantalizingly slow, aware that he could probably see your nipples through the fabric, but that was the entire point.

spencer walked over to you slowly, you smiled at him happily as he approached you. when he brought his hands up to cup your face gently, you swatted his hands away from you.

"ah-ahh," you shook your head no. "there's no touching allowed," you rolled your eyes one last time before getting comfortable on the couch, pulling the one extra blanket in the room over your body in an attempt to keep warm.

as the minutes turned into an hour, you felt yourself becoming more upset. his words, even if he didn't mean them, had an impact on you. he couldn't just unsay the words or take them back, that's not how it works. instead, he made you live with the thought and constant worry that you made him uncomfortable by touching him.

and that pained you. that pain turned into tears, which ensued sniffling because of your runny nose. and your tears and sniffles pained spencer even more. he listened in wait as you cried yourself to sleep once more, the sniffled slowing down which told him of your slumber.

when you woke up, you had realized you were awake before spencer. you quickly got ready and made your way downstairs to retrieve some mediocre coffee. deciding to not be a complete asshole, you got spencer his own cup as well just how he liked it and placed it on the bedside table for when he would wake up.

when he did wake up, it was to the smell of coffee beside him. he had obviously realized you had gotten it for him, he wasn't a complete idiot other than the fact that he had hurt you in the first place. when he took a sip of it, it was just as he liked it.

of course it was, he thought, it's you.

since there were so many animal activists that were recorded online, you couldn't really narrow down the suspect range. once you had all made it back to the precinct that morning, they had widdled down all the companies that have ever used testing on animals. there were four companies in total, so you would all split up and investigate each one.

you, of course, had been paired with spencer once again. it was obviously the rest of the team conspiring to get you two to make up, but he hadn't even apologized. and you refused to make the first move.

so as you drove to the company you had been assigned, there was yet again that irritable tension in the air that made it seem like someone could choke on it. you pulled into the parking lot and got out as quickly as you could.

making your way inside, you asked where the owner of the company was while flashing your badge, spencer making his way inside just in time to catch where you were going and follow.

"hi, ma'am," you introduced yourself, extending your hand for her to shake. "i'm here in regards for the-"

"recent bombings? yes, i figured you would be," barbara cooke sighed as she released your hand.

"yes, i'm agent y/n yl/n/ and this is dr. spencer reid," you motioned to him as he gave her an awkward wave. "we were wondering if you've received any recent threats concerning your history in-"

"animal testing? we get those all the time, agent... what was it again?" she asked disrespectfully.

"y/l/n," you informed her once again.

"right, well we get those too often for it to be significant. in fact, we get those almost weekly," she rolled her eyes before turning back to the computer on her desk.

"ma'am, if you wouldn't mind just trying to think of a threat that stuck out to you. one in particular that made it seem as though they might follow through?" spencer asked kindly.

"i actually do mind. i have a company to run and don't need to waste my time on something that won't ever affect me. so please, see yourselves out," she motioned to the door with a sigh.

you and spencer looked at each other before turning around and leaving her office. instead, you decided to ask the employees if they saw anyone that seemed as though they were landscaping the office.

"no, not really. i'm too busy trying to finish the work cooke gives me."

"i'm sorry, no. i try to just ind my own business around here."

"i'm sorry, there have been bombings?"

there wasn't much luck.

you were making your rounds right back to the front of the office, asking nearly everyone that you passed if they noticed anyone suspicious until you noticed a mailman near the front of the room.

he was dressed in an all-brown outfit, but with no logo of what company he worked for. not even a hat to display the name. all the companies that delivered had company logos displayed on the outfits, just to display for publicity.

when you looked around at who was near you, your eyes locked on spencer who was walking towards you, his head down. once you saw the mailman walk out of the office and saw the lady at the front desk begin to open the tape, you grabbed spencer by the arm.

it all happened so quickly.

you pushed spencer out of the door and locked it, blocking him from the blast that would surely ensue, and ran as quick as you could to drag the woman away from the box. you shielded her with your body, turning your back to where the bomb would go off to lessen the impact on her body. before you could even register what happened, you were pushed into the wall cati-corner the desk, knocking you unconscious.

