#its not fair its not fair its not fAIR ITS NOT FAIR ITS NOT FAIR

[b0tster]

the best part of ren faire was when she said its ren faire tjme and ren faired all over those guys

[pomefioredove]

helloo! ^^ can I req hcs of dorm leaders + Rollo and neige with a fencer reader? If it's okay with you, ofc!! I really enjoy and love your writing 🫶

ofc and thank you! ^-^

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fencer reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, neige, idia, malleus, rollo additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, short

Riddle would be into it. he goes on and on about what a dignified choice of sport that is, how he's always wanted to try it, on and onnn. I just think he's really into swords. he'll ask to watch you practice, all giddy and cute. the guy is genuinely fangirling

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona is like... okayyy. and? you can play with sharp objects? he grew up in a palace surrounded by guards and nobility, he probably had his first sword when he was three

defo challenges you to a duel because he thinks it would be funny. and he WINS

(then he buys you whatever you want as a consolation prize bc he's soft for you)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[Azul voice] please no weapons or magic in the lounge

...you'll have to demonstrate for the (very eager and interested) tweels outside from now on

Azul will, of course, come to watch. he'd be interested in anything you do, really, because it's you. and watching you try to tell the tweels they can't really kill each other with these kinds of swords is amusing

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim is somehow 100% convinced he can teach himself how to fence within in a week. he thinks you're that cool, and, sevens does he want to play with swords. he probably has a lot of them, too, which Jamil very strongly advises him not to touch (because he has little regard for himself or his surroundings).

Kalim will let you take as many as you want when you come over. he does not know that these aren't the swords you use in fencing

still... um, it's the thought that counts, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

like with any sport, Vil can respect your dedication to your passion. and you have really good posture. he would get Epel to join you, but the thought of that boy with access to weapons of any kind, safe or not... yeah

he's nowhere near your level, of course, but he's always happy to help you with any aches or pains from bouts. in return, you can help him rehearse for roles that require swordsmanship. fair enough

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the Neige Leblanche, swooning? yes, actually!! I can't overstate how much of a sucker he is for the whole... dashing and chivalrous thing. it's the sword, yes, but it's also the outfit, the rules, the way you're so... charming. you could pull him 100%

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is a simple man. he sees someone being really good at a niche sport he knows from his fav manga and anime, and he absolutely trips over himself. literally head over heels. blushing, giggling, et cetera, he's just such a freak about this sort of thing (affectionately)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

ah, Malleus. if anyone here can appreciate swordsmanship in all its forms, it's him. with his royal guard and his knights and his freaky gothic castle...

he'll probably invite you to fence with him, and he completely wipes the floor with you (this is Malleus Draconia we're talking about, after all). but lovingly!

he's having the time of his life :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wakey wakey Rollo fans

to be engaged in a non-magical activity, based on agility, wit, and, arguably intelligence, in which there is form and order and rules...

of course, you have his full support

he somehow shows up at all your bouts, is with you before and after practice, and takes his duties as your companion very, very seriously

[robinsfilm]

YOU'RE MY MAN (OF BRIGHT LIGHT)

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: While at a fair with your sweet boyfriend Jason, you run into an unexpected, but welcomed suprise ;

ANON ASKED: " Okay, but Jason taking the his secret girlfriend to the fair, they're having a good time playing games, winning prizes, eating funnel cake, when they run into the bat fam and he's forced to make an introduction and once he sees how great they all get along, all his anxiety dissipates. She does comment on how insanely good they all are at those precision games. " ;

WORD COUNT: 1.4k ;

NOTES: cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

THE LIGHTS COVERING THE FAIR HANG LIKE STARS IN THE SKY ABOVE YOU. The bright colors dance across the fair as you and Jason walk hand in hand down the painted road. The different stalls and stands covered in red and white striped tents spread an infectious sweet aroma in the air, warming the atmosphere around you both.

Jason can feel your hand tighten around his as your eyes dart around the fairground, following anything that catches your eye.

The day has been spent checking out rides, such as the turning Ferris Wheel and the fair blanketing the ground with its vivid hues as you both watched from such a height. He remembers how thrilled you were looking down, grasping his hand with yours.

He also remembers only looking at you, the sea of tents, balloons flying high in the sky, and people mingling long forgotten.

You had all his attention.

The lights from below reflect in your eyes. “Isn't it beautiful?” you question.

Jason focuses his gaze on you. “It is,” without a doubt, “beautiful.

*****

The picture of you and him in that cramped photo booth appears in his mind over and over again. The walls were decorated with a rainbow of colors; the glitter spread through the narrow space, sticking onto your clothing and messy hair.

Surprisingly, he doesn't feel constricted and trapped in such a place. A carefree grin breaks out on his face, a matching one to your glowing smile.

You move your hand to his face, pushing the strands of hair away. You say something about him being handsome, and he feels the warmth rise to his cheeks.

He can only huff and turn to face the other way as you let out a small giggle, “You are handsome; why deny it?” The same pink hue appears on your cheeks as well. The words are engraved into his mind, not that he has the courage to say that yet.

The camera flash snaps him out of his reverie. The black-and-white strand of photos rests in his hands as a thumb caresses the surface. The picture of you two side by side, hands intertwined, is forever burned into his mind.

*****

It’s something about your face when you're focused that enamours Jason. Maybe it’s the way your eyebrows furrow together when you are concentrating. Maybe it’s the way you bite your lip, lost in thought. Or it’s the way you are oblivious to the world around you.

Oblivious to his stare that won’t leave your frame.

Even now, as your hands grip the water pistol, fingers tense yet precise, Jason can’t tear his gaze off of you.

You groan as you miss another shot at the moving duck. “Oh, for god's sake,” the yellow-colored cutout stares at you mockingly. “This is so rigged!” Your gaze is stuck on the Nightwing plush sitting on the stand as a prize, with its dark blue and black suit. “I need that plush.”

Jason chuckles at your predicament before being shushed by a glare from you. “You give it a try, big guy,” you say, shoving the orange-blue water pistol in his hands. It looks comically small in his hands.

“Watch and learn,” he gives you a smug smirk as he steps closer to aim at the ducks moving in rows above the light blue waves, until a familiar mess of blonde and raven-blue hair catches his attention.

Shit.

“Jaybeans?” Your concerned voice rings through his ears. “Are you okay?”

The voices of Steph and Dick grow closer and closer as he gives you a panicked look, which you only answer with a confused, wobbly smile. They don’t know about you; you don’t know much about them! The only time you have interacted with his family was a baking competition with Alfred (in which he used salt instead of sugar, but that’s beside the point).

He didn’t want it to go like this! He wanted to invite you to dinner with his family (and pray they don’t scare you away with their antics).

He remembers when Dick caught a glimpse of your guys’ text a few weeks back, something along the lines of Get back home safe, honeybee, from you. He can still picture Dick's shocked and teasing face as the older brother held the phone high up away from Jason's grasp.

Honeybee? Isn’t that adorable?

