#no bitch!!! stop!!! the only purpose it will serve is to make your bad emotions feel justified

[wooimbouttamakeanameformyself]

Okay listen hoes.

I’ve been surfing these anti Danneel, anti Jenneel, anti this and anti that tags for like… over a year. I’ve always been watching from the sidelines with my lil bag of popcorn, given an anon ask every now and again to other blogs, but never bothered to make a post about it. Because I didn’t think it was relevant, correction, I didn’t think Elta was relevant enough to make a venting post about — which is why I’m baffled as to why she even has stans — but also I just figured in the long run, none of our speculations, opinions or posts about this lady mean anything to anyone.

Actually, I may be incorrect there, as the AA’s may butcher me, or worse… Danneel may get Cliff to make another post… sheesh!

But anyway, seeing this latest Wales con, I got a real bad case of FOMO and decided I wanna bitch on tumblr as well (no hate to the bitches, I love scrolling through everyone bitching about the ‘perfect’ couple)

Here’s my take on everything, even tho no one asked:

Yes, it is painfully, horribly, excruciatingly obvious that those two don’t even like each other let alone love each other.

But I’ve seen some people and blogs talk about Danneel physically abuse Jensen, which I just don’t personally believe — each to their own opinion, though — but I just personally haven’t seen any evidence or receipts of that being true. Emotional abuse, yes, verbal abuse, definitely. But physical is something I ain’t gonna say I think is happening.

Danneel’s a bitch, as we all know, as the stans like to pretend isn’t true. But I really don’t think Jensen’s a saint or a victim — and I say he isn’t a victim only because in the end, looking over the financial consequences and the custody of the kids thing that would come with a divorce, she has little hold over him. He has the fame, the money, and what do you wanna bet that all of the Elta followers would do a 180 on their ‘Kween’ if Jensen ever spoke up about anything? And by no means am I suggesting that men can’t be victims before anyone jumps down my throat, I’m just saying that Jensen has the capability to fight back to her or leave her if he wanted to.

But he won’t, because — and I’m bracing myself for the hate I’ll get for this — he’s also kind of a narcissist and a liar!!! 😱😱😱 surprised I’m still writing and wasn’t just assassinated on the spot for saying that lols! Dare I say… he’s just as bad as Danneel in some aspects? That he has pretty privilege? Though not so much anymore since he and Danneel have clearly started doing couples Botox sessions. Wooof I’m really pushing my luck.

Trailed off a lil there, but what I was supposed to say is that he won’t because he’s embedded some kind of belief into his mind that his career will crash and burn if he doesn’t have his perfect ‘family man’ image. Even though let’s be honest about two things, your marriage is probably doing more harm than good to your image, and buddy, you’re a c-list actor who’s acting range is zero to none — I mean, he couldn’t stand playing anyone other than Dean Winchester that he tried, and failed, to make a spin off of Supernatural just so he got to play a brooding, macho hunter again. Though look how that turned out — your career isn’t some sacred artefact that can’t dare even be scratched, all he does these days is make money from cons, and a very occasional cameo playing as Dean in a different font. I’m worried the dude has Foreign Accent Syndrome but with Dean Winchester — as in he’s done it for that long that its irreversibly in his consciousness, to the point Danneel has to tell him to stop being Dean at home (sure she got a dig out of him mentioning that in the panel)

But I’m trying to focus talking about this con so far — even though I’ve trailed off multiple times already — first of all, ignoring the fact it’s insane that Danneel’s even at a Suoernatural con when her character (which was a nepotism role) wasn’t even in a full season, served no purpose, wasn’t even a likeable character — unless you like vapid, vain, and poorly portrayed characters — and added nothing to the storyline. And yet she gets treated like she’s a main cast member? Half of Dean’s flings who were in half an episode served more to the plot that Anael did in the whole five episodes she was on the show! And it pissed me off that Danneel’s getting the sort of treatment of main cast when Gen’s character was actually important to the plot, yet she wasn’t at the con. Not that I think Gen’s that bothered, which shows the difference between her and Danneel.

And apparently she auditioned for every single female role??? HUH?? Are we talking about the same Ms Gurl who made fun of Supernatural in the earlier seasons, claimed to not wanting to interfere as it was Jensen’s thing, demeaned and made fun of fans on twitter, criticised her own husband’s role and showed doubt of the series duration??? Make it make sense.

I’m kind of relieved Jensen hasn’t shared any of his made up domestic stories of them, to try and make it seem like they can even stand each other, although it would’ve been interesting to see him talk about it with Danneel there — just to see her reaction, cause I’m certain Jensen just makes up these stories as he goes along. But I guess my guy couldn’t even manage that, probably not after how much Elta knocked him down in front of everyone — she barely did anything else other than make jabs at him the whole time. Surprised my girl didn’t go blue from all the snarky remarks she was making.

Oh wait, it’s ‘sarcasm’, right? Silly me, I forgot that ‘that’s how they are with each other’ 😐😐😐 even AA’s have spoke up about her behaviour in this con — shows how much effort those two are bothering putting in to keep up the image. But hey, I’m proud that some of the delusional Jenneel shippers have developed a frontal lobe, probably because their self-insert isn’t doing what they want her to be doing!

Anyway that’s all from me, my thumbs hurt, can’t believe I wrote so much. Free will is a crazy thing. Excited to see what kind of hate I get from this ✌️😝

This ain’t grammar checked before anyone bullies me.

[jjwho]

What Advice do you need to Hear now?

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3. Pile 4.

(Using JJ iconic advice wheel and intuition)

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Pile 1

"You're a clean Diamond, he isn't and doesn't want to be"

"You're a tree, you don't speak, but you're still alive and serve a great purpose in life"

Okay pile 1.

Whether you're wanting a guy to change or he's saying he'll change or whether you're staying in a situation because you feel it's best, don't do that to yourself. You're and you've come so far in life why dig your own hole to fall back into it. You can't change him. He'll hurt you bbg and you'll become just like him. Yes maybe he was hurt before but you can't change him. Move on and the right person will find you. Don't give yourself a shit experience. You may feel like staying in this situation because you felt you haven't done enough or people tell you, you don't do shit to contribute to society, but you being a live and being you brings a lot into the world. You don't have to be a doctor to contribute more, you don't have to save people's lives to feel like you do something. You don't have to fix this situation or him to feel like you're doing something. Don't let his or this situations circumstances bring you down. Yes you got into it, but this is a test to see if you'll stay and let this situation destroy you and turn you into a bad diamond who also does shit like this to other people to protect themselves.

You are worth so much. So keep moving, don't stay because you feel guilty or feel like you should stay.

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Pile 2

"Let the water flow cause if you don't it will burst"

"Time never stops and change never stops"

Pile 2 yes, a bad situation mightve really affected you in a the past and caused you to stop or to hold in your emotions and bottle it up, but you need to stop. Because you can't keep these emotions in and try slow down and stay a prisoner to your past, because when you finally let yourself go there will be so much change it will feel overwhelming to you and hard to adapt to. Your body and mind and energy and soul can only handle holding in a certain amount of emotions but if you keep it in it will burst. All of these things are a bottle. If you leave you heart and body and mind and soul open and let emotions come in and out it will be so much more better for you. Don't stop living life because this experienced drained the shit out of you or scared you. Keep moving forward because you'll end up self sabotaging yourself if you don't bbg. Keep moving forward girl.

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Pile 3

"Time never stops and change never stops"

"The bee gets honey taken away but nothing back"

Pile 3 you need to people stop taking away your hard work, energy, love away from you and not giving shit back. It's time for a new change in that behaviour. Yes you're helping a lot and being very sweet, but not sweet to your own soul, own self, own energy by letting everything be taken away and not caring about yourself. You can't keep this behaviour up cause you'll fall back behind in life. Picking up all the wrapping wastes people left of your sweets and trying to clean up the mess you let them make and not even telling them "hey bitch pick up your mess and learn how to say thank you or atleast give me money back". You need to say no when it's too much and give yourself your own time back and really apologise to yourself for doing this to you. Like girl you're putting yourself down like who tf does that. Learn you can't keep letting people take and keep you picking up their litter of your stuff. No no no, say no girl. They will get mad but stand up for yourself. Put boundaries okay okay.

You better get some more self respect like damn-

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Pile 4

"No matter how small you are, big things can be scared of you. Like humans and bugs"

"Run like a coward or face it and learn from the pain"

Pile 4 no one can grow and learn more without experiencing something, and experiencing things come with happiness, Sadness and even more emotions and that's something you need to accept. You may feel small or feel helpless and small in your situation but just know those big things can be scared of you too. You just got to put up a front. Like how humans are big and small animals can be scared of them, humans can just be as scared or them or want to run away like it wants to run when we see a rat or smt. You can't be running away from these humans no more, yes they can be scary but it won't kill you. Keep running and not get over this major thing that will still help you grow or experience it and let this help you even more and still enjoy even better moments after and become more wise as a person and help others too with your experience. Yes it's very scary, but what's the point of running when you're eventually going to have to face it again and all the stress built up. Just face it. You'll feel like you regret it in the moment but future you will be so grateful and proud of you. So just do it.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 28 - The Art of War

Y'all reach the grove. Battle plans ensue.

On AO3.

You can feel the Grove before you round the last bend and actually lay eyes on the damn thing. That heavy, oppressive dread. The goblin bodies have been cleared out, and there don’t appear to be any new ones. Hopefully, it’s been quiet while y’all were gone.

The gate lifts when the tiefling guards recognize y’all (and ain’t it interesting that it’s the very people that bitch wants to kick out who seem to be doing most of the heavy lifting, so to speak). You pass a young couple inside stacking their stuff into a wagon. Once in the cave, the others break off to talk to the trader, and you clock three more tieflings arguing with each other down the way.

Last time, you veered right. You can’t really speak, but you can still snoop. This time, you turn left. An old tiefling cooks at a cauldron. A blacksmith bangs away at a forge (you want to go over and watch so bad; you ain’t seen blacksmithing before).

But before all that, is the clacking and grunting. There, in another shaft of sunlight, a wooden platform. Training dummies stand in a line. Several tiefling whap at them with wooden swords. But it’s the gaggle of kids and the Black man talking to them in a low, easy tone that draws you in.

The kids look scared. One seems to be on the verge of tears. It’s this one the man takes a knee to talk to. Hand on then scrawny shoulder. Head ducked low so he can peer up at the wet face.

You know a pep talk, even if you don’t know the words.

He’s training them to fight. Training all of them to fight. They’re being kicked out with the looming threat of goblins; of course they’re teaching the kids defense.

Jesus.

The man stands. Readjusts the grip the kid has on the practice sword. Guides them to a dummy. A bash at the knees. A jab to the groin. All things within a kid’s reach. All things more likely to incapacitate than kill.

He backs off, lets the kid have another few goes. Claps and his voice carries an exuberant warmth. Enough that the kid swipes their face with a forearm and hacks at the dummy again.

The man turns, surveying the others, and that’s when he spots you. Faint recognition sparks in his eyes—eye, you see as you get closer; the other is artificial. You saw him before, during that goblin fight. Only a flash or two—you were hanging back and mostly trying to stay out of the way.

His eyebrows lift all friendly and he says something.

To which you can only smile and make a vague hand gesture to your ear. “Don’t speak y’all’s language, sorry.”

Though the “sorry” is in Faerunese.

The man nods slowly. Looks behind you and spots your companions—now clear of the trader and making their way over.

You turn back to the one-eyed man as he opens his mouth, and the goddamn worm flails in your skull. You’re distantly aware of shouting behind you, the man slams a hand to his head, and then your knees almost buckle and you stagger over to the fence—

Red skin. Black horn. Eyes liquid gold and the demon woman literally burns as an ax the size of your torso splits down—

Horror and urgency. A monster on the loose. She’ll carve a path of blood and bone up and down the Coast if you can’t find her, stop her—

The whammy passes. You hang, limp, over the fence and pant. Voices call around you. A child. You lift your head to see the man—

Wyll.

—see him comforting the crying kid again. Then footsteps jog up behind you as the rest of the group hightails it over, Astarion’s lilting voice sharp in annoyance.

Fuck, that brain shit is jarring when it isn’t Gale.

Everyone talks around you. Introductions and what the fucks, if you had to guess. Dude got brainwormed, too. You’d sensed concern in him. Where Gale had been shielded and Astarion a hot mess, Wyll had felt…collected. Worried, but channeled, like storm water redirected into an arroyo. All of his emotions serve a purpose.

Part of that worry is for the tieflings.

“Hello,” you say, hoping that passes as a form of “excuse me.” It nabs Gale’s attention, and to him you say, “Talk shadow druid.”

Wyll picks up on that with a frown. Repeats it slower, but shakes his head. More conversation—fucking running out of that potion, goddamnit.

“Go noun talk,” he says. Or that’s the part you pick up on, anyway.

Gale thanks him. Turns to leave.

But this guy has a brainworm, too. He seems a capable fighter, and, unlike everyone else (you included), doesn’t seem like a complete douchebag.

“Wyll,” you say. “You, um. You walk, talk, all of us? Walk, we sleep over there, eat. All of us also?”

Fuck, this is fucking hard. Come with us, you try to say. Join us in activities. Hopefully it made some sort of sense and wasn’t just babbled gibberish.

Astarion scoffs. But Wyll looks to Gale, says something with his head tilted. A “I’m considering, however” gesture.

The thoughts you’d seen. The demon woman. He’s hunting her. Worried about stopping her.

The last thing y’all need is another fight. But. But people working together, gadugi, got your ancestors through ten thousand years and a whole ass genocide, so hey.

“We all,” you say, swirl your finger to gesture to the group. Then make a stabbing motion. “We all, you. Bad fire tiefling.” Stab again.

Take the meaning, Wyll. Please, please have understood that.

He nods again, slowly. Gale meets your eye—the rest of the group bitching, some more quietly than others (Astarion)—and nods as well. Then Wyll is clapping Gale’s forearm, before holding out a hand to you.

Look at you, making friends and allies.

Now, to start a possible coup.

***

The person Wyll sent y’all to talk to is a druid woman whispering to birds. Neat. You let Gale and Wyll do all the talking, while you watch Bird Lady. The second she hears “shadow druid” her face darkens.

Well shit. There’s your answer.

She’s agitated, now. Talking low, looking around. You catch Kahga’s name a couple of times, that Halsin guy as well. You need to communicate. You don’t have the vocabulary to pantomime this.

You tap Gale’s shoulder and temple-tap. The muscles of his jaw clench, but he nods.

Initiating the mind-whammy is, somehow, even more disorienting when you’re the one starting it. The world shifts, and you can see yourself standing there—

Oh my fucking god, you are such a mess, you look half dead and greasy—

Focus, Gale thinks.

You close your eyes. Both sets. How many for Kahga, how many for Halsin?

It is… a whole trip to feel Gale’s brain forming words and speaking them. If your lids weren’t shut, you’d be cross-eyed and drooling right now.

Five or six for Kahga certainly. More every day, Gale translates. Must act soon. Now. Before tide shifts.

Tell her gather Halsin ’s people. Armed—

A spike of alarm through him, but also the others (oh goddamnit, it’s a group chat again fuck) and you feel disgust, disappointment, and amusement.

Scheming, as in derogatory. Has to be Lae’zel.

Winning, you think and picture wolves on an elk. Which seems to slap Shadowheart right out of the group chat. More numbers, no fight, easier victory—

The connection sloughs off. You gasp and blink at the sudden daylight. Sway a moment until your balance kicks back in.

Lae’zel is, indeed, curling her lip. She wants a fight. Wants honor or glory or whatever stupidass thing her people and that fuck off sword value.

But you don’t want a fight. You want to win. And that means setting the pieces so the enemy never has a warning, never has a chance to respond. Because the enemy is bigger than you, stronger, more numerous, more influential. They have more power than you can ever claim, and trying to fight something like that is suicide.

You know how to bide your time, suck it up, and wait for the right moment. How to strike in the dead of night and be gone before anyone even knows you’re missing. Beyond reach before they can lift a finger.

Fairness is for people who can afford to lose.

Astarion stares at you until you notice, and looks away, pretending he wasn’t absolutely doing just that.

Gale must present your idea to Bird Lady. She looks grim as fuck as she sends her last birds off. As she turns and surveys the circle of druids around their idol, chanting as magical, green haze fills the air around them.

Her eyes are scared when she looks to you.

Which leaves the tieflings. The terrified kids swinging wooden swords around. The tieflings as a whole clearly don’t know how to fight if Wyll has to teach their children. You think of the skinny one that don’t talk, of the pipsqueak y’all saved from the harpies. If this goes bad, they need to stay out of it, stay hidden and safe.

“Wyll,” you say. “Tieflings also. No this here. Walk over there. All them shh.”

You mime crouching. Put a hand over your mouth, motion under Bird Lady’s bench.

Wyll’s gaze is sharp. His nod swift. He says something to Gale, who turns and nods at you. Well takes off at what could almost pass as a casual stroll, if you hadn’t seen the tight expression on his face.

“Tieflings,” Gale says and a verb. One he demonstrates ducking down. Hopefully it’s “to hide.”

Good. That’s good. Keep the civilians out of this. Keep the kids the fuck away from this.

The door to Kahga stands twenty feet to your left. You itch to slip in there, get things over with (or run for the hills because what the fuck are you playing at here). But you need to give them time. They got to get everybody ready, and you can’t draw attention to yourselves just yet.

So you look over to the man in the foppish had trying to talk to a bear, and let your feet guide you, and clasp your free hand into a tight fist so no one can see how it shakes.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[notwaitinginthecorner]

Ugh oh got myself twisted up in a bad way and I want to deny myself necessities and love

[cinnamonest]

//brief offensive language I guess

A fem darling heartbreaker finally getting their comeuppance.

You are, by all means, a player. You seduce the most innocent and sweet hearted of young men, the naive, the virgin, the gullible, and especially the social outcasts. Play with their hearts, pretend you love them, tell them you love them, fuck them to make sure they believe it. 

Young, naive men, you see, put sex on a pedestal -- to them it's the epitome of love, they romanticize it, they crave it, they need it, both for their emotions and their hormones. It makes them do stupid things, it wraps them around your finger.

That's why it's so easy to manipulate them with it. They believe you actually care about them. It's the ones who have been hurt that it's most effective on -- maybe their first sweetheart ditched them for another guy (She said she loved me, I poured my heart out to her!), maybe their mom didn't love them (b-but it didn't affect me, really), maybe they've never had anyone who cared about them at all (but that's ok, I don't need it, I'm not a sensitive guy...). Lots of little insecurities and the excuses they come up with to defend themselves, pretend it doesn't weigh on them, it's cute, in a pathetic sort of way. 

Sometimes they're soft on the outside, ones who are so naive and young that you can tell they've never been hurt at all, don't know how the world works. Sometimes they have an exterior, a façade, pretend to be suave or a tough guy but you know deep down they're fragile. You can sense fragility, you can sense lonesomeness, a soul that wants love and will jump at the opportunity. It's funny how even they think they're tough, they think those walls can't be broken, but you know better.

There's a lot of good reasons for it. The money is a big one, really, especially for boys who have fallen for a manipulator before, it's hilarious how quick they are to do it again, pouring every like bit they make into whatever you want. Some don't have money, hell, maybe you do it for entertainment, or to get the attention of some better guy. Is it wrong? Sure. You don't care.

You belittle them. You aim to hurt them. It's funny. How their eyes water and their voices crack when you tell them you're bored of them and don't care about them anymore. That you found a guy who's better. That you never really liked them. You just knew they were manipulatable, you could tell from a minute onwards of knowing them that they'd bend over backwards for you... you were right. Oh, how their face falls, the look of shock and hurt, eyes wide and mouth open. Like they really thought you cared about them. How they hide their face because they don't want to cry. Cute. You go through them like cigs or toys, throwing one away after another once they've served their purpose, once you decide you want a new one. 

Really, the ones for whom you have to break them out of their shell are more fun -- the power trip is stronger. You broke those walls down and got them to trust you, to love you, only to spit it back in their face. The hurt is stronger with those, because they realized they were right all along, they shouldn't have bared their heart again. Of course, at the time you told them no, you can trust me! You convinced them you were different. And they always beg, they always try to get you to change your mind, because you meant something to them, you're all they have. You tell them you know. Ever considered maybe there's a reason you're all alone? That line always gets to them. Hits them where it hurts. Maybe tell them you already fucked someone new, even if you didn't.

That's why you had it coming. It was bound to happen one day. I mean, you went for the ones with issues, after all, did you really think your cruelty wouldn't be the snapping point for one? The guys you torture aren't the types that would hurt you, no, they just get sad, maybe cry, and leave. But this one reacts differently. Maybe the same at first -- his eyes water, his face falls, maybe he even leaves for one night and then shows up at your door. Or maybe he acts right then and there. 

Grabs you by the arm -- you feel your heart rate spike, no one has ever done that before. His face changes, his eyes narrow, and his voice gets low and deep. He says he won't let you. You may be a bitch and a slut, but... he has no one else. So, whether you like it or not, whether you really meant all of that or not, whether you really never loved him or not -- either way, he won't just let you go.

You're not stupid, you can spot psycho when you see it (well, at least now when it comes through). So you jerk your arm out and try to run, but it's useless. Really, it was a bad idea to have this talk in a secluded spot, all alone. No one hears your muffled screams, no one sees you being dragged away. 

At first you fear the worst, as he's clearly lost it -- you beg him not to kill you. He says he won't, that wasn't the intention, but it only soothes the nerves a little. You don't know where you are, it's dark, when you move your limbs you feel resistance at your ankles, wrists, and neck, hear chains rattle when you move. He says that you may not love him now, and you may be a horrible person, but... maybe you can change. You changed him... maybe he can change you too. Make you love him. Make you a kind person like you pretended to be. Fix you.

It's a self-delusion, and he's somewhat aware that it is, but he says that maybe that kind person is the person you really are, and you just pretend to be heartless because you don't want to be hurt yourself. He would like to believe that. The nice words you said, the kindness you gave him, it was real, the cruelty was fake, not the other way around. You're sweet and kind deep down. He's certain. Being here in this environment will just help you realize that. You have no one but him. That's how you'll realize you always loved him.

In fact, he says that so much, you start to believe it yourself. Maybe he's right. Maybe you really do love him. Maybe you were scared of him leaving you? Yes, that makes sense, you think. He's so nice.

Yes, as time goes on, you realize how nice he really is. He feeds you every day. In fact, he's so nice that he doesn't make you do it yourself, he's nice enough to leave your hands bound to feed you with his own hands. He's so nice that he bathes you, changes your clothes, all those things he says you can't do on your own. He's nice enough to fuck you good, to let you cum every few days once he decides you've earned it, and he only makes you beg for it until you cry just a little bit. So nice. If you ask and behave well for days on end, he says you can go outside and see the sky for a few minutes, together. Like a date. The best boyfriend in the world. You couldn't ask for anyone better.

And in return, he finds out he was right. You are a good person deep down. You do love him. You smile when he comes home, you pull at your restraints and nuzzle your face into his chest because you love him. You're so happy to see him. You don't say mean things anymore... you learned that doing that gets you hurt, and we don't like getting hurt, do we? No, of course not, he says.

Eventually you stop having urges to be mean anyway, which is how you know he was always right. You do love him. You always did. You helped him out of his shell and brought out the person he really was deep down... and he did the same for you.

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

Jigsaw Puzzle Bonding Time With The Brothers and Undatables

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Warning: Uncensored Swearing

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If there is something I know that serves as a good bonding time is getting one of those huge fucking Jigsaw puzzles, get a big ass table, sit everyone's butt down and start finding the corners.

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Lucifer

He bought the 2000 pieces cursed jigsaw puzzle for you after a lot of pestering (and the power of puppy eyes)

Helped set up a table in the common room and left you to your own devices, he has work to do.

He is the type that puts in a piece or two everytime he passes by the unfinished thing, refusing to participate the group session but still giving a helping hand.

Sometimes he can end up getting distracted and you may find him standing in an awkward position with a concentrated frown on his face as he tries to find the dammed piece tha t completes the part he is building, leaving the picture unfinished makes his perfectionist self have a nervous spasm.

If you call out his attention he may either (run away) go back to work or actually ask you to join him, teasing you whenever you are struggling and potentially turning the whole thing into too much of a heated atmosphere, like, does he need to sit this close he's basically on your lap-

Overall it is a very de-stressing thing he enjoys.

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Mammon

At first he was skeptical. What fun would a jigsaw puzzle be anyways? It takes too long and it has no purpose at all.

You may need to tell him to sit the fuck down and have a bonding time with you or else he is not going to focus on the thing.

The kind of guy that puts the wrong piece on the wrong spot and refuses to agree that it's wrong. They're all the same colors! How the hell is he supposed to work with this thing?!

He is only good at the corners because the pieces are different from all others, but once it's over he may end up getting a migraine from looking for pieces.

Either way he will still have fun because it's you. Even if it's killing his eyes if you are having fun he is happy.

You guys manage to finish the puzzle somehow.

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Leviathan

This boy loves it.

He may actually get too much into it just like he does with his games.

That said, now you guys have a full fucking collection of completed jigsaw puzzles you can use as decoration for the house or something.

Some of them are most likelly anime themed.

You will never finish a 10000 pieces jigsaw puzzle in so much little time than when you are with him.

He keeps most of the completed puzzles as if trophies in his bedroom, afterall, they were made with you!

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Satan

The nonchallant casual puzzle builder

The moment you sit down with him around the pieces, this man becomes a multitasking chatterbox.

He can easily finish big jigsaw puzzles in one single day, but he takes his time just so that he has some quality time with you~

It turns into a really fun experience specially since Satan isn't imune to mistakes but because he is very knowledgeable it just makes it more ridiculous.

You will catch him stopping on his tracks out of nowhere as he has to give the current piece he is holding a second, long glance.

Then he will proceed to glare at it and put it aside, he may look okay and back to normal but oh he is definetelly going to find where that one single fucking piece fits even if it is up Lucifer's ass.

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Asmodeus

Another multitasking chatterbox

Probably won't stay for too long, those pieces dry his skin and make his nose itch.

He's actually pretty good at it tho, seeing he most likelly has a good eye to spot color differences and such.

Will use the bonding time to spill the tea and trash others, but further into the session he may get relaxed enough to actually spill out some of his genuine feelings and emotions.

Puzzle bonding time may become a way for you both to have quality time together in a private setting that doesn't involve anything frisky.

He will flirt with you tho, it's part of the package. You signed up for it the moment you made the pact.

.

Beelzebub

Choose the themes wiselly, if any of them resemble food he will eat the pieces.

Taking that out of the way, he enjoys it. May actually end up taking it too seriously and actually refusing to go sleep to finish the thing.

You will also get the experience to see Beel grabbing food and eating it without using his hands. He doesn't want to dirty the pieces afterall.

He is an average puzzle builder, but instead of building parts of it outside and only linking it together to the puzzle after it's done he is the type to build in said pictures right into the puzzle itself, picking pieces here and there and helping with many places at once.

Sit on his lap while you guys are at it and he will ascend back to the celestial realm.

.

Belphegor

This bitch.

Will not take it seriously at the start.

Have you ever seen a picture of a jigsaw puzzle of a horse but instead of joining the pieces someone just organized the pieces together in the shape of a horse?

That someone is Belphie

There is a garden? He will take all the flower pieces and just, place them there, not even linking the pieces. What do you mean he has to, just because it's filled with empty spaces it does not make is less of a garden, and no he is not being dramatic what do you take him for.

Will actually start to help at some point. He is the type to build the pictures separatedly but just leaving them just where they were supposed to be but not actually linking the pieces to the puzzle.

Expect him to fall asleep at some point, most likelly in the middle of a conversation while holding a piece.

He will slowly fall sideways, let him perish.

.

Solomon

Another bitch.

Just like Belphie but instead of putting the pieces on the spots they were meant, he just builds a whole fucking different picture.

Like how the fuck did you make an umbrella with those pieces, there isn't even one in the actual puzzle-

He will use a spell that will make this entire session into something more exciting.

That exciting ranging from being stuck inside the puzzle and bulding it from within to having the actual picture of the puzzle move around as you fucking build it.

He still manages to finish it.

What the fuck are you even Solomon

.

Simeon

An asshole.

He is good at it, he knows exactly where the pieces fit, but he will still watch as you struggle with a smile on his face.

Will make so many ominous and mysterious comments the entire thing just feels like you are bulding up an ancient jigsaw puzzle that if ever finished would end the entire world except for you and you would need to live the rest of your days in isolation as you hear Simeon's voice in your mind everytime you make a decision repeatedly asking 'are you sure' with that fucking I-Know-The-Answer-But-I-Won't-Tell-You smile of his-

You take a break from the session because of a minor existential crisis

He decides to actually be normal when you come back and you both have a good time.

.

Luke

Excited baby.

He is happy to spend time with you, will most likely bake cupcakes or cookies or some kind of snack for you guys to eat while at it.

Will get grumpy at some point because his eyes are getting tired and its making all pieces look the same.

He is so proud once it's finished tho.