-

spencer didn't know what was happening until he heard the bomb.

he assumed the blast wasn't as intense as it was previously by the fact that the second story was still standing. the blast from the other bombs at least made a bit of a dent in the second story.

in an instant, he realized that he might've lost you forever. the love of his life. gone.

and you were still mad at him. you hated him. you thought he hated you.

once he was able to form a coherent thought, he pulled his phone out and called 911, being sure to tell them there was a possible agent down in an explosion. once he hung up, he mustered up his inner derek morgan and kicked the doors in, it helped that they were already frail due to the explosion.

with the doors now open, smoke flowed out of the now open space, looking for an escape as spencer was looking for his love. all he could hear were coughs and whines of the employees around him. then he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked to see the face of the lady from the front desk.

"she-she saved me," the woman told spencer in reference to you. "she's over here," spencer helped her navigate himself to where your body lay limp on the ground, drywall covering your face and body.

"oh my god, y/n," he called as he moved the rubbish from your body before looking for a pulse.

he found himself whispering a series of pleas that you were okay, that he would find the pulse in your neck or wrist. that he would feel the warmth off your body against his, be able to touch your skin and have you grab his hand when you were nervous. he wanted you to never stop touching him.

because ever since you had joined the bureau, you had been a touchy person. you were the person people went to when they needed comfort because they wanted a hug. you were the person the team counted on when comforting the mothers or children because you had a comforting touch.

and he wanted that comfort. he needed that comfort right then. but the one person he needed the comfort from didn't think he wanted it from them. you didn't think he wanted you anymore.

so you had to be okay. because he couldn't imagine a world where you weren't his, which sounds so cliche but couldn't be any more true.

ever since you waltzed into his life, he could never remember what it was like without you. what it was like without your hand running through his soft hair. without your hand on his knee underneath the bau table during a meeting. without your face buried in his neck while you were cuddling at night. without your kiss...

without you.

he needed you.

and he found the small, faint, minuscule pulse that beat throughout your body. a gentle but safe way to know you were alive and still with him. maybe you'd still want to be with him.

when the ambulance arrived, he didn't hesitate to hop in the back of the van, opting to call the team to inform them of what happened.

they had put an oxygen mask on you to ensure your safety and had told him that you had a concussion from the blast. they would do further tests once they got to the hospital, which felt like it took forever, according to spencer.

once they had wheeled you away, spencer sat in wait once again. the team slowly trickled in, trying to comfort spencer but ultimately failing. when the doctor finally came in, spencer was the first to jump up and ask how you were.

"she'll make a full recovery, she's rather lucky," he nodded at spencer before checking his chart. "she has three bruised ribs and a minor concussion. she'll be able to fly in a couple of days, but will have to stay out of the field until her ribs are fully healed. she shouldn't be doing any strenuous activities until then as well," he informed the doctor. "other than that she's healthy as a horse."

"thank you. can i see her now?" spencer asked eagerly.

"yes, of course," he nodded before turning around. "right this way."

when spencer came into your room, your eyes were barely open. it looked like you were struggling to stay awake. your face and arms were littered with an occasional bruise, which he's sure were worse on your stomach and legs. your skin was a bit paler than usual, it didn't have that glow you normally had, that liveliness.

but you still looked like you. you still looked beautiful.

spencer took the seat beside your bed and moved it closer to you, taking your hand in his before you snatched it away, turning on your side to face the wall opposite of where spencer sat.

"y/n, please..." spencer pleaded, feeling his eyes well with tears. he thought you were just angry at him until he heard your soft sniffles. "darling, please look at me," he placed his hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you back to face him. you turned yourself back around to face him, eyes red and swollen as your lip was quivering.

"what?" you spat out, trying to maintain your own composure until you saw he was crying himself. you raised your brows in shock before asking him, "what's wrong?"

he laughed, "you're asking me what's wrong?" you nodded. "i'm just so, so sorry i'm sorry i said all those things about you. i'm sorry it took you almost dying for me to apologize. and i'm sorry for ever making you feel like i didn't love you, y/n. i love you so much. every part of you, your touch included. it's anything but annoying. it's comforting, and sweet, and calming, and does so much more to help me than it does hurt or annoy me," he took your hand in his once more, placing a kiss to your knuckles. "i love you so much and i'm so sorry."

