#secondly: she's sick and she needs help

[rapha-reads]

Rewatching The Star Beast for the first time since the 60th celebration, and man I am just SOBBING all over the place.

And I was rewatching The Ghost Monument earlier today, and yeah, my emotions are out of control.

The transition from Thirteenth's depression to Fourteenth's beginning of acceptance of how they're not fine to Fifteenth's exuberant joy as we're starting his time, aligned with the Tardis's own slow degradation, is interesting.

Because I don't know if you've noticed, but for the past few series, the Tardis has gone more and more silent and gloomy. The Doctor and the Tardis are telepathically linked, and we know the Doctor hasn't been alright in ages. And the thing is, their bad mental health impacts her.

Thirteenth's Tardis was dark. Her physical appearance, the crystals and the lack of lights, but also their dynamics. Although the Doctor would talk to the Tardis, she would also sometimes berate her, or flat on ignore her, or on a few occasions, mistreat her (banging on the console the way you'd bang on an old computer, which isn't new, Eleventh had a hammer for it, but Eleventh only used it in extreme cases) and put her in harm's way.

Now with Fourteenth's regeneration, the Tardis updid herself too, although there was no need given that for once the Doctor didn't regenerate inside and burned everything (Tenth kept Ninth's console room until he exploded inside - intradiegetically, the console room can stay the same from one regeneration to another; extradiegetically, the change in showrunners implies a change in Tardis design). But her new console room is cold. I don't know if that's a shared opinion, but I find the new console room too big, too open, too white, too empty. The console room was never that empty, even in Classic Who, from the few episodes I've seen. Yes, the round things are back, and yes, there's a jukebox, but... It feels empty.

And what we've seen through the 3 specials and then again in Space Babies is that the Tardis is not alright. Something's going on with her. RTD never does anything randomly, and he's been paying attention to Chibnall's era. There's something afoot here, and he's definitely going to hit us with a big bag of emotional punches at some point.

[glossgojo]

the neighborhood keeps getting smaller

joel miller x reader

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v sex, joel has a big dick, breeding kink, size kink, pet names, MATING PRESS BRRR, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids don’t be dumb)

can be read as a sequel to hold me across state lines

you and joel have been going slow whether you like it or not, you finally get a chance to spend some together when ellie is out for the night….

ellie had caught on pretty quickly that things had changed between you two. in fact the next morning at breakfast she blurted out, “you guys are fucking aren’t you?”

“oh my god ellie.” you clutched your head with your hands, elbows on the table as you felt a headache incoming. joel grumbled next to you and ellie almost gagged at his cheeks coloring pink. i mean, could you even blame her? you woke up this morning dredging into the kitchen in only what appeared to be joel’s shirt, looking around like a lost puppy until you met his eyes. joel wasn’t any better, his jaw dropped a little bit and his eyes swept over you quickly. ellie didn’t even hold back an eye roll; it wasn't like you two were paying her any attention anyways. you couldn’t raise your head and look the teenager in the eyes, you’d let joel handle this one. besides it wasn’t like you two had fucked you’d just gotten more intimate than two platonic partners ever did.

“ellie, first of all don’t talk like that especially when we’re eating, secondly we’re taking it slow and when we’re ready to tell you anything we’ll let you know.” joel’s tone, although gruff and stern, soothed your nerves. this wasn’t a one time thing and he was making it clear to both of you in that moment. when you woke up from the deepest sleep you’d had in a while you expected him to be next to you, so when you wandered into the kitchen this morning you needed comfort, you needed confirmation.

“okay fine but it’s not like it’s a surprise to anyone. the whole town thought you guys were practically married.” with that ellie scarfed down her remaining pancake and took her plate to the sink. you looked up at joel who looked equally confused as you were. were you both such fools? it seemed you two were the last to know. you waited until you could hear ellie stomp all the way upstairs and close her bedroom door behind her.

“God how am i gonna look her in the eyes?” you were a motherly figure to the girl, you felt mortified just thinking about facing her again.

“it’s fine, clearly the whole town was thinking it anyways.” joel had to admit he felt a sick thrill knowing the whole town thought you were his. it certainly explained why none of the younger eligible bachelors who snuck glances at you, but dared to approach you. he had likened it to his glaring, but clearly it was something more.

“jesus christ, they were, weren't they?” you scoffed and couldn’t help but take in joel’s appearance. he looked well-rested and as cheery as joel miller possibly could be. no wonder ellie had suspected something. “uhm joel.” joel didn’t think he could hear his name come out of your mouth without picturing you laid out for him, arched in pleasure and crying out his name like it was the only word you knew.

his mind stopped working for a moment as he looked at your messy hair and swollen eyes, and then he responded realizing he could only stare at you so long. a simple hum from him caused you to shiver as you scouted to the edge of your seat, your bare thigh brushing against his denim one.