Make it an re ocurring thing, finishing hard jigsaw puzzles always puts an extra layer of pride to his steps.

.

Diavolo

Finding a spare time to spend with the demon lord is difficult, but thankfully whenever he is free he is happy to invite you over, specially if now he can use finishing the puzzle as an excuse.

He takes his sweet time. The puzzle is indeed basically an excuse to spend time with you so he won't make much effort, opting to talk while he casually looks at the pieces, mesmerized by them, and takes forever to actually link them, if at all. (He has grabbed one and just placed it back down many times).

He will have a bittersweet smile in his face with every completed puzzle.

He keeps every single of the completed ones as decoration everywhere in the castle.

.

Barbatos

Oh the mysterious man.

Is he an expert at jigsaw puzzles? Is he just pretending to struggle to not make you feel bad?

Either way he is having a lot of fun.

Will also use it as an excuse to hang out with you but may not stay too long. More often than not your puzzle bonding sessions were interupted by something urgent or unexpected. Being the demon lord's servant is not easy.

Always has another jigsaw puzzle at ready whenever you guys finish one. It will most likelly have more pieces than the previous one, he likes increasing the difficulty of things.

Drinking tea while building jigsaw puzzles together at the dinner table? This is where you find it

.

.

(Shout out to my best friend who gave me a 1500 pieces jigsaw puzzle as a birthday present that served as inspiration for this post)

[yanderenightmare]

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

PUNISHMENTS

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, anxiety, blood, guilt, mind control, NONCON/DUBCON, self-harm, slavery, starvation, isolation, torture, violence

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

Her fear is much too satisfying to ever feel the need to actually hurt her. He’s still a sadist, don’t get me wrong, however laying off the physical pain and preying on the emotional side of things. 

I can take and do whatever I fucking want with you, whenever I want, and you can do nothing to stop me, Pumpkin.

However, his temper will always get the best of him despite him constantly fighting against it. The sad truth is, he doesn’t want to hurt her, he really doesn’t, but a lack of self-control is something that will always burden Katsuki. Where ignoring his building frustrations only get the best of him in the end. 

Do you think I want to hurt you?! Well, I don’t! I fucking hate it!

He will stick to threatening for the most part, discouraging bad behavior as it arises. Seemingly unaffected by most of it, given his paramount strength in contrast to his darling, he manages to ignore most of her transgressions and settle for simply ridiculing her pathetic efforts, and doing so with perverted delight. His cock growing heavy and warm at the feel of her meek struggles. In short words: refusal will be met with salacious mockery. 

Watcha gonna do about it, princess? 

You’re such a crybaby! 

I’d think again, if I were you, sweetheart. 

So cute, so hopelessly adorable, good thing you’re all mine.

Words will set him off faster than actions. Tell him she hates him, she’ll soon be preaching otherwise, his cock pounding her into a silly hot wet cross-eyed mess, feeling foolish for ever even humoring the idea of retaliating. 

What the fuck did you just say, slut? Say that again, I beg you. You’ll regret it, bitch.

Katsuki’s tolerance for unwanted behavior all depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s in a nasty mood, where he might just steer his darling into making a bad decision only to give him an excuse to punish her. These will be light punishments, sexual more times than most. He’ll have her bent over his lap, slapping the bare soft plump flesh of her ass again and again until she’s convincing enough in her apology. 

Who owns this ass? Say my name! That’s right, you freak. Mine.

However, other times the smallest thing can set him off, and certainly not in any good way. He’ll be fuming, flames licking up and about his arms, crackles of hellbent fire mingling with his maniacal cackles. She’ll be lucky to come out with minor burns. 

Time to learn your fucking lesson. Time for you to understand who here’s in charge.

However, the times where he’s silent, those times where he’s tired and fed up, those are the times she should really fear. Where he’ll be taunting like some haunting ghost, playing with her, perhaps opening the locked outer-door only to find satisfaction in hunting her down and dragging her back to do it all over again. 

I’ll give you a reason to cry. 

Continue to scream, and I’ll do it again.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi doesn’t ever need to punish his darling too severely because his presence is an intimidating enough detergent on its own, encouraging her to stay away from doing anything too reckless. He looks like the onset of death, it’s only logical for her to think he might be as well. 

Waddya look so scared for, Doll? I haven’t even done anything yet.

However, he won’t shy away from making it clear who’s in charge, something of which he’ll do from the get-go. But again, the fact is in-mistakeable whence he’s large and lanky form towers over her, smiling that crooked grin that have his skin stretching in stiches and staples. Leathery fingers brushing over sensitive areas, cyan eyes intently watching her every move. 

That’s right, Babygirl, you know your place. Don’t make me remind you.

Besides he’ll sprinkle a couple path-keeping scares here and there, as in: he’ll correct behavior while she’s committing the crime and prove how idiotic her reluctance really is. Seeing how he’s much larger and much stronger than her, fighting truly is futile. He’ll make it clear she’s being foolish, lacing his words with condescension as he scolds her as though she were a child, while making her bounce up and down the length of his cock. 

Silly little doll, thinks she has an actual fighting chance. You’re adorable, Pumpkin.

For the most part he’ll just ignore when she refuses him or fights him, it’s not like her pathetic struggles can do anything to stop him. In fact, he quite enjoys it in some malicious sadistic sense. How her delicious little wiggles have trembles running pleasantly up his spine, nestling somewhere in the bulging tip of his cock. 

You’re so cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.

In some ways he’ll actually encourage misbehavior. Leaving her just enough freewill, just enough room to fight back, constantly egging her on and provoking her to retaliate either physically or verbally. 

Babydoll, so feisty today. Try that again, why dontcha?

As far as punishments actually go, they’ll never leave out the element of pleasure. Spanking is always fun, hearing her scream his name over and over until it leaves her wet lips like a broken cry. Whilst gifting as well as reprimanding her with thumbprint scorch-mark hearts never gets old either. 

Such a crybaby. Come one, cry some more for me, Angel.

Dabi is not the one to snap. He’s very calm, collected, reserved, calculating. Therefore, when his darling crosses the line, as in escapes, he’ll have punishments instore for her, punishments containing of her on her knees sucking his dick like her life is on the line, however… he’ll never go any farther. His darling is precious, he can’t have her getting damaged beyond repair. 

Let’s get you home, where you belong, Buttercup.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Tomura will try to avoid threats and punishments altogether, knowing how his guilt will ultimately defeat the purpose of correcting his darling’s behavior. He wants to be happy when with his darling, and nothing but happy, but that won’t be possible if he serves as a constant reminder of dread to his darling with the display of fear ever so prominent and gut-wrenching in her eyes. 

Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I won’t hurt you.

However, that doesn’t mean he’ll resist his carnal desires. He will resist in hurting her when she tries to fend him off, but he’ll still bury his dick deep inside her and hold her down as he starts rocking his hips sharply into the underside of her thighs, the slap of skin on skin echoing in his barren room. 

You feel so good… just relax, I’ll make you feel good too.

He’ll lie more often than not as opposed to spouting threats. Promises upon promises, all bound to break. All in an effort to calm his darling down or to build some unstable trust in their relationship. 

I’m not gonna hurt you. 

You’re safe here.

He gets more annoyed than actually mad, her efforts mediocre against his lanky slender fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists. Giving mere half-hearted vocal corrections as he keeps her still for his cock to abuse. 

Give up already. 

Stop fighting. 

You’re only wasting your energy.

But… he walks on constant eggshells. He will try to ignore her unwanted retaliation to the best of his capability and reel in the reigns of his temper, but he’s prone to snap at some point, knowing there lies a dormant yearning to touch her in more vile ways than one. 

Careful now, don’t tempt me.

He’ll try to the very best of his efforts to be soft and understanding, not realizing before it’s too late that his actions only aided in watering the seeds of his darker desires, soon to be blooming with all hell breaking loose. 

I’m a monster? Who’s fucking fault is that?

He’s easily vexed. He doesn’t enjoy her crying and will try to make it stop immediately. Screaming is even worse, piercing his ears making him scratch at his neck frantically. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! Stop, or I’ll give you a reason to cry.

But, the worst is when she runs. He’ll keep her locked in his room for the most part, but sometimes she’ll manage to sneak away and get lost in her attempt to find her way out of the compound he’s situated her in. He doesn’t enjoy any part of it. Running after her in empty rundown hallways like some monster in a horror-game. Catching her and hugging her close, dragging her back into his cold dark dreary room. 

Don’t even look at the door. I don’t want to feel like you’re trying to run away from me again. 

Wherever you go, I will find you, and bring you back… even if I have to drag you by your hair.

He’s a sore loser as well. He’s basically a child and will throw a temper tantrum when she beats him in a videogame. This will call for punishment, however he won’t call it that, he’ll call it another game, a game he knows she’s got no chance of winning. 

You think you can beat me? 

I’ll show you who’s boss.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Here’s one that rarely feels a need to punish his darling, mostly because he finds her struggles absolutely adorable when she’s trying to fend off either his mind-control or his scarf. 

How precious, Kitty thinks she has a choice. 

You’re so cute when you’re struggling.

But, she can choose to look at it as a punishment when he ties every inch of her body up in tight rope and spreads her thighs so far apart she doesn’t even have room to tremble when he slides his cockhead up and down the slick of the velvety folds on her exposed pussy. 

You’re such a pretty little thing, tied up like that, Kitten.

He will threaten her though, if only to see her squirm in discomfort beneath him. See her lips quiver as her mind reels upon his words, her eyes spiraling in complete chaos, not knowing what to expect. 

Pussy on a platter, where should I start? I love playing with my food.

Not much can actually anger him, but silence, cold-dreaded pin-drop deafening silence that racks at his mind, that can really bring out the eerie viciousness dwelling inside him. 

Kitty, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer. 

Remember the last time you didn’t listen to me?

His lessons leaving her psyche crumbling in their wake. Fucked completely silly, his words rummaging through her mind, ordering her to cum again and again and again and one more time for master. 

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re begging for me to take control. 

Let me show you what happens to little kittens who don’t follow the rules.

True punishments will lack all forms of fun, coming in the form of utter solitude. He knows how ferally and how painfully deep loneliness bites. He’ll leave her alone for days if not weeks in complete abandonment, starving her at times, simply waiting for as long as it takes before she comes crawling back to him. 

You must be truly desperate to come to me for comfort, Kitten. I was beginning to think you were incapable of learning.

Saying the wrong thing will also set him off, even more so than silence. He loves noise. She can call him anything, yell and scream and cry until her lungs feel like they’re bleeding, and he won’t mind, but… call him a villain… don’t be surprised when he acts like one. 

People warned you about me, didn’t they? Calling me a villain. Should’ve listened… look where you are now.

She never even saw it coming, him and his large hands, how easily they could bruise and choke and scar when truly motivated. 

What? You thought you were gonna get away with that? Think again.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Keigo deals out punishment as he sees fit. He’ll punish the crime when it’s being committed. Crimes ranging from ignoring him to saying the wrong thing to saying the right thing with the wrong attitude. But when the punishment is dealt, he’ll forget the whole ordeal ever happened, never dwelling on the past, never holding a grudge and always, constantly talking about the future. 

I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile. 

I love you, Dove. Just let me love you and perhaps you’ll learn how to love me too someday.

He will grow frustrated and impatient though, and that aggression will bubble up and escape his grip on it at times. But, he’ll yell more than anything, yell and cry and kiss and lick and slobber all over her, pinning her wrists to her sides and hugging her with his massive wings, suffocating her in crimson. 

Say you love me. Would that be so hard? I just need you to say you love me. Just pretend, only for a little while. Please, Dove.

He’ll humor other forms of making her more lenient. He’ll wash her hair, message her, carry or fly her places, even though she recoils back and flinches with every touch his calloused fingertips adorn her silky-smooth body with. 

Maybe branding you will help.

He has this theory that sex will bring them closer and excuses his advances with this belief each time she starts sobbing when he pries her legs open to plant his sloppy warm worming tongue between them. 

I can make you feel so good, Dove, you just gotta let me. 

Don't be so difficult, I'm doing this for you!

His real violent nature lies dormant however. It’ll only come out when she crosses the line of trying to leave him. His wings will turn razor-sharp and she’ll catch herself in the heat of her regret, missing the time he would wrap them around her ever so softly and cry into her chest. Now, he’s baring his teeth, feathers coming to slice through her skin as a punishment of a million cuts. 

What’s wrong with you!? 

Don’t you dare fucking try it, you know you can’t outrun me.

He’ll feel really bad afterwards, cleaning every wound, embalming them with cooling salves, kiss and apologize for each and every one, but on the inside, he can feel the crawling feeling of contentment linger. Seeing her so catatonically compliant is refreshing and such a well-needed break form the exhaustion of fighting all the time. 

I’m so sorry, Angel. I love you so much. You know that, right?

She barely flinches when he decides to get in the bath with her, and when he comes to message the anxiety from out of her back he can feel the slight shift of her leaning into the touch. His protective mode fades as he holds her close, and the pure earth-shattering woeful relief comes wafting over the residue of his fear of losing her, leaving him in a fit of rather ugly sobbing. 

Nothing. Without you, Angel, I’m nothing.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku acts oblivious to undesired behavior and retaliation. He will very much be aware of it all, yet he believes making her feel safe is paramount. So, he’ll forgive all her nasty words, and respect her wish to keep the intimacy to a minimum. In fact, the only time he sees her completely naked is in the bath, where he actually lets her do most of her own washing. 

You’re safe here, Darling.

Other than that, he’ll coo and explain as much as he sees fit when she asks her bitter questions, however… there will always be the slight irking presence of self-righteous condescension. 

Cruel, terrible people live out there, Sweetie, people who want to hurt you. 

You’re lucky I’m so nice. Anyone else would’ve taken advantage of you and done something horrible, by now.

Although Izuku is a patient guy, he can easily see when something isn’t progressing. Good thing he has plenty of methods to make things go his way. While making her feel safe was plan A, Plan B is not as forgiving. If a soft touch isn’t to her liking, then perhaps a firm touch is what she needs. 

I know it hurts, Honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do as I say.

She’ll wake up with her wrists and ankles tied snuggly together, face in the pillow and her exposed tender tight little pussy raised to the high skies, all for Izuku to touch and feel and suck on. 

Be good for me, Baby. We wouldn’t want to see those tears again, now would we?

He’ll be cooing her all the while when she cries out for him to stop, as well as landing a sharp painful blood-curdling smack against the plump dome of ass nudged up and pressing against his throbbing cock. 

I think this is what we needed, Baby, for both of us to be reminded of who’s in charge.

He’s far from ever causing her any real pain though, settling for claiming her tight little hole again and again until she eventually understands where she belongs and who she belongs with, or to. 

That’s right, Honey. I love you, you don't need anything or anyone but me.

He will eerily threaten her when finding her doing something not to his liking. For example: picking at the locks on her handcuffs when he leaves the room. 

What do you think you’re doing, Sweetie? 

Give up, Honey. 

I’m gonna count to three, Sweetheart.

However, with the sheer strength and adept abilities Izuku is in possession of, he can never truly feel threatened by his darling, and a fear of her leaving fades more and more when he proves time and time again how very impossible it is for her to ever manage such a thing. He’s good at assuring himself she’ll never leave, and therefor he should only spend time making those good memories instead of those foul ones. 

No need to be scared, Sweetie. I’m gonna take good care of you, like I always do.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Kai is larger than life when it comes to threats. He puts all his assets into making them clear. Godly golden orbs and hellishly black pupils staring menacingly down into her swirling glossy puppy-dog eyes. Fingers digging manicured talons into her soft and tender cheeks, the feeling of buzzing on his fingertips, threatening to dissolve what found beneath them. Words spoken like the eerie calm found in the massive dark of fog-strewn forests. 

I shouldn’t have to repeat myself, Darling. Say you’re sorry, and perhaps I’ll forgive you.

Kai will threaten and promise his darling a life of pain is she ever to disobey him, however… he’s all bark and no bite, never having the heart to follow through on his promises. Not after seeing how sorry she is. Seeing the look of utter tearful fear in her eyes, he cannot help but think that there can be no harm in forgiving her. 

You’re the only person I’d make an exception for. 

Count yourself lucky. I won’t be as forgiving next time you decide to misbehave.

He soon comes to the conclusion, or comforts himself with the thought, that due to his darlings chaotic and clumsy nature, she’s in fact incapable of following his restrictions. 

Such a clumsy mess you are, Darling. Unable to follow the simplest of commands.

Besides, he’s come to find her forgetfulness quite endearing, understanding or choosing to believe that she doesn’t disobey to spite him. If anything, it’s a constant reminder of how in need she is of his protection. 

Such a hopeless fragile little thing. How grateful you must be to have me to protect you from your own mishaps.

Chisaki will threaten first of all, biting his own tongue when the time comes to follow through on said threats after never seeing a proper lasting change in obedience in his darling’s behavior. He always tells himself that her actions should be reprimanded sooner rather than later, but those large eyes and that frail body he uses to warm himself each night has a way of strumming his heartstrings. 

Please don’t do anything to upset me, Darling. The mess wouldn’t be good for either of us.

He does have his limits though. She crosses the line when she ends up hurting herself with her clumsiness. Tripping when running away from him, falling out the window when trying to escape, cutting herself when throwing broken shards of glass his way, getting dirt and all sorts of bacteria to infect her wounds. 

Look what you’ve done now, Darling.

He figures his quirk is the only safe measure there is to correct his darling’s behavior. Safe to pull her apart and safe to put her back together again, and again and again and again with little sympathy battling his fascination. 

Run, cry, scream; you’re simply dancing in the palm of my hand. You only have yourself to blame.

TODOROKO SHOTO

Shoto doesn’t view his darling as something to control, at least not on a regular basis. And because of this, he doesn’t see punishment, in its term, as something he has a right to exert on his darling when she fights back. He doesn’t view himself as a master correcting his pet. Admiring her efforts over feeling vexation because of them. 

So much life in you, little one.

Freewill and passion he’ll put no chains on, but pain, however, is no unfamiliar pastime for his darling nonetheless. Shoto views pain as a pleasure, as a luxury, as a lifeline. 

Don’t think of it as a punishment, Snowflake, it’s more a lesson of appreciation. You’ll thank me later, I’m sure.

When his darling is being particularly impossible, he’ll blame himself over her, knowing how it’s his fault that he can’t properly please her. Figuring more of his attention and care is in order of need, something of which he will happily oblige her with. 

Is my little blizzard feeling lonely?

He’ll have her over his lap in no time, exchanging what fingers on what hand he uses when tickling the soft sensitive spot found between her thighs, going from hot to cold and steamy and feverish. 

Is this what you wanted, Snowball? All you needed is ask. I’ll give you what you need.

But, during their more unorthodox sessions, Shoto is strict. He has to be, in order to give them both what they supposedly need. Shoto believes his darling needs his firm hand as much as his soft touch, she needs balance, whereas he needs someone to apply his balance to. 

Be a good little firecracker for me and hold still.

However, he still doesn’t view it as punishment per se. He believes his darling is asking for the applied pain when disobeying his commands, therefore the pain is something she wants more of, something she’s begging for. 

Don’t move, Crystal. 

My little snowstorm, I told you. Don’t move…

He can get angry however. Not by words, knowing how many times he screamed at his father in the fit of his rage, never genuinely meaning any of the spiteful words he’d say, he knows his darling doesn’t mean anything by them either. 

It’s okay, Wildfire. You’re just frustrated. Let me help you.

But escape… escape is a fragile topic and any attempts on achieving it will be met with stone-cold nonchalant wrath. Safe to say she won’t ever try leaving him again, not if she wants more of those irredeemable frostbite burns across her soft skin. 

You think you know pain? I’ll make you long for something as sweet as pain.

Shoto doesn’t easily forgive. He doesn’t easily forget. He doesn’t easily cope at all in any healthy way. And he definitely doesn’t easily trust after being betrayed. He might just do something brash in his strive to feel comfortable again, or else the prickling feeling of uncertainty will linger about beneath his skin. Paranoia is a better word for it. 

You think you can just up and leave? Think again, Snowball. 

You’re not going anywhere. Nowhere without me. I’ll have you crippled before that happens. Mark my words, Icicle.

His flexibility regarding the amount of freewill his darling possessed will change drastically after his trust is broken. Chains are a great reassurance he’s come to find, and if she ever finds a way out of those as well… bones will break. 

I didn’t want this, Snowfall, but… I must say… you do look your best when you’re at my mercy.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[insomniac-arrest]

how NOT to do a tournament arc

It’s kind of sad, I really enjoyed the first book in the “Darker Shade of Magic” series by VE Schwab, I even rated it 4 stars on my Goodreads! People told me that the second book, A Gathering of Shadows, was even better and I was pretty excited.

However, I cannot get myself to finish the last 80 pages or so. I am really close to the end, but I just Do Not Care. I have stopped caring about these characters or what happens to them. I think the main problem is that I actually really love “tournament arcs,” they are literally always my favorite arcs in Shonen manga.

the tournament arc in the Naruto series?? life-changing. the tournament arc in My Hero Academia? literally the only full arc I’ve seen of that show. The tournament arc in Yu Yu Hakusho? so much fun. even outside of manga, the second Hunger Games book is my favorite of the three because I think the arena/game itself is really interesting and I’m a shallow bitch.

Lee vs Gaara?? 😩👌

I think it’s this love of the trope that kind of ruined the book for me because Schwab fundamentally mishandles why audiences care about our heroes joining or winning these things. *SPOILERS AHEAD*

So I literally hated the reason for every single character joining the tournament. Not only are most of them way too OP to be joining this tournament (it’s like the reverse underdog trope and I hate it), but the reasons they join are generally weak and actively make me want them to lose.

Why does Naruto do the tournament arc? He wants to go up in the ninja hierarchy and it’s a stepping stone to his overall goal of becoming a hokage. And, as always, he’s trying to prove his self worth as a person by punching people real good. He is an underdog and seeing him win is thus satisfying. You want him to win for practical, emotional, and cathartic reasons. It’s not that complex.

None of the heroes in A Gathering of Shadows want to join the tournament for practical reasons and seeing them win achieves no catharsis. They do have emotional reasons for joining it, but their emotional reasons actively make me want to bully them. Let’s get into it.

Lila wants to join the tournament to test her magic and also run away from her cool pirate life she always wanted because of Issues I guess. I found her reasons for joining the most acceptable of the 3, but also frankly vague and boring. She kind of just has this sense she has to join. The thing that really got me is how she goes out of her way to kidnap and replace this rando in the competition.

She is technically an underdog here, but having guessed by this point she is a *SPOILERS* Antari, I already know she is super powerful and is way too magically gifted for being in this normal-people magic Olympics. I don’t watch Haikyuu for the tall people dunking on other teams! I watch it for the short king overcoming height-ism! Your stories about genetically superior magic people suck!!

If she had like, an actually compelling reason to insert herself into the competition-- such as being in poverty and needing prize money or seeking revenge or political sabotage or wanting to win the heart of a girl, I might be more forgiving. But the fact she just kinda wants to . . test herself, and fucks up someone else’s life to do that, just made me angry. I get that’s she’s a spunky, wild-card, the author describes her as a “self-serving badass,” but she was just so weakly motivated that the self-serving part made me root against her. She’s out there messing with someone’s entire profession just to “test her abilities.” This is some villainy shit.

This and the fact her “not-like-other-girls” fuckery was all over the place in this book (one of her love interests literally says “you’re not like other girls”) rubbed me the wrong way.*

*Note: the first book also had this problem too, but I was kind of willing to forgive it bc I was interested in the magic stuff going on. But Schwab did NOT course correct and I had to have this whole do-I-dislike-Lila-bc-of-internalized-misogyny debate with myself. Luckily, I discovered that the only character I really liked in this book was Rhy regardless of gender.

Alucard is also there. I don’t clearly remember his motivation for joining, but he is already wealthy and has status and allies and doesn’t really need to join this tournament so I also did not particularly care if he won or lost. He’s also just, very pompous. Which, yeah, made him likable enough, but again, pompous characters in tournament arcs are not the ones you’re rooting for. That’s not why you watch.

Finally, Kell, king of the Over Powered angst trope, wants to join the tournament because he dreams of violence. He wants to fight other people. He has some bloodlust which he feels real bad about, but also damn does he want to use his magic powers to punch people. Like, dummies and training are not enough, it has to be real flesh and blood people to pummel.

I can’t emphasize how thoroughly this turned me off. Characters who join tournaments literally just for the purpose of smacking other people around are villains in these type of stories. They aren’t doing it for the prize or redemption or self-worth shit or love. And I wanted Kell to lose so bad!! I wanted him to get water-slapped across the stage! Not only was he way too overpowered in this tournament for me to care, but the reasons he’s in the tournament actively pissed me off. You want to find freedom in violence Kell? :( absolutely not.

And like, he does lose, but it’s only because he lets Lila win. No struggle. No gay little speeches. No random heartfelt trauma reveal or character development.

I hate it here.

Naturally, a western book does not have to follow random anime tropes, but shouldn’t readers be a bit invested in this staging since it takes up a large part of the book?

None of these characters are in the tournament for interesting reasons that make me want to root for them. Some characters who I was neutral on to begin with, literally made that Sims relationship thing pop up above my head when I read this

I know what you’re thinking: But Insomniac! The book isn’t about the tournament! It’s just the set-dressing! You must have noticed, the tournament fight scenes were really brief and boring. The main conflict is between the real villain and the main characters.

And I’m like . . . then why were the magic olympics there? Also, the fact all these characters were joining this important sports event for shallow reasons really did a number on my perception of them. None of them even want to be Hokage. This is ridiculous.

Anyway, as a side note I was interested in the Rhy/Alucard interaction, but I’ll probably never finish this book so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Character Deaths That Made Me Side-Eye the Writers

There are a lot of character deaths in TWDG... obviously. It a series about the literal dead walkin’ around and eating people, so as you’re playing, one of your favorite characters is bound to meet such a fate. To give this series credit, it does have quite a few well-executed deaths that, while I hate them, they have a purpose in the story that works. 

The best example of this is Lee’s death-- we all hate that Lee dies, but it’s well-done. It serves its purpose, it acted as both a shock and a slow-burn for the player, and left us all an emotional mess. 

However, we’re not talking about the “good” deaths today. No, we’re talking about the character deaths that are poorly executed, cheap, lazy, and just plain dumb... they’re the deaths that make me side-eye the writing team and wonder what the fuck happened there. 

By the way, it was reeeeeeal fun narrowing it down to only five deaths, because it seems like for every great death, there’s at least two bad ones.

5. Mariana and her death that ruined ANF’s potential story

I’ve talked at length about Mariana’s death and how much I hate it. Like, I get it TWDG... you love your sudden deaths and you’re so edgy for killing off a child character because you’ve never done that before... but maybe consider things a little further before pulling the trigger?

Yeah, killing off Mariana the way they did got a reaction outta people when it happened, and we got the burial scene if you stayed with Clementine... but you didn’t consider the future of this storyline? You pretend you did by name dropping Mari when it’s convenient, but then throw it out the window when it comes to characters like David or Gabe.

Listen, I know that ANF is a mess and what’s the point in telling the mess that it’s a mess? Well, I’m still annoyed at the writers for wasting the biggest opportunity for this game’s story, something that could’ve saved it from being a mess.

And I get it, you gotta make a death quota, so instead of killing Mariana off... why not kill Kate off instead? Oh no? We don’t get the stupid love triangle that no one actually enjoys or is engaged in?

Instead of this dumb story about Javi falling in love with his sister-in-law but oh no David’s back.... we could’ve had a story about Javi losing Kate and being left to care for two children by himself. Mariana and Gabe are all he has left, and he going to do whatever he can to keep them safe all while the three of them are mourning Kate.

Then David comes back, and he immediately takes these kids away from Javi.

There is no stupid storyline with Kate, but an actual conflict between two brothers who were never on the same page and two kids caught in the middle.

Plus, Mariana herself as a character really could’ve brought something to the table. She could’ve brought out a lot in David’s character since she seems to be more like Javi.

Her death is just... annoying. It’s frustrating when you know they could’ve told a better story with her alive, something ANF desperately needed.

My side-eye is one of disappointment and annoyance.

4.Luke and his easily preventable drowning

Ugh.... where to even begin? 

Luke really just gets butchered as a character throughout the second half of S2, and the writers end up demolishing the set up they placed at the beginning of the season for a Luke vs Kenny thing. 

Why? Well, Luke vs Kenny was the initial ending they were gonna go with, but because this season went through all kinds of bullshit, they scrapped that and replaced Luke with Jane... and it’s so dumb.

Hell, it kind of ruins a lot. Not only did it ruin Luke, a character that many players loved, but it forces the new character of Jane, who we only get two episodes to get to know, so they can fade Luke out. 

But that’s not all. 

His death is so... ugh. It’s stupid, okay? Stupid and easily preventable, but noooo... we gotta kill Luke off for reasons because all we know is that S1 killed off a lot of characters and we’re gonna do that again but worse because we failed to understand what made those deaths impactful in the first place. 

Lots of character death and despair = good game. 

Yep, uh-huh. Okay. 