I swear to God if you don’t give me that back—

He snaps himself out of the memory and tries to convince you to check out the funnel cake nearby. “I heard it’s delicious.” His eyes dart around as you give him an unimpressed look.

“Nearby?” you ask, “isn’t it on the opposite side of the fair? I’m not walking that far; my feet hurt!”

“I’ll carry you.”

“But, what about my Nightwing plush?” You pout as you point to the mini version of his brother; granted, you don’t know that it’s his brother. Curse that plush.

“Jaybird?!”

Well, shit.

You both turn your heads to the source of the voice: a girl with messy blonde hair and jeans (with a purple heart sewn into it, you note) and a taller man with blue eyes approach you and Jason.

Jason feels as if he’s going to break the water pistol in his hands in two.

"Didn't you think we’d see you here?” Stephanie speaks up first before turning the attention on you. The three of you break into a conversation. Jason’s the only one who sees the teasing glances his siblings send his way, while you stay oblivious to it all.

He should be happy that you are getting along with his family. Heck, this is what he was preparing for all these months. But he didn’t want it to go like this! On top of that, it feels as if he’s being left out of the conversation.

“So, are you two on a date?” Steph asks, putting the emphasis on the date part of that sentence.

“Yep, we are!” You answer with a glowing smile, “It’s so nice to finally meet you guys.”

Jason is glaring daggers at the two of them, but Dick and Steph don’t seem like they're going to let this go (their grins seem to confirm that).

They shush any attempt of his at getting in the middle of you three, their attention all on you. Questions like: How’d you meet? When did you guys become official? Are you working for any villains as a henchman, by any chance?

You answer with the same elegance as Jason loves about you, holding your head high and easing into conversation.

It’s only when Dick turns to look at the water pistol in Jason's hands and the lone Nightwing plush resting on the prize shelf does he address his little brother, “Trying to win the Nightwing plushie, are you Jaybird?”

Jason can feel his cheeks burn up. “...Yes.”

Dick gives him a small, genuine smile, one that speaks of that one sentence that he always hears from his brother: I’m proud of you, Jay. Maybe this isn’t so bad. He feels all the worries slowly leave his body as the scene finally sinks into his mind. His siblings are here, and you are here, talking and having a truly good time.

Yea, this isn’t so bad.

“Oh!” Steph speaks up, “Let me try!”

“I’m warning you, those ducks are rigged so you lose,” you tell the blonde before moving closer to watch, eyes curious.

“Watch and learn!” (Just like Jason) She aims, and it hits the swimming duck, “bullseye!”

“Whoa,” you exclaim, “that was perfect! Where did you learn to aim like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Steph's face freezes up in surprise. She fumbles with the plush being handed to her before pushing it your way. “It’s a talent, I guess? Aren’t I lucky?”

“Runs in the family?”

“..Yes?” She mumbles with a wobbly smile before throwing an arm around your shoulders. “So, you ever need to win another plush; you know who to call.”

Dick lets out a small chuckle while Jason glares at the Nightwing plush in your hands. “A fan?” Dick asks.

“Duh, but Jaybeans over here is more of a Red Hood enthusiast.”

“Babe—”

“What?”

The voices of his siblings and you slowly drown out the sounds of the fair. Jason watches the three of you talk and joke like you’ve been friends for ages. He might deny it, but god, he feels so happy right now. Happy that his family is getting along.

He feels at peace, and it’s all thanks to you guys.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[cevansbrat0007]

Forget-Me-Not

Summary: Ari forgets to do something important before leaving out the door...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Fluff, Implied Smut, Kisses, Chocolate Covered Strawberries, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You’re currently standing at the stove, slowly stirring a pot of freshly melted chocolate. For some reason, you’d awoken this morning with a craving for chocolate dipped strawberries. So, instead of paying an arm and a leg to buy them from some fancy shop, you’d simply decided to make your own. 

Humming under your breath, you’re surprised when you hear your front door open and shut. A quick glance at the clock suggests that it’s much too early for Ari to home for good just yet. More likely he’d probably forgotten something. 

Turning off the heat, you move to pour it into a bowl. Next up was your favorite part – turning your favorite fruit into a delicious confection. You run your finger along the spoon, wincing as the still-too-hot treat burns your skin.

But you don’t care. Not when it tastes so good. So good, that you can’t help the satisfied moan that escapes your throat. 

“Is it really that good, sweetheart?” 

“Mm.” You purr before helping yourself to another taste, this time using your tongue now that things have cooled a little more. “It really is.” 

Grinning, you take a moment to get a good look at your man. He’d been a man on a mission this morning, rushing out the door before you were barely awake and alert. And while you weren’t quite sure what business it was that had him moving so quickly, you were pretty certain that he’d tell you at dinner.

“You in the mood to share?” Ari rasps as he leans against the wall, looking exceptionally sexy in his dark blue Levi’s and black henley. You find yourself slightly disappointed that he’s not rocking one of his signature flannels. 

Mostly because you liked to steal them. But to be fair, your sweet Beast also never seemed to complain when he caught you wearing one. He mostly just sighed and grumbled about his diminishing wardrobe. 

Which was fine by you, considering the fact that he was the sole reason your entire panty drawer had been reduced to next to nothing. Those flannels were owed to you by right! 

“Just what are you doin’ back so early?” You ask, holding the spoon out to him. “I didn’t expect to see you until dinner.”

“Forgot to do somethin’.” He rasps as he moves towards you, his long, powerful legs bridging the distance between your bodies in mere seconds. “Somethin’ important.”

“Oh?” Guess you were right. The man had been moving so fast this morning that he’d likely left behind an important file or notepad. “I don’t recall seeing anything on the table, but–”

“That ain’t what I forgot, little Bird.”

Now he’s standing in front of you, his work boots almost brushing your bare toes. You’re caught off guard when Ari moves to tenderly cup his cheek, his roughened palm warming your delicate skin. 

“What…what did you forget?” Confused, you move to offer him the spoon in your hand, only to be surprised when he declines. You watch as his normally brilliant blue eyes darken as they stray to your waiting mouth. Your heart speeds up when his head descends, making his intentions all the more clear.

“Something much, much sweeter.”  

Squealing in surprise, you can’t help when your eyes flutter closed as his sinful lips capture your own. The kiss starts off soft and sweet, that is, until you feel Ari’s free hand make its way down your lower back so that he can grab a handful of your ass, pulling you closer to his big body.

You feel his tongue sweep against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open. To respond in the way you so desperately know he wants. Rising on your toes, you eagerly grant him access, wanting him to know that you were feeling just as hungry and wanting as he felt for you.

Feeling emboldened, Ari lifts you off your feet, prompting you to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Your fingers find their way into his hair, lightly tugging at his already tousled locks. Meanwhile both of his impatient hands busy themselves with kneading and squeezing your curves as he rocks his hips against yours, letting you feel the weight of his already impressive erection.

It makes you want him here. Now. So you can't help but feel disappointed when he slowly eases away, leaving you wet and needy.