"and i'm sorry i had to touch you to push you out of the way of an explosion," you rolled your eyes with a chuckle so he knew you were joking.

"thanks for that, by the way - saving me," he shrugged. "which brings me to my next point... do you know how reckless that was? how dangerous and stupid and how you could have died? because you could have died and if you died i don't know what i'd do with myself. especially knowing you were mad at me when you died," he held your hand to his chest so you could feel how his heart broke in those moments he didn't know if you were alive. the moments he thought he might've lost you forever.

"but i'm alive. i'm right here," you assured him, bringing his hand to your lips this time to press a kiss before holding the one with both of yours. "why'd you say those things anyway? why were you so upset?"

"well remember the officer that was on the case?" you nodded. "remember how he kept touching you?" you rolled your eyes with a nod.

"god, it was so annoying," you interjected.

"well it didn't seem like you thought it was annoying," he avoided eye contact with you, you pulled his arm to get his attention once again.

"are you saying you thought i wanted him to be so handsy?" you questioned, he nodded guiltily. "spencer, are you kidding?" you chuckled. "i had to do that because if he knew i hated him he wouldn't have been so cooperative. i promise, you are the only one for me. you're the only one i want to touch me like that. but that doesn't excuse you talking to me like that. you saying those things hurt me, a lot."

"i know, i know they did... and i plan on making it up to you. i will make it up to you, i swear," he nodded along eagerly.

"yea, you better dr. reid. i'm holding you to that," you huffed out a laugh, spencer following suit as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

then to your nose. then right and left cheeks. then your lips. it wasn't a kiss that demanded anything. it wasn't hostile or passionate. it was content. it was a way of showing you love and saying that your love was enough. that you were enough.

"i love you, spencer," you whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"and i love you, y/n," he whispered back. "please never stop loving me the way you do."

[oceanbaby888]

"LET'S SEE WITH THE ASCENDANT" PART 1!

NOTE: WHILE I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL ASTROLOGER, I LOVE ASTROLOGY AND ITS ASPECTS AND I LOVE TO LEARN THEM! PLEASE DO NOT STEAL OR REWORD MY WORK WITHOUT CREDIT! THANK YOU :)

Hey y'all!

- I am finally settled and I am ready to give you some more astro knowledge to keep in the books!! Today we will be talking about the Ascendant (ASC for short) through the first 6 signs!! Part 2 will come out tomorrow!

- But first, what is an ASC sign?

-I'm glad you asked honey! First things first, your Ascendant is an angular house! Angular houses are the Ascendant, Descendant, IC (Imum Coeli), and MC (Medium Coeli). I'll do a post on what angular houses mean later on! Or do feel free to research on your own time :)

-Your ASC sign is what's popularly known as the sign (or sign traits) you may give off as a first impression to the outside world. According to the book, The Only Astrology Book You'll Ever Need by Joanna Woolfolk, she asserts that our personality is a blend of our Sun Sign in combination with our ASC sign. This has some truth in it as our ASC can also represent our self-interests, how we process self-awareness, our goals, our objectives, & how we assert our self-sufficiency! Think of your ASC sign as the sign when you walk in a room full of people.

- You can find your ASC here! Below is my chart( credit from Astro.com) for my visual learners! The ASC will be on the left side of your chart (marked AC); usually your angular houses are marked! In this example, my ASC is in the sign of Sagittarius!

-Have you ever had someone guess your sun sign but they were wrong? Chances are, they probably are guessing your ASC sign!

-With that being said, let's get into it!!!!

ARIES ASC:

Adventurous and pioneering!

Typically the ones to be "the first" at something.

Likes to get shit done! Act first ask questions later kind of energy.

Leader of the pack vibes.

Possibly have a very muscular, strong body.

When they walk in the room, they give such a strong sense of power, strength, and exuberance!