So we all know that Luke’s leg is hurt, yeah? Great, so you’d think that the group that has an injured man and a new born baby would be extra cautious and go around the frozen lake. Yeah, Arvo says that it’s safe but let’s not take any chances. 

But no. We gotta go across like a group of dingdongs and whattya know-- the ice begins to crack beneath Luke’s feet. Now, even here, we coulda got him outta there safely... if Bonnie wasn’t a dingus. 

Think about it. If we shot the walkers who were coming towards Luke with all their weight, he could’ve slowly scooted away, even if he’s already fallen through. BUT NO. Bonnie either guilts Clementine into going towards him, adding more weight to the already fragile ice as Luke tells her to stop, or Bonnie will go over there herself... and she’s a full grown woman soooo her weight breaks the ice. 

Good job, you dipsticks. 

When you have to make your characters into morons in order to move the plot along and kill off characters....maybe do some rethinking, yeah? 

 3. Mitch and his shock-value death

This death is so dumb... so incredibly, dumb. Even now, I can’t help but give full side-eye to the writers every time one of them tries to justify this death. 

I’m sorry, but this death didn’t have the impact you wanted it to have. And because there’s always someone who says, “Mitch didn’t die for shock value, you just can’t tell the difference between a good and bad death” lemme tell you a thing. 

What was the point of killing of Mitch? Well, according to those who worked on TFS, it was to show that Lilly and the delta are serious. This is when shit gets real, and when Lilly is established as a bad bitch who will do whatever it takes to get what she wants. We should be scared of her now. 

Except no. 

This scene doesn’t tell me that Lilly is a bad bitch. It tells me that she has good reflexes, and going off her reaction after killing Mitch.... I’m not fucking scared of this dumbass. If anything, this scene says more about Mitch than it does Lilly. It says that Mitch is also a dumbass for running at her like he did. 

Y’know what would’ve been more impactful? If Mitch didn’t immediately get stabbed in the throat, but instead, actually got her on the ground and struggled with Lilly. Then, Lilly gets the upper hand and when you think she’s about to send Mitch to the cart, she fucking murders him in front of everyone to prove a point. 

There’s no remorse, it’s slow enough for Lilly to actually process what’s happening and show that she does know what she’s doing. That would scare me. That would show me that these people aren’t fucking around and they’re willing to kill some of them if that means getting the rest for their army. 

You still get your shock value death but it actually does something other than kill a character off. 

I’m really supposed to believe this is the same Lilly who can order to have Louis’ tongue cut off? 

But it doesn’t end there. No, no... there’s another part to Mitch’s death that annoys me, and it’s how insistent everyone was that his death is going to have a greater impact on the second half of the story. It had a purpose within the story, we did it for a reason.

...I mean, it has an impact on Willy and his arc for the second half. 

But that’s it. 

Oh... oh, what’s that? Oh, you were referring to those throwaway lines about Tenn? “He was screwing up again, just like when he got Mitch killed.”

OOOOOH.... I see, that’s what Mitch’s death was really amounting to... some lines dealing with whether or not AJ shot Tenn. Well, I guess I was wrong. Mitch’s death wasn’t just shock value. It really had a big purpose. In fact, Mitch’s death has the biggest impact on the series. Fuck Marlon and Brody’s deaths, and Lilly and James, and hell, fuck Tenn’s death, too. They’re meaningless compared to Mitch’s death. You did it, guys. You really did it. 

....Okay, I’m done. I’m just... salty, I fully admit. 

Being serious again, Mitch’s death is probably the worst in TFS as far as unpreventable deaths go and the real reason I side-eye the writers is because they tried to tell us it was going to have this huge impact in the future and it just... didn’t. 

2. Nick and his offscreen death.

I’m sorry, but what the fuck happened here? Why- what are you- how the hell did this happen??

I’m actually baffled. 

Someone wrote this. 

They set up at the end of ep3 that Nick is shot.... then ep4 comes and we find him like this. I just... did someone on the writing staff not wanna do their job that day? Someone was working on the story and at the last minute forgot Nick was a character, so they were like “Eh, he’s not important anyway, and it adds to the shittiness of everything so we’ll pretend this was 100% intentional.” 

Nick was one of your more interesting characters and you really thought killing him off like this was the way to go, huh? 

Like, his first death is shitty, but in the very least it kind of makes sense. 

But this? 

This is horrible. If I wrote this, I’d be embarrassed. 

I just... I’m so tired of S2 right now. 

This is at #2 because it’s just lazy, bad writing. At least with Luke, Mitch, and Mariana, we got to see their deaths and they had some, even if just a little, impact on the story afterward. 

But Nick? 

Nothin’.

Even Luke, who is the closest person to Nick, name drops him maybe twice? It’s just.... nothing. 

And yeah, you can come at me with the “oh well not every death has to have meaning!” 

This is a story, okay? This is a story crafted with characters who have arcs by people who wanted it to be a success, and usually that means having satisfying conclusions.... or, intentionally unsatisfying if that acts as a natural conclusion to their story or is a reoccurring theme. 

Nick’s death is just the writers falling flat on their faces and hoping no one would notice. 

1. Sarah and both of her shitty deaths. 

Ugh. UGH.

Okay. 

I’m not even side-eyeing anymore-- I’m fully glaring.

I don’t have to tell you how shitty both of Sarah’s deaths are. We all played S2, we all know that no matter what you do, Sarah dies in ep4. You can try to save her, she lives a little bit longer, and then falls to her death... and both deaths have her being devoured alive by walkers. 

Now, this is enough to annoy me. First off, I guess my choices don’t really matter. Sure, you can justify this as one of those “sometimes you can’t save someone, no matter how hard you try” ...and fine. Sure, if they had bothered to execute that point well, then great. 

But I disagree that the writers had that in mind when they were killing Sarah off. 

In fact, I know what what going on in their brains-- “God, can’t wait to kill Sarah off! Give us any reason to do it! She’s so damn annoying!”

The writers have openly admitted that a lot of the team were just waiting to kill Sarah off, waiting for any reason, so when the major part of the community who take everything at surface level because why think? kept complaining about Sarah, they jumped on the opportunity to kill her off.... but the deaths are dumb.

Listen, this isn’t like when the writers planned on killing Lee off. You can plan a death and even be excited about it because you’re excited about the story and execution of it all. You can be excited to see the heartbreaking end of this character’s story that you crafted because you know you put everything you had into it.

These deaths were lazy and the product of a team who didn’t care about the character. Sarah dies and no one cares. 

Sure, you leave her to die the first time and Jane does her thing about how you can’t save everyone, she talks about Jaime, and then Luke exposes himself as the fake Luke by agreeing that leaving Sarah behind was probably the right thing. Like what?

Now as much as I hate that first one, the second one is even worse. 

For some reason, Sarah is standing in the corner while they’re trying to fight off the walkers instead of being inside with Rebecca... y’know, where she would be if this was logical. 

Then the deck breaks and Sarah falls, trapped under a pile of wood. Jane, despite being the one who sees Sarah as a liability, goes down there to try and help her after Clementine begs her to. 

But because the writers don’t know what they’re doing, Jane gets hit by a random piece of wood and can’t get Sarah out in time, leaving her to be eaten alive by walkers. 

Then AJ is born and no one cares about Sarah ever again. 

I just.... 

Could’ve had an interesting story arc with a character who just lost her father in such a gruesome way, a character that already deals with anxiety and other problems that you never bothered to explain other than “she isn’t like Clementine” and you could’ve had her grow. 

But I guess that would’ve taken effort.... and screen time away from Kenny, and god forbid we ever do that. 

---

Honorable Mentions

-Ava falling to her death in the most comedic way possible, made even more hilarious by David’s two seconds of mourning. -Omid.... because hope is dead. Do you get it? Hope? is dead? Because Omid means hope? Do you get it?? -Honestly you could put most of S2′s deaths on this list because oh my god. -Ben because I’m still a salty bitch.  -I also wanna add Louis and Violet’s deaths on the bridge mostly because they die, Clem is sad for two seconds, Tenn says sorry, and then no one cares. Yeah, yeah, they mourned off screen and I call that lazy bullshit. -Hell, throw Tenn’s death on here, too, for similar reasons-- no one but Louis/Violet and AJ seem to care. Even Clementine is like “whatever” after it happens. 

---

Y’know, picking this one seemed like a good idea at the time, but by now I’m just annoyed by all these dumb deaths. So, what are your thoughts? Are there any deaths that make you question the writers that didn’t end up on the list? Do you agree or disagree with my list? Lemme know, we can have a friendly discussion about it. 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Favorite Louis Moments

[sxdmoonchxld]

Tell Me U Luv Me| MYG

Summary :  You should have stopped this a long time ago. Hell it wasn't even supposed to begin. But now it's too late no matter how hard you try you always go back to him. And now he wants you to tell him the feelings you've been hiding...the feelings you weren't supposed to have.

Genre: smut, smidge of angst, fluff if you cross your eyes and read it upside down

Theme: Infidelity

4k words

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Fuckbuddies, Bad Dirty Talk

a/n: i use to be lizardsocial, so if this seems familiar that's why.

———————————————————————

You stood outside the cracked door to his room shaking as frenetic nerves fired through the synapses of your brain. The cold draft flowing from the inky darkness escaping the room assaulted the warmth of your skin with coolness. Galvanizing waves of charged currents rushed through your bones, blunt teeth worried the inside of your lip as sizzling bubbles of anxiety, and zealous anticipation boiled in the pit of your gut.

"Are you going to just stand out there the whole night? " His voice, sonorous and smooth akin to dripping molasses reverberated softly through the quiet hallway. 

His words mixed to the distorted pulsing of the blood in your veins. Flowed so heavenly to the crashing drumline beat of your heart resonating violently in your ears. You glanced down focused on the jittery motions of your hands. Remorse and guilt waged in the jumbled mayhem of your thoughts. For a spilt second. Oh such a painful second the image of your original lover manifested itself through your cloud of ignominy. This was wrong, the truth apparent. It didn't take a genius to deduce how inequitable and sickening it is. He didn't deserve this cold dose of adultery and deceit you served him with a cum smeared smile.

But you are weak.

There were several countless failed tries, where you sought to stay away. To purify yourself of his narcotic magnetism, to expunge all late-night escapades unraveling when the moon kisses the sky. Altering to omitted memories to never resurface in the sunlit horizon. Many times there a been that expected moment of reasoning. Albeit choosing to strike post-coital when you’ve been belatedly freed from the smog of arousal. Momentarily sated with the pulsating of your cum filled cunt. It’s usually then, only then you find yourself with the urge - the need to flee. 

To be spooned in the warming embrace of your loving, naive boyfriend. To shield you from the freezing chills of your sins, and help sooth the pain as you reflect on your harrowing actions. Pathetically the shame, pain and regret are wistfully short-lived emotions, forgotten like an old childhood toy. Not soon after, in their place the yearning begins. Boiling at odd hours in the night, symptoms of withdrawal surfacing, devising you desperate.

Oh so fervent

Aching - desirous for your next moment with him.

He is slick and cunning like a snake. Coiled in captivating colors, poisonous, yet so enticing. He was no good for you, it was no secret. But when it all bubbled down to a concentrated thought. You were like a drug fiend, addicted to the empirical taste of his angel dust. Caught deep in the sweet down spiraling remedy that was Min Yoongi. He was the proverbial forbidden fruit and the serpent mix into one deadly package. 

Not much coaxing was needed to take a bite. His tempting words and intoxicating presence was just enough to seal your fate. So with unsteady sock laden feet, your body propelled toward the dimmed room. The creator of your greed and secret ruler of your body waiting just beyond the door.

“I didn't think you were coming."

How funny. In a pathetic way that is. He didn't think you were going to come? Where could he possibly get that idea from? Admittedly it's been a while since the last encounter with busy and conflicting scheduling keeping you apart. Though not once have you missed that hypnotizing tune that always led you to him. Not once have you denied him a chance to ravage a body that was never his from the beginning.

“Did you finally get him to fall asleep?”Yoongi mused, the bed creaking lightly as he rose from lying down. You watched as he began walking towards you with a steady gait. The lamp on his nightstand casting a shadow to hide the right side of his face. Shivering you nodded, a small shaky smile of fondness playing on your lips as you reminisced your boyfriend's excitement over their new album.

"Good. You know how restless Namjoon gets when we have new material on the way." Spoken like a man who knew his best friend, his fucking brother. Yoongi was right though, it took time and patience to soothe a riled Namjoon. 

Listening to hours of animated rambling, chatted amid eye-watering yawns and repetitive strokes through chemically damaged, yet soft and lush strands of hair. Though once his burning enthusiasm trickled down to a burnt-out wick, he was dead to the world.

"Yeah. I know." You responded with stifling discomfiture, a wave of salty transgression washing on the sandy banks in your chest. It was an unspoken rule. Namjoon was not to be mentioned in the immoral extent of you and Yoongi. Not to be slandered and tainted with the actions that would inevitably condemn you to hell. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about him while in this place, in this position; in this context. It served no relief. Only proving to be a conduit of neglected emotions that would be mulled over in the future. 

You flinched at chilled forearms enclosing around your waist. The thin silk material of your nightgown, ineffectively blocking the cold press of his fingertips against the lower portion of skin on your back. Yoongi habitually kept it cold in his room. He joked claiming he liked the way your nipples hardened to stiff little nubs when they met the air. Yet he knew the biting element of his room did naught to rouse your body. It was him, simply him.

"I've missed you," he spoke soft and sweetly with cool lips resting patiently below your ear. His heated breath a spreading raised goosebumps to the surface of the skin on your neck. Pulling back to glance at him, you internally gasped. The verve burning in his eyes as he stared at you unwaveringly, was startlingly surprising. The passion swirling in his chocolate orbs were strange but not unfamiliar. Still, they held his desire and lust, but there was something else mixed in that was unknown, and didn't belong there. It made your heart speed up and palpitate uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

Scowling, your eyes dropped at his words and your own foolish flare of emotions. Of course he missed you, but not in the same way you missed him.

"You just missed my pussy Yoongi," you said unfiltered because it was true and despite knowing that truth, you hated the way your heart pained with a tinge of sadness.

‘No! Feelings weren't to be caught’, you scolded yourself mentally. It was unfortunate enough that you were already addicted to the sex with him. A weakness that you were failingly to recover from, a flaw Yoongi exploited with sick joy. The extent of this relationship carried no purpose beyond a way to release the sexual tension. 

Temporarily rectified by secretive fucking behind his best friend and your boyfriend, Namjoon's back. Any feelings could and would utterly ruin you, except in the recess of your mind, you knew it was too late. The opening for evacuating slipped through your fingers the moment you opened your legs for him.

"It's okay because I've missed your cock." You tried cooing seductively, the partial lie trailing with the hand maneuvering between your frames as you lightly palm him through his sweatpants. An exciting jolt and rush of arousal raced down your spine at the discovery of his cock already at half-mast. Yoongi hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the palm of your hand rubbing slow circles on his clothed member.

"Hmm, are you sure that's all you miss?" he asked his hands languidly stroking your waist.

"I can assure you, your tight little pussy isn't all that I missed from you." His eyes burned into you like he was capable of seeing the hidden parts of your soul. Jarred, your palming slowed down to a stop. Your hands falling limply to your sides and brow bone turning down into a perplexed frown.

"Y-Yoongi, what are you talking about?" You tried pulling away from his hold, exceedingly confused to the implication behind his words. That out of place, foreign emotion whirling deeper, burning brighter in his eyes. 

This wasn't like Yoongi, in fact, it was unnervingly out of character. He wasn't one for teasing or insignificant banter. Honestly, you were surprised you were still on your feet and clothed. If this were like any another of your previous encounters, you would already be on your back. Legs lewdly spread, your gushing pussy filled to the brim, trapped in the clutches of primal fulfillment.

"W-what are you talking a-about." He mocked, tongue sucking his teeth.

"Don't try and deny it. I see right through you. In you."

Enthralled, Yoongi pushing you towards his bed didn't register in your muddled brain until the plush softness of his bedspread cradled your spine. You flinches as hands slammed down beside you caging your head in among extended elbows and bent knees straddled over trembling thighs. 

Yoongi drew his head down to your neck and like a bitch in heat, your neck craned effortlessly. Lips parting for the escape of an airy whine at his warm lips on your skin. The next Picasso in the making he nipped at the column of your neck, sucking your skin with differing pressure, painting the bare canvas with blotches of cherry and mulberry.

Another big no-no.

"Y-you can't see a-anything, because t-there is nothing t-to s-see." you lied again, stuttering terribly in between breathless pants. Yoongi chuckled, you could feel his leer against your skin.

"I can feel it-," he said with a tender lick to the blemishes littering your neck. His head moved down your chest, irritatingly feather-light pecks left by a brush of his lips. His mouth coming to rest over the swell of your breast where your heart pounded furiously below his lips. "-the way your heart beats for me."

A large hand abandoned its post beside your head, cupping a breast wrapped in delicate silk. Gently he massaged the soft tissue, alternating amidst firm and gently caresses. The meat of your breast spilling between clenching fingers. You arched your chest further into his hands, fluctuations of venereal relief rippled from his touch, your throat fluttering out moans. Warm wetness engulfed your other unused breast. Helpless you keened lustily and flagrantly, as flat teeth nipped at the hardened nub poking through the material of your gown. 

Another lusty moan rumbled from your throat as a thick tongue began laving around the bud to soothe the sting of his bite. Your nipple stiffened further the cold air hitting the wet splotch, as Yoongi detached from the fabric encased teat. With seductive chocolate feline-like eyes scorching with ardor. His gaze lingered to your exposed thighs and the bunched up bundle of cloth resting on the apex of your legs.

Your heart throbbed in a frenzy when you noticed the focus of his gaze. Was he actually thinking about eating you out? As long as this affair has been occurring, never did he perform the act, or hint at wanting to. Judging by the cockiness of his rap lyrics, its apparent he is confident in his skills. 

There was usually little to no foreplay, with your pussy easily dripping like the cock slut it has proven to be. Not much needed to be done to have you soaking for Yoongi. A couple of rough fingering thrusts with stomach coiling pressure against your g-spot and you were ready to meet him raw and ready.

A lecherous leer quirked the corner of his lips, he trained his eyes on you as he shifted down your body, his stomach now flat against the bed. You yelped when frigid fingertips seized the flesh of your thighs yanking you closer to his face. The rest of your nightgown rising up to rest in a crumpled heap underneath your breast. He snickered condescendingly at the exposure of the slick wetness coating the center of your panties. 

Unfazed, thick fingers pressed into your dampness, collecting more of your arousal in the seat of your panties. You always got so wet for him, copious fluid dribbling to catch between your ass cheeks, your cunt pulsating wildly in anticipation, eager for his next move. With no hesitation, Yoongi pushed his nose into your pussy, the tip nudged against your covered clit, shamelessly breathing in your fragrance deeply.

"I can even smell it." Another deep inhale through his nose and a hot exhale through his mouth.

“So sweet.”

He pushed your panties to the side, a trail of sticky slick following its wet departure.

"I bet I could even taste it. How much you missed me."

You whimpered, your hips shoving up in silent desperation. You wanted, no needed Yoongi to give you more. You weren't accustomed to being teased, never having to beg. Yoongi always delivered with hip bruising, backbreaking, unrestrained strokes, his cock splitting your walls in rapid succession. That was what you were accustomed too. It was what you thought he wanted, the foundation of this liaison, fast and rough fucks. This time something was off. Things were changing, his intentions shifting, and you were scared, deathly frightened. 

That even an ounce of his true affection, would overpower you. The taking over of your being complete, the tipping point of your inevitable overdose. An abrupt bloom of pleasure unfurled in your lower gut as Yoongi spread your pussy lips lewdly. The thumb of his hand hooked deep within your ribbed walls, your cunt clenched tightly around the thick digit. The stark temperature difference of his thumb and the torrid heat of his ascending tongue drew a high- pitched yelp from your throat. Searing energy blossomed through your core as the tip of his tongue flicked off your fattened clit at his first swipe. Brazen and amplified he sucked on his pink muscled appendage mouth parting loudly with a pop.

"You taste delicious, sweet like I said," he complimented before burying his face in your pussy. His thick tongue squirmed within your core joining his thumb, as it shoved as deep as it could reach before it started flicking out in an amalgam of movements liquifying your insides. You cried out helplessly throwing your head back against the mattress, your hips angled high pressed against his face to him feed more of your cunt.

"Tell me I’m better," He spoke around mouthfuls of your center. You whined, his words cutting through the buzzing vibrations in your ears. He was better than Namjoon, on a different spectrum. It was evident in how your body sang for him, how your hips ground helplessly on the twisting muscle inured so fathomlessly in your cunt. But you couldn't say it, you wouldn't dare say it out loud even though the words burned the base of your throat. That was too close in crossing forbidden territory.

"Tell me how much you missed me." His tongue drew your clit in his mouth, plush lips sucking the corded nub.

"No!" You denied him for the first time.

You just couldn't say those words no matter how much your vocals cords seized to shout the words Yoongi’s request. A muffled chuckle spilled out of him at your surprising defiance. He was calm in his movements, his thumb dragging along your walls to shift to press up against your g-spot, applying pressure with each outward stroke. His gaze was heated, staring at you over the mound of your cunt, balmy puffs of air fanning over your jumping clit as he spoke.

"Tell me how much you missed this. Us. How right this feels."

"Tell me how much better I am than him-" he demanded again. "-can he make your body sing like I can?"

"Y-Yoongi," you gasped harshly sweat permeated on your skin. Descending over the valley of your breasts in opaque pearls. You couldn't say it. Ceasing his stroking thumb, the whine bubbling in your throat was choked down by the replacement of two of his fingers. Scissoring them apart, his fingers curved on your g-spot assaulting the area with pressurized tenacity. With lips back on your clit sucking all the collected fluids down his greedy throat. Your teeth clenched together, hands fisting into the bedspread, your thighs shuddering terribly around his body.

"How much you wished, that was me fucking your pussy 5 days ago instead of him."

You gasped at his words surprise and fear mixed with lust, distorting your features into an almost comical expression. Yoongi laughed cynically.

"Didn't think I'd find out, would you kitten?"

Fucking Namjoon was more so out of guilt than some kind of vendetta against Yoongi. Namjoon was your boyfriend for fuck's sake, you couldn't go on denying him for much longer without him becoming suspicious; if he wasn't already.

"N-o, no!" Still you denied him, unwillingly to come to terms with the truth, both the latter and internally.

Toes folded in on themselves as Yoongi sped him his fingers to deep thrusting aimed directly for the spongy bundled of nerves. Your orgasm started intensified at an alarming pace, you could feel it in the way your stomach cramped. How your hips sloppily thrust toward Yoongi's face, your back arched off the bed. Soft, euphoric cries ruptured from your larynx, binding themselves onto the edge of every fleeting gaspy breath disbanding in the air. You slapped your hands over your mouth to muffle your scream, the sudden snapping ties of your pleasure, hitting you with the force of a freight train. Your upper body flailed around on the bed, unrestrained portions of your legs kicking out at the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes pricked with tears and lungs suffocated as they were robbed of air.

Floating in post-orgasmic limbo, you vaguely registered his fingers withdrawal from your clenching cunt or the shuffling of his sweats pants down his hips or he hiking of your legs to perch against his waist. It wasn't until the fevered eagerness of his leaking cock head pressing against your quivering core, did you return from the clouds. 

Yoongi stroked the skin of your thighs with sticky tenderness, his face coming closer to yours to capture your chapped lips in a sweet kiss. You gasped in frail distress and shock, your heart constricted tightly within your chest. Stars bursted behind your eyes at the strange feeling of his lips moving against your own. Another act taboo in the relationship that was this. Yoongi seized the perfect opportunity to ease his tongue into your mouth, dancing with your own. He was tart with your flavor, mixed with his addicting treacle.

Gradually his cock split your glossy folds, breaching your cunt's hole with the tip of his cock. You cried out in his mouth, detaching your lips from his. A string of conjoined spittle landing on your cheek as you turned your head to the side. Yoongi's lips followed you, connecting your mouth once again as he began surging his cock, deep, deep, and deeper. The slow pace allowing you to feel the burning stretch, every eager throb of his cock, every engorged vein pulsing under his skin. 

Yoongi didn't give you much time to adjust as he started his leisure strokes. He barely withdrew before he was spearing you back on his cock, much deeper than before. Tearing your mouth from him again, you gasp with the stinging need of air, a forearm coming over to cover your face. The bright light of the lamp on his nightstand shining across your face suddenly a nuisance, as you greedily swallowed in the fresh air between mewling cries of pleasure.

"Does your slutty pussy squeeze him as tight as your squeezing me?" Yoongi grunted reducing his already sluggish pace, his hips rotating with each stroke.

Your head felt like it was ready to implode. You were overheating, short-circuiting, the blood in your veins boiling and curdling. Namjoon infiltrated your thoughts, his kind hardworking nature, how much he loved and adored you, but was it enough? Did you even love him anymore? Or were you stolen away by the man he considers his brother? It was all becoming too much, Yoongi's slow strokes and demanding queries were causing you to overthink. You needed him to speed up, to fuck your brains out so you wouldn't have to be pestered with your evolving thoughts.

"Yoongi, I-I need you to speed up. I want you to fuck me faster, fuck me harder please!" You begged as if your life depended on the tempo of his thrusts, and in a way it did, at least your sanity did.

"Shhh" he cooed. One of his hands abandoning its place on your lifted legs, to come and pry your arms away from your face. Your breath hitched as your blurry gaze focused in on the unbridled emotion raging in his dark eyes.

"Tell me I'm the one you want." He eased out of your body, grunting lowly as your cunt clutched desperately at his retreating cock.

"Tell me I'm the only one who owns you, who owns your heart." Again he sunk back within your depths.

"Tell me you love me and not him, and I'll fuck you until your coming on my cock."

Yoongi promised in one swift stroke buried deep within your cunt, speeding up his thrust to his usually relentless rhythm. You screamed in familiar delight, arms wrapping around his neck in a loop. Your breast crushed into his chest, fingernails embedded in his shoulder leaving raised red crescents. You could already feel your second orgasm approaching, your cunt enclosing Yoongi's cock in a vice-like grip, you never lasted long when he rammed into you like this. It was what you needed, the perfect escape to the feelings boiling in your chest. Another mind-numbing orgasm and he would follow suit, then you could leave and close this chapter of your life, the end of a book with a bittersweet ending.

"Oh, no you don't." Yoongi tsked. He knew the telltale signs of your orgasm, he ruled your body with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Reducing his strokes to that of a snail's pace, he laughed at your wail of frustration, a bead of sweat dropping off his body at the shake of his shoulders. How obtuse of you to think he was going to let you come without you telling him what he's been dying to hear from your lips the whole night, for months.

"Say it. Open that pretty mouth sweetheart and tell me what I want to hear." Yoongi cooed, his cock now surging into your depths with shallow, unfulfilling strokes.

"Yoo-ngi." You hiccuped clamping your eyes tight. The coiling tightness of your orgasm was still there, maybe if you concentrated hard enough-

"Say it! Tell me you love, how I love you!" Your eyes flew open, dilating to focus on a blurred image of Yoongi. Him? Love you? How? Why?

"Yes, I love you." He said smoothly, no hesitation, not an inkling of regret, just confidence and love glimmering in his eyes.

"Now. Tell me you love me too and don't lie." Yoongi reiterated with a rough thrust.

"I-I don-" your mouth opened and closed, a fish out of the water you were caught. You fell back on to the bed, a hand placed on your chest over the blood-filled organ crashing against your chest. Your heart captured by another, no longer could you deny it, deny him, deny yourself. So with a heavy heart...you told him. "I love you."

You didn't want to. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. A one-time thing, he...you let escalate too far. Now it was too late. The truth was out now, and all hell was about to break loose.

"Tell me again."

You strangled on a wad of spit at the sudden rough thrust, your teeth clanking together at the single motion. "I love you."

Yoongi groaned loudly, the loudest you think you've ever heard from him at your affectionate confession. His hands readjusted themselves off your thighs to better support himself as he began lifting his your legs to rest on your chest, your knees pushed into your breast. Immediately his hips set off at a fast pace, the slaps of his balls hitting your ass nearly rivaled the shout of pleasure or the wet slapping of where you were connected. 

Your hips met his with bruising contact, but you didn't care, the angle of his cock drilled at your g-spot relentlessly. Black and white dots floating in your vision, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Jumbled repeats of his name wretched themselves from your lips, you were sure the other boys in the shared apartment could hear your cries of satisfaction. Namjoon as well.

You didn't care, your love for Yoongi, the feeling of his cock in your guts, was the only thing on your mind. A couple of more thrust and your orgasm was ripped from you, your legs thrashing about in Yoongi's hold. The sweet pull of your cunt on his cock bringing forth his own release, and with one last surge of his hips, the bulbous head kissing your cervix, he spurted warm ropes of his cum straight into your womb. Breathlessly he dropped your legs from his hands, a mixed wad of your and his cum spilling out from around him. Gently he withdrew and fell onto the bed beside you, lowly he sighed in satisfaction.