“Fuck." He promises now that he's finally allows you up for air. "Promise I won’t forget to do that again.”

“Uh huh.” You breathe, your legs wobbling slightly the moment he releases his hold, lightly setting you down. It doesn’t help when he leans in once again to gently brush his lips against your temple. And his satisfied grin has you giggling as your head falls to rest against his broad chest. 

“Tell me what I interrupted here, baby.”

“I was making chocolate covered strawberries.” Nuzzling your nose against the fabric of his shirt, you continue. “I woke up with a taste for them, so…” You offer up a small shrug. “I decided to make some.”

“Well, that’s funny. On account of I woke up with a taste for you.” You feel his big palm come to rest on your head, stroking a path along your silky curls. “And these are about to make the proceedings even better.” 

You can’t help but feel a little dizzy when he pulls away. His teasing words were filling you with all kinds of spicy ideas.

“I’ve gotta run.” Ari tells you. “I only came back to rectify my mistake. But I want you to save some of these for tonight…” He glances down at your now cold bowl of chocolate. “Because I have plans to enjoy my little Bird for dessert before I even think about dinner.”

Reaching around you, he snags a ripe berry and lifts it to your mouth. His eyes never leave yours as he watches you bite down on the plump fruit, its juice lightly dripping down your chin. Groaning low in his throat, Ari leans in once more, lapping up the sweet trail with his tongue. 

“And Bird?” He calls as he turns to walk away, confidently striding towards the front door.

“Y-yeah?” Dear God, this man was going to be the death of you.

“No panties, alright? I don’t want anything between me and my strawberry delight.”

Fucking Beast.

END

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[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Drabbles: Pajamas and Slumber parties

It was a gag gift. A funny group thing Yuu saw on Magicam.

So with little money they had, Yuu ordered the silly thing online for the next time the first years and them had their slumber party at Ramshackle dorm.

When time came and the first years opened up the gift, they cackled at their friends reactions.

"What the Sevens is this Prefect?!"

Yuu just laughed, reminding them that they called the shots tonight.

The first years, when they got together, friends as they may be, always got into a fight which resulted in some damage to the Ramshackle. Whether it was tossling over who gets to pick the movie, fighting over who gets to use the only functional bathroom first, or what time is lights out.

It was chaotic.

So, to lessen future damage, they had made a comprise that every meeting a new person calls in the shots and gets to decide how the slumber party would go.

It just happens to be Yuu's turn. So the Prefect decidedd in a fun friendly activity such as wearing matching pajamas...which is customized, the front having the printed photos of all of the first years in a collage, while the back had " If lost, return to Yuu" embroidered for the rest of them, except for Yuu who had "I'm Yuu" embroidered instead. Ofcourse, Grim has his pajama,too!

"I'm gonna burn this"

"Don't you dare, Ace!"

"This is ridiculous!"

" Its the least you could do after breaking my coffee table in a brawl last time, Epel!"

"This is undignified!"

"Be a good guest, Sebek. Thats not pretty noble of you!I'm the host and I also call the shots tonight"

"Thank you, Prefect..uh..I'll make sure to treasure this !"

"I'd rather you wear it, Deuce."

"I'm out..."

"Jack, fair is fair. We did cactus cultivating last time."

*Defeated sigh*

"I look uncool!"

"No way, yes you do Grim! You're ultracool!

"Its great prefect, thank you!"

"Finally, someone appreciates my work. Thanks Ortho!"

Also, imagine there's another emegency and Crowley just poofs the prefect away from their dorm to their office, but takes the other first years with them cuz magic.

*First years, Grim and Yuu in their silly pajamas, faces covered in facemasks while still holding unto game controllers*

*Crowley, yapping away, doesn't care about the state he poofed them in *

*Dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders, who were also called in for an emergency meeting, staring at their respective first years*

It looks like this but imagine the first years faces instead of the dog. And the cat pawprints instead.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

--

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

--

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello, I am the person from a few days ago that mentioned House MD. .y idea for it is very simple and very funny. Tim ends up in House's hospital with House as his doctor. He was found unconscious on the side of the road with 3 stab wounds, two broken ribs, and a broken leg.

Tim is Knocked Out and in Civilian Clothes with No Wallet. Which means No ID. They call him John Doe for now and move on to stitching him up and doing an xray of his chest so they can fix up his ribs and check for internal bleeding from the stabs. They are having some kind of debate about how the kid has clearly had his ribs shattered many, many times and how they healed when House suddenly stands up and says, "all of you are missing the forest for the tree. Ignore the ribs for a second before the kid dies." He then leaves the room to the confusion of all the assistants. It takes almost ten seconds for one of them to yell, "WHERES HIS SPLEEN"

Within an hour Tim has been put in one if their Anti Germ Bubbles for the Immuno Compromised. Oh the bright side he 100% has a room all to himself! Tim wakes up in the bubble, very confused with House looming over him. Tim is Baffled and says, "who send you? What info are you after?" And House just says, "im your doctor. What's your name so we can stop calling you John Doe The Spleenless Wonder."

Tim and House verbally joust almost constantly for Tim's entire stay and honestly? Most relaxed he's been in *years*. However it takes *days* for them to pry him name out of him and it's not even *from* him. Someone saw his face on a magazine in the grocery store check out and went "that's out John Doe!!" And when Tim tells them that he is Tim Drake he simply says, "I didn't tell you for a very simple reason. If word got out it was The Tim Drake in your hospital, which is outside Gothem, could you imagine the Paparazzi? And what would happen? I can garentee you at least one person would show up trying to kill me. Why do you think I was outside gothem beat up? Assassins, obviously." House's boss is terrified this guy is gunna sue them into the ground for how House has been jabbing at him constantly.

House simply asks why his bones look like Swiss Cheese and Tim simply raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I live in Gothem."

Later on after Tim gets released, he buys the entire hospital, becomes its new boss, goes to House's boss who actually runs the hospital and says, "I do not care about running this hospital. It's all up to you, I want No Power here. I am simply here to triple your budget, no quadruple it. And you remain completely in power on one condition. I want House to be my Primary Doctor. He's fun."

Oh and if you want some Angst, House asking if Tim wants to call someone to pick him up and Tim says, "oh, I have a tracker on me. Someone will show up to check me out once they notice I'm missing." House squinting at him and says, "you've been here two weeks. So I don't believe you." But Tim is telling the truth. His tracker has said he's been at an out of city hospital for weeks and no one really noticed he was even gone.

Fuck yeah. I've seen some clips of House and, despite the large amounts of medical malpractice they should be sued for, Tim would absolutely enjoy House's banter.