“did you mean it when you said we’re taking things slow?” joel’s gaze traveled from your dilated pupils to your parted lips and found their home in your flushed cheeks. he wanted nothing more than to clear the table and cap off his meal with the dessert between your legs, but he wanted to know what you wanted. this was his last way to give you an out, to let you get ready of him easy. so it was only natural when he spoke next. your wide pretty eyes were clinging onto his every word as soon as his mouth opened and he itched to pull you close and kiss the air from your lungs.

“it’s up to you darling.” his voice was deep as he ground out his words. darling. with his southern drawl and your proclivity to find every word the man said to be sensual, you couldn’t even hide the chill that traveled down your spine. you were absolutely dazed as you swung your leg over his thighs and settled onto his lap. you barely fit in the space between him and the table but you didn’t care, you’d nestle in between his ribs if he let you. joel’s eyes took you in like you were the only thing in the world, studying your features and the pretty flush on your skin that seemed to go with him wherever he went. he wished he hadn’t wasted so much time with you.

“if you keep calling me darling, we’ll have to continue where we left off last night.” you leaned forward, whispering it into his good ear. joel could feel his blood traveling south, you sure knew how to make him feel young. fortunately, you were not quite on his bulge, otherwise he’s not sure either of you would be talking much longer. joel had his hands on your waist, he’d done it purposefully because if they went any south he’d have to find out just how south he could travel without you stopping him. he’d bet it was as much as he wanted.

“is that all it takes? pretty girl like you probably heard things like that often.” joel can imagine men and women alike throwing themselves at your feet. you were so damn gorgeous and good he felt like he’d won the lottery. a deep grumble resounded from your chest at his pet name once again, you’d let him do anything to you if he kept sweetening you up.

“don’t you know i’m gone for you miller?” you were slowly blinking, sleep still in your eyes and joel thought he felt his heart skip a beat. you looked like an angel sent just for him, he didn’t deserve an angel.

“i’m starting to pick up on that.” if you were far gone, joel was off the deep end.

“hmm well, it’s just you, no one else affects me like this.” you moved closer, your arms looped around his neck tightening. you could almost feel his bulge and joel had to groan as he felt his self-control slip. you smelled so good, like sex and honeysuckle. joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, you melted into him a little bit more.

“that makes us two of us sweetheart, but we should probably wait for when ellie’s not here.” he was warning you, trying to stop what was coming as he saw your eyes darken, your breathing picking up as your breast pressed into his chest.

“i can be quiet.” you were gonna be the death of him.

“tempting, but i’d rather hear you yell my name like you’ve gotten so fucking good at.” a small little smile painted your lips and joel fell a little more in love. instead of being shy, you seemed proud of yourself, like his name was made for you to scream.

“alright but go around calling me sweetheart, i might just crack.” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, your soft lips grazing against his rough beard, as you swung your leg back over and gave joel a good glimpse at your underwear.

it did nothing to help his hard-on.

since that breakfast with ellie you both had been good, stealing kisses when you could. the next night you both fell asleep with joel holding you close, just like you always did. but there was something simmering in both of you, you could feel it travel between your thighs and remain unattended. you three were having dinner at the community hall, when a girl ellie’s age asked her to watch a movie. you’d seen the girl hanging around ellie before, knew she was close with her as much as one could get to the wary teenager. “finish your dinner hon, then you can go do whatever you want.”

“is it okay if ellie sleeps over? the movie will end late.” you exchanged a look with joel, you weren’t giving up your kid that easily. you moved to stand up, the girl a little intimidated by you. you wondered if she’d start crying if joel had taken this one.

softening your expression slightly you asked, “where’s your parents?” the girl pointed in the direction of two people standing in line for food, ellie groaned in embarrassment and you ruffled her hair to tease her a bit more. it felt so plainly familiar that you thought about all the times you’d do the same with your little sister. joel couldn’t help but feel a shudder at the way you treated ellie, you always were so warm with her and he wished he could do it as easily as you did. ellie saw you as a mother, there was no doubt in his mind about that. you moved towards the couple with the girl following you. the couple was painfully normal and sweet, they seemed so well-adjusted you wondered if they’d ever even seen a clicker. despite your slight disdain for their blissful ignorance you couldn’t deny that they seemed perfectly normal and harmless. it also didn’t hurt that you