"Tell me again."

You told him.

"I love you."

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 36 - No Longer Alone 🔞

w/c - 7,680

               “Kokoro really was a fool…I almost feel sorry.” Genghis is in the mood to celebrate as he quietly snickers through the Titer compound, planning to share the news with Getou. He passes through a crowded windowless but well-lit room heading towards the southern bunker. Nearly all of the clansmen and women bow to his presence as he cheerfully ambulates through their earthy corridors, submitting their trust into him. He enjoys the gestured acclaim, knowing full well this position being his was long overdue. After searching over the room joyfully, he becomes momentarily sidetracked as his first turbulent encounter ensues. The young Titer that served Mugoi before appears in front of him, blocking Genghis’s direct path. ‘Now to reform these loose ends…’, he thinks to himself as he assesses the young Titer’s despair. “You there, what is your name?” Genghis sees the hatred in the young man’s face.

               “…Itgeltei.”, is all the young man offers while still trying to remain fearless in front of the now most masterful man of the clan. “Itgeltei Baidal.”. His chin-length black hair waves with the wind as his deep brown eyes feign revenge.

               Genghis smirks to the spiteful response, understanding that the poor wretch has lost his own mentor and is raging with emotions. “You can come with me now, there is still much work to be done.” He motions for the young Titer to follow him but the single energized stomp in response makes him halt his resumed stance.

               “YOU KILLED MASTER KOKORO!” Baidal surges his energy and aims it at Genghis with tear filled eyes. “…and my SISTER!” His shaking limbs continue to quake as he takes a deep breath and prepares to at least injure the newly appointed head before being killed himself. “You have to pa-…”.

               Genghis, without lifting a finger, uses his presence to immediately suffocate the young man who is now clear with regret. “I certainly did not kill Mugoi or Okhin, that was the enemy.” The fear pricks its way to the surface as the young Titer now seems to recognize exactly how unmatched he is and this entertains Genghis, “See, I never inherited the ancient techniques but I’m the top dog now for a reason…”, Genghis slowly approaches while Baidal chokes, surely feeling compressed as he opens his mouth to breathe but is unable to suction in any air. “…I have learned other ways to instill my goals.”. After reaching the young Titer, he looks around to all of the surveyors that stand winded with horror. “YOU ALL UNDERSTAND WHO IS IN CHARGE NOW, RIGHT?!”. Genghis darts his eyes back to Baidal who’s face has since turned red and puffed from the lack of oxygen while he continues to struggle. A woman near the door cries, “Yes! We do Master Genghis!”, and all of the Titers before him that are able, drop to the floor to offer an extensive bow. “Alright then!”, Genghis releases the young Titer with a smile and watches him crash to his knees, gasping. Genghis kneels down before him and holds out a hand, “If you’re willing to redirect your hatred to the right place, you can still serve your clan to the upmost, Baidal.”, but he’s met with still resentful eyes and understands that the young man will need time to decide his own fate as his hand is swatted away. “If you cannot however, you serve no purpose at all. Consider my offer.”. Genghis then turns to continue walking to Getou before the young man did something hasty, not wanting a scene to erupt with so many witnesses.

               After Genghis leaves that corridor, Baidal hunts the room for any indication that he had supporters on the matter but feels completely alone as everyone looks down or simply continues with their business. ‘He may be powerful but he needs to be stopped.’, Baidal’s frustration peaks as he’s still trying to regain his breath, knowing that Genghis could have crushed him if he wanted to. Beneath his heaving he mutters the words that would have caused him death had they been heard, “He was supposed to stay locked away.”. Only by being Kokoro’s understudy did he become privy to the horrifying information of Genghis’s past and the true reason he was sent to death by the hands of Satoru Gojo to begin with. Baidal knows that there was never any love between himself and Getou, being that Kokoro committed atrocities himself. ‘I have to find allies…’, knowing he may have to outsource beyond his clan in order to have the backing necessary. ‘What does he have planned for Master Getou?’. Baidal thinks to check a few more friends before leaving the compound, his anxieties feeling all too real to ignore.

               Genghis is back to his excited mood as he feels the weight of Kokoro’s lack of existence uproot his very soul. ‘Kokoro was a mediocre man and never should have been given this role.’, he resounds internally as he feels that although that wasn’t the exact future he saw, he knew Mugoi was likely to expire at the hands of Fushiguro. “I do admire this Toji’s strength and he will certainly give us another edge until his time comes as well.”. He pretends to be kind as more Titers bow on foot to him as he passes, loving the thrill of being the faux head. The red clay-made walls and ground signify his descent into the compound, “Now we just have to work on Getou with the girl…”. Genghis smiles wider, ‘She’s truly perfect. What she’s capable of…what I’ll have her do…’. Genghis has yet to reveal all of his plans to Getou but will do so when he feels the time is right but not a moment sooner and for good reason.  Upon turning the corner towards Getou’s quarters though, he feels the gravitational presence. “Such a grown child…”, but hurriedly runs towards the door with slight apprehension, knowing there were some of the help in there with him.

               Getou is furiously releasing his gravity manipulation throughout the room. He’s yelling out but the sound means nothing in particular as he pins weaker Titers that were only there to serve him. “What am I supposed to do with THAT?!”, in pure fury he asks one of the servants as he points to the shattered bowl with water spilled all around it. “She’s…SHE IS DISGUSTING!”. The servants cry out unanimously as his fit continues but Getou purposefully doesn’t kill any of them. He looks to a younger male Titer who is already crying, “You really suggest that I should just accept this SHIT?! She’s tainted!”.

               Genghis bursts through the door, “SUGURU! STOP THIS AT ONCE!”, and uses his crippling presence to counter the waves of gravity. They’re no match for Getou’s abilities but they can at least bounce some energy back to him, thus giving his attention to Genghis. “RELEASE THEM!”.

               Suguru faces his mentor and reluctantly quells his technique, allowing the four pinned servants to scurry away through the door behind Genghis. “I wasn’t going to hurt them…but I may hurt bird bitch. You cannot SERIOUSLY expect me to want her.”. Getou now sits to the chair beside him and takes out his bun knowing he made a mess of it. ‘At least Fushiguro took action…’.

               “What happened in the small number of hours I’ve left you?” Genghis sees the shattered bowl and immediately understands that Getou saw something he didn’t like. He takes in the state of the room, all of the different craters formed about as he nears. ‘We’re lucky this part of the structure didn’t collapse…’. He’s a little irritated.

               “I will not have her as my wife.”, Getou huffs. He seethes at the images in his brain that depicted Elska, Naoya and Gojo sharing sexual relations. “She is not suited to be ANYONE’s wife!”. He accidentally snaps his hair band apart while trying to put his hair back up and becomes further infuriated. After grinding his teeth together, he tosses the useless hair tool across the room before running his hands through his long black hair. He sees Genghis nearing him and tries to recollect himself so he doesn’t seem immature. ‘Why the fuck did I have to see that?’.

               “What happened little one? What is SO bad that you feel you can justify this tantrum?” Genghis needs his words to cut but not in a way that will dislodge Getou further. He understands that sometimes he just may need a parental figure and is attempting to gratify this part of Suguru.

               “She…”, Suguru’s words silence for a moment before continuing, “…she was having sex with Zenin and Gojo…”. His fists clench reflexively as the thought of Gojo enjoying himself, living care free. It wrenches his intestines together. There’s a lack of response from Genghis, so he lowers his voice to exact his reasoning, “She fucks everyone.”, he cackles in annoyance, “Everyone but me that is.”. Getou remembers her glare when he left the room they held her in at the base. “I knew Zenin was oddly territorial with her but I never would’ve guessed this debauchery. He hates Gojo too…so I thought.”. Getou reels over the loss of his cohorts once again as he’s no longer alone but it doesn’t really feel like it.

               Genghis knows Suguru is expecting him to be riddled with disgust as well but he’s isn’t. ‘Is he..?’, Genghis is not even upset anymore as he feels that was confirmation of Suguru’s jealousy, whether Getou knows it or not. ‘Maybe there is hope for us after all…’. He lets a few seconds pass to simulate that of someone who cares. Genghis loves Suguru like a son but he also loves his own future as well along with his grandiose plans for their clan. With a small sigh he brings a chair and places it opposite of Getou and sits down. “Look little one, are you sure tha-…”.

               “SHE HAD GOJO INSIDE OF HER WHILE SHE WAS GAGGIN ON ZENIN!” Getou almost doesn’t catch himself in time to control the surging energy flowing through him. ‘Gojo… of all people.’.

               “Hmmm…”, is all Genghis offers while he thinks of how to diffuse this situation.

               “HMMM??!!!” Suguru mocks and then hollers, “What the FUCK kind of response is that?!”. He sees the glint of anger that flashes across his mentor’s eyes and decides to calm down. It’s a matter of respect.

               Genghis raises an eyebrow at how perceptive Getou can be at times although he needs to learn to be like that always. “I can see why that would bother you…”, but Getou scoffs as he turns away. “Her nature…it’s solidified but ever changing it would seem. We may not have the time we originally thought.” Suguru looks back to him now as he’s obviously curious as to what that could mean. ‘She’s already creating a small but powerful army.’.

               “What is that you know, Master?” Getou’s back to his collected demeanor as he’s eager to understand what could cause Genghis to seem so offhand on the ordeal. He looks around the destroyed room and feels slightly embarrassed, especially if there’s some kind of explanation.

               “When she drinks from the hybrid, his curse blood fuels her own. This is what I was trying to elucidate to you before.” Genghis checks to make sure he has Getou’s undivided attention. When he’s satisfied by his pupil practically hanging on the edge of his seat, he continues, “She has awakened to a small degree and with her kind, that means a growing appetite for many things and less inhibiting emotions in exchange.”. Getou’s eyes narrow in response but Genghis proceeds, “When we get her here, you’ll have to sate her needs little one so it’s best you understand now.”. He’s anticipating a rebuttal but it doesn’t arrive, ‘Good, because if you don’t, I will...and that may cause some problems.’.

               Getou is still mildly confused but understands enough that he’ll have to feed and fuck her. “I’ve already tried that, it didn’t work.”. His thoughts take to the last time he saw her, while he was working his way in.

               “You stabbed her, broke her wings and then forced yourself between her legs… let’s understand the difference here, Suguru…”, Genghis shakes his head as he didn’t want to be so blunt but at the same time, there’s no room for error there, Getou must comprehend that.

               “And she called out for Naoya when I did.”, Getou’s patience are being tried at this point. He knows he was wrong in his approach and even with his brutal nature. He also is hesitant to express anything in regards to that scent that provoked him.

               Genghis interrupts the pity party, “Because she’s afraid of you Suguru…and rightfully so!”. He softens his eyes for his pupil for just a moment, “I could never imagine expecting any other outcome. I’ve never even thought to do something like that to a woman.”, Genghis lies with complete knack.

               Getou exhales heavily and turns his gaze to the shattered bowl, “That doesn’t explain why she’s fucking everyone…”, he loses himself in those same images again and runs his finger along his scarred cheek. His eyes widen as he’s suddenly remembering the aftermath, “Toji attacked them though, I’m guessing Kokoro succeeded?”. He switches his view back to his mentor with inquisitive eyes.

               Genghis decides to hold off of the details about Elska and Toji following the incident. ‘She really is getting her fill though…’, but smiles to her ways as he watched them that day, all of it, from afar. He then tilts his head upwards and tries to hold his happiness inside as he delivers Mugoi’s fate, “Kokoro perished by the hands of Fushiguro… and Oda.”.

               Upon hearing of Mugoi’s death a small smirk appears initially but then he’s overcome with the fact that he’d always planned on taking out Kokoro himself. “How can he be dead? Isn’t he under the same technique?”. He hopes the bastard can return for more.

               Genghis allows his grin to sneak through after seeing Getou’s reaction, knowing they’re both pretty glad the fuckers gone. “Yes well, they didn’t use any techniques to kill him, they just utilized that nature of theirs. If he were killed with a cursed ability, yes, we could have reversed that.” Genghis chuckles lowly, “I told him to be extremely cautious but he ultimately underestimated this Toji gravely. To be fair though, I wasn’t expecting the girl to behave as she did…she killed Okhin viciously as well.”.

               Getou catches on to his master’s amusement and it rubs him as odd, “You said the outcome would benefit me…did you know this would happen?”. He’s decided to place that weird display in the back of his mind for the time being. ‘Okhin too?’, Getou barely knew the Titer woman but was aware of her loyalty to himself and their cause and feels regret that she lost her life.

               “I did.”. Genghis leans toward being honest about this bit at least. He waits to gauge Getou’s response and becomes eased when he can tell that his knowing won’t be met with hostility. “Mugoi wasn’t a very good man and he had no business leading this clan. His strategies were half-baked and his desires to lead were misplaced.”.

               “I never did like him…I actually hated that fucker and owed him for Kechi and Eso...” Getou sighs as there’s yet another thing to be grateful to Elska for. “Serves him right.”. ‘I wonder how she did it?’. Getou ponders on her mysterious existence and wonders what else he may not know about her. He thought he was well informed before but sees that’s not the case at all.

               Genghis smiles genuinely as he proceeds the conversation to nourish the seed he’s planted, “So…you were watching her?”. He gives a playful shove to Suguru, “You can’t hide the fact that you’re interested…I can already tell.”.

               Getou’s face becomes deadpanned at his mentor’s words. He’s self-conscious about the truth in the statement, not really being sure as to when it happened nor why. He looks back at the shattered bowl, “I was seeing if there were any tactics I could formulate based on their own.”. He feels another light push and it’s clear that Genghis wasn’t buying it. ‘Why is she so important to even him?’. He sighs in frustration, “Yes, ok? I was watching her…although I regret it now.”. His eyes widen during the statement, showing he meant it desperately.

               Genghis releases a loud cheer into the room, “ALRIGHT!”. He pats Getou on the shoulder, “This is great little one! You shall have her then!”. He can barely control his pride as he knows this step was imperative to conquer. “We will have to secure her soon before the others reach her to do the same.

               Getou wants to ask about the others mentioned but figures it pertains to the clans also aiming for the same goal. He becomes tactical, “I think we should draw them in and crush all of their shaman.”. This time, when preparing her quarters, he would take a note from Naoya and make sure she can at least be impressed by their offer. ‘Would it really make that much of a difference though?’, he’s unsure of what lies ahead because of what’s occurred in the past.

               Genghis leans forward with approval, “That is a wise idea but we should bait them first.”, he smiles maliciously, “I think we should take your lover first and give them a location.”.

               Getou blushes against his own will and tries to mask it with haste, “Whatever, that’s fine. I need to prepare an area for her.”. Suguru stands up, cloaked in agitation as he worries about what could be wrong with him. ‘Why…am I feeling so…awkward?’.

               “Don’t be ridiculous, you only need to prepare another room for yourself.” Genghis can’t believe that he’s having to hold his pupil’s hand through this but laughs to the confusion painted on Suguru’s face, “She’s going to be staying with you.”.

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

               “Cho, how do you know this? ARE THEY NEARBY?” Naoya knows Choso is also very fine tuned when it comes to sensing other techniques, primarily the Titers for having worked around them for so long. Naoya still is looking around to silently ask everyone to be on their guard.

               Choso doesn’t remove the box from his pocket. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it though and tries to figure out a way to communicate that won’t bring them to a disadvantage. His stillness unnerves everyone but Toji tries to calm the room, understanding there’s a purpose for it. Choso decides to try something. After standing, he uses his right hand to point at his pocket and while still holding the box inside of there, he flicks it a few times with his finger, creating sound.

               Gojo is the first to catch on and decides to give it a codename, “The bento box!”. He smiles to Choso’s relieved nod and turns to face everyone. “Do you remember the yellow fish delivery we received earlier?”, Toji scrunches his face but then the connection is made. “I believe that Choso’s saying he can tell by the bento box it came in.” Elska now seems to get it as well.

               “Baby? When did you eat yellow fish?” Naoya approaches her with a coy smile as the remaining members in the room sigh in frustration, thinking he was too dense to comprehend. Megumi scoffs being out of the loop and apparently feels ashamed of Naoya’s gestures. When within arm’s reach, Naoya snags Elska by the hip and kisses her cheek while whispering, “We will protect you princess.”. He feels her pull away only enough to look into his eyes. He knows she trusts him, it’s written all over her face and nothing could make him happier.

               Elska is lost in Naoya’s warm expression until a realization hits her, “Does…does that mean they saw…everything?”. She becomes completely uncomfortable at the thought and welcomes Naoya’s arms as they wrap around her fully this time. While burying her face into his chest, she can feel the bass from his voice as he laughs awkwardly above her. ‘Greeeaaaaat…’.

               “Well at least it was worth watching…I can attest to that!”, Gojo’s eyes brighten as he recalls the three of them on the bed. ‘It was…perfection.’. Nanami sends narrow eyes over to him which he can feel instantly and against his rowdier judgement, decides to leave it at that.

               Toji scoffs while looking at Gojo, “You’re the fucking worst, you do know that, right?”. He’s never been able to stand Satoru’s need to gloat about everything, especially when it comes to her.

               Gojo warps himself behind Elska, “Oh…but she loves it…” and ruts his pelvis into her rear.

               Naoya uses his projection technique to pull her away afterward, “You’re too fucking much Gojo, don’t expect that shit to happen again.”. He actually really enjoyed the threesome for the most part but sees that he stoked an already heated fire within Gojo by participating. ‘This guy is not right in the head!’.

               “Sati! Why would you do that in front of everyone?!”, She’s not felt Naoya’s technique first hand like that and stumbled with collecting herself after being moved with such speed. ‘Did he seriously just hump me?’.

               Nanami yells, “SATORU!”, with absolute disapproval as Megumi scowls heavily beside him.

               Choso loses himself in thought after hearing Gojo’s mischievous giggles. ‘Do they know that this connects their energy to us? I can tell when they’re spying…’. He twirls the box within his fingertips in his pocket as he tries to formulate an explanation as to why the Titers left it behind if this was genuine. He looks back over to Toji now, ‘Is he really ok? What did this do to him?’. Choso’s eyes now take to Megumi and his heart sinks knowing that they’ve only just begun their father and son relationship officially, ‘I have to figure this out before it’s too late.’. He still hears the voices of everyone else but doesn’t register that his name is being called. The surging energy from the box also ceases and he quietly states, “I think they’re done for now…”.

               Toji sighs, “Thank god, those fucking creeps have nothing better to than to use ourselves against us.”.

               Naoya and Elska both relax into each other knowing they can likely move more freely now. Naoya smiles at her but then continues what they were originally talking about. “I’ll get you some sweets baby!”. He now turns to Choso who is still in his own mind, “Cho!”, Naoya is waving at his friend, “Does that sound alright to you?”.

               Elska chimes in, “I swear I won’t bite you again!”, she looks around to everyone, “Although I am due for a feed soon…”.

               Naoya gasps, “Well I’ll stay too!”. He’s weary of her feeding from Choso for many reasons, his personal ones at the forefront though.

               Toji huffs, “I think you two should make yourselves scarce when we come back.”, his vision glaring between Naoya and Gojo. “You two have had enough today.”.

               Gojo wants to say something smart to rile Toji up but decides that maybe that wasn’t such a huge demand. He looks to Naoya and whines, “Let Toji feed her tonight…”. He kicks at nothing to display his disappointment but knows that he owes the giant this much at least.

               Naoya grabs her hands now and looks down to her with his weak protest, “Baaaby…”, but then sighs as he can understand where Gojo is coming from, “…Ok…but tomorrow you feed from me!”. He smiles gleefully as he secures one of his favorite past times. Of course, he enjoys the feeling her bite surges through him but more than anything else, he loves how much she enjoys drinking from him. It certainly makes him feel needed and with all of the testosterone surrounding her now, he appreciates the affirmations he receives from her, this one especially. ‘If only I had my own fangs…’.

               “If she drinks too much of you boy, she’ll get fucking cavities.”. Toji laughs to his own joke though as he meant nothing foul by it, he’s actually surprised he didn’t receive more resistance from either of them on the matter of feeding.

               “What are you guys about to do?” Choso now feels he missed something important.

               Elska and Gojo chuckle at the fact that Choso indeed tuned them all out moments ago.

               “They’re going on a food run while you stay with me, if that’s ok!”. Elska smiles and continues, “You can take a shower too if you want, I won’t leave the room but you’ll still have privacy in there.”. She walks over to the bathroom and pulls out a fresh towel from a neat stack that lays on iron shelving next to the tub.

               “And make sure you’re clothed when you leave the bathroom…”, Gojo’s tries to make his tone lighter but he’s serious. “I saw what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, you thick ass stallion!”, and laughs to Choso’s widening eyes.

               Choso recalls Gojo complimenting his body before  and becomes flustered by the accusations being launched at him and quickly defends himself, “Elska! I promise I wouldn’t try to do anything sexy to you!”. He hears Gojo roar into laughter and anchors his eyebrows in a way that show the silver shaman that he’s been teased enough for one day.

               “I would hope not.” Megumi makes his quiet presence known again as he’s only just calmed down after seeing his sensei hump her…and then there’s the feeding. He turns his nose up and hollers while leaving for the door with Nanami, “GIVE HER SOME SPACE.”.

               “Doll, I’ll be right back alright?” He grins when she nods in anticipation and he can sense that she’s as eager to feed from him as he is to feed her.

               “Umm…I will too, don’t forget that part old man…”, Naoya finally releases his hands from her as he forces himself away and towards the door. “Be right back baby!” He blows her a kiss from the doorway but waits impatiently for Gojo to make his exit.

               Gojo now grabs her hands and with a serious face says, “Love, just be careful and wait for Toji. We will back after you have some time.” He smiles, “Don’t bite Choso in case it’s related to that other you ok?” He kisses her on the forehead gently before stepping back and taking in her comfortable and casual appearance while relishing on his recent lush memories of them. He glances to Choso, “If anything happens, make a portal to Naoya but we should be back really soon.

               Choso nods and is glad that there was reiteration over him being the source of her nourishment. ‘Gojo is far more intelligent than he typically lets on…’. After everyone leaves the room, the silence engulfs them. “I uhh…I guess I will take a shower now.”, and dutifully heads into the bathroom.

               “Wait there’s a trick!” Elska rushes past the door before he can close it in order to reach the faucet. The temperature designated knobs are actually reversed and she didn’t want Choso to fall victim to ignorance’s cruelty. Once adjusted, she stands up tall and smiles, “Now, you’re all set!”.

               “I tend to take lengthy showers, please do not be alarmed by this.” Choso feels the steam beginning to take form and is ready to wash the day away. She giggles and says “That’s totally fine, relax a bit.” Before switching on the fan and shutting the door behind her. As he undresses, he folds his new pajamas neatly on the counter, planning to put them back on when he’s finished. For a moment he freezes as this doesn’t make sense, how can he watch her while he bathes? ‘Oh, they were way ahead of me with this one…’. He forms his observer window, focuses it on her and leaves the curtain parted so he can check it from time to time.

               Elska isn’t sure why but as soon as the words, “Relax a bit” left her, she felt the urge to do so herself. “Well…he did say he takes long showers…and they’re no longer watching us…”, she walks over to Choso’s unintentional gift and honestly just wants to try it. After grabbing it, she cautiously makes her way back to the bed, dropping her new ace sweatpants to the floor before laying on her back. Her mind brings her back to Naoya and Satoru taking her and becomes flooded with arousal. “That really was…amazing.”. Her nimble fingers press the tiny rubber button located on the bottom of the little pink mouse and jumps with excitement when it turns on. ‘This shouldn’t take much time at all!’, and gleams to its vibrational impact. The thought of Naoya extracting her pheromones and orgasms while Satoru filled her mouth sends a sensation between her thighs before the vibrator ever reached its target. She self consciously listens for any sudden movement in the bathroom, wondering why she was really about to do this right now. ‘I just feel like I need to…’, but is trying to ignore the fact that she’s seen plenty of action for one day, at least normally. Once the silicone bullet reaches her clitoris, her body tenses up by the sensations it sends through her and she quietly gasps with a wide smile.

               Choso is rinsing his hair, enjoying the scented products that fall and mix into the water. ‘How does my hair feel this smooth after just shampoo?’, he’s amazed and feeling anew. After applying the thick conditioner, he decides to read the ingredients from the bottle located at the other end of the tub. When he grabs it, he turns to check his observer window to make sure everything is alright. “Oh my…”. His eyes are wide and the shock from what he’s seeing steals his attention thus causing the shampoo bottle to be dropped onto his foot. “OW!”.

               Elska hears the commotion and immediately closes her legs for cover. She’s panting lightly as she was already pretty close to being done with this test drive but still calls out, “Chos…Choso? Are you alright in there?!”. She sits up as she listens carefully for a response.

               ���I uhhh…Yea!! I’m great! Just…dropped something!”. Choso feels his heart pounding through him and when he looks down can see his chest beat along with it. ‘I should’ve just told her the truth!’, he panicked though. He stands at the end of the tub where the water barely touches him as he breathlessly waits for a sign that she’d either stop or continue. ‘Does she not know I’m observing her?’. He watches her settle back into the bed but has failed to notice his instant erection until this point and whispers, “Damnit…”. When she places the mouse back on her sensitive areas, he can see her face twist in pleasure and cannot help himself. Choso begins to stoke his member as his human desires take over and shudders to the wonderful sensations it sends through him. Elska moans quietly but Choso is audibly attached to his window so he hears it. He watches her placement of the toy and is surprised to see that it’s used to for surface features rather than being for inside. He continues to pump his hand, gaining speeding even while the water threatens to stop his motions, moaning himself as he studies the visual before him. “Women…they’re such…beautiful creatures…”, he whispers through his small gasps.

               Elska is working towards her climax, intermittently edging herself when she feels she’s too close, not wanting to end the pleasure so soon. She thinks about how Toji always tries to stimulate her with his hands while he works himself into her, causing her toes to curl. ‘Toji and this would be incredible…’, she pictures him with his wings and fangs out, using his mass to pin her against the bed as he thrusts through her. In this fantasy, he would hold the mouse down against her, forcing her to endure the bliss while locking glowing eyes. “Holy…oh…yes…”, she whines out underneath her breath as she feels her moisture gather. She imagines him smugly smirk above her before saying, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet for me.”, but realizes that would be much more of a Satoru thing.

               Choso is no longer even bathing by this point but has opened the curtains further so he can still receive the warmth from the water as he continues towards his own relief. Every time her body arches or she whispers confirmation to how good she’s feeling, his hand increases speed by itself. He looks down to see how unbearably hard he is and bites his lip as his vision takes back to his technique. His mind is plaguing him as he doesn’t have a direct desire to sleep with her but she’s always the subject of his sexual thoughts. He imagines himself sitting between her knees, administering the mouse. “Mmmm…”, he groans while thinking of her furrowed brow and flush expression being the product of his placement. His hand grips his girth and he momentarily seethes and hisses to the building rise coursing through him. He whispers her name to his own dismay, feeling that it increased his ability to reach his orgasm. The water falling down his back has become cooler but it doesn’t deter him from this interesting experience.

               She is now daydreaming about Satoru’s aggressive behavior. ‘He would most definitely use this mouse as a tool to dominate.’, and the thought of him bending her over while making her hold it to herself almost makes her unravel. He’d say things like, “Awww love, what’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”, and she would have to respond to him before he’d smack her ass…but maybe she would keep quiet on purpose. He’d likely grab her by the throat and raise her up from behind so he could hear her clearly as he spreads her from within. She gasps to this and arches her body again as she nearly lost herself. Her eyes open widely though as she’s sure he would attempt anal next…but she wouldn’t necessarily fight him. ‘If I ever tell him that I actually like it, he would try it all of the time though…’, and the idea of him relentlessly trying to impale her in that manner slightly decreases her arousal.

               Choso is all but minutes away from being spent. He’s staring intently into the observer’s window and ignores her change in demeanor. Instead, he’s now wondering about this taste that women provide. He still isn’t sure you’re supposed to lick them there but the probability of it being allowed makes him imagine how he would. The expression on her face is back to be pleasant so maybe if he would take his tongue to the same spot where the mouse is located, he could cause this too. His eyes are closed at this point, while he hastily grips and rhythms with his hand so when she cries out, his imagination runs wild and he imagines inserting himself into her. That was a mistake though because in this moment, he’s releasing his contents all over himself and the tub while he fails to cease his motion.

               Naoya’s sweet but domineering nature saved the day. While reliving old memories of when she was his prisoner, she remembers the sexual tension that made her crave him even more. While envisioning them on their sides again, she smiles to the desperation felt that consumed her, making her take him in his sleep. “Oh…Naoyaaaaa…”. It really didn’t matter what he would try with her, Elska was likely to allow him wantonly, she trusts him fully in this realm. In her sexual dream however, he’s given glowing red eyes and golden wings. He would brush her hair aside while rocking his hips while they lay there but he’d also lean down to pierce her neck. “God pleeeeassee…”, she begs the universe to at least be able to simulate what his fangs would feel like. She cries out though in real time and releases a wave of pheromones as her legs tremble, the orgasm following immediately after. She lies there panting, not having removed the mouse from her hand, nor has she budged to change her position. Her eyes take to the little mouse though while she heaves and feels her arousal seeping out, “This was actually a wonderful gift Choso!”. She smiles and feels the cold chills that are result of her thin layer of sweat. She goes to sit herself up but finds she just doesn’t have the energy in this moment. Her eyes dart open as she recalls, “CHOSO! SHIT!”, having temporarily forgotten that he was in the bathroom, only a few feet away. She sits up tensely to gather herself as the door is pushed open. She screams, “DON’T!”. She feels so ridiculous as she knew Toji’s door no longer latched.