Also, I'd so live for House and Tim trying to trick each other. Tim realizes quickly that House doesn't believe a word about what Tim says about how he got his injuries. House keeps trying to pull one over on Tim so that Tim actually receives medical treatment (especially because Tim keeps going back out on field with injuries). It becomes a somewhat friendly game

Fair warning, I'm probably about to butcher House's character. Idk enough about him, but here's what I think. Tim would prefer House as his main doctor for two reasons:

How House cares

House isn't Batman/Bat affiliated

For the first point, House does care but not in the way most others do. I think Tim will eventually start telling House the truth about how he gets his injuries because of how House reacts. House isn't going to be overly sympathetic, pity Tim, or try to mother hen him. Tim will stroll up, say he's been held without food for a week and has 3 broken bones, and House will just banter with Tim.

If Tim's being an idiot (like not resting), House won't try to tell him off. He won't yell or undermine Tim. He'll just point blank tell Tim he deserves whatever injury he got for being an idiot while helping the vigilante treat it.

Tim will never admit to being a cape, but he eventually trusts House enough not to hide it.

Then there's House not being a Bat doctor. Leslie may or may not inform Bruce of any injuries Tim gets that Leslie deems is important for Bruce to know about. Alfred for sure won't hide that shit. Either way, whether founded or not, Tim can't trust those doctors to give away his information "for his own good."

House probably wouldn't go out of his way to inform Bruce (especially if we add on your angst angle).

Probably fucked up House's characterization, but let me know what ya think! Feel free to send another ask or reblog or whatever with changes ya think I need to add

[hoe4hotchner]

With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

           The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

           It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

           You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

           "Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

           You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

           You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

           Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

           You knew this ring.

           Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

           Hotch.

           Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

           But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

           You weren't wrong about this.

           You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

           The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

           It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

           You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

           "Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

           He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

           "I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

           Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

           The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

           But deep down, you knew.

           This was reality.

           When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

           You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

           "(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

           You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

           "I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

           Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn��t. Not now.

           As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

           Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

           "You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

           And now, you were alone with him.

           Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

           Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

           The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

           At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

           Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

           He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

           The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

           You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

           Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

           Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

           “You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

           You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

           Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

           You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

           “Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

           His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

           You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

           His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

           Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

           For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

           Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

           You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

           He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

           You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

           He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

           You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

           He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

           You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

           “Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

           You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

           As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

           “Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

           But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

           The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

           Who else knew?

           You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

           His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

           He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

           "Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

           Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

           "You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

           You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

           "Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

           Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

           "I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

           Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

           "Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

           But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

           "I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

           Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

           "I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

           The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

           Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

           “Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

           You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

           When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

           "What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

           Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

           Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

           You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

           He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

           You were trapped.

           The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

           The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

           His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

           But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

           Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

           The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

           A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

           His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

           “You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

           Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

           Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

           “You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

           Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

           The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

           The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

           Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

           The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

           You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

           The perfect place for someone to disappear.

           “We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

           Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

           He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

           “You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

           He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

           “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

           The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

           Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

           Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

           Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

           Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

           Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

           “Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

           The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

           Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

           Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

           The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

           Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

           The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

           “Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

           Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

           Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

           The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

           As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

           Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

           The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

[andy-wm]

AYS Behind the scenes: behind the paywall

Now that the Disney+ episodes are complete (sob), my attention is firmly fixed on my mailbox as I wait impatiently for the AYS photobook and QR code.

I was always going to buy the Jikook photobook, even though I doubt there will be much we haven't already seen in the episodes. But the inclusion of the QR code was the clincher.

I must admit, Hybe locking up the behind the scenes for AYS was not on my bingo sheet.

Making behind/additional clips available on Bangtan TV would have been more in line with their regular MO. We don't generally have to pay for what really amounts to outtakes.

Okay, yes, we have to pay for behind cuts of Run BTS, but the actual episodes are free. With everything else the behind clips are included when you buy the series (I'm thinking of BV, ITS, and concert boxed sets).

In fact I can't think of any other time a behind/ bonus clip hasn't been available to fans who pay for the main content.

Maybe it is because Hybe was only contracted to deliver 8 episodes to Disney+ and the price was fixed. Maybe they saw an easy way to make the series more profitable.

We know they will take any opportunity to lighten our wallets.

But I think there's more to it

Let's talk business:

If Hybe wanted to make money from this, having the sale point directly on Weverse would make more sense. That way anyone could buy it any time without having to buy the photobook as well. Even if they charged just a few $$ for these extra clips, the return could be substantial over time. Long tail products can be very lucrative and Hybe clearly knows this - they have heaps of old footage for sale on Weverse. Since they're hosting the content already, it makes sense to keep that 'buy now' button active and let the dollars trickle in.

So why reduce the potential pool of buyers? Why limit this to those who buy the photobook??

Well, let's consider who is going to buy the photobook?

Who is going to fork out US$28 plus postage for a keepsake of these two on their third honeymoon?

I doubt OT7 ARMYs would buy it. Even ARMYs who bias JM or JK - if they aren't part of the SGMB they probably don't want it either.

Solos sure as hell don't want it - they are probably wishing the whole thing never happened... sucks to be them haha

Who really wants to see these two living their best lives together?

We do!

And by we, I mean Jikook supporters.

People who want to see more of this:

and this

And this

We are the people who will buy this photobook (and probably never look at it more than once, let's be honest)

But let's get back to the topic at hand....

The photobook/behind combo seems like a chicken/egg situation to me.

Which came first - as a concept - the photobook or the behind clips?

Did they decide to offer a photobook, and then think of adding the extra footage to make it more appealing?

Or vice versa?

Did they decide to make the behind clips, and think of the photobook afterwards?

Hard to say, since behind clips have always been a thing and recently Hybe is putting out photobooks for everything.

But I think I have a fair idea

Consider the price point for this photobook - it's the same price as most of the others produced recently: +-US$28.

AYS photobook & behind is the same price as the Photo-Folios, Tae's Type 1 (magazine version) photobook, and the Beyond The Stage photobook

🗣 So they aren't charging any extra for the behind footage?

No, they aren't. They're basically giving it to the buyers of the photobook as a gift.

🗣 Could they be making money off it?

Yes, the could.

Long tail, remember?

Looking at the profit-making potential, it makes WAY more sense for Hybe to offer the behind footage on Weverse for a few meagre dollars and... wait for their ship to come in...

See what I did there? hahahhaha (laughing by myself)

They really aren't making any money off this!

how unlike Hybe...

So why go to the effort of setting up QR codes and putting it behind a paywall? It costs money to host content this way. They are in fact SPENDING money to bring us this footage.

Not only through the hosting costs there are also production costs to consider.

Wouldn't it make more sense to just freely share it with ARMY via Bangtan TV? Or not release it at all?

Yes, it would...

So there's only one logical answer...

Hybe has chosen to make the content available - but also make it just that little bit more difficult to access.

This whole exercise seems to be about releasing additional footage without releasing it to the general public. It's being shared specifically with those of us who support them.

Does that mean we'll see slightly more personal content?

Maybe it's a little more revealing of their undeniable bond and their hot chemistry...?

Whatever they contain, these behind clips are definitely for a limited audience - and purposefully so.

The only reason for it, that I can think of, is to safeguard Jimin and Jungkook from too much scrutiny and criticism - from within the fandom (unfortunately) and outside of it.

We will find out in a few days I guess.