Possibly can be red-headed. Aries rules the color red and also rules the head. Doesn't mean every red-head is an Aries ASC though. Or they may like to wear alot of red.

They can give a direct, kinda bossy attitude but also a very free-child-like attitude I love it!!

Be careful with sharp objects. Sharp objects like knives are ruled by Mars (Mars rules Aries) and you may be a bit more accident prone so be careful, according to Woolfolk.

TAURUS ASC:

Very stable and calm energy when they walk in the room.

Patient & steadfast people.

Love the arts, could be talented at composing music esp!

Love comfort and the comfort their materials bring them.

Can have super beautiful necks. Necks/throats are ruled by Taurus.

Also, they may have larger, rounder eyes ooooo so cute!! Almost like a doe.

Can accumulate wealth over time.

Loves security and things that make them feel safe.

Many people think they are lazy, but that is not the case. A Taurus ASC does not believe in wasting time on things that don't bring them joy or comfort. They are hardworking, if it means they can attain the goals they set out for!! Once again, THEY ARE NOT LAZY!

GEMINI ASC:

Witty & charming.

Extremely smart and sociable.

Also can thrive in the entertainment industry as actors, writers, TV hosts, or comedians. They can really captivate an audience with their social and witty behavior!

Gemini rules the arms & hands, so they can have really nice hands/arms. If Venus is in aspect to their ASC, this can possibly point to someone who is a hand model.

The type to always want to be constantly stimulated and learn something everyday so they don't get bored.

May like to travel alot or move alot.

They also can marry more than once in their lives.

Extremely intellectual communicators. Very good with using their words as their best assets!

Could have big, wide eyes. This is just a personal take as I have seen multiple Gemini risings with big, wide eyes.

CANCER ASC:

Love security & comfort.

May have a oval face or round face. The moon rules Cancer so I won't be surprised if your face is shaped as round as the moon.

Sensitive to other's emotions & intuitive on how people may feel or react.

Amazing creatives. They use their emotions to make the best projects. Some of their projects (story writing for example) can be based on their lives at home or their hometown.

On the outside they may come off reserved and even cold. This is the "hard on the outside soft on the inside" effect. Deep down they are very soft, sweet, giving, & sensitive.

They want public recognition for their efforts, as you should!!!

According to Woolfolk, they are very good with saving money and handling it as well. Being the opposite sign of Capricorn (the sign of conservation), I am not surprised since opposing signs do share qualities of each other in one way or another.

LEO ASC:

Very grand people and luxurious YESSSS BITCH!!!

People may notice their hair first. Know how Leo is the lion? We see the lion's mane (or hair) first. This also applies for Leo ASCs.

A personal take- Leo ASC have this sun-kissed glow about them (lol pun intended). It's like their skin is so bright and glowy and it is so beautiful.

Give off a very happy and exuberant energy.

Extremely likeable people.

Views life as a stage!

Prides themselves on being a leader and delegator.

Can easily find fame or people will scout them out easily.

Also can be surrounded by alot of influential people. This helps their image if they want to be famous one day. Get to networking!!!

Can have a very nice back. Leo also rules the back.

VIRGO ASC:

Another personal take: why do so many Virgo ASC or Virgo placements have to wear glasses? That's interesting.

May have a frail looking body, but that does not mean they are sick yall.

Looks at life through a filter. Meaning, they like to hold on to valuable information that they can actually use and apply in their life.

^Yet, this can also mean that they may become too dependent on details to make decision. Don't forget to look at the bigger picture.

They love order and reason.

Thrive in intellectual pursuits. Especially if they are scientific and not philosophical.

Likes to gain rewards from their own efforts and not due to what others think. They love to listen and be assured in their own reasoning as YOU SHOULD!!!

May forget to take others' opinions into consideration.

Could come off shy and distant.

May own property in their later lives? Idk but Woolfolk mentions this and if anyone can chime in here I would be happy to hear it!

-That's it for PART 1! Part 2 will be out tomorrow!