               Choso heard her scream and although he’s a mess he launches out of the shower. “Elska! What’s wrong?!”.

               Toji stands in the doorway first inhaling the scent before noticing Elska’s position and eyes the mouse next her on the bed. The fact that she wasn’t dressed on her lower half clearly gave it away. He feels himself get a little excited but its all but crushed as a wet and naked Choso barrels out of the bathroom door. “What the f…”.

               Elska quickly covers herself before Choso has a chance to turn around but she can’t help but stare at him against her better judgement. His body is so refined and built, his lower half just as impressive. She doesn’t feel any desire to experience him but she can still appreciate a good work of art. When their eyes meet, Choso turns beet red and flails his hands in an attempt to shield them from his usually hidden parts. “I thought something was wrong!”.

               “The fact that you’re out here butt ass naked is the something that’s wrong buddy…”, Toji glares at the being and huffs. Toji points his finger toward the door and says, “Go get some fucking clothes on! What were you doing in there to still be bathing?!”. A realization hits him and he growls at the possibility that Choso was relieving himself in his shower. “How the fuck were you planning on protecting her if you were in there the entire time?!”, Toji demands an explanation.

               Choso looks away from Toji and to the floor, “Well…I was watching her still…I just multitasked.”. He can feel Toji’s presence intensify immensely and wonders if he should have just lied and apologized.

               Elska folds over in the bed and curls up in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean…he watched me do that?”, she too mortified to ask or even look at either of them.

               Naoya now walks through the door, “CHO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”. He sees Elska hiding in the bed and after seeing his friend’s bareness, freaks out. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, he runs to Elska who’s actively deflecting any interaction and he assumes the worse. “Baby! What happened?!”, He then sees the pink mouse on the bed and feels his left eye twitch. He snatches it from beside her and charges Choso, “YOU THOUGHT TO USE THIS ON HER?!”. He sees the surprise in Choso’s eyes and even through his anger, realizes that he jumped to conclusions.

               Elska understands this is taking a wrong turn so she sits up again and says, “I used it on myself! Choso was just taking a shower and bolted out here when I screamed!”.

               Naoya stops now, being only about a foot away from Choso. “Baby, what caused you to scream?”, he now looks at the toy with a raised eyebrow, ‘Could it really be that good?’. Choso’s eyes meet it too and the being blushes further.

               “She screamed when I came through the door, boy, calm down.” Toji is now pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation to the endless web of miscommunication that spins between them. He walks over to Naoya and steals the mouse. “You guys need to scram for a few. She needs to feed and I’m tired of there being a god damn peanut gallery.”.

               Choso immediately rushes into the bathroom to change as Naoya pouts while walking back to Elska. “Baby, I’m parking right next door and I’ll be back as soon as you are finished.”.

               “We actually are switching rooms tonight!” Gojo now strolls in, having listened from the hall. He comprehends everything that just happened, from the dual masturbation to the sad accusations that were pointed to Choso. If he hadn’t stayed behind though Megumi would’ve seen everything before being shooed away and that’s the only thing that bothers him. ‘Toji is going to have to handle that soon…’.

               “This is my room you silver fuck, I don’t want to move.”, Toji defends his messy territory that has suffered from the multiple people using it.

               Elska is further jolted by Satoru’s sudden appearance but calmly asks, “What are you talking about Sati?”. She’s now quickly donning her ace pants while trying her best to make it seem like she’s no longer bothered by what may have taken place with Choso. ‘I’m just glad that topic got skipped over…’.

               “We’re going to a bigger room, with a bigger bed.” Gojo winks at her as he’s still bent on proving to her that the additional company can be worked with. “But you two can still feed here, I’ll have Naoya and Choso help me set everything up!”. His eyes take to Toji, “Surely you can understand why this room’s defenses are no longer suitable…”. He glances to Elska and brings his palms up to the situation they’re in with an expression that says, “Think about it.”.

               “I swear if it’s poorly designed, I’m going to snap. Color scheme and layout is everything Gojo…”, Naoya rolls his eyes as he’s really not in the position to refuse lodging but wishes he didn’t have to share everything with his cousin and him.

               Toji howls, “You fucking broke the door in the first place you cunt!”. He never knows how far the silver shaman will go but is slowly wondering if there are any boundaries at all. Becoming further irritated, he starts to manually push everyone towards hall. “Get the fuck out!”. Naoya is still protesting to being forced to leave even as Toji shuts the door in his face, hearing his whining through the wood. “Jesus Christ…they’re such fucking handful…”.

               Elska giggles to Toji’s vexation but sits on her knees as the large man returns toward her, sitting on the bed.

               Naoya is still on the other side of the door, “Choso is in there you old fart!”.

               Toji’s eyes narrow to the bathroom but before he can say anything, Choso quickly races out with soaking hair and practically runs to the door leading to the hallway. He now sighs and slouches over on the edge of the bed, “Doll…sometimes it’s so much to navigate through…”, he looks to her, “…are you not overwhelmed by all of this?”. His hand finds it’s way to her cheek after he orients his body more towards her. They’re eyes respond to each other, him not knowing who’s began glowing first.

               “It is…a lot…”. She admits while nuzzling into his hand. “…but look at how you three loners are no longer alone.”, she means it and smiles genuinely as that part does lift her heart. She watches Toji scoot back onto the bed but to his knees and her teeth peer through her lips as she gathers he’s getting straight to it. With slow motion, she crawls over top of him until she’s perfectly seated in his lap and his arms are securing her body against him. Looking down from now overhead, she chuckles, “Just like our first time…”, and brushes his hair from his face as she happily takes in the details of his rugged features. “I’m really sorry about earlier Toji…I really wasn’t expecting Sati to take us away like that. I really wasn’t expecting any of it actually.”.

               Toji can sense her guilt and feels like he should address his prior purpose. “Doll, I was just worried Gojo was taking things too far…like before. I didn’t trust that he would have your best interest at heart which is why I was so angry.”. He lifts his chin so he can tuck her head underneath it while holding her, “I am with you no matter what, never forget that.”. Toji closes his eyes as he feels her relax and cackles, “Naoya already said he wasn’t going to do that again but I feel like Gojo will still try.”. He pulls her away and bends his neck to the side to give her full access with a smile.

               “You’re too good for me, Toji…”, she laments while eyeing his neck. Instead of immediately biting him though she turns his head back towards her for a deep and passionate meeting of the lips. He responds by send his tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper as she grips his sleek black hair with her right hand while holding his throat with her left, not even meaning to. Both of their fangs form as soon as he breaks their lustrous kiss and he again positions his head to the side as she lowers her own. She can hear him groan as her teeth skip across the skin of his neck and right as she’s about to puncture him, Satoru’s presence can be felt.

               “LOVE WAIT!” He runs over to the bed as Elska didn’t seem to even flinch. “Choso made a valid point!”, Toji’s glowing eyes finally meet his so he continues, “If Toji has Titer energy in him, this is about to be another fucking catastrophe!”.

               Toji swiftly blocks Elska from his neck and rolls over so she’s pinned to the bed, being startled by her reaction.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr

[perriewinklenerdie]

Let it snow (Ethan x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N:  Hi guys! PB keeps serving us and we sure are eating good, huh? After reading the chapter for the first time (some of you know that I've read it four times now {watch me replay it again before the next one}), I wasn't sure what to write. If you ask me, they skimmed over that scene, kinda rushed it when we all know they have the ability to do better (imma be watching you, PB, step your game up, man). 

{@terrm9​ I told you it be sooner than you think ;) hope you don’t mind the tag)

Anyway, at first I wanted to do a rewrite to do this scene justice. But after asking my gang (you know who you are, my ride or die bitches) if I should do a rewrite or a round two, they were kinda in agreement that round two sounds fun. And now we're here :D

We have some light fluff, Claire pointing out a thing or two to Ethan and smut. Let the sinning begin

This work is NSFW, you have been warned, proceed with caution.

Tag list: @paleweasels | @kittykatchoices | @valiantlychaoticbarbarian |   @radlovedreamer | @usuallyamazinglyaverage | @awhmilkywey |   @cordoniaqueensworld | @princess-geek | @faithhasnowords | @mightyfangirlofthefandoms | @drakewalkerfantasy | @timmagicktoad  @laceandlula | @greywitchyshots | @llamasgrl |  @gingerjane15 |    @marywrites-things | @ethanplaysfavorites | @mfackenthal | @betelgeusebee | @simsvetements | @owleyes374 |   @aworldoffandoms | @l822 | @cream-ray| @silverlitskies | @justendlesssummerfeels | @togetherwearerapture | @desmaranj | @edgiestwinter | @friedherringclodthing | @waytooattuned | @choicesgremlin | @lapisreviewsstuff | @writerapprentice | @chasingrobbie |      @choicesobsessedd  | @x-kyne-x | @thisperfectmemory | @drakewalker04 | @rookie-ramsey | @jlynn12273 | @thepinknymph |  @dr-brianna-casey-valentine | @a-i-n-a-a-s-h | @justanotherrookie |  @mvalentine | @starrystarrytrouble | @akshara16 |  @maurine07 |  @natzz-b |  @aylamreads  | @openheartthot | @tsrookie​ | @takemyopenheart​ | @mrsramseyy​ | @blossomanarchy​ | @thegreentwin 

Summary: Chapter 14 rewrite. Staying away from each other is going to be challenging, but while the storm is still raging on outside the window, they don’t have to worry about it just yet. (Or: round two because they can’t keep their hands off each other)

Enjoy! <3

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Ethan ran the back of his fingers over the rise and fall of Claire’s back, wordlessly basking in the afterglow of their rise of passion. He’s not sure how much time has passed, the only indication being the growing layer of snow that slowly covered the view out the window. His eyes followed the trajectory of the snowflakes, watching how they danced on the wind before disappearing.

Claire stirred in his arms a bit, falling deeper into his embrace. Their naked bodies were still pressed against one another, barely covered by the soft blanket that helped them to maintain at least a little bit of the heat. Her hand was resting comfortably right over his heart that was still pounding, its pace mirroring how fast his chest was rising and falling. Their breathing felt much louder than they actually were, silence providing a stark contrast.

“That was…” she searched for the right word to express her thoughts. To encapsulate all the emotions that roared in her mind and made her heart swell. “Different. I know it happened before, but… there was something else here.”

He nodded, deeply considering what she said. It’s like she read his mind. “I agree. Different, but in a good way. In a way that I wanted it to be for a long time now.”

Moving slightly to grant himself more freedom of movement, he leaned onto his elbow. His thumb traced her cheekbone, watching from under lowered eyelids how fire cast shadows over her face, making the usually soft lines more refined, casting a spell on him.

“Is this what you want, Claire?” he asked, vulnerability in his voice so clear and evident. Finally, after what felt like years in confinement, he freed himself from the cold grasp of his rules and fell into the warmth of her embrace. Now, he never wanted to leave, and he waited for her answer with a bated breath.

“I want more nights like tonight. Just you, and me, and nothing in between us to keep me away from you.” she confessed, muttering each and every word as she stared into his eyes, lively glimmer in her emerald irises. Delicately, she brushed back a lock that fell onto his forehead, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. “Whatever is going on between us… I don’t want it to stop.”

“I feel the same way.” Trailing away from her face, Ethan ran his hand up and down her arm, smiling softly at the effect he had on her. He held her closer, staring at the ceiling. “We’ll have to be careful, especially around June and Baz.”

“You mean no making eyes at each other across the gurney? No sneaky hand-holding beneath the diagnostics room table?” Claire grinned at him teasingly, her words causing him to look at her again in surprise.

“In what world would that be happening anyway?”

“Oh, so that part isn’t subject to make-believe?”

“My personality? Not really.” He replied, unable to fight the smile that pulled on the corners of his lips. Claire shook her head, turning in his arms and nuzzling her nose against the column of his neck, kissing him everywhere she could reach.

“Then I’ll just have to enjoy the moments when no one else is there to see us.”

“I’d like that.”

“Even if June and Baz already suspect something.” She added, waiting to see his reaction. His movements halted, breath getting caught in his throat. She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was waiting for her next words with panic in his eyes. “You’re not as smooth as you think you are.”

Noticing humor in her words, he relaxed almost entirely. “Excuse me, I like to think I’m very good at ‘being smooth’” he laughed, offended by her insinuations. Her giggle made her whole body shake.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” sneakily, she moved her hand slowly, then pinched his ribs, causing him to jerk away with a shriek. He stared at her with mock betrayal, attacking her right back, tickling her mercilessly until tears ran down her face from laughing so much. “Okay, okay, stop!”

They took a moment to let their breaths get back to normal again, all the while keeping their eyes locked on each other. The atmosphere in the room gradually changed, morphing into a more serious one when he sighed heavily, contentment mixing with something more muted.

“I meant what I said at the start of the year.” He began, leaning away so their eyes could meet. “I won’t jeopardize your professional development. Or your reputation.”

All traces of humor were gone, seriousness palpable in the way he spoke, in the way he looked at her, in the strong comfort and conviction in his hold on her. Holding his face in her hands, she stroked his cheeks as she spoke.

“I don’t want you to suffer, either.” All the unsaid words and unexpressed emotions were flowing between them, through them and around them. No words had to be spoken; they both felt it. “So when we’re at work, we’re nothing but colleagues. And when we’re alone, we’re…” she trailed off, smirking suggestively.

“Whatever we want to be.” He finished, choosing this exact word combination. It wasn’t a confession, at least not exactly, but they had time; they’d get there. He’d get there.

Claire pecked his lips a few times, playful and carefree. His fingers caressed her chin as the kiss deepened, slowly but surely stealing her breath. His body pressed against hers hard and with clear purpose, the kiss breaking when a shuddered moan escaped her.

“You don’t seem tired.”

“That’s because I’m not” Ethan grinned, grabbing her hips and helping her roll on top of him, their bodies brushing against each other once more. Laughter that was there when he moved her has now vanished, focus occupying her features. Steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders, she looked down at him fervently.

“Then we should do something about it. God forbid you losing sleep at night.”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.” He panted, letting his hands run up her sides, cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed against her nipples, eliciting a soft sigh from her, the sensation making her whole body come alive. He pinched the sensitive skin just to get a reaction out of her, her mind kicking into a higher gear when his hips rose up to meet hers, nothing between them to quell the feeling.

“I like losing sleep with you.” Claire whispered, the only thing she managed to do when he was stimulating her in so many ways. Ethan’s grin could light up the room alone.

“Yeah?”

“False humbleness isn’t a good look on you.”

She grabbed his shoulders more firmly, pulling him up so he’d sit. Their hips met with more force than either of them anticipated, groans that slipped past their lips mixing into a symphony. With new position came new possibilities. Ethan didn’t waste even a second of their time, licking around her right nipple, continuing ministrations on the other breast with his hand.

Claire’s head fell backwards, fingers twisting in his hair in an attempt to keep herself grounded. Grazing his teeth over her skin, he continuously sent sparks through her that reached the farthest ends of her body. His mouth latched onto her, working her without letting her catch a break. Pushing her further and further, their hips rolling and pressing against each other in a tantalizing manner.

“Ethan…” her high-pitched moan bounced off the walls, sending a shiver down his spine. Ethan hummed, vibrations enhancing the pleasure he was giving her.

“I love it when you say my name.” he leaned away enough to speak his mind, then immediately went back to his previous task, determined to make her come, again and again. He wrapped his unoccupied arm around her, pressing her down onto him, willing himself not to fall with her just yet. With so much time on their hands, they could have their fun all night.

Her hips were moving against his frantically, chasing the release that was so close that she could almost taste it. She pulled on his hair, her grip vicelike, making him groan, seemingly helplessly. Red-hot desire surged through her veins when she came, a broken string of loud sounds falling from her lips before she could stop herself. Ethan helped her ride it out, abandoning teasing her breast in favor of watching her face as she said his name, over and over again.

Eventually, she fell forward, her forehead resting against his, her breathing elevated yet again. His hands stroked the skin of her back, soothing the places in which he was holding her close to him. When her eyes opened, he saw cheeky spark in them.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Claire said smugly, twirling a strand of his hair around her finger. He nodded, enchanted with her words. In that moment, she could ask him to jump into the fire with her and he’d do it.

“I don’t intend on the night ending here either.”

Her hands slid down his body, grazing his skin with her nails as she went. Muscles contracted at the sensation, his breaths getting shallow, the anticipation of what was going to happen next driving him wild.

Claire lifted her hips a bit, making room for her hand to trace the lines of Ethan’s legs and hips. She massaged his thighs, her knuckles brushing against his length from time to time, slowly but surely making him lose his mind. He was about to protest, to beg her to touch him, when she palmed him delicately.

A choked grumble filled the room, his hips snapping up to press her closer. Claire shook her head, smirking at his impatience, then pressed downwards to keep him in place. Her intention didn’t matter though, because he achieved exactly what he wanted, reveling in the feeling of her fingers against him.

She grabbed his chin and turned his head so they were face to face, then slammed their lips together. At the exact same moment, she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed him gently, his hiss of satisfaction getting drowned out in the kiss that only climbed in intensity, taking them both higher.

Slowly, she pumped her hand, up and down, establishing a punishingly intense rhythm. At first he tried to control his reactions, but his reason soon flew out the window, triggered by the way she twisted her wrist with each stroke.

Needing to do something to distract himself and prevent ending it all too quickly, he nudged her legs, prompting her to open them wider, and brushed his middle finger against her folds. Initially, she jerked away from his touch, still sensitive from her last high, but after a few of his touches, she began to match the movement of her hips and her hand on him with his ministrations, synchronizing them into a deliciously torturing sensation.

Up until this point, they both managed to remain relatively quiet. Then his thumb brushed over her clit, back and forth, in circles, and a moan slipped past her lips. Determined to hear that sound again, and again, he ran the tip of his finger along her entrance, then pushed it inside, teasing her just enough to make her want to combust. Pressing the rest of the way, he moved it a bit in a variety of directions, guided by the sounds she was making, stimulating her further with insistent touches applied to the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

His actions inspired her own, her strokes becoming hurried and intense, her thumb caressing the tip in just the way that made him groan in appreciation. They wouldn’t last long like that; of that he was sure. He felt her inner muscles contracting around his fingers, a clear indication of just how close to the release she was, but the look on her face spelled out resolve. Resolve to make this last, even if only for a moment longer.

She broke the kiss, then pulled him by the strands at the back of his head, making their eyes meet and lock in an intense gaze. Guiding him to her entrance, she muttered his name, waiting for confirmation, that that was what he wanted, to appear in his eyes. Mixed with desire, she saw longing and tenderness; that, accompanied by a firm nod he gave her, was the confirmation she needed.

Ethan moved his hands to her hips, stroking her hipbones as she sank down onto him. His lips parted slightly, panting heavily at the heavenly sensations she was subjecting him to. The sounds Claire was making were bordering on being mute, at least at first, as she still tried to keep her voice down. Ultimately, they both failed, as their last-ditch effort to remain quiet fell short after a few seconds.

Her first movement is anything but slow and cautious. With how worked up they both are, it’s a miracle that it hasn’t ended the moment he entered her. As soon as they’re both comfortable, she begins to rise and fall, assisted by his hands, rolling her slightly from side to side every time she goes down. The lock in which their gazes were up until his point is broken when she presses him closer to her, gripping his hair tightly and pulling on it with every thrust his hips make, meeting her halfway.

“Don’t stop.” He growled, attacking her neck with hot and lingering kisses, biting her skin and soothing it with his tongue. Claire grinned, moaning his name louder than before, rising and then slamming all the way down with full force. And again, repeatedly pushing them towards the sweet release that began to dance at the tips of their nerve endings.

Her free hand skimmed over the pronounced muscles of his ribcage, then slid onto his shoulder blade. The pleasure was beginning to overwhelm her, at the same time being not enough. His lips attached to her pulse point and sucked, gently at first, then more insistently, making her almost sure that there would be a mark. In return, partially caused by the way his hips thrusted at a new angle, her nails dug into his back, leaving red skid marks when she moved her hand lower.

Pain enhanced pleasure, pushing him even closer to her and to the tipping point. His fingers gripped her long hair and pulled on it as the strands wrapped around his wrist, allowing his kisses to return to her lips, a futile effort to keep their cries at bay. He should have known that with the amount of time that they were apart for, and with her by his side, there was no way either of them could keep quiet.

As her inner muscles contracted around his length, it became apparent to him that it was all going to be over in a matter of moments. Unable to hold himself back any more than he did up until this point, he broke the kiss so that he could look at her when it all fell down.

“Look at me.” he pleaded, holding his breath until she opened her eyes, irises so dark and enticing, making it impossible to look away. Nose to nose, they stared into each other’s eyes, racing towards their climax recklessly.

She squeezed him again, coming a second later, crying his name into the stillness of the night. His frantic movements expressed just how desperately he searched for release, while he helped her ride out the bursts of energy that sent her into overdrive. Claire never ceased to move, even after the initial sensation subsided, gripping his face with her hands and slamming their lips together.

“Come, Ethan.” She muttered against his mouth, letting him guide her in the direction he needed her in. Growling her name, his voice filled with need and adoration, he finally followed her, moaning frantically with each blinding spark of pleasure.

He fell into her arms, spent and out of breath, pressing sweet kisses to her collarbone lazily. Claire brushed his hair back, gazing wordlessly at the wall. The contrast between the atmosphere in the room now and only moments ago is astounding; she wouldn’t believe anything happened if it wasn’t for her racing heart, heavy breathing and the warm buzzing feeling in her whole body.

“Let’s hope Baz and June aren’t nearby. We weren’t exactly discreet.” She muttered, reminiscing how not-quiet they were, right after deciding that they had to be careful around the two doctors they worked with.

“Practice makes perfect.” He replied in an equally muted voice, somehow managing to put some humor into his it, despite words blending together from how tired he was.

Ethan retreated onto the bed, pulling out before gathering her in his arms, keeping her head at the same level as his so he could kiss her at any given moment. She stroked the side of his face, smiling softly at how comfortable they both were in their new reality.

“This is more than normal plus, you know?” she joked, making him laugh lightly. Gazing into her eyes, he could imagine thousands of nights, just like this one, that they had ahead of them. At the same time, he didn’t know how in the hell was he going to keep his wandering mind and impatient hands at bay when she was so near that he could touch her, but so far because of all the people around them that could see it.

“You’ll never get anything less than that.” He promised, pulling the covers over them and letting her warmth and the sound of hear breathing lull him to sleep.

[armageddon-generation]

Articulating Why His Dark Materials is Badly Written

A long essay-thing with lots of specific examples and explanations of why I feel this way. Hopefully I’ve kept fanboy bitching to a minimum.

This isn’t an attack on fans of the show, nor a personal attack on Jack Thorne. I’m not looking to ruin anyone’s enjoyment of the show, I just needed to properly articulate, with examples, why I struggle with it. I read and love the books and that colours my view, but I believe that HDM isn’t just a clumsy, at-best-functional, sometimes incompetent adaptation, it’s a bad TV show separate from its source material. The show is the blandest, least interesting and least engaging version of itself it could be.

His Dark Materials has gorgeous production design and phenomenal visual effects. It's well-acted. The score is great. But my god is it badly written. Jack Thorne writing the entire first season damned the show. There was no-one to balance out his flaws and biases. Thorne is checking off a list of plot-points, so concerned with manoeuvring the audience through the story he forgets to invest us in it. The scripts are mechanical, empty, flat.

Watching HDM feels like an impassioned fan earnestly lecturing you on why the books are so good- (Look! It's got other worlds and religious allegory and this character Lyra is really, really important I swear. Isn't Mrs Coulter crazy? The Gyptians are my favourites.) rather than someone telling the story naturally.

My problems fall into 5 main categories:

Exposition- An unwillingness to meaningfully expand the source material for a visual medium means Thorne tells and doesn't show crucial plot-points. He then repeats the same thing multiple times because he doesn't trust his audience

Pacing- By stretching out the books and not trusting his audience Thorne dedicates entire scenes to one piece of information and repeats himself constantly (see: the Witches' repetition of the prophecy in S2).

Narrative priorities- Thorne prioritises human drama over fantasy. This makes sense budgetarily, but leads to barely-present Daemons, the Gyptians taking up too much screentime, rushed/badly written Witches (superpowers, exposition) and Bears (armourless bear fight), and a Lyra more focused on familial angst than the joy of discovery

Tension and Mystery- because HDM is in such a hurry to set up its endgame it gives you the answers to S1's biggest mysteries immediately- other worlds, Lyra's parents, what happens to the kids etc. This makes the show less engaging and feel like it's playing catch-up to the audience, not the other way around.

Tonal Inconsistency- HDM tries to be a slow-paced, grounded, adult drama, but its blunt, simplistic dialogue and storytelling methods treat the audience like children that need to be lectured.

MYSTERY, SUSPENSE AND INTRIGUE

The show undercuts all the books’ biggest mysteries. Mrs Coulter is set up as a villain before we meet her, other worlds are revealed in 1x2, Lyra's parents by 1x3, what the Magesterium do to kids is spelled out long before Lyra finds Billy (1x2). I understand not wanting to lose new viewers, but neutering every mystery kills momentum and makes the show much less engaging.

This extends to worldbuilding. The text before 1x1 explains both Daemons and Lyra's destiny before we meet her. Instead of encouraging us to engage with the world and ask questions, we're given all the answers up front and told to sit back and let ourselves be spoon-fed. The viewer is never an active participant, never encouraged to theorise or wonder

 Intrigue motivated you to engage with Pullman's philosophical themes and concepts. Without it, HDM feels like a lecture, a theme park ride and not a journey.

The only one of S1's mysteries left undiminished is 'what is Dust?', which won't be properly answered until S3, and that answer is super conceptual and therefore hard to make dramatically satisfying

TONAL INCONSISTENCY

HDM billed itself as a HBO-level drama, and was advertised as a GoT inheritor. It takes itself very seriously- the few attempts at humour are stilted and out of place

The production design is deliberately subdued, most notably choosing a mid-twentieth century aesthetic for Lyra’s world over the late-Victorian of the books or steampunk of the movie. The colour grading would be appropriate for a serious adult drama. 

Reviewers have said this stops the show feeling as fantastical as it should. It also makes Lyra’s world less distinct from our own. 

Most importantly, minimising the wondrous fantasy of S1 neuters its contrast with the escalating thematic darkness of the finale (from 1x5 onwards), and the impact of Roger’s death. Pullman's books are an adult story told through the eyes of a child. Lyra’s innocence and naivety in the first book is the most important journey of the trilogy. Instead, the show starts serious and thematically heavy (we’re told Lyra has world-saving importance before we even meet her) and stays that way.

Contrasting the serious tone, grounded design and poe-faced characters, the dialogue is written to cater to children. It’s horrendously blunt and pulls you out of scenes. Subtext is obliterated at every opportunity. Even in the most recent episode, 2x7, Pan asks Lyra ‘do you think you’re changing because of Will?’

I cannot understate how on the nose this line is, and how much it undercuts the themes of the final book. Instead of even a meaningful shot of Lyra looking at Will, the show treats the audience like complete idiots. 

So, HDM looks and advertises itself like an adult drama and is desperate to be taken seriously by wearing its big themes on its sleeve from the start instead of letting them evolve naturally out of subtext like the books, and dedicating lots of scenes to Mrs Coulter's self-abuse 

At the same time its dialogue and character writing is comparable to the Star Wars prequels, more childish than media aimed at a similar audience - Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Avatar the Last Airbender etc

DAEMONS

The show gives itself a safety net by explaining Daemons in an opening text-crawl, and so spends less time showing the mechanics of the Daemon-human bond. On the HDM subreddit, I’ve seen multiple people get to 1x5 or 6, and then come to reddit asking basic questions like ‘why do only some people have Daemons?’ or ‘Why are Daemons so important?’.

It’s not that the show didn’t answer these questions; it was in the opening text-crawl. It’s just the show thinks telling you is enough and never shows evidence to back that up. Watching a TV show you remember what you’re shown much easier than what you’re told 

The emotional core of Northern Lights is the relationship between Lyra and Pan. The emotional core of HDM S1 is the relationship between Lyra and Mrs Coulter. This wouldn't be bad- it's a fascinating dynamic Ruth plays wonderfully- if it didn't override the Daemons

Daemons are only onscreen when they serve a narrative purpose. Thorne justifies this because the books only describe Daemons when they tell us about their human. On the page your brain fills the Daemons in. This doesn't work on-screen; you cannot suspend your disbelief when their absence is staring you in the face

Thorne clarified the number of Daemons as not just budgetary, but a conscious creative choice to avoid onscreen clutter. This improved in S2 after vocal criticism.