In the meantime, I'm camped out by my mailbox

[valsdelulucorner]

Tears too holy for thou

Lucifer ---> Mammon - Leviathan - Satan - Asmodeus - Beelzebub - Belphegor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was so frustrated, why was he always getting blamed for everything that happened in this damn house! First Levi looses one of his mangas and snitches on lucifer when it was under his sheets the entire time, then someone eats the lunch he had made for you and himself, now hes being accused of stealing money from someone when he was just trying to get something from the other room! He is entirely sick of it! Why was he the only one that gets yelled at when he falls into his sin when everyone else gets away with falling for theirs?!

Storming into his room, he didn't realize the tears streaming down his cheeks while he just wanted to scream. He didn't know what to do once inside his room, just standing there while he simmered in his own anger. You were waiting on his sofa for him to continue movie night when he stormed in, expecting a happy mammon with snacks, not a mammon with burns all down his face.

It didn't take long before you came over to him, being careful around him as you didn't know what exactly happened for him to be pushed into this state. "Mammon? Are you alri-" You couldn't even finish your sentence when he grabbed you and held you close to his body, letting out silence sobs into your neck while his face ached and burned, his tears feeling funny against your skin. ".... 's not fair...." It was then when you got a basic idea of what had just went down.

You both moved this to the bed, him hiding his face against your chest while he basically coiled his arms around your waist, legs entangled with eachother while your fingers played with his hair. You didn't push him to explain what had went down with his family and you could tell he appreciated it, having someone to just lay with him instead of pushing him to talk was something he needed right now.

After maybe an hour or so just laying with eachother, he could feel your hand carefully cupping his cheek, whincing slightly as your thumb gently ran over the sensitive skin. "Mammon.... oh, your poor cheeks" He could see the worry in your face as your eyes locked onto the sensitive skin of his cheeks, glued to the red, angry marks that burnt away at his skin.

He didn't respond, instead, taking your wrist in his hand and pulling it away from his face, interlocking your fingers before kissing your knuckles. "Don't worry about it, 's nothing the great mammon can't get over", his comment making you chuckle slightly, smiling himself as your voice sounded like music to him.

When tears are too holy for thou, its nice to have someone who will just hold you, letting you know they care through actions instead of words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haha, fingers go brrrrr

Im really not good at adding speach into fics, bro you do you do it.

This fic is based off of my headcannon that angels have holy water tears and fallen angels keep that gift when they fall, their tears burning their skin and eyes whenever they cry.

Close to midnight, its and im still stalling my college work lmao. Please mind the spelling and grammer

[son1c]

part 2 of my sonic x dungeon meshi crossover is finally here!! read part 1 if you haven't already and please enjoy 🐉

Something was wrong. Even with his eyes closed, Sonic knew that. It felt like something was poking around inside of his head, its ghastly claws sinking into his delicate brain-meat, and it hurt! In fact, the relentless jabbing was more than just painful; it unnerved him, its apparent wrongness causing his stomach to twist and turn as if to say, Get out!

So, Sonic scrunched up his nose and did something. 

What did he do? How did he do it? These questions weren’t important to Sonic. All that mattered to him was that it worked. As soon as he gathered his strength, the intruder retreated. It took Sonic’s soon-to-be migraine headache along with it, leaving Sonic to exhale in relief. 

Good riddance, he thought.

Then, Sonic opened his eyes.

Surrounding him were the rolling fields of Green Hill. The grass swayed in a gentle breeze and the sky was a perfect blue. Sonic looked around, but there didn’t seem to be any Flickies nearby, because he couldn’t hear their telltale song. In fact, other than the wind, it was completely silent, almost like the whole world had just two occupants: him and the creature laying across his legs.

"Well, then," the creature--a winged lion--mused, its voice pleasant. "How did you do that, I wonder?"

Sonic blinked. He realized he couldn't feel his legs and tried to move out from under the lion, but couldn't. Frustrated, he asked, "Mind gettin' off me?"

The lion sighed. "I'm afraid I can't." Sonic opened his mouth to protest, but the lion continued, "A powerful spell has bound us together. But enough about that. I'm much more curious about you."

"Me?"

"Oh, yes. You."

Sonic didn't like the look in the lion's eyes. They sparkled, not unkindly, but not in a way he found particularly trustworthy, either. "First," Sonic said slowly, "you tell me something."

The lion smiled. "Of course," it replied. "Anything."

"What were you doin' in my head?"

The lion's eyes grew wide. "Ah, so the cat’s out of the bag, is it?" When Sonic frowned, the lion went on to say, "I was looking for something. I'm surprised you were able to tell--usually, no one notices." Tilting its head, the lion asked, bemused, "But you're not of the usual sort, are you?"

Sonic's eyes narrowed. Looking for something? He didn't like the sound of that! "Not cool, dude," he said, ignoring the lion's comment about him being weird. "You have a mouth, right? If there's something you wanna know, use it and ask!"

"Fair enough," the lion conceded. Then, it set its large head down on Sonic's chest. "For what it's worth, your mind shut me out quickly. A passing glance is all I managed to capture before you overwhelmed me." The lion paused. "Yes, you're truly unusual."

Sonic bristled. He was liking this guy less and less by the minute. "What, you thought I'd roll over and let you take whatever you wanted? Not a chance!" He tried to shove the lion's head off him and sit up, but couldn't. The lion's skull was like a cinder block that'd been bolted to his rib cage and it refused to budge.

Irritated (and beginning to feel a little claustrophobic), Sonic spat, "Just who are you?"

The lion's smile returned. "Me?" Its yellow eyes flashed. "Hmm. Right now, I suppose I'm you."

The grass stilled as the breeze died. But Sonic wasn't afraid.

"So much for a lion!" Sonic sneered. "You're more like a copycat. All roar, no bite, I'll bet!"

"An imitation has no appeal to me," the lion replied smoothly. "What I'm really after is happiness. Now, it's my turn. So, please, tell me: what do you desire?"

Sonic gritted his teeth. The wall he'd unknowingly constructed to keep the lion out of his mind grew stronger with his determination. Then, with both hands, he grabbed the lion's head and lifted it off of his chest. Finally, he was able to sit up, although his legs still felt tingly.

"Such willpower!" the lion said, delighted.

Sonic furrowed his brow. After a moment, he let go of the lion's head and muttered, "What's with you? First you wanna know about my desires, then you're happy when I fight back?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get you at all."

Chuckling, the lion replied, "The chase sweetens the prize."

Sonic snorted. "If all you want is to make me happy, that's easy. Just get off me!"

Instead, the lion curled up on Sonic's legs and closed its eyes. "I like you," it said, almost absentmindedly. "You're interesting. Indeed, anyone else would've folded to my vast consciousness. But there you are, still here."

Sonic didn't really understand what the lion was saying, but it made him angry anyway. "I'll never fold to you!"

A lazy grin played on the lion's lips. "Then we'll have to share. After all, you won't be going anywhere without my legs." Cracking an eye open, the lion added, "Although, you may find your heart has shifted once you wake. The Lord of the Dungeon's blood flows through it now..."