-Also, to show your appreciation, do feel free to tip me! I have so much more content I want to teach and tell yall and I'm excited! You can tip me at my cashapp: $DellyRelly if you appreciate my content in more ways than just following me! Anywho, see yall tomorrow!

-Claude

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[headinthestaticsky]

Frozen Within the Night Wind: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 6

None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

"Baby, you don't wanna leave You'd be sorry, 'cause honestly I can make you feel better, any day Look at what you've done for me, I called it how I see You belong with me."

Stick by: BANKS

For the next few weeks Me, the Cullens, and the wolves have been keeping watch on Bella and Charlie. It wasn't an easy alliance and anytime Sam or Leah went onto patrol they wouldn't even acknowledge me. So I often patrolled with Emmett and Jasper to make things less tense. Tonight however I had no choice but to patrol with one of the wolves... a plus side about tonight though, Bella wouldn't be here... she was out with Jacob right now. I had made an excuse that I was staying with the Cullens for the night so dad wouldn't be too suspicious.

"Are you sure Darlin, I can stay behind on this hunt to be with you."

"I'll be fine...I'm sure Sam won't do anything to me. Besides, I've already hunted for the week...you haven't hunted these past two trips because of me...Go I promise I'll be fine."

He sighed before wrapping his arms around me and laying his head on my shoulder. It didn't last long however since we heard rustling behind us. We both turned to see Sam in his wolf form standing there.

"I'll see you later love."

"Bye love."

When Jasper left Sam stood next to me, he didn't look at me at all. We sat in silence for an hour when I finally decided to say something.

"Look...I know I'm probably just going to end up talking to the air tonight but...I need to get some facts straight."

Sam just huffed in his place.

"None of the Cullens turned me...if they would've gotten to me quick enough I wouldn't even be patrolling my dad and Bella right now."

Sam seemed to be staring at me out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't know who he is...but someone working with Victoria turned me...If I am being completely honest I think it's the intruder we're looking for right now."

Sam huffed again.

"And I know you are absolutely disgusted with what I am now but... I really miss you, and Emily... Seth and Leah too. But I know I can't go down there anymore and Leah completely hates my guts but I just had to get off my chest." I looked away from Sam, feeling completely embarrassed that I spouted all of that out. Then suddenly, I felt some fuzzy nuzzle into my hand. I smiled and pet him, it seems he's warming up to me again.

"Thanks, Sam..."

Our heads both shot up as we heard movement and for a split second I saw firey red curls go across the way.

"Let's go Sam!" I said and started running toward her, he followed me a second afterward. She noticed us running toward her and took off back into the woods.

"Sam go back onto your territory so she can't jump back without being caught."

He followed my command surprisingly.

"I thought you were great at self-preservation Curly, but to come right to her house, right near the Cullens isn't very smart now is it?"

She didn't acknowledge me. Suddenly... something popped up in my head... I looked at Sam and winked, I mouthed to him that I had an idea.

Victoria stopped in her tracks and stuttered.

"James?"

I stopped running and crept up behind her, not wanting to let the hallucination go to waste. Carlisle was right... this second power would be useful to me. The image of James just looked at her with deadly eyes.

"James... how are you... here?"

"What are you doing with him?" "James," asked.

"It's not like that...It just so I could avenge you." Victoria stated.

"You disgust me..."

I was just about to get behind her and grab her neck when she snapped out of it and flipped me over and sent me into a tree. She took off again, leaving us in the dust. Sam jumped back over to me and nudged me with his head.

"I'm okay Sam... we need to go back to the house in case someone else shows up again. When we made it back to the house I saw Jasper and Rosalie standing in our spot looking confused.

"What happened? Why did you leave?" Jasper asked.

"We saw Victoria and chased after her...we couldn't catch her."

"Damn it," Jasper grumbled.

"Were you close to getting her?" Rosalie asked.

"I was inches away from grabbing her by the neck... I guess the hallucination I made wore off..."

"Can you tell where she's going now?" Rosalie questioned.

"I can try... the tracking is still a little wonky sometimes." I got into that trance again attempting to track her,

"It looks like she's going to Oregon..."