Mrs Coulter/the Golden Monkey and Lee/Hester have well-drawn relationships in S1, but Pan and Lyra hug more in the 2-hour Golden Compass movie than they do in the 8-hour S1 of HDM. There's barely any physical contact with Daemons at all.

They even cut Pan and Lyra's hug after escaping the Cut in Bolvangar. In the book they can't let go of each other. The show skips it completely because Thorne wants to focus on Mrs Coulter and Lyra.

They cut Pan and Lyra testing how far apart they can be. They cut Lyra freeing the Cut Daemons in Bolvangar with the help of Kaisa. We spent extra time with both Roger and Billy Costa, but didn't develop their bonds with their Daemons- the perfect way to make the Cut more impactful

I don't need every single book scene in the show, but notice that all these cut scenes reinforced how important Daemons are. For how plodding the show is. you'd think they could spare time for these moments instead of inventing new conversations that tell us the information they show

Daemons are treated as separate beings and thus come across more like talking pets than part of a character

The show sets the rules of Daemons up poorly. In 1x2, Lyra is terrified by the Monkey being so far from Coulter, but the viewer has nothing to compare it to. We’re retroactively told in that this is unnatural when the show has yet to establish what ‘natural’ is.

The guillotine blueprint in 1x2 (‘Is that a human and his Daemon, Pan? It looks like it.’ / ‘A blade. To cut what?’) is idiotic. It deflates S1’s main mystery and makes the characters look stupid for not figuring out what they aren’t allowed to until they did in the source material, it also interferes with how the audience sees Daemons. In the book, Cutting isn’t revealed until two-thirds of the way in (1x5). By then we’ve spent a lot of time with Daemons, they’ve become a background part of the world, their ‘rules’ have been established, and we’re endeared to them.

By showing the Guillotine and putting Daemons under threat in the second episode, the show never lets us grow attached. This, combined with their selective presence in scenes, draws attention to Daemons as a plot gimmick and not a natural extension of characters. Like Lyra, the show tells us why Daemons are important before we understand them.

Billy Costa's fate falls flat. It's missing the dried fish/ fake Daemon Tony Markos clings to in the book. Thorne said this 'didn't work' on the day, but it worked in the film. Everyone yelling about Billy not having a Daemon is laughable when most of the background extras in the same scene don't have Daemons themselves

WITCHES

The Witches are the most common complaint about the show. Thorne changed Serafina Pekkala in clever, logical ways (her short hair, wrist-knives and cloud pine in the skin)

The problem is how Serafina is written. The Witches are purely exposition machines. We get no impression of their culture, their deep connection to nature, their understanding of the world. We are told it. It is never shown, never incorporated into the dramatic action of the show.

Thorne emphasises Serafina's warrior side, most obviously changing Kaisa from a goose into a gyrfalcon (apparently a goose didn't work on-screen)

Serafina single-handedly slaughtering the Tartars is bad in a few ways. It paints her as bloodthirsty and ruthless. Overpowering the Witches weakens the logic of the world (If they can do that, why do they let the Magesterium bomb them unchallenged in 2x2?). It strips the Witches of their subtlety and ambiguity for the sake of cinematic action.

A side-effect of Serafina not being with her clan at Bolvangar is limiting our exposure to the Witches. Serafina is the only one invested in the main plot, we only hear about them from what she tells us. This poor set-up weakens the Witch subplot in S2

Lyra doesn’t speak to Serafina until 2x6. She laid eyes on her once in S1.

The dialogue in the S2’s Witch subplot is comparable to the Courasant section of The Phantom Menace. 

Two named characters, neither with any depth (Serafina and Coram's dead son developed him far more than her). The costumes look ostentatious and hokey- the opposite of what the Witches should be. They do nothing but repeat the same exposition at each other, even in 2x7.

We feel nothing when the Witches are bombed because the show never invests us in what is being destroyed- with the amount of time wasted on long establishing shots, there’s not one when Lee Scoresby is talking to the Council.

BEARS

Like the Witches; Thorne misunderstands and rushes the fantasy elements of the story. The 2007 movie executed both Iofur's character and the Bear Fight much better than the show- bloodless jaw-swipe and all

Iofur's court was not the parody of human court in the books. He didn't have his fake-Daemon (hi, Billy)

An armourless bear fight is like not including Pan in the cutting scene. After equating Iorek's armour to a Daemon (Lee does this- we don’t even learn how important it is from Iorek himself, and the comparison meant less because of how badly the show set up Daemons) the show then cuts the plotpoint that makes the armour plot-relevant. This diminishes all of Bear society. Like Daemons, we're told Iorek's armour is important but it's never shown to be more than a cool accessory

GYPTIANS

Gyptians suffer from Hermoine syndrome. Harry Potter screenwriter Steve Kloves' favourite character was Hermione, and so Film!Hermoine lost most of Book!Hermoine's flaws and gained several of Book!Ron's best moments. The Gyptians are Jack Thorne's favourite group in HDM and so they got the extra screentime and development that the more complicated groups/concepts like Witches, Bears, and Daemons (which, unlike the Gyptians, carry over to other seasons amd are more important to the overall story) needed

At the same time, he changes them from a private people into an Isle of Misfit Toys. TV!Ma Costa promises they'll ‘make a Gyptian woman out of Lyra yet’, but in the book Ma specifically calls Lyra out for pretending to be Gyptian, and reminds her she never can be.

This small moment indicates how, while trying to make the show more grounded and 'adult', Thorne simultaneously made it more saccharine and sentimental. He neuters the tragedy of the Cut kids when Ma Costa says they’ll become Gyptians. Pullman's books feel like an adult story told through the eyes of a child. The TV show feels like a child's story masquerading as a serious drama.

LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA

Let me preface this by saying I genuinely really enjoy the performances in the show. It was shot in the foot by The Golden Compass' perfect casting.

The most contentious/'miscast' actor among readers is LMM. Thorne ditched the books' wise Texan for a budget Han Solo. LMM isn't a great dramatic actor (even in Hamilton he was the weak link performance-wise) but he makes up for it in marketability- lots of people tried the show because of him

Readers dislike that LMM's Lee is a thief and a scoundrel, when book-Lee is so moral he and Hester argue about stealing. Personally, I like the change in concept. Book!Lee's parental love for Lyra just appears. It's sweet, but not tied to a character arc. Done right, Lyra out-hustling Lee at his own game and giving him a noble cause to fight for (thus inspiring the moral compass of the books) is a more compelling arc.

DAFNE KEENE AND LYRA

I thought Dafne would be perfect casting. Her feral energy in Logan seemed a match made in heaven. Then Jack Thorne gave her little to do with it.

Compare how The Golden Compass introduced Lyra, playing Kids and Gobblers with a group of Gyptian kids, including Billy Costa. Lyra and Roger are chased to Jordan by the Gyptians and she makes up a lie about a curse to scare the Gyptians away.

In one scene the movie set up: 1) the Gobblers (the first we hear of them in the show is in retrospect, Roger worrying AFTER Billy is taken) 2) Lyra’s pre-existing relationship with the Gyptians (not in the show), 3) Friendship with Billy Costa (not in the book or show) 4) Lyra’s ability to befriend and lead groups of people, especially kids, and 5) Lyra’s ability to lie impressively

By comparison, it takes until midway through 1x2 for TV!Lyra to tell her first lie, and even then it’s a paper-thin attempt. 

The show made Roger Lyra’s only friend. This artificially heightens the impact of Roger's death, but strips Lyra of her leadership qualities and ability to befriend anyone. 

Harry Potter fans talk about how Book!Harry is funnier and smarter than Film!Harry. They cut his best lines ('There's no need to call me sir, Professor') and made him blander and more passive. The same happened to Lyra.

Most importantly, Lyra is not allowed to lie for fun. She can't do anything 'naughty' without being scolded. This colours the few times Lyra does lie (e.g. to Mrs Coulter in 1x2) negatively and thus makes Lyra out to be more of a brat than a hero.

This is a problem with telling Northern Lights from an outside, 'adult' perspective- to most adults Lyra is a brat. Because we’re introduced to her from inside her head, we think she's great. It's only when we meet her through Will's eyes in The Subtle Knife and she's filthy, rude and half-starved that we realise Lyra bluffs her way through life and is actually pretty non-functional

Thorne prioritises grounded human drama over fantasy, and so his Lyra has her love of bears and witches swapped for familial angst. (and, in S2. angst over Roger). By exposing Mrs Coulter as her mother early, Thorne distracts TV!Lyra from Book!Lyra’s love of the North. The contrast between wonder and reality made NL's ending a definitive threshold between innocence and knowledge. Thorne showed his hand too early.

Similarly, TV!Lyra doesn’t have anywhere near as strong an admiration for Lord Asriel. She calls him out in 1x8 (‘call yourself a Father’), which Book!Lyra never would because she’s proud to be his child. From her perspective, at this point Asriel is the good parent.

TV!Lyra’s critique of Asriel feels like Thorne using her as a mouthpiece to voice his own, adult perspective on the situation. Because Lyra is already disappointed in Asriel, his betrayal in the finale isn’t as effective. Pullman saves the ‘you’re a terrible Father’ call-out for the 3rd book for a reason; Lyra’s naive hero-worship of Asriel in Northern Lights makes the fall from Innocence into Knowledge that Roger’s death represents more effective.  

So, on TV Lyra is tamer, angstier, more introverted, less intelligent, less fun and more serious. We're just constantly told she's important, even before we meet her.

MRS COULTER (AND LORD ASRIEL)

Mrs Coulter is the main character of the show. Not Lyra. Mrs Coulter was cast first, and Lyra was cast based on a chemistry test with Ruth Wilson. Coulter’s character is given lots of extra development, where the show actively strips Lyra of her layers.

To be clear, I have no problem with developing Mrs Coulter. She is a great character Ruth Wilson plays phenomenally. I do have a problem with the show fixating on her at the expense of other characters.

Lyra's feral-ness is given to her parents. Wilson and McAvoy are more passionate than in the books. This is fun to watch, but strips them of subtlety- you never get Book!Coulter's hypnotic allure from Wilson, she's openly nasty, even to random strangers (in 2x3 her dismissal of the woman at the hotel desk felt like a Disney villain). 

Compare how The Golden Compass (2007) introduced Mrs Coulter through Lyra’s eyes, with light, twinkling music and a sparkling dress. By contrast, before the show introduces Coulter it tells us she’s associated with the evil Magisterium plotting Asriel’s death- “Not a word to any of our mutual friends. Including her.” Then she’s introduced striding down a corridor to imposing ‘Bad Guy’ strings.

Making Mrs Coulter’s villainy so obvious so early makes Lyra look dumber for falling for it. It also wastes an interesting phase of her character arc. Coulter is rushed into being a ’conflicted evil mother’ in 2 episodes, and stays in that phase for the rest of the show so far. Character progression is minimised because she circles the same place.

It makes her one-note. It's a good note (so much of the positive online chatter is saphiccs worshiping Ruth Wilson) but the show also worships her to the point of hindrance- e.g. take a shot every time Coulter walks slow-motion down a corridor in 2x2

The problem isn’t the performances, but how prematurely they give the game away. Just like the mysteries around Bolvangar and Lyra’s parentage. Neither Coulter or Asriel have much chance to use their 'public' faces. 

This is part of a bigger pacing problem- instead of rolling plot points out gradually, Thorne will stick the solution in front of you early and then stall for time until it becomes relevant. Instead of building tension this builds frustration and makes the show feel like it's catching up to the audience. This also makes the characters less engaging. You've already shown Mrs Coulter is evil/Boreal is in our world/Asriel wants Roger. Why are you taking so long getting to the point?

PACING AND EDITING

This show takes forever to make its point badly.

Scenes in HDM tend to operate on one level- either 'Character Building,' 'Exposition,' or 'Plot Progression'.

E.g. Mary's introduction in 2x2. Book!Mary only listens to Lyra because she’s sleep and caffeine-deprived and desperate because her funding is being cut. But the show stripped that subtext out and created an extra scene of a colleague talking to Mary about funding. They removed emotional subtext to focus on exposition, and so the scene felt empty and flat.

In later episodes characters Mary’s sister and colleagues do treat her like a sleep-deprived wreck. But, just like Lyra’s lying, the show doesn’t establish these characteristics in her debut episode. It waits until later to retroactively tell us they were there. Mary’s colleague saying ‘What we’re dealing with here is the fact that you haven’t slept in weeks’ is as flimsy as Pan joking not lying to Mary will be hard for Lyra.

Rarely does a scene work on multiple levels, and if it does it's clunky- see the exposition dump about Daemon Separation in the middle of 2x2's Witch Trial.

He also splits plot progression into tiny doses, which destroys pacing. It's more satisfying to focus on one subplot advancing multiple stages than all of them shuffling forward half a step each episode.

Subplots would be more effective if all the scenes played in sequence. As it is, plotlines can’t build momentum and literal minutes are wasted using the same establishing shots every time we switch location.

The best-structured episodes of S1 are 1x4, 1x6, and 1x8. This is because they have the fewest subplots (incidentally these episodes have least Boreal in them) and so the main plot isn’t diluted by constantly cutting away to Mrs Coulter sniffing Lyra’s coat or Will watching a man in a car through his window, before cutting back again. 

The best-written episode so far is 2x5. The Scholar. Tellingly, it’s the only episode Thorne doesn’t have even a co-writing credit on. 2x5 is well-paced, its dialogue is more naturalistic, it’s more focused, it even has time for moments of whimsy (Monkey with a seatbelt, Mrs Coulter with jeans, Lyra and Will whispering) that don’t detract from the story.

Structurally, 2x5  works because A) it benches Lee’s plotline. B) The Witches and Magisterium are relegated to a scene each. And C) the Coulter/Boreal and Lyra/Will subplots move towards the same goal. Not only that, but when we check in on Mary’s subplot it’s through Mrs Coulter’s eyes and directly dovetails into the  main action of the episode.

2x5 has a lovely sense of narrative cohesion because it has the confidence to sit with one set of characters for longer than two scenes at a time.

HDM also does this thing where it will have a scene with plot A where characters do or talk about something, cut away to plot B for a scene, then cut back to plot A where the characters talk about what happened in their last scene and painstakingly explain how they feel about it and why

Example: Pan talking to Will in 2x7 while Lyra pretends to be asleep. This scene is from the 3rd book, and is left to breathe for many chapters before Lyra brings it up. In the show after the Will/Pan scene they cut away to another scene, then cut back and Lyra instantly talks about it.

There’s the same problem in 2x5: After escaping Mrs Coulter, Lyra spells out how she feels about acting like her

The show never leaves room for implication, never lets us draw our own conclusions before explaining what it meant and how the characters feel about it immediately afterwards. The audience are made passive in their engagement with the characters as well as the world    

LORD BOREAL, JOHN PARRY AND DIMINISHING RETURNS

At first, Boreal’s subplot in S1 felt bold and inspired. The twist of his identity in The Subtle Knife would've been hard to pull off onscreen anyway. As a kid I struggled to get past Will's opening chapter of TSK and I have friends who were the same. Introducing Will in S1 and developing him alongside Lyra was a great idea.

I loved developing Elaine Parry and Boreal into present, active characters. But the subplot was introduced too early and moved too slowly, bogging down the season.

In 1x2 Boreal crosses. In 1x3 we learn who he's looking for. In 1x5 we meet Will. In 1x7 the burglary. 1 episode worth of plot is chopped up and fed to us piecemeal across many. Boreal literally stalls for two episodes before the burglary- there are random 30 second shots of him sitting in a car watching John Parry on YouTube (videos we’d already seen) completely isolated from any other scenes in the episode

By the time we get to S2 we've had 2 seasons of extended material building up Boreal, so when he just dies like in the books it's anticlimactic. The show frontloads his subplot with meaning without expanding on its payoff, so the whole thing fizzles out. 

Giving Boreal, the secondary villain in literally every episode, the same death as a background character in about 5 scenes in the novels feels cheap. It doesn’t help that, after 2x5 built the tension between Coulter and Boreal so well, as soon as Thorne is passed the baton in 2x6 he does little to maintain that momentum. Again, because the subplot is crosscut with everything else the characters hang in limbo until Coulter decides to kill him.

I’ve been watching non-book readers react to the show, and several were underwhelmed by Boreal’s quick, unceremonious end. 

Similarly, the show builds up John Parry from 1x3 instead of just the second book. Book!John’s death is an anticlimax but feels narratively justified. In the show, we’ve spent so much extra time talking about him and then being with him (without developing his character beyond what’s in the novels- Pullman even outlined John’s backstory in The Subtle Knife’s appendix. How hard would it be to add a flashback or two?) that when John does nothing in the show and then dies (he doesn’t even heal Will’s fingers like in the book- only tell him to find Asriel, which the angels Baruch and Balthamos do anyway) it doesn’t feel like a clever, tragic subversion of our expectations, it feels like a waste that actively cheapens the audience’s investment.

TL;DR giving supporting characters way more screentime than they need only, to give their deaths the same weight the books did after far less build up makes huge chunks of the show feel less important than they were presented to be. 

FRUSTRATINGLY LIMITED EXPANSION AND NOVELLISTIC STORYTELLING

Thorne is unwilling to meaningfully develop or expand characters and subplots to fit a visual medium. He introduces a plot-point, invents unnecessary padding around it, circles it for an hour, then moves on.

Pullman’s books are driven by internal monologue and big, complex theological concepts like Daemons and Dust. Instead of finding engaging, dynamic ways to dramatise these concepts through the actions of characters or additions to the plot, Thorne turns Pullman’s internal monologue into dialogue and has the characters explain them to the audience

The novels’ perspective on its characters is narrow, first because Northern Lights is told only from Lyra’s POV, and second because Pullman’s writing is plot-driven, not character-driven. Characters are vessels for the plot and themes he wants to explore.

This is a fine way of writing novels. When adapting the books into a longform drama, Thorne decentralised Lyra’s perspective from the start, and HDM S1 uses the same multi-perspective structure that The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass do, following not only Lyra but the Gyptians, Mrs Coulter, Boreal, Will and Elaine etc

However, these other perspectives are limited. We never get any impression of backstory or motivation beyond the present moment. Many times I’ve seen non-book readers confused or frustrated by vague or non-existent character motivations.

For example, S1 spends a lot of time focused on Ma Costa’s grief over Billy’s disappearance, but we never see why she’s sad, because we never saw her interact with Billy.

Compare this to another show about a frantic mother and older brother looking for a missing boy. Stranger Things uses only two flashbacks to show us Will Byers’ relationships with his family: 1) When Joyce Byers looks in his Fort she remembers visiting Will there. 2) The Clash playing on the radio reminds Jonathan Byers of introducing Will to the song.

In His Dark Materials we never see the Costas as a happy family- 1x1’s Gyptian ceremony focuses on Tony and Daemon-exposition. Billy never speaks to his mum or brother in the show 

Instead we have Ma Costa’s empty grief. The audience has to do the work (the bad kind) imagining what she’s lost. Instead of seeing Billy, it’s just repeated again and again that they will get the children back.

If we’re being derivative, HDM had the chance to segway into a Billy flashback when John Faa brings one of his belongings back from a Gobbler safehouse in 1x2. This is a perfect The Clash/Fort Byers-type trigger. It doesn’t have to be long- the Clash flashback lasted 1:27, the Fort Byers one 55 seconds. Just do something.

1x3 beats into us that Mrs Coulter is nuts without explaining why. Lots of build-up for a single plot-point. Then we're told Mrs Coulter's origin, not shown. This is a TV show. Swap Boreal's scenes for flashbacks of Coulter and Asriel's affair. Then, when Ma Costa tells Lyra the truth, show the fight between Edward Coulter and Asriel.

To be clear, Thorne's additions aren’t fundamentally bad. For example, Will boxing sets up his struggle with violence. But it's wasted. The burglary/murder in 1x7 fell flat because of bad editing, but the show never uses its visual medium to show Will's 'violent side'- no change in camera angle, focus, or sound design, nothing. It’s just a thing that’s there, unsupported by the visual language of the show

The Magisterium scenes in 2x2 were interesting. We just didn't need 5 of them; their point could be made far more succinctly.

In 2x6 there is a minute-long scene of Mary reading the I Ching. Later, there is another scene of Angelica watching Mary sitting somewhere different, doing the SAME THING, and she sees an Angel. Why split these up? It’s not like either the I Ching or the Angels are being introduced here. Give the scene multiple layers.

Thorne either takes good character moments from the books (Lyra/Will in 2x1) or uses heavy-handed exposition that reiterates the same point multiple times. This hobbles the Witches (their dialogue in 2x1, 2 and 3 literally rephrases the same sentiment about protecting Lyra without doing anything). Even character development- see Lee monologuing his and Mrs Coulter's childhood trauma in specific detail in 2x3

This is another example of Thorne adding something, but instead of integrating it into the dramatic action and showing us, it’s just talked about. What’s the point of adding big plot points if you don’t dramatise them in your dramatic, visual medium? In 2x8, Lee offhandedly mentions playing Alamo Gulch as a kid.

I’m literally screaming, Jack, why the flying fuck wasn’t there a flashback of young Lee and Hester playing Alamo Gulch and being stopped by his abusive dad? It’s not like you care about pacing with the amount of dead air in these episodes, even when S2’s run 10 minutes shorter than S1’s. Lee was even asleep at the beginning of 2x3, Jack! He could’ve woken from a nightmare about his childhood! It’s a little lazy, but better than nothing.

There’s a similar missed opportunity making Dr Lanselius a Witchling. If this idea had been introduced with the character in 1x4, it would’ve opened up so many storytelling possibilities. Linking to Fader Coram’s own dead witchling son. It could’ve given us that much-needed perspective on Witch culture. Imagine Lanselius’ bittersweet meeting with his ageless mother, who gave him up when he reached manhood. Then, when the Magisterium bombs the Witches in 2x2, Lanselius’ mother dies so it means something.

Instead it’s only used to facilitate an awkward exposition dump in the middle of a trial.

The point of this fanfic-y ramble is to illustrate my frustration with the additions; If Thorne had committed and meaningfully expanded and interwoven them with the source material, they could’ve strengthened its weakest aspect (the characters). But instead he stays committed to novelistic storytelling techniques of monologue and two people standing in a room talking at each other

(Seriously, count the number of scenes that are just two people standing in a room or corridor talking to each other. No interesting staging, the characters aren’t doing anything else while talking. They. Just. Stand.) 

SEASON 2 IMPROVEMENTS

S2 improved some things- Lyra's characterisation was more book-accurate, her dynamic with Will was wonderful. Citigazze looked incredible. LMM won lots of book fans over as Lee. Mary was brilliantly cast. Now there are less Daemons, they're better characterised- Pan gets way more to do now and Hester had some lovely moments. 

I genuinely believe 2x1, 2x3, 2x4 and 2x5 are the best HDM has been. 

But new problems arose. The Subtle Knife lost the central, easy to understand drive of Northern Lights (finding the missing kids) for lots of smaller quests. As a result, everyone spends the first two episodes of S2 waiting for the plot to arrive. The big inciting incident of Lyra’s plotline is the theft of the alethiometer, which doesn’t happen until 2x3. Similarly, Lee doesn’t search for John until 2x3. Mrs Coulter doesn’t go looking for Lyra until 2x3. 

On top of missing a unifying dramatic drive, the characters now being split across 3 worlds, instead of the 1+a bit of ours in S1, means the pacing/crosscutting problems (long establishing shots, repetition of information, undercutting momentum) are even worse. The narrative feels scattered and incohesive.   

These flaws are inherent to the source  material and are not the show’s fault, but neither does it do much to counterbalance or address them, and the flaws of the show combine with the difficulties of TSK as source material and make each other worse.

A lot of this has been entitled fanboy bitching, but you can't deny the show is in a bad place ratings-wise. It’s gone from the most watched new British show in 5 years to the S2 premiere having a smaller audience than the lowest-rated episode of Doctor Who Series 12. For comparison, DW's current cast and showrunner are the most unpopular since the 80s, some are actively boycotting it, it took a year-long break between series 11 and 12, had its second-worst average ratings since 2005, and costs a fifth of what HDM does to make. And it's still being watched by more people.

Critical consensus fluctuates wildly. Most laymen call the show slow and boring. The show is simultaneously too niche and self-absorbed to attract a wide audience and gets just enough wrong to aggravate lots of fans.

I’m honestly unsure if S3 will get the same budget. I want it to, if only because of my investment in the books. Considering S2 started filming immediately after S1 aired, I think they've had a lot more time to process and apply critique for S3. On the plus side, there's so much plot in The Amber Spyglass it would be hard to have the same pacing problems. But also so many new concepts that I dread the exposition dumps.

[bgn846]

You Guys Are The Best - FFXV fanfic

Missing scene after the last campfire, you may cry. You’ve been warned.

“Well… what can I say? You guys… are the best,” Noct managed despite the lump in his throat. He’d really been prepared, or so he thought. This was it the last time they’d all be together like this. The tears stinging his eyes didn’t stop even as he ducked his head. Trying to catch up on a decade’s worth of emotions was impossible. The time they had together just wasn’t enough. Noct selfishly wanted more, no, he needed more.

The quiet sounds of Prompto sniffling drew his attention back to his friends. There had to be a way to get more time. However, looking around the fire he noted that there wasn’t a dry eye among them.  “Guys, you all crying isn’t helping!” he spluttered helplessly.

“Dude, you’re, you,” Prompto couldn’t even finish his sentence as he wiped more tears from his face.

“I’m what?” Noct challenged.

“Don’t make me say it out loud. This is hard enough as it is.”

“I’m doing what I can to save everyone.”

Prompto didn’t respond he only curled further into himself in his chair. Finally, after a minute he managed to speak. “I know that, but it still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Suddenly Noct was overcome with a wave of grief, not about what he was to do the next day, but over what he’d missed. The lack of knowledge on how his friends had handled the darkness was making him crazy. Wondering if they’d understand his need Noct broke the silence. “It won’t stop hurting,” Noct tried to ignore the desperate sound Prompto made but he still felt his eyes watering. Taking a deep breath he soldiered on. “I know what might help, though.”

“You not dying!” Prompto exclaimed as he bolted up out of the chair. “I can’t handle this right now. I know we need to be strong but this is so hard. Fuck. Dude, I’m gonna miss you so much!”

Crossing the short distance between them Noct engulfed Prompto in a hug. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Ignis clearing his throat made Noct release Prompto and look over at his advisor. “I for one am curious about what might help you,” Ignis asked, his voice barely cracking.

Smiling at how Ignis always seemed to know how to keep them on track Noct sighed heavily. “Don’t laugh, but I wanna play truth or dare.”

“Is this really the time and place for such a game?” he countered.

“Yeah, I think it is. Especially when I don’t have all the details about what happened while I was gone. I need to know more, before I – before, um.”

“Are you playing as well or just acting as the referee?” Gladio asked.

“Ref, I want to hear from you guys. I need this, I think It’ll help me.”  A loud sniffle erupted from Prompto again when he finished talking. “We don’t have to, but I was kinda hoping doing something normal would make us all feel better.” The silence was deafening as he stood waiting, for anything really. The seriousness of the moment made Noct’s chest ache, he hoped his friends would understand his needs.

“I’m not going first,” Gladio uttered after a minute.

“Nor am I,” Ignis chirped. Noct almost thought he was mad but the man had a small smile on his lips.

“Wha? Did you all just gang up on me?” Prompto whined while plunking down in his chair again.

“So are we doing this? For real?” Noct asked a small spark of hope fluttering in his heart at the idea of getting more. His friends all nodded, though Prompto rolled his eyes before he agreed. “So, truth or dare Prompto?”

“Truth,” the blond spit out immediately.

“How long did you stay in one place for?” Noct quickly asked as he paced the campsite.

Prompto shrugged and reached up to scratch his neck, a tall tell sign that he was stalling. “It was hard to find a good place to live that I liked, so I sorta bounced a lot.”

“How long?” he tried again, wanting an exact answer.

“Um, I guess my stint on Ignis’ couch a few years back was the longest.”

“I’m not gonna get mad buddy, just tell me.”

“About eight months,” Prompto offered with a wince.

“Did you prefer it that way,” Noct asked softly.

Prompto simply nodded and smiled, “It helped to not get too attached to things or people.”

The revelation that his best friend was hurting enough to not find a permanent home took Noct’s breath away. Stumbling backward he fell into his own chair and held his head in his hands. That was why his sacrifice was so important. Noct wanted to give the people something to live for; they’d been in a world of ruin for long enough.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No! Don’t say that, don’t be sorry! That’s why I’m doing this right now I need to know these things. It’s helping, honestly, it is!” Noct offered.  

Gladio’s rough voice sounded a second later, “I’m not going second either.”

“Bastard,” Ignis mumbled under his breath, though it was loud enough that Gladio heard and smiled despite himself.  

“I suppose that means it’s your turn specs. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“I have a feeling this is going to be a running theme tonight.   However, you might wanna change that after I ask my question.” Noct watched as Ignis nodded his head in understanding before waving his hand for Noct to continue. “Do you regret anything about how you handled your blindness?”