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. This whole conversation was so confusing!

Suddenly, Green Hill began to fade. Literally--the world around them was melting away into nothing. Before it disappeared completely, the lion said, "Good luck, Sonic."

//

Thistle inspected the gauntlet Sonic had surrendered to him with an impatient sort of fervor. He looked at each finger, the thumb, and the palm, but still didn’t find what he was looking for. So much of his focus was devoted to searching for the inscription he knew to be there–somewhere–that he didn’t notice the lion chimera peering over his shoulder until their faces were practically touching. 

Thistle jumped. “Stay back!” he snapped, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck.

Sonic blinked, surprised by the mage’s outburst. But then he huffed and did as he was told.

"You hurt his feelings," Merlina told Thistle.

"It doesn't have feelings," Thistle replied automatically. Once he was sure Sonic wasn’t going to sneak up on him again, he began prying a screw loose from the gauntlet with his fingernails. Maybe the inscription was hidden underneath the plating?

Merlina put her hands on her hips. "Oh, certainly not the demon. But what of the hedgehog?"

Thistle didn't look up. "What of him?"

Merlina bit her lip. She didn't like how dismissive Thistle was, but it would be suspicious for her to care about Sonic like a friend, when they were supposed to be strangers. Still, when she looked over at the lion chimera, she couldn't help the ache in her chest, because it was her summoning spell that had brought him here in the first place. Though, her plan had gone awry.

In the end, Merlina simply turned away from Sonic and said to Thistle, "Nothing. Have you found the inscription yet?"

Thistle ignored her. But if he’d responded, it probably would've been something along the lines of, No. Or, No, obviously. Or maybe even, No, and you're not helping, so be quiet!

In response to his silence, Merlina turned up her nose. If he was going to be rude, then so be it, but as a member of the King's Court, she was above such petulant behavior! For that reason, Merlina chose to return his silence in kind. 

Truly, the irony was palpable… 

If Sonic had been listening to their conversation, he would’ve rolled his eyes. But he wasn’t listening, because he was more focused on his paws–all four of them. 

Leaning over, Sonic stared down at his two front paws with wide eyes. A strange feeling filled his chest as he watched the moonlight shine through his gray fur. He knew without touching it that his fur was rough, like a nice winter coat, and that his dark claws could tear through even the toughest armor.

He tapped one of his toes. The sensation of his claw scraping against the dirt confirmed that what he was seeing was real, but it didn’t make the strange feeling go away. Like a boulder, or maybe a whole mountain’s worth of cascading rocks, it weighed heavily on Sonic’s chest. And it only grew stronger as he continued to look down at the feet that didn’t feel like his own.

Finally, Sonic looked away from his paws. He couldn't bear to see them anymore, since they were making his head hurt. Was he angry? Was he happy? The strange, seemingly contradictory feelings pounded against his skull like a jackhammer, threatening to split his head in two.

That’s not me, he thought. That can’t be me.

In desperation, Sonic looked this way and that, trying to find something--anything--to ease the pain. But everything he saw only made it worse. The feathers covering his chest and arms, the dragon with a human head, the she-mage Merlina. They all served to further his confusion until eventually, he turned his attention toward the only thing he had left to turn to: Thistle.

Instantly, a wave of calm rushed in. It washed away all other feelings and rid the lion chimera of his headache. He blinked slowly. His strange body didn’t bother him so much now. No, it didn’t bother him at all. His quills relaxed and his feathers laid flat, all because of that wicked glass vial, containing none other than a drop of the mad mage’s blood.

The winged lion had been right about Sonic’s heart. 

Now, Sonic cared only for the Lord of the Dungeon.

“There you are,” Thistle hissed. He’d finally pried the plating off Sonic’s gauntlet. Between his thumb and forefinger, he held up a single iron strip to examine under the light of the moon. The glyphs glinted with an unmistakable power, their carving as masterful as he’d expected, each stroke etched perfectly into the metal. “I knew the Great Wizard Merlin’s work hadn’t been lost. With this, I’ll finally be able to…”

“There are still more fragments to be found,” Merlina interrupted, looking uncomfortable. “Or have you forgotten?”

Scowling, Thistle pocketed the iron strip before discarding the rest of Sonic’s gauntlet. It fell to the grass with a muted thunk.

Sonic cocked his head and gave the gauntlet a brief glance, but quickly lost interest. He felt nothing at the sight of its mangled corpse and forgot about it as soon as he looked away. Yawning, the lion chimera closed his eyes and began to think about blueberries…

It was then that the dragon chimera approached. Her heavy footsteps caused the earth itself to tremble as if in warning while her long tail swished behind her, slow and steady. She peered down at Sonic, her bright yellow eyes standing out against the shadows of her face, her expression unreadable.

Sonic cracked one eye open to look at her. Her size failed to intimidate him, and her pinprick pupils drew another yawn from Sonic. If she thought he'd be impressed by her Studio Trigger shading, she had another thing coming! But right as Sonic was about to go back to daydreaming, he noticed the red splatter on her huge dragon hand, and his nose twitched.

Heedless to the danger, Sonic got close enough to her hand to touch the splatter. It was dry and cracking but still smelled familiar, although something about it wasn’t quite right, like a latte with the wrong kind of milk, or a chili dog without the chili.

Just when Sonic was about to take a step back, he found himself being picked up by the human hands of the dragon chimera. At first, he squirmed, his wings flapping uselessly in an attempt to get away. But then he caught sight of the dragon chimera’s face and stopped.

She no longer looked like she belonged in a suspect lineup for the critically acclaimed 2023 game, The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog. Instead, her features had softened to a more natural state, and Sonic couldn’t help but think that she looked too kind to be a dragon. 

“You’re,” Falin started to say, her voice strained, “just a… child…?”

Sonic wanted to fire back with a witty retort, but when he opened his mouth, he found it hard to say anything. It was like there was a weight pushing against his throat that hadn’t been there before, making even simple sounds difficult. Clearing his throat didn’t solve the problem, which irritated him, but he wasn’t a quitter, so he forced the words out anyway.

“Nnnothin’... ‘just’... about it!”

Then, with his back paws, Sonic pushed off against the dragon chimera’s feathery abdomen and flipped out of her grasp. He landed on the ground with Olympic grace, rubbing his nose with his thumb as he grinned up at her. But his throat was shredded from just those four words, so he let his actions speak for themselves. 

Falin, in all her mid-20s wisdom, knew that Sonic was trying to look cool. So, she clapped her hands together and smiled at him, because who was she to deny him of that? She’d already killed him once. Instead of sulking about what had been, unbeknownst to her at the time, a cold-blooded child murder, she found it much more productive to be supportive.

Now that Sonic smelled like the Lord of the Dungeon, there was no need for Falin to commit double child homicide, anyway.

Hurray!

“Dragon,” Thistle said, commanding both her and Sonic’s attention. “The next artifact awaits. Quickly, now. We mustn’t keep Delgal waiting.”