"Oregon what is she going to do in Oregon?" Jasper inquired.

"I can't tell..."

Before anyone could say anything else Jacob's car pulled up, Edwards was not too far behind.

"Uh oh... this can't be good," I said, I then began to jog toward the situation, it soon turned into an argument.

"IF YOU EVER TOUCH HER AGAINST HER WILL AGAIN!" Edward roared.

"Guys don't do this here!" Bella pleaded.

"She doesn't know what she wants."

"Hey what the hell happened?" I asked.

"Jacob kissed me..." Is all she said.

"Wait for her to say the words," Edward said.

"What... Edward do you want her to be in a relationship with him? You're losing the argument here bud. bring it back!" I thought to myself.

"Fine, and she will."

"Jacob just go okay?"

"Hey, hey hey... break it up you two," Dad said, he must've heard the commotion.

"Okay... what's going on?"

"I kissed Bella... and she broke her hand, punching my face... total misunderstanding."

I couldn't help but bust out in laughter... this whole situation was something you would find in a crappy soap opera they play at 4 in the morning when no one is awake to see them.

"What are you doing back here Fleur?" Dad asked.

I came up with a lie quickly.

"Oh I forgot some toiletries... and I came back down to get them." luckily my car was still here.

When I pretended to grab my items I came back outside, Bella and Edward were gone. I kissed my dad on the cheek and wished him a goodnight and drove back down to the Cullen's house. When I came in Carlisle was wrapping up Bella's hand, everyone else was sitting in the room with them. I sat by Rosalie and Jasper, just observing the situation, Emmett walked in with a smirk on his face.

"Geez did you try and walk and chew gum at the same time Bella?"

"No, I punched a werewolf in the face."

"Badass...you're going to be a tough little newborn."

Rosalie and I looked up, now focused on the conversation.

"Tough enough to take you on." She said with a smirk.

Rosalie slammed down the paper she was reading and left the room. Bella just rolled her eyes and sighed. I looked at Jasper and he nodded, I slinked out of the room without anyone noticing or so I thought.

"Hey, Rose."

"I can't stand your sister."

"I know the feeling."

"But at the same time... I envy her too."

I pulled her in for a hug, trying to comfort her.

I heard the slight sound of a door opening and closing again.

"What do you want Bella?" I asked.

"You can go and blather about the joys of being a newborn with someone else." Rosalie added.

"Okay... Rosalie, I don't know what I did... to make you hate me so much."

"How many times do I have to say it... If you treat someone I am really close to like dirt... then I'm going to hate your guts."

Bella scoffed.

"I envy you also Bella."

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"It's not...Bella." I jumped in

"How is it not?"

"You had a choice... we didn't... none of us do and you're choosing wrong, I don't care how miserable your human life is," Rosalie explained.

"My life is not miserable. It’s not perfect, nobody’s life is perfect." Bella stated.

"Mine was. Absolutely perfect. There were things I still wanted. To be married with a nice house and a husband who kissed me when he came home. A family of my own... Royce King was the most eligible bachelor in town, I barely knew him. But I was young, I was in love with the idea of love. On the last night of my life, I left a friend’s house late visiting her newborn son, I wasn’t far from home… They left me in the street thinking I was dead, believe me I wanted to be. Carlisle then found me, he smelled all the blood, but he thought he was helping me."

"I'm... so sorry." I said... I had never heard how she got changed until now.

"That's terrible," Bella added.

"I got my revenge on them, one at a time. I saved Royce for last so he would know I was coming. I was a little theatrical back then."

"That's not theatrical... that's bad ass," I said, Rosalie cracked a smile.

"Things got better after I met Emmett, but we’ll always be this, frozen, never moving forward. That’s what I miss the most, possibilities, sitting on a front porch somewhere, Emmett grey-haired by my side surrounded by our grandchildren, their laughter."

"I understand that’s what you want. There’s nothing I’m ever gonna want more than Edward." Bella argued.

"You’re wrong again, after you’ve been changed there’s one thing you’ll want more. One thing you’ll kill for…blood." Rosalie finished, she then walked out of the room without saying another word.