Ignis furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “I don’t believe anyone has ever asked that question before. Regret is a funny thing Noct. Sometimes it’s not something you realize you have until much later. I guess I was angry more than anything at first, I’d failed you an--,”

“No! You didn’t fail me; we’ve been over this before. I will not go through all of this just for you to still think that!” Noct exclaimed.

“I may never get over that feeling Noct, but I do feel as though I’ve managed to come to terms with my situation. Unfortunately, I can also say I do regret a great number of things. I’ve had time to make amends for most of them but sometimes only time can heal certain wounds.”

Hearing Ignis’ words caused Noct physical pain, he couldn’t bear to hear about Ignis being upset with himself. The man had done so much and it just wasn’t fair. “Ignis you have to promise me that you’ll move on, I can’t be happy in the afterlife if I have any doubts about you being fucking happy!” he wailed.

Ignis got up out of his chair and went straight to him. Kneeling on the stone haven Ignis took off his visor, setting it aside, and reached out to hold Noct’s face. “I am so proud of you, I may regret some things in life but I will never regret being your friend and standing by your side. You know I’ll do anything you ask of me,” Ignis offered humbly.

Lunging forward Noct pulled Ignis into a bone-crushing hug. “I want you to be happy; don’t ever think you failed me. You’re my rock Ignis, don’t ever forget it.”

If Ignis had been holding back his tears he wasn’t anymore. They both sat locked in an embrace sobbing quietly. Eventually, Noct leaned back and held Ignis shoulders instead. “Thanks, Specs for making me a blubbering mess.”

“Happy to help, are you at least smiling now?”

Barking out a laugh Noct shook Ignis slightly, “Yes! Now, will you promise me you’ll be happy?”

“I can’t promise that I’ll be happy all the time Noct, but I will promise to try. Is that good enough?”

“It's gonna have to be, I’ll make sure Prompto and Gladio keep an eye on you.”

Ignis let out a huff of laughter at the comment and slowly got up. Noct couldn’t help but follow behind as his friend went back to his seat. Squeezing his knee as he sat back down Noct began pacing again. “Your turn,” he stated turning to face Gladio.

“Truth,” Gladio offered before he’d even asked.

“Will you be able to find a purpose in life beyond being a shield?” After I’m gone was left unsaid but Noct knew Gladio understood his meaning. With slumped shoulders, Gladio leaned forward in his chair but didn’t say anything.

“I’d like to think so but it’s not that easy princess.”

Noct shook his head at the nickname but found himself smiling. “You don’t have to protect anyone anymore, you can be your own person if you wanted.”

“I’m not sure I want that, I’ve spent my whole life learning to guide and protect you, and I’m getting fired tomorrow,” Gladio choked out.

“Hey, come on it can’t be that bad, no more missed training sessions or having to hear me bitch about stuff.”

“Maybe I liked dealing with all that.”

“You’ll still have to keep Prompto and Ignis in line.”

“Prompto isn’t late for training and Ignis can already kick my ass highness, er, sorry, majesty,” Gladio corrected.

Hearing the honorific made Noct tear up again. Gods he was such a mess today. “Clarus raised a good son, and daughter!” Noct added quickly. “I don’t want Iris to think I’m not impressed with her skills too. You both have served the crown well; I know that whatever choice you make after tomorrow will be the right one. You’ve taught me more than you’ll know Gladio. I know we had some rough patches but we survived.”

Before he could react Gladio was out of his chair and pulling him into a hug. Gladio didn’t sob like he was but he was feeling something, Noct could tell. Gladio pushed him back after a minute and looked down at him with a smile. “Six, I know you are gonna give 'em hell tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t do any of this without you all, I hope you guys know that.”

“I can’t do another round,” Prompto squeaked suddenly. “No more just truth, let’s just tell each other happy memories we have and leave it at that.”

“Hey those happy memories are truths too,” Gladio cut in.

“Okay sure, but seriously no more sad things I need happy right now.”

“Fine, fine I can agree to that,” Noct added, feeling somewhat lighter than he had been earlier. Making peace with his friends about what the future held was exactly what he needed.  Then it hit him, Noct hadn’t exactly told Prompto how he felt about his revelation. “Prompto, you need to promise me that you’ll find someplace or someone nice to settle down with.”

“Oi, I can’t promise that, it’s not that easy!”

“I know but at least try, for me?” Noct begged. “All of you, please be happy and do awesome things. I can’t stand the thought of you being lost without me. I meant what I said earlier, you’ll are the best.”

Noct was engulfed by his friends in a rather teary-eyed hug after that, each one clinging to him and not letting go. Standing in the center of their attentions Noct knew he had the strength now to carry on. He could do this and he would win. All his friends deserved this much. They’d all sacrificed so much and now it was his turn. Noct would bring back the light.

[mewtonian-physics]

my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it. 

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes. 

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck. 

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard. 

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one. 

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.) 

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments... 

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

[managedmischiefs]

chapter eighteen

genre: angst

warnings: prison, solitary confinement, kidnapping, ptsd, hospitals, car accident (no description, just mentions), Cat Adams, allusions to sexual assault

word count: 12.4k (sorry friends)

summary: amelia comes to terms with spencer coming home. spencer needs to save his mom and catch scratch. it's too much for 24 hours.

pairing: season 12 spencer reid x oc

AMELIA

Being woken up by banging at my door was not how I expected my day to start. I'd barely even slept. All my friends came over to my apartment when I told them I needed support, and we wound up staying up until the early hours of the morning watching tv.

But Frankie shook me awake, telling me that someone had been knocking on the door for a few minutes and they weren't going away. I pushed Frankie away at first, murmuring for him to answer it himself.

"Lia," Jenna took her turn in shaking my shoulder, "it's Penelope and JJ! You have to open it. Go."

And so I pushed myself off the couch, falling onto my knees but dragging myself away from my sleepy group of friends. Penelope and JJ burst in the door as soon as I opened it, and in the past, the tear stains on their cheeks would have made me panic. But they're smiling and hugging me and grabbing my hands and the excitement confused me but didn't make me wonder what happened to Spencer.

"We're going to get him." Penelope blurted out, holding my shoulders too tightly and beaming at me and JJ. "You didn't want updates so I didn't give you any but now that we know about Lindsay and that she drugged Reid, we found evidence that put her in Mexico and we also found partial prints and we got them to a judge just in time and she agreed to release Reid!"

"It's over, Amelia, he's coming home," JJ added, pulling me into another too-tight hug.

I didn't believe them. Penelope and JJ seemed elated and ready to bring me to the prison, and even my friends gave me hugs when I moved back towards the living room for my shoes. But it didn't seem real. It didn't seem like reality. Almost five months without Spencer and receiving bad news after bad news after bad news, I should have believed that all of a sudden he's coming home? It wasn't possible.

The girl's ushered me upstairs and told me to change as quickly as I could. And if I believed them, maybe I would have dressed better. Maybe I would have throw on a dress and my signature boots and put my hair up and thrown in my piercings and slapped a smile on my face. Maybe I would've made myself look presentable. But none of this seemed real and so I didn't even care. I just threw on a new pair of pajamas and my glasses and ran my fingers through the knots in my hair. When I returned to the girls downstairs, I just grabbed my backpack and shrugged.

"I'm gonna take my own car," I had picked my car keys up from the bowl as we left my apartment. I insisted that I wanted to drive my own car and not ride with the girls and Luke, but Penelope insisted that she drive my car. Something about me maybe not being in the right mindset to drive. I didn’t have the energy to argue. So she snatched the keys out of my hand and dragged me to my car, making sure I got in the passenger seat, and then drove off.

The silence loomed over us as she drove and I just stared out the window at the passing sights. I tried to keep my breathing regulated and my tears at bay. A few slipped out and rolled down my cheeks but I didn't let them stay for long, I couldn't let that type of weakness linger.

"Hey," Penelope eventually broke the silence, "why aren't you more excited? Spencer's coming home."

I shook my head, biting down on my lip. "Because I don't believe it."

"You don't believe it?" She asked, glancing over at me. "We’re going there now, Amelia. Going to go get him."

"Penelope." I turned to her, my throat tightened to stop the flood gates from opening. "Every time I came to the BAU, there was some horrible news waiting for me. Spencer's arrested, Spencer's going to prison, Spencer's trial was pushed back, Spencer got beat up, Spencer stabbed himself to get into solitary confinement. I know you guys are amazing at your jobs, you're the absolute best at your jobs and I'm sorry if I'm being harsh, but I'm not gonna believe it when you and JJ come knocking on my door on a random Wednesday morning to tell me that Spencer is coming home after he basically tried to start a fight with someone in prison. I'm not getting my hopes up."

Penelope didn't say anything after my tantrum. She just kept her eyes forward and she drove, and when the prison finally came into view, I had to look away. I had bitched and moaned and cried and screamed about Spencer not putting me on his visitor list but as I finally laid eyes on the building where Spencer was being trapped and tortured, I knew I'd never be able to step foot inside. I knew I couldn't force myself into a building where Spencer went through the worst moments in his life.

"I can't go in," I said to Penelope, and she didn't even ask why. She didn't ask why, she didn't try to convince me to go in, she didn't complain.

The three of them rushed inside the prison and I was left in the parking lot. I eventually migrated outside my car, leaning against the driver’s side and staring up at the clouds. I couldn't see any shapes at that moment. I wonder if Spencer was able to see any yet. The last time I'd asked, he couldn't. I wonder if he could look up at the sky and see a hair bow or a tree or a bird.

Time ticked on, and on, and on, and my heart sank closer and closer to my feet. I knew it was too good to be true. They went in there to get Spencer and now they won't let him out. Why else would it have taken so long? How long does it take to get someone out of prison? Surely not the hour and a half that I stood out in the cold, trying to bring my sweater closer around my body to keep me warm.

I just stared at the clouds and wished with every fiber of my being that this would be over soon so I could go home and curl up in bed. I didn't want to be trapped in my stuffy car, or stranded at this horrible prison, or anywhere near the BAU team.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out Spencer's sobriety medallion. There was never a day that I left my apartment without it. I traveled every single step with it on my body. It didn't serve the same purpose to me that it would for a recovering addict, but it did do something similar. It reminded me that Spencer would come home to me. Every time I looked down at the circular metal, at the engraved N on the back, it reminded me that whether it be tomorrow, or next month, or next year, or next decade, Spencer would come home to me. He would, like he promised so many times that he would, remember to keep going north and he would come home. He would do what he believes is right and he would come home to me in one piece.

I twirled the cold metal in my hand and tapped my foot, waiting for this torture to be over. And maybe it was privileged of me to have that thought. I had all the privilege in the world to be sitting outside of a prison with car keys in my hand and a car full of gas that could take me anywhere, while my boyfriend was trapped inside, wasting away and serving time for a crime that he didn't commit while serial killers roam free and taunt the BAU with what they've done.

When you're younger, you memorize the sounds of your family members. I could always tell by the sound of a set of keys if it was my mom or my dad walking in the front door. By the pressure and amount of knocks, I could tell if it was my brother coming into my bedroom to play or my dad coming to hit me. I could always tell who was screaming louder downstairs by the frequency, and I quickly learned who was my mother and who was my father, even if their voices were muffled.

I only started to cry when I heard footsteps. I heard Penelope's heels clicking against the pavement from a mile away, but the moment I heard Spencer's dress shoes against the pavement, I relaxed and let the tears fall. I'd heard him wear those shoes for the entirety of our relationship and I knew the sounds of those just as well as the sound of my own voice. That was the moment that I knew it was real. This was happening. It was over. He was coming home and I would have him in my arms again.

He didn't say anything for what seemed like the longest time. Even as I sniffled and wiped my tears, he just stood and stared. I knew that the moment I looked at him, I would lose it, but not exactly how. I'd yelled and I'd cried and I'd lost my cool at the team, but how would I react towards Spencer? Would I do the same? I was pissed at him, that's for sure. I was pissed and hurt and scared and angry, and I wanted nothing more than to scream at him for putting me through this pain and for leaving me by myself for so long.

But I knew that I'd give anything to hug him, to kiss him, to comfort him, to have him in my arms. I wanted to cry and tell him that, despite his mother's abduction, he's safe. He doesn't have to fight for his life anymore and he doesn't have to watch his back. I just wanted to love him endlessly. But I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to see what he looked like and face what he had been through and see the physical effects. So I kept my eyes up at the clouds, searching for clouds that I could distinguish to be a shape.

He moved closer and I swear, I could've screamed. Screamed, why? I'm not sure. My chest was so tight, I needed to get some sort of emotion out. But I just clutched the medallion as tightly as I could and zeroed in on a cloud that could possibly, maybe, only a little bit look like a square.

"I'm sorry," he said, but I had no clue what he was apologizing for. Honestly, there are so many things. Was he sorry for approaching me? Was he sorry for going to prison? Was he sorry for getting arrested? Was he sorry for going to Mexico? Was he sorry for bringing his mother to live with him? There are so many things that, in Spencer's mind, he could apologize for. Why now? But I still didn't look at him. "I tried to see dinosaurs and cars and lamps like you told me about, but I couldn't. I need you to teach me how to see shapes in the clouds because I can't do it without you, baby."

The fucking clouds. He apologized for not seeing shapes in the fucking clouds. He apologized because of one conversation we had after I dragged him to the park after he came home from a rough case. But somehow, I understood what he meant by it. He thought that he failed me and that he disappointed me because of this whole ordeal. Not being able to see a fucking dinosaur in the cloud is just a metaphor for his inability to keep himself out of harm’s way and out of Scratch's way. But I never saw it like that, and I wish he knew that.

And in my horrible effort to silently communicate to him that he didn't need to apologize, I looked into his eyes. I love this man with all my heart, but he looked absolutely horrible. His hair was significantly longer than I remembered and looked like it hadn't been brushed in years, his facial hair, while I was right in predicting that it is undeniably sexy, was unkempt, and he had the darkest circles under his eyes that I'd ever seen. I'd seen him deprived of sleep before, but at that moment, I wondered if he ever actually closed his eyes for the duration of his stay in prison.

He reached out for me, and just when his fingers were about to brush the fabric of my coat, he retracted his hands. I wished he hadn't. I wished he grabbed me as tightly as he could the moment he walked over here and kissed me with every bit of strength he had left in his body. I trembled with desire, just needing to feel Spencer on me. But I didn't want to rush him. I knew he went through a lot in those walls and he was clearly a bit unhinged, and I didn't want to set him off.

"I--" he hesitated, it seemed, stumbling over his words. He gulped, choking back tears. I wanted to reach for him, to hold him, to kiss him, to hug him like I'd been craving to do for months on end. But I reminded myself to breathe through my tears and not accost him. "Lia, I need you."

That was all it took. We broke down after that. We broke down crying, and hugging, and kissing, the way we had both been longing to do so badly for months. It was an outpouring of love and emotions and tears and part of me thought that it still didn't even feel real. It was just a moment of relief and happiness before Spencer would be ushered back inside and stolen right from me again.

Even now, it doesn't seem real. Even now as JJ comes to put her hands on our shoulders and grins at us, telling us that the other three are going to head back to the BAU. Penelope and Luke give us hugs and head back to the SUV, leaving Spencer and me alone again.

It doesn't feel real as I pull my keys out of my pocket, turning to my boyfriend with a slightly tired smile. "I know I shouldn't try to convince you to go home and shower, or change, or just-- go home and rest."

Spencer gives me a tight-lipped smile, shaking his head no. "I know you want me home, but I gotta get my mom back."

"I know. I knew that answer already. Get in," I gesture to the passenger side of my car and climb in, starting the engine. I watch the SUV pull away in front of us and put my car into drive, double-checking that Spencer has buckled his seat belt before I pull away from the prison. I catch Spencer's eyes lingering on the building as we pull away, and I wish I could know what's going on in his head. "Hey," I whisper, and his head slowly turns to me, "it's over, dove. You don't have to go back ever again."

Spencer starts to nod but his gaze travels out the window again. The silence in the car thickens and it makes me nervous. It scares me, to be honest. I've heard stories about inmates being institutionalized, but I have no idea what that means. I know of the major events that happened to Spencer in prison but I don't know what he saw, or experienced, or what's going on in his head. I don't know if he's changed and I don't know if he's stayed exactly the same. But if I'm getting the answer based on this car ride, I would bet that he's changed exponentially. Spencer always filled our car rides with stories and facts and statistics. We've never had a silent car ride.

"Amelia?" He's, surprisingly, the one who breaks the silence. "Um--"

"Yeah?" I encourage him to keep talking, looking over at him when I stop at a red light.

Spencer looks down at his lap, fiddling with one of the cuff links on his jacket. "This seems sort of, um, silly, I guess, but, um, could you, um--"

"Lovey, just ask. You don't need to be afraid," I turn my head to him and smile. I try not to let my mind wander off and question how maybe smiles he's seen lately. I try not to let my mind wander off and question how many times he hasn't been afraid lately.

Spencer chews on his bottom lip as he stares back at me, still wondering if he should even ask what he wants to. And I'm not sure what it is that finally calms him enough to ask, but he nods after a moment. "Could you, um, if you could still drive, could you, just, hold my hand?"

It's such a simple request. It's a question that, in the past, would have never even needed to have been asked. Spencer would have just reached over and grabbed my hand at a red light without asking. Maybe he would have kissed me too, and he probably would have even had his hand on my thigh by now. But now he seems so hesitant to touch me, and I don't know if I want to know if it's my fault or his fault.

I retract my right hand from the steering wheel and hold it out to him. "Of course. You know you don't need to ask, Spence."

Spencer nods wordlessly, intertwining our fingers and dropping our hands into his lap. He holds them there, staring straight forward when I start to drive again. I soon feel his other hand covering my knuckles and it brings goosebumps to my skin.

"You got another tattoo," he observes, and then runs his pointer finger over the black ink, "and it's for me."

"I got it after your court hearing," I say softly because even though he brought up the tattoo, I don't necessarily want to bring up things like his arrest and when he was sentenced to go to jail. "Everyone came out to tell me what happened and I just dragged Penelope out and got it done right away. I wanted a reminder of you."

Spencer lifts our entwined hands, pressing his lips to the back of my hand. "I love it." His lips are soft and warm and I never want him to pull away, but then I remind myself that his kisses aren't going anywhere. He's out of prison and he's not leaving me again and he's coming home.

I glance down at our hands and a small smile comes to my face. But he doesn't say anything else and he just moves his gaze back out the window. So I keep driving and I don't say anything else until we arrive at the building where I've spent all of my time lately.

I'm starting to break again as I throw my car into park, leaning my one hand against the steering wheel as I choke back a new wave of tears. "Spencer," my voice cracks pathetically, and I can't even bring myself to look at him, "they're gonna find your mom, and everything's gonna be okay."

"You don't know that," Spencer scoffs and he drops my hand from his grasp. "She's been taken by serial killers who put me in prison just because they wanted to have some excitement in their lives. They could--" he shutters, digging the heel of his hand into his eye, "they could just kill her and-- and-- I'll never see her again."

When I look over at him, something just makes me realize how much he's changed, but I'm not sure what. Maybe it's how he's speaking to me and how he let go of my hand. Spencer never used to let go of my hand if he had the chance to hold it. He would always be making some sort of physical contact with me. I see how he's changed in the way his hair curls, and the way his suit lays on his broader shoulders, and the way his eyes dart across the new environment he's moved into. I suddenly don't even know how to talk to him. I suddenly don't even think I should be in the same car as him, sitting next to him, and then more tears are streaming down my cheeks as those horrible thoughts come to mind.

I tug the keys out of the ignition and reach for the door handle. "Ready to go in?" And without another word or a glance towards me, Spencer pulls open the passenger door and strides towards the entrance.

I always thought that when Spencer got out of prison, it would be an absolute relief. I thought once we cried and hugged and kissed, we would spend some time with the team, and then I'd be able to take him home. I'd be able to take him home and shower him in love and tell him how much I missed him and how much I love him and start dishing out all the affection he missed out the last few months.

I didn't think that he'd hug the team for two seconds upon his return to the BAU, and then they'd go running off in their kevlars. We had gone to his apartment to grab a few things but that was a quick stop and we came right back.

I didn't think that my first day back with Spencer would consist of me watching him pace insistently in the round table room. But here I am, sitting with my legs crossed in the of the rolling chairs while Spencer mumbles to himself and walks the length of the room, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It's making me crazy, honestly, and he's never paced before. I've always hated pacing. But I know he's anxious about his mom and there's nothing I can do to help.

"Spence?" He barely even acknowledges when I say his name. "Spencer," I say his name a bit sharper, and that's when he stops pacing and looks at me. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are swollen from how he keeps rubbing them.

I beckon him over with a slight wave of my hand, turning the chair beside me towards him. Spencer's chest deflates at my simple and silent request and that hurts, but nonetheless, he throws his body into the seat beside me. "What do you need?" He forces the question out, trying to sound somewhat polite despite his utter panic and stress.

I reach into my pocket and pull out his medallion, staring down at it for a moment before handing it over to him. "I've been carrying it around with me since you got arrested. Haven't taken a step without it in my pocket. Maybe it'll help to, I don't know, ground you? Maybe it won't help at all but I figured it wouldn't hurt you to have it right now."

Spencer reaches forward the grab the medallion from me, and when his fingers brush against mine, it sends a shock up my arm. Gosh, it's like we're touching for the first time all over again. He stares down at it, flipping it around in his fingers a few times before he lets out a long breath.

"Amelia," he practically whimpers, and the sound hurts more than his hostility. He makes a fist around the medallion around me and looks up at me, his eyes rimmed red. "Will you hold me?"

I quickly scramble out of my chair and onto Spencer's lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my head on his chest. We sit like that forever, it seems, just waiting for any word from the team or for them to arrive back here. Spencer stays silent though and just holds my waist, his forehead resting against my shoulder. We stay so still and so silent that I fall asleep in Spencer's embrace. After all, I was woken up at the crack of dawn after a late night with wine and my friends.

I'm shaken awake, though, when Spencer quickly ushers me off his lap and back into the chair I was previously in. He's on his feet in a minute, spewing out a million questions to the team that is filing in with their kevlars still on.

"Where's my mom?" He asks hastily, glancing around the room. When nobody gives him an immediate answer, he slams his hands against the table with every bit of strength he has, and the force is enough to jolt me completely awake and alert. "Tell me! Where is my mom? Is she dead?" I stand, placing my hand on Spencer's arm, but he quickly and easily shakes it off. "Don't touch me!" He shouts, barely even looking at me before returning his attention to his team. "Where's my mom?!"

Everyone in the room is utterly shocked by his explosive behavior, especially me. I'm so shocked that I cower away from him, all the way until my back hits the wall and I'm across the room from him. But nobody pays any mind to me, they're all staring at Spencer.

"Spence, she wasn't there," Emily speaks first, quietly and gently. "We have reason to believe that she's okay, but, um, we got more insight from the house that we need to tell you about. And Amelia, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

I don't need to be asked twice. I flee from the conference room. I tangle my fingers in my curls and hurry down the ramp, falling into the chair at Spencer's desk, pulling my knees up to my chest again. I pull in deep breaths through my nose and close my eyes, trying to forget the image of Spencer yelling at me and rejecting my comfort.

He's never, ever yelled at me like that. We've been together for two and a half years now and in the two years that we were physically together, we never fought. And in the times that we argued, it was over little things. We argued over missed dates and forgotten chores and broken household items. But Spencer never once raised his voice at me like that and he never pushed me away from him.

I don't know how to deal with him. I've only been in his presence for two hours, at most, and I've already had countless moments of confusion and bafflement. He's different. I should have expected that. But he's so different and I don't know how to help him. I don't know how to calm him down and what I'm supposed to say to him to remind him that he's safe. Am I supposed to say anything at all?

I only lift my head when I start to hear shouting. My eyes dart back towards the conference room where it seems like the team is arguing all amongst each other, shedding their kevlars and throwing them aside. Their anger seems to be mostly towards Emily, but then it momentarily turns to Spencer when he starts speaking, and then it's back to Emily. Rossi is pacing, Penelope is on the verge of tears, and the rest of the team just looks outraged. But oddly enough, Spencer looks calm. He's looked calm this whole time.

And then he lets his gaze linger out to me. He lets himself look out of the conference room to my curled up body, watching helplessly from the outside as the team argues over a matter I can't be involved in. His face softens and even from here, I can see that he sighs. I try to muster up some sort of smile, one that's surely weak and not comforting in the slightest. But at least I offer him something other than crime and arguing.

Spencer turns away from his team and leaves the conference room, taking his time in wandering over to me. I watch his every step, wondering what is going on and why everyone is so up in arms. Maybe I don't even want to know. I'm sure it will just make me mad anyways, especially if it's making Penelope so upset.

Spencer gets to his desk and leans against the edge beside me, breathing out a sigh that's tense and rigid. "I, um--" he clears his throat, putting his hands in his lap and looking down at them, "I'm sorry I yelled at you like that."

I nod at him, reaching forward to wiggle my fingers into his intertwined hands, and he resists at first but lets me hold his hand after a moment. "It's okay, dove. What's going on?"

"Do you remember," he keeps his gaze away from me, "when we first went cloud watching?"

I furrow my eyebrows at him, cocking my head to the side. "Uh, of course I do. We went on a picnic after you had a hard case."

"Do you remember the case?" He asks next like he’s trying to draw out his questions to avoid what he really needs to tell me, and his grip on my hand gets tighter.

"Vaguely," I murmur. "You had to go on a date with a hitwoman and pose as a married man who wanted to kill his pregnant wife. What does that have to do with this? I thought she was in prison, Spence."

"She is," Spencer starts to nod continuously and breaks one of his hands away to rub up and down my arm, a stiff attempt at comfort. "She orchestrated this from prison. Scratch was never involved apparently. She had an accomplice in the free world who did all her dirty work for her, but she ultimately called all the shots. It was her, Amelia," he sighs, and when his hand stops moving, I hear him sniffle. "When the team went to that house just before, they found a message from Cat, she's the hitwoman. She said that if I want my mom back, then I have to go and talk to her."

My eyes widen at his words, and I'm utterly stunned. "What?"

"Me and JJ are leaving in ten minutes. I just came to say goodbye to you, and to tell you I'll be back in a few hours," Spencer never meets my eye. He hasn't this whole time and I don't know if I prefer it that way.

"No!" I exclaim, ripping my hand away from his. The action stuns him and he reaches for me as I pull away, but I'm already standing. "You have to go back to prison? Absolutely not! You just spent three months locked up and going through hell! Send someone else! There's a whole team in that room that's just as smart as you and they can deal with her. I'm not letting you go waltzing right back into prison!"

I turn on my heel and go bounding towards the conference room, but I feel Spencer hot on my heels. He grabs my arm before I can get too far, holding me back. "I know you're upset about this and it's not ideal, but I have to do this to get my mom back."

I turn to him, my eyes filled with tears that I refuse to let fall. "Send someone else." I hiss through my clenched teeth.

"We can't," Spencer responds, and when I try to get out of his grasp, he holds me tighter. "It has to be me. She wants to play her stupid game. I've outsmarted her before and I can do it again--"

"I know you can outsmart her!" I exclaim, pushing his chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps. Our yelling brings the team out of the conference room to check on us but they don't intervene. They just watch us standing on the ramp. They watch me break down for the millionth time.

Spencer groans, running his hands through his unruly hair. "Lia, I--"

"I know you can outsmart her, Spencer!" I shout, hot tears streaming down my cheeks and down my neck, wetting the collar of my tank top. "That's not what I'm worried about! I know that you're smart enough to outsmart every goddamn serial killer that gets on your radar. I've known that since the moment I met you. But I don't--" I choke my words, bringing my hands up to cover my mouth.

I've admitted my feelings to Jenna and to Penelope and somewhat to Dave, but I haven't gotten the chance to speak to Spencer. I haven't been able to tell him how I spent every single moment of his incarceration in fear for his life. Now, I know he had it worse because he was actually experiencing it, but I was in the dark. I couldn't see him and I couldn't talk to him. I was only getting secondhand information from a team of profilers who could have lied to me with ease.

"I can't-" I drop my hands and breathe in a long breath, but it doesn't do anything to slow my rapidly beating heart. "I've spent three fucking months walking around and not being able to see you. I spent three months crying and screaming and cursing the universe for putting you through such intense pain that you don't deserve, because you deserve the motherfucking world, Spencer! And now you just wanna go right back to prison and face some psycho who landed you in a place that had you beat and broken and taken away from me. So I'm sorry that I don't want you to go," I pause again, just staring at Spencer's face. He's giving me a blank face that I can't entirely read. He's never looked at me like this. "I'm sorry that I don't want you to go back to a place that has clearly traumatized you and I'm sorry that I just want to have you here, in my arms so I can hold you and promise you that everything is going to be okay. I'm sorry, okay?"