As the dragon chimera shuffled over to Thistle, Sonic’s keen eyes noticed something. Inside Thistle’s chest, another blueberry had formed, and it sat, radiating warmth right next to the mad mage’s heart. Sonic remembered the irresistible taste of the first blueberry he’d eaten and before he knew it, he was moving, running past the dragon chimera and straight at Thistle.

In turn, Thistle held up one of his hands and demanded, “Stop!”

Sonic skidded to a halt. He barely managed to avoid plowing into Thistle, his nose mere inches away from the mad mage’s outstretched palm. Impatiently, Sonic flicked his tail. The delicious blueberry was so close now. It was making his mouth water.

“You’re more useful to me in this form than as a book,” Thistle said. “But if you start acting as you did before, it won’t matter. I’ll return you to the pages. Understand?”

Sonic didn’t understand. He had no idea what Thistle was talking about. Still, he really wanted that blueberry. So, he flashed Thistle a thumbs up and gave the mad mage a toothy grin. 

At this, Thistle wrinkled his nose. “Perhaps your other head was best,” he muttered. Then, he straightened his face and put his hands on his hips. “I want to gather all the artifacts before two week’s time. The next one isn’t far, but we shall need to…”

To be honest, Sonic stopped listening after Thistle said “I want.” Because when those two words were uttered, the blueberry in the mad mage’s chest grew a little bigger, and with it, the flavor grew a little stronger. In that moment, Sonic figured out how he’d be able to eat that blueberry, as well as every other blueberry that sprouted from Thistle’s heart. 

He’d make sure Thistle got everything he wanted. 

And in exchange, Sonic would eat the blueberries. 

//

Tails wasn’t worried about Sonic. He knew Sonic. Sonic was the coolest guy he’d ever met and stronger than most people could ever dream of. So, when Sonic didn't show up after Tails and the knights finished off the last of the monsters, Tails figured he must still be fighting the dragon.

It was a big dragon, Tails reasoned. In fact, it was huge! And things only got that big if they had several hundred health points, right? By that logic, it made perfect sense that Sonic wasn’t back yet; it could take him all night to fell an enemy as ginormous as the red dragon! 

In the meantime, Tails focused on helping people who’d been hurt from the monster invasion. He pulled up his socks, spun his twin tails, and got to work surveying the area. He’d make sure no one was left alone in the rubble… which there was a lot of.

Tails shook his head. Restoration plans could wait. 

Sonic was counting on him to help these people right now!

It was a little hard to see through the haze of destroyed architecture, but not even the darkness of night could keep Tails from hearing the cries of two kids trapped under a broken food cart. With Percival’s help, Tails was able to pull the kids out from the wreckage and get them standing again. Then, he sent them off toward the castle where the rest of the townsfolk had gathered.

Lancelot wasn’t as content as Tails to simply let Sonic be, however. As Tails and the other knights helped the injured, Lancelot kept looking off toward the horizon until finally he said, “I’m going after him.”

Gawain scowled under his helmet. “You’re needed here, Sir Lancelot. Stay and help the people whose lives you’ve sworn to protect.”

Lancelot bristled. “Their safety is assured,” he said, his voice hard. “Unless I’m wrong to entrust them to your care?”

Gawain rose to his full height, but before he could draw his weapon, Percival moved in between him and Lancelot. “Now’s no time for a quarrel,” she interjected. “There’s much to do.” She spoke confidently, but the echo of her voice through the empty, damaged streets gave her words a more solemn gravitas. “With Prince Tails, that makes four of us. If we each tend to something, we can assure the continued safety of our kingdom and its people. As is our sworn duty.”

Gawain grumbled, knowing she was right.

Tails, meanwhile, blushed at the title Percival had unceremoniously bestowed upon him. If Sonic was uncomfortable being called a king, then Tails was embarrassed to be called a prince! 

“I’m going,” Lancelot said, looking directly at Gawain. “When I return, it will be with the king.”

“Wait,” Tails suddenly said, having regained his composure. “Sha–... um… Sir Lancelot, don’t go. I know you’re worried, but Sonic’ll be fine. He’s beat bigger bad guys than this before! Really.”

Lancelot’s intense stare caused Tails to fidget with his tails. But he had faith in his big bro, so he didn’t back down. “It’s just… Don’t you think we could use your help around here? Those monsters broke a lot of stuff, including the wall! What if more monsters get in? I really think we should fix it first. Before anyone goes anywhere, I mean.”

“The fox is right,” Gawain said. 

Lancelot turned away from Tails and the other two knights. It was impossible to see his face under the visor, but if Tails had to guess based on the hard line of his mouth, he probably didn’t look very happy right now.

“I want to see King Sonic’s return too,” Percival told Lancelot. “And we shall. After securing his people.”

The tension in the square was so thick, it could be sliced with a sword. But as the dust settled, so too did Lancelot’s frustration, and before long, he turned back toward the three of them. Curtly, he said, “One hour. That’s all I can spare.”

True to his word, Lancelot stayed to help Gawain, Percival, and Tails rescue the remaining townsfolk from precarious situations. (One of them had even gotten stuck inside a chimney somehow! After being freed, the man explained that he’d been trying to hide from the monsters, but didn’t realize how narrow a hiding spot he’d chosen until it was too late.) 

By the time half an hour had passed, every last person had been sent to the castle. That left just one thing: fixing the town’s outer wall.

The part of the wall where the red dragon had broken through was nothing more than piles of broken stone. The wall had crumbled completely, leaving a distinctly dragon-shaped hole behind, and creating an unwelcome window out into the dark forest on the other side.

If Tails had more time, he could’ve invented a contraption to fix the wall for them. Maybe some sort of brick flinger? Or a cement spitter? Unfortunately, he was in the Middle Ages, and he had no idea where to find the materials he’d need to build those things. So, that meant Plan B…

“Stand aside,” Lancelot suddenly said, startling Tails out of his reverie. 

Tails looked up at Lancelot, but the knight didn’t seem to be angry. In fact, he seemed determined, and so Tails did as he was asked. Though, his ears were perked in curiosity. The fox didn’t know much about Shadow, so he was interested to see what his doppelganger could do.

As it turned out, “what Lancelot could do” was fix the wall. Not only that, but he fixed the wall without lifting a single cinder block! He just drew a small, detailed circle into the dirt at the foot of the wall, and then burned it into the ground with the bottom of one of his jet shoes. Once the circle was aflame, it sent the stones in motion, seeming to reverse time until they all tumbled back into place, just like they’d been before the dragon had knocked them down.

Gawain rolled his eyes. “Show off,” he grumbled.

“Wow!” Tails said, his eyes sparkling. “That was amazing! How’d you do that?”

Lancelot didn’t look at Tails when he replied tersely, “I learned it from my mother.”

Tails raised an eyebrow, but before he could comment, Percival set a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help, Sir Lancelot,” she said. “Now, I believe you have somewhere else to be. Sir Gawain and I will await your return with King Sonic.”

Gawain looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it when Percival shot him a glare so withering, its heat could be felt even through her visor. 

Hmph. Well, he didn’t want to be around Lancelot for any longer than he had to be, anyway.

So, Gawain and Percival left for the castle. Lancelot’s shoes began to spark as they powered up, signaling his impending departure, his body already leaning the same direction he’d seen Sonic and the red dragon disappear into.

“I’m coming too,” Tails said.

Lancelot didn’t want to waste more time arguing. Would he have preferred to go alone? Yes, of course. But he’d kept his king waiting long enough, and wasn’t willing to make him wait any longer, so instead of fighting, he gave Tails a sharp nod.

The dragon’s tracks were large and noticeable, even in the relative darkness of night. Tails and Lancelot followed them out into the forest, taking note of the crushed bramble and torn bark along the way, until they reached the wicked spike field, where they suddenly stopped. 

Tails looked around. The spikes were as plentiful as they were jagged, and he could see a blue quill lodged into one of them. That by itself wasn’t a bad sign–Sonic lost quills during fights all the time–but it was the silence that began to unnerve Tails.

Sonic was loud. If he was around, Tails and Lancelot would’ve already caught one of his quips on the wind. But they hadn’t. Instead, the only sounds in the forest were the quiet rustling of the leaves and an ominous dripping from one of the spikes.

Tails looked at that spike. He saw it, broken in half, the sharp tip hanging horizontally over the ground. There were claw marks at the base from the dragon, so it was clear she had broken it. And there was another blue quill stuck to the side of it, too. But that wasn’t all.

The dripping was forming a puddle on the ground. A very large puddle that made Tails sick to his stomach. It smelled like iron. It was red like Sonic’s shoes. And it was dripping from the tip of the spike.

Lancelot stood beside Tails. He looked at the puddle of blood too.

Tails’ mind was racing. There was no way that blood could belong to Sonic. It must be the dragon’s blood. But if it was the dragon’s blood, then where was the dragon? And, more importantly, where was Sonic?

The puddle of blood stared back at Tails in response to his question.

The silence pressed in on Tails like an omen. It was suffocating, but he couldn’t let himself choke on it. Sure, this looked bad. Really bad. But Sonic had been through worse and made it out. He must’ve made it out of this too. All they needed to do was keep looking, and they’d find him.

Because Sonic wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t leave Tails alone. 

He just wouldn’t do those things.

“Sir Lancelot,” Tails said, his voice small, “let’s–”

Lancelot stopped Tails with a harsh, Shh!

Tails strained his ears. He heard branches cracking as they shifted in the wind. He heard distant voles chattering nervously. And then, far away, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps–heavy enough to belong to the red dragon.

No words were said. Tails and Lancelot simply took off, careful to avoid the pool of blood, in the direction of the sound. Eventually, it led them to the lake where this story began. But Sonic and the dragon weren’t there. As if by magic, everyone who’d been at the lakeside had disappeared. However, they’d left behind three crucial clues: Sonic’s gauntlet, a pair of tattered, bloody white gloves, and a single strand of long red hair.

Tails was horrified at the state of the gloves, but Lancelot was more focused on the hair, because he knew who it belonged to. 

“She was here,” he said, his voice low and filled with barely contained rage. “Merlina the Wizard.”

[perenial]

three days on t and i still havent started my silly little 'my voice x days/weeks/months on t' thing so if u see anything in like a year or two where im like ohh heres my voice before t it's a lie im lying

[aristobun]

[writingsofwesteros]

#Mommy dearest

Viserys and his motherly queen, she coddles all of her children including Rhaenyra. The king chuckles at the sight of his children huddling around his queen, impatiently waiting for their babe brother to finish his fill of her sweet milk. Aegon and Aemond pushing each other while their bratty elder sister taunts her brothers that she’s next. The king only tsks, helping his wife lay their little boy down as she prepares for Helaena. Rhaenyra and her brothers only whining at their loss and having to wait some more.

Even when they’re older the queen continues her soothing demeanor, her milk never drying up and letting her children suckle at her breast whenever they wished. Rhaenyra and Aegon being the most clingy and spoiled of the bunch.

Oh Rhaenyra is such a brat but sweet mommy would never think so and only ever keep her Princess close as she did for all of her children.

The Queen is so sweet and innocent; her children are growing with their own desires now.

Helaena is always at her mother's side; playing with her locks of hair and more often than not she sleeps in her bed too.

Of course; she still cannot move for Rhaenyra and Aegon who gravitate towards her as she steps into any room. Aegon kisses her cheeks in greeting before following her but its not long before his big sister is taking over and its just not fair

[nyehilismwriting]

not sure if you’ve been asked this beforeeee but how do you implement all the technical jargon? the descriptions of the consoles, the coolant chambers, the effects of a fictional plasma gun on flesh and armor, and the like? do you do a lot of research? and how do you make it sci-fi? (after my 4936^nth play through im now focused on every little word you put to paper 😌)

ummm I don't do a Lot of research - I read a lot of scifi so a lot of the "jargon" is drawn from there... if there's specific parts I want to know about, I'll look up the ways various engines work (car/shuttle/submarine usually) and see if I can find a named part that suits what I need, but I won't spend hours on it. usually if I can't find something within about 15 minutes I'll just make some shit up: there's basic principles, like....engines produce heat, require a power source, require backup power sources, and that power needs distribution and containment - that gives you coolant systems, fusion chambers, generators, and from there if i need to get more specific I'll look up how real engines manage these things.

i try not to use too much technical jargon, because i know that can put people off, and I think...in a lot of cases, the more specific you get, the more glaring the errors can be. I'm not an engineer and I've definitely got some stuff wrong (lmao) but the more attention I draw to it the more obvious it'll be, so...vagueness my good friend vagueness. there's definitely some things I've thought about a loooot more - I have a lot of thoughts about the way IVI works, for example, bc I have. neuroscience degrees and it's something I like thinking about, whereas the space travel and engineering stuff is less interesting to me so I get less specific. at some point I fully intend to have a big exposition dump about the biology of IVI and I expect everyone to sit down and pay attention<3

as for how I make it scifi, I think....again, as someone who reads and watches a lot of scifi I have quite a strong sense of the vibe I'm going for, and the ways it plays into the setting I've built: for example, I've obviously discussed power armour and body armour as things that scytha operatives are equipped with, which then means there have to be weapons designed to bypass those things, and so thinking about that kind of rock-paper-scissors system of different technologies is a lot of fun. a lot of my inspiration for that comes from video games in particular, which tend to be very combat-focused and so do emphasise that sort of thing.

so, yeah, there's a lot of....piecing together bits and pieces, and looking back at things I've already written in and asking how I can work around or with that, and checking for consistency; i draw inspiration from all kinds of places, but particularly my books and also my job:-)

[wish-i-were-heather]

i cant wait to turn 18 and move out for several reasons, but also because i can actually download tumblr on my phone and not worry abt my parents getting me in trouble for it