I push past Spencer and go running off, furiously wiping at my cheeks, but it's a useless attempt. The tears won't stop and I know that. My monologue was also another useless attempt and I know that too. Spencer is going to do absolutely anything in his power to get his mother back. And if that means going to see a serial killer in prison who's clearly obsessed with him, then he'll do it. He's always been that selfless and I used to admire that. But right now I just wish he would listen to me for once.

I throw myself into one of the interview rooms and curl up on the couch, sobbing into my hands. I've just gotten my Spencer back and now he's leaving me to go back to prison. He's getting taken away from me yet again and, after three months of psychological torture, he needs to outsmart a serial killer to save his mother. Can he handle that? He could barely handle asking me to hold his hand in the car. Can he handle a criminally sophisticated serial killer?

The door opens slowly and quietly and then I hear the sounds of Spencer's shoes again. They're dense and heavier than I remember them to be a few months ago. I'm covering my eyes with my hands but I hear him sit down beside the couch I'm on and then his hand reaches out to push my hair behind my ears. My curls bounce back into my face and it makes Spencer chuckle, and that simple sound makes my heart flutter. I want to hear his full-fledged, loud, obnoxious, unhinged, head-tossed-back laugh. I'd do anything to hear that.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, pushing my hair back again and holding his hand on the back of my head. "I know you're unhappy, and I know you're upset and worried and panicked and that you missed me. And I--" he scoots closer to the couch, resting his chin against the cushion, his face right in front of my covered one, "I don't want any of this to be happening either. I wanna go home and finally sleep, and eat something good, and just hold you and-- and cry out my emotions. But I can't do that. I need to do everything I can to save my mom right now. JJ is going to the prison with me and she's gonna make sure everything goes smoothly."

I drag my hands down my face, revealing my tear-stained face to him. Spencer gives me a sad smile, using his free hand to wipe my tears. "Baby?" I whisper.

He hums softly in response, and for a moment, the old him starts to shine through. His tender touch and his soft smile remind me of the person he was. It reminds me of the times we would lay on the couch at night, tangled in a blanket as we eat take-out. Or the times we sit on a freezing cold balcony and shares stories of our days. Or the times we would meet every morning at the same cafe and I could send him off to work with a kiss and a pinky promise to return home safely. This moment gives me just a little bit of hope that the old him is still in him, and that it's just buried deep down.

"Are you gonna be allowed to have your phone?" I murmur, and Spencer nods a tiny bit in response. "Will you just-- can you call me if you need me? I'll keep my phone on me with the ringer on. I know you'll be busy but if you need me, just call me. Even if you just wanna hear my voice, don't hesitate."

Spencer smiles, and I swear, it's the most beautiful sight I've seen in my life. "Of course. I'll always need you, sweetheart."

I grab the hand that's on my face and bring his knuckles to my lips. "I love you so, so much, okay? You got this, dove."

Spencer moves our hands and presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. "I love you too. I'm gonna be back as soon as I possibly can be. But, uh, before I leave, can you just do one more thing for me?"

I sit up and look down at him on his knees, running my fingers over his jawline. "Anything."

Spencer reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a thin, black sharpie. "It's a weird request, I know. But, that tattoo on your hand, could you draw it on me?"

I raise my eyebrows, glancing down at my hand, a small smile playing on my lips. "Seriously?" He nods, thrusting the sharpie in my hand. "Sure, of course. I wouldn't imagine you want it on your hand, where I have it. On your arm? Just on your forearm?" I gesture to my Starry Night tattoo right under the crook of my elbow, for a reference of placement. Spencer starts to push up his jacket and sleeve, leaving me room to draw an identical symbol to the one on my hand. "Spence, you won't even be able to see it."

"I know," he mumbles, watching me draw the little N, "but you can't see the butterfly on the back of your arm. But you know it's there and it makes you think of your mom. I know this is here and it'll make me think of you."

I cap the sharpie and toss it aside, smiling at him. "Be safe, Spencer," I grab his cheeks again, stroking his skin with my thumbs. "You're smarter than her, you know you are. I meant what I said before. You can outsmart every single serial killer out there and you've already outsmarted this one. You can do it again."

He searches my face for something, but I can't quite tell for what. He reaches for my waist, squeezing tightly. Spencer takes in a long breath and closes his eyes. "Please tell me you love me," he whimpers.

"Oh, my darling," I lean forward and rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes too, sinking onto his lap so our bodies can be as close as possible, "Spencer Reid, I love you with every fiber of my being. I love you more than I love myself. My heart beats for you, Spencer. Please, don't ever forget that. I love you and I'll say it until I'm blue in the face. It'll be the first thing I tell you in the morning and the last thing I tell you at night. I just-- I love you."

Spencer doesn't even respond to my second, yet equally dramatic, monologue of the day, but he just presses his lips to mine. The kiss is the fervent and needy we've shared, but that's what we need right now. This is how I would have kissed Spencer if I had the chance to kiss him goodbye before he went away to prison, and even though I know he's going to come back to me, I have so much time to make up for and I need to start now.

"Say it back," I murmur against his lips, turning my head and kissing him again. "Say it back and promise me that you're gonna come back to me in one piece,"

Spencer wraps his arms as tight as he can around my waist and draws me even closer to his body. "I'm gonna come home to you, just like I am right now, I promise," he presses one more long kiss to my lips before pulling away breathlessly. "I love you."

///

"Amelia," Penelope comes bursting into the interview room I never left, a smile on her face, "Spencer and JJ are on their way up."

I jump to my feet, following her out, walking beside her to the elevator. "Is Diana okay?" I ask quickly, pausing beside her when we reach the doors.

"Yeah, Diana is, you know, physically okay. The team got there and we did our magic and Lindsay betrayed Cat and gave up Diana and the team is on their way back with her now," Penelope throws her arms around me, weeping with joy. "Amelia, it's all over. Diana is safe, Spencer is home, everyone is good. It's over."

I sigh into her shoulder, smiling. "Yeah, it's over."

"Whoa, I wanna join in this hug!" We hear JJ's voice from the elevator, and in just a second, she's joined our hug and thrown her arms around the two of us. We laugh, hugging her waist and accepting her into our circle. "Oh, I love you girls. And I can't wait for when things settle down and we can get Tara and Emily and Lisa and Monica and all go out for a girls night. But for now, Amelia, go get him."

I lift my head and I immediately lay eyes on Spencer. He's sitting on the floor beside the glass doors of the bullpen, knees pulled up to his chest and his sobriety medallion in his hand. I give a smile to the girls and unravel from them, heading over to my solemn boyfriend.

I sit on the floor between his bent legs and cross my own legs, grabbing his free hand and intertwining our fingers. He barely even responds to my touch and he just keeps his eyes on the floor. I reach forward and tuck my fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze until it reaches mine. His eyes look dull and he's truly never looked more exhausted. I thought he looked utterly exhausted when he got out of prison this morning, but now it's the middle of the night and he's been working and stressed all day, and the exhaustion is settling in.

His eyes meet mine and I try to give him a smile. "I'm proud of you," I tell him. "I knew you could do it. You saved your mom."

Spencer just stares at me for a moment before he looks down again, and when he shifts his body a bit, my hand falls from his chin. "It was really hard," he whispers. "She was working with one of the correctional officers at my prison, and he managed to get my FBI file with confidential information in it."

"I'm sorry," I whisper back, placing my hands on his knees. "I'm sure that--"

"And she brought you up," he blurts out. "You're in my file because we've been together for an extended time so you’re required to be in there for protection purposes and she brought up your name and I just-- I like, I freaked out. She spoke so horribly about you. She said terrible things about you to throw me off but she doesn't even know you! How could she say those things?" He rambles on, getting more and more worked up.

"Sweetheart," I keep my voice quiet and calm, "you just said it yourself. She was saying it to throw you off. She doesn't know me. She knows absolutely nothing about me. You surely don't think I'm horrible and terrible and that's all that matters. So ignore what she thinks, okay? She's a psychopath."

Spencer looks up at me with red eyes. "She's pregnant." He states a bit too abruptly. "She told me the baby was mine to try to get me to break.”

My eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"And she tried to tell me that when Lindsay dosed me in Mexico, that Lindsay, you know--" Spencer gulps, "got my DNA. And Cat tried to tell me that she had Lindsay pose as you to get me in the mood."

"But that's not true. That didn't happen," I shake my head, moving closer to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Spencer buries his face in my neck, hugging my waist.

"But I have no way of knowing that. I'm still missing time. She still might have tried to do that. Lindsay might have posed as you," Spencer whimpers and that's a sound that will always break my heart.

"Spencer, listen to me," I pull away again and hold his face in my hands with a delicate grasp. "Cat's ass is still in prison. Lindsay's ass is on her way to life in prison. You're out of prison and you're going to be able to live the rest of your life as a free man. And you saved your moms life and you're about to see her. Those women are out of your life forever, okay? I know it's really hard, but you should try to not even think about them," a small smirk comes to my face. "The only woman you should be thinking about is me."

Spencer chuckles lightly, shaking his head. "You're incredible."

I hold my hands out in a shrug, grinning. "Which is why I should be the only woman you have on your mind. And also the only woman you're having babies with. Spence, we'd have the cutest babies."

He laughs again and lets his head fall back against the wall, staring me up and down. "We would have some cute kids, wouldn't we?"

"The absolute cutest! Genius babies who can read eighty thousand books a day while painting a landscape with their right hand and drawing a bowl of fruit with their left hand. And they--"

"They're here!" Penelope exclaims, running out of the bullpen and waving her phone in the air. "Emily just said they parked and they're coming for the elevator!"

Spencer jumps up to his feet without a second thought or hesitation, and with a second thought, he holds out his hand to help me off the floor. And I keep my hold on that hand, squeezing tightly. JJ and Penelope move to either side of us, and when the elevator doors pop open, I feel Spencer's body tense up.

It's obvious that as Diana steps out of the elevator, she doesn't recognize Spencer. She doesn't recognize any of us, even though JJ has visited her many times and I've visited Diana countless times over the years I've been dating Spencer. And so I squeeze his hand tighter but I know that this is not how he wanted this to go. He wanted to just hug his mom and get the physical affection that he didn't really get as a kid. But she isn't lunging at him and now he's starting to tremble in my embrace.

Emily leans over to Diana and whispers, "It's Spencer," and that's all it takes. Diana looks once more at her son before gasping and the moment she does, Spencer releases my hand and throws his arms around her.

It's the most relieved I've seen him since before this entire ordeal, and I can confidently say it's also the most relieved I've been. I see Spencer smile over Diana's shoulder, his eyelids squeezed shut. "Hi, Mom."

The team starts to disperse to give them their space and to relax after the ridiculously long day. I give everyone tight hugs, thanking them for all their hard work and giving half-assed apologies for how horrible I was acting towards them. I know that no apology will excuse how I acted while Spencer was incarcerated, but I have to try, right?

"Amelia," after a while, Diana comes to give me a hug, letting Spencer breathe for just a split second. "It's good to see you, honey."

"It's good to see you too," I hug her waist. "How are you feeling? Is there anything you need?"

Diana glances between the two of us, shaking her head slowly. "I'm just-- I'm tired,"

"Okay, Mom, well, why don't I get you back to my apartment so you can rest?" Spencer suggests, reaching to wrap his arm around her waist to support her weight.

Diana gives me a side-eye and I return her look. "Actually," she says, putting her hand on his shoulder, halting him from walking her towards the elevator, "Amelia and I had something we wanted to talk to you about."

Spencer narrows his eyes at me and when I wave the two along to one of the interview rooms, he doesn't put up a fight. Maybe he's too tired by now, or maybe he's genuinely interested in what we could possibly have to say. But either way, he ushers his mom onto a couch and then stands a few feet away as I fall into an armchair. He glances between the two of us, then crosses his arms protectively over his chest. "What's this about?"

Diana immediately looks to me to explain, clutching the cardigan around her shoulders. "Okay," I breathe out, turning my head to my confused and concerned boyfriend, "it's no secret that a lot of people, me included, were not fond of Diana living at home with you. So while you were away, I spent some time looking at facilities around here that would take Diana in, and there's one that's ten minutes away from here. I called them when you were working and they said that they would be happy to let Diana move in tonight."

"Spencer," Diana reaches for Spencer's hands and he happily gives them to her, "this is going to be good. I've always wanted to be close to you. This way, you can visit me more often and you don't have to spend money on flights and hotels. Maybe I can get out to see one of Amelia's art exhibits. I don't want any more experimental medicine, honey. I wanna be close to you and to be comfortable and to be happy."

Spencer pouts and he starts to tap his foot on the floor. He's nervous, and rightfully so. He's about to give his mom up again, right after she was abducted by a serial killer team. He looks from his mom to me, then back to his mom, and then to me again. "Did you go to the facility?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Me, Diana, and Cassie went a while ago and we all liked it," I tell him. "She'll be a ten minute drive and a six minute train ride away instead of a five hour plane ride. You can see her every single day if you wanted to."

"And," Diana grins, glancing between us, "when you two get married and have babies, I'll be right here to help you with it."

Spencer lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head hesitantly. "Okay. Let's go."

///

Spencer and I wave goodbye at Diana and then go heading off to my car, hopping in and I start the ignition. I let out a loud yawn, covering my mouth as I buckle my seatbelt. I feel Spencer's hand in my hair and it makes me smile, and as the ridiculously long day comes to a close, I find myself more and more excited to crawl into bed. And then upon further thought, I get even more excited to crawl into bed with Spencer at my side.

"Do you want me to drive?" Spencer asks, dragging his hand to my jawline. "You look exhausted."

"Oh, you should see yourself, bub," I quip, turning on my headlights. "I'll be fine. It's just a ten minute drive back home."

"Hey, wait," Spencer says, reaching for my hand on the wheel. I turn my head to him, smiling tiredly. "Um," he returns my tired smile, "I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. For, you know, finding a facility for my mom. It means a lot to me to know that you care so much about her."

"She's your mom, Spencer. Of course I care about her. I just wanted to help out and make everyone's lives easier," I shrug gently.

"And also," Spencer drops his voice to a whisper and looks down at his voice, "I wanted to thank you for not abandoning me. I don't-- well, I don't have a lot of people in my life and people have a habit of leaving me after they've been around me for a while. But you've stuck with me through the craziness with my mom and through my arrest and through prison when I'm sure there's plenty of guys who are banging down your door and you could--"

"Oh god," I grimace at the thought. "Dr. Reid, I don't wanna be with anyone else but you. I thought I made that clear before. Remember? Sitting in the hallway? We're getting married and having babies, remember? You're my first and only boyfriend and I don't want any other asshole guy who's gonna swoop in and think they're a Know It All. Why would I want a fake Know It All when I have the read deal Know It All right here?"

Spencer chuckles and he turns his hand to intertwine our fingers. "Thank you for waiting for me. And thank you for even coming to the prison. JJ said you were a bit too scared to come in so I appreciate you coming at all."

I choose not to comment about that. It's not the time to talk about this. It's not the time and not the place. We're exhausted and Spencer is fragile and while he needs to eventually talk to someone about his time in prison, it probably shouldn't be me and it probably shouldn't be at 3 am in a parking lot.

"I'll always be waiting for you," I smile in an attempt to move on from that topic of conversation, and when my phone buzzes in my pocket, I quickly pull it out to find Penelope calling me. I just miss the call and see that she already called me three times. "Oh, that's weird."

"Call her back," Spencer says, leaning over my shoulder. "And put it on speaker."

I dial Penelope's number and put my phone on speaker. She picks up after only half a dial tone. "Thank god!" She exclaims. "I feel like I've been calling you for my entire life!"

"My phone was in my pocket, sorry. What's up? Is everything okay?"

"No!" She shouts, and just her sharp tone of voice makes me panicky. "Are you with Reid?"

"I'm right here. On speaker. Garcia, what's going on? Is the team okay? Is it Lindsay or Cat?"

Penelope goes on the explain how Morgan got a text from Penelope about a safe house Spencer was supposed to stay at. It was all completely fake and due to Penelope's super skills, she figured out that her phone number was duplicated by none other than Mr. Scratch himself.

"The team drove out there but it was a trap!"

"Scratch's traps have traps, Garcia, we know that. They should've been prepared. Are they okay?" Spencer's voice gets louder as he gets more nervous.

"Not really. The house wasn't rigged. The street on the way was. There were road spikes and he was watching for when they came. And after they hit the spikes, a truck came and hit them. They all have to go to the hospital. Luke is okay and he's driving me to the hospital right now, and Matt Simmons is here too. But Tara's in shock, Rossi hurt his leg, JJ has glass in her forehead, Emily dislocated her shoulder, and Stephen is-- he's--"

Spencer and I exchange a downcast look as we understand what she can't say. Stephen is dead and it's all Scratch's fault. This man has been terrorizing this team for years and now he's killed a member of their team.

"Okay, Penelope," Spencer murmurs, "we're on our way to the hospital now. Keep us updated." Despite the fact that my phone is in my hand, Spencer hangs it up. He takes it from me and places it into the cup holder, then replaces my phone with his hand. "Amelia," he whispers, "do you want me to drive?"

Silently, I nod. I climb out of the driver’s side and practically waddle to the passenger side, sinking into the seat that Spencer was just in. He starts the engine and drives off, calmer and gentler than I had imagined he would be.

"I'm sorry," Spencer eventually breaks the thick silence, glancing over at me. "I know you liked Stephen and I'm sure you guys got really close the last few months."

My head slowly swivels to him, and I find that, as he should be, he's not looking at me. His eyes are locked on the road and focusing extra hard since it's the middle of the night. But I'd rather have it that way right now. "I'm--" I hesitate before I speak, but I know that now I've opened my mouth, I've sealed my fate, "I'm a horrible person."

I see Spencer furrow his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"I'm a bad person, Spencer, because I'm only kinda upset that Stephen is dead. I'm upset because--" I hiccup, my eyes widening as I try to speak. "Every time I see a dead cop or a dead agent, all I think about is how that could've been you. That dead agent could've been my boyfriend, dead in the field and I'd have to be the one called in to identify his body. I can't imagine how Monica and her kids are going to feel but I just always think about how I'd feel if I was woken up by that call that you were killed in the field.”

"You won't," Spencer answers with a stubborn shake of his head. "I'm careful in the field. I don't want you to worry about me, Lia. I’m gonna be fine.”

///

I can't remember spending much time in emergency rooms. But in the time that I have, they were never this chaotic. There are people everywhere and I'm surprised it's this busy on a Wednesday-into-Thursday at 4 am. But Spencer grabs my hand and takes charge, marching right up to a doctor and demanding he knows where the Behavioral Analysis Unit agents are. And I have to admit, despite how distressed I am, he looks incredibly sexy taking charge like that. But the doctor answered him and pointed to a certain section for the BAU.

"Amelia," JJ sighs of relief as she sees me, reaching a hand out and I quickly grab it, giving her the support she's looking for, "thank you for coming. I'm sure you're so tired--"

"Shh, shh, stop, don't worry about me," I coo, taking on her usual role of the mother figure. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Um," a few tears fall down her cheeks and she quickly wipes them away, "I haven't called Will yet and--"

"I did that in the car on the way over here, don't worry. He's on his way over," I tell her, fixing the wrapping on her ice pack so it isn't falling off anymore. JJ nods, relieved, and relaxes more into my touch. "Me and Spencer are both here so if you need anything, you just ask either of us, okay? Don't hesitate."

JJ nods, wrapping her free arm around my waist to give me an awkward side hug. "Thank you so much. Go check on everyone else. Emily is right over there and Rossi is refusing treatment, I think."

"Okay, I'll check on you later," I give her one more smile before heading off towards Emily's gurney. She's laying down and her shoulder is covered by a pile of dressings and her face is full of little cuts and bruises. Her eyes widen when she sees me and she reaches her uninjured arm for me. "Hi, Em. Do you need anything? Are you okay?"

"Amelia," Emily chokes out, and just from the way she speaks, I can see that she's in an intense amount of pain. "You should--" she hisses in pain, "should take Reid and go home. He deserves to go home and so do you. You're both exhausted and just got out of prison and you're--"

"We're here to help, Emily. We're not going anywhere until we know you guys are okay," I adjust the ice pack that's on her head and her eyelids flutter, and as badly as I do wish I could take Spencer home, I know that we need to be here to help everyone.

"Go help Rossi. He's being a little bitch about this," Emily responds, making me laugh. "I've got more balls than him. I'm fine. Go."

I laugh at Emily, shaking my head at her stubbornness, but nod nonetheless. I turn on my heel and start to head towards Rossi's little room but before I can get there, I run right into Spencer and Luke.

"Is Dave okay?" I ask, glancing between the two men who tower over me. "JJ and Emily are beat up but they're pushing through."

"Rossi needs us to go back to the BAU to get something for him," Luke says, holding up his car keys. "Me and Reid are heading back now."

My head snaps over to Spencer, eyes widened. Of course, I should have expected this. Why did I think that we would just show up here to help Spencer's teammates and not expect him to get roped into some kind of work? It was a stupid expectation, to be honest. Almost the entire team is down and Scratch is clearly very close to them. They need all hands on deck.

I just nod slowly, letting out a sigh. "Okay. Just be careful, please. Be really, really careful."

"We will be," Spencer nods back at me. He turns to leave, but before he can leave, I grab his wrist. "Amelia," he swivels his head, "we need to go."

"Just," I hold out my pinky, "humor me."

Spencer smiles softly, wrapping his pinky around mine. "We're just going back to the BAU. We're gonna be fine."

"Please let me know when you get there. And if you leave the building," I squeeze his pinky in mine before releasing him completely, waving him away with Luke. And so, I'm left with four injured FBI agents after an attack from an escaped serial killer, and a boyfriend who clearly has PTSD and hasn't slept or eaten in almost two days. I sigh, turning to look in Dave's room, then at JJ and Emily. "Great. Just great."

///

"Will just got here?" Emily asks, adjusting the strap of her sling, her arm now popped into its socket.

"Yeah, he's with JJ now. I think they said they were gonna--" I'm cut off when my phone starts ringing in my pocket. How is this thing not dead yet? I see that Penelope is calling and I swear, for a moment, I don't even want to pick up. She never has anything good to say. "Hi, P. How's it going?"

"H--Hi," she stumbles over her words, sounding a bit distant. "So, um, I'm at the BAU with Matt Simmons and Spencer is here too and Luke went to get Monica, but, um, I think you should come here."

Emily can hear my phone and she gives me a confused look, which I immediately return to her. "Why? Is Spencer okay?"

"He's just--" Penelope pauses. "We all got to work when we got back and he took on a lot of work and then he kicked me and Matt out of the conference room so he could be alone because he said he couldn't focus and he's just getting really frustrated and he looks so angry and-- Amelia, I feel like you're the only one who can bring him down to Earth."

Emily nods in agreement, gesturing towards the door as if to tell me to go. I feel bad leaving the team in the hospital without anyone to help them, someone who's not a nurse, but Spencer is my main priority right now. So I tell Penelope that I'll be there as soon as possible and go rushing out of the hospital and out to my car for the millionth time today.

///

The elevator doors open and the first thing I notice is how quiet the sixth floor seems. I'm so used to it bustling with people who have agendas and schedules and meetings. But now it's the middle of the night and everyone is home resting, where I wish I could be with my boyfriend.

I pull open the glass doors and find Penelope working on a desk with a man beside her, someone I've never seen before. She looks up when I enter, sighing a breath of relief. "Thank god you're here," she gestures towards the conference room where Spencer is furiously pacing and is clearly talking to himself, waving his hands back and forth. "He's only gotten more worked up since I called you."

"You're Amelia?" the man steps forward, holding his hand out. "I'm Matt Simmons."

"Yeah, Amelia," I nod, shaking his hand politely with a tight smile. "I'm Spencer's girlfriend. I believe I've heard him mention in the past before actually. You have four kids, right? Bless your--"

I'm completely cut off by a loud banging, and the three of us look up in time to see Spencer hurling a book at the glass panel in the conference room. There isn't even a moment of hesitation before we're rushing towards him, pushing open the door and approaching him.

"B-CAP," Spencer states, his hands digging into his eyes. He starts rattling off something about what this plant is, where it's from, and how to find it. Matt responds and Spencer nods, and there's no chance I'll understand what they're talking about, but that's not my main focus. Spencer drops his hands from his eyes and then glances between the three of us. "Why are you staring at me?"

"You," Penelope whispers, "you throw a book at a window. It was jarring."

"Yeah, well," Spencer scoffs, turning his back to us, "it took me thirty minutes to deduce what should have taken me thirty seconds. And if Scratch gets away and more people die because of it, then I'll be throwing a lot more than books," He leans his hands against the conference table and hangs his head, taking labored breaths.

I quickly usher Penelope and Matt out of the room, closing the door behind them. Penelope gives me a concerned look over her shoulder but I just give her a smile in return. Nothing can provide comfort right now, but I'm really trying.

Spencer hasn't moved when I turn back to him so I creep forward and reach for his waist. The moment my fingers make contact with his body, he completely jumps out of his skin and cowers away from me, as if he hadn't even realized it was me touching him.

I retract my hands as he backs away from me, holding them up in the air so he can see there's no foul play going on. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I apologize quickly. "I just-- I just wanted to help. I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd--"

"I can't let him get away!" Spencer is shouting again, waving his hands around frantically. "He's been getting away for too long! He's so close and I can let him--"

"Dove, I know it's hard," I step closer to him and when he doesn't cower away again, I move closer again. "I know you wanna catch Scratch and you absolutely will. But you need to rest. You haven't slept in who knows how long, you haven't eaten, you haven't showered, you haven't changed your clothes. You--" I let out a breath and just gently hold my hands out to him in the hopes that he'll grab them, and when he doesn't, I keep them there as a silent, continuous invitation, "you're a little burnt out, Spence. I know you wanna work and that you wanna help your team, and I admire you for that, but--"

"Rossi reinstated me," he tells me stubbornly, a switch flipping him back to seriousness and away from fear as he walks back over to the whiteboard. "In the hospital, he said I'm fully reinstated for right now and that I need to help out. I'm doing what he asked."

"Spencer," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest, "Rossi was fucking delirious. JJ told me that he told you to get tickets for a baseball game."

"It was code," Spencer retorts, picking up the book from the floor like it wasn’t the object he took his aggression out on and starting to read. "I'm not stopping."

"Fine," I give up, marching over to him, taking the book out of his hands and putting it aside, "keep working then, but I'm not leaving."

Spencer's face solidifies and he gets serious again. "You should leave. You haven't slept or eaten either and--"

"I'm not leaving until you leave. So I'm gonna get on this fucking table and go to sleep and you can join me if you'd like. But I'm not leaving you, Spencer, I told you that. I'm not abandoning you," and with that, I strip off my coat and climb on top of the conference room table, balling up the coat like a pillow and laying down. And with the crazy events of the day, I fall asleep right away, despite being on a table and despite having my unhinged boyfriend in the same room.

When I eventually wake up again, I'm in a different room. I'm not laying on a hard table but instead, I'm in an interview room on a couch. It takes me a moment to get used to my surroundings, but when I do I realize that I'm covered by Spencer's suit jacket and that my hand is clutching his sobriety medallion.

His absence quickly dawns on me and I gasp, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. I search for my phone to check the time and realize it's not on me so I stumble out of the interview room and towards Penelope's office. But before I can even get there, I find her wandering towards the elevators with her heels in her hand and her phones in her other.

"Amelia! You're awake!" She exclaims, grinning. "Come! The team is just coming up."

"What did I miss? What happened? Where's Spencer?" I ramble on tiredly as she drags me away.

"We got a hit on where Scratch was. Spencer, Luke, Matt, Emily, and JJ all went to the warehouse that he was at. They're coming back," she says as we pause in front of the elevators.

"Did they get Scratch?" It wasn't a necessary question. Penelope would have led with that information if it were true. I knew they wouldn't have captured Scratch. It's too easy. She doesn't answer.

The elevator doors open and the team files out in their kevlars with their guns on their hips, and Spencer comes out last. He gives me a tiny smile, his hands tucked in his pockets. He doesn't even make an effort to hug me when he approaches me, just stands close enough that I can feel his breath on me.

"Don't you ever," I sneer, pointing my finger at him, "leave to chase a serial killer without telling me. Don't you ever do that again."

Spencer nods shamefully, chewing his bottom lip. "You were so tired that I thought I could get there and back without you waking up. I almost did."

I breathe in a long breath, shaking my head. "You were close. I woke up two minutes ago," Spencer nods in response, staring down at the floor. Everyone is walking away now, discarding their vests and guns and reaching for their car keys. "Can--" I gulp, "can I hug you?"

Spencer nods and pulls his hands out of his pockets, sliding them around my back and pulling my body flush against his. I hug his waist tight, and despite the harsh lines of the kevlar, I melt into his embrace and close my eyes. Spencer rests his head on the top of mine, starting to hiccup as tears stream down his cheeks. "Amelia?"

"Yes, my dove?" I quip in response.

"Can you bring me home now?"

I let out a breath. A breath that releases all the bad energy and all the horrible events of the past few months. Because even though Scratch has escaped, the BAU will catch him, there's no doubt of that. But my Spencer is coming home finally, and he's here to stay.

"It would be my absolute pleasure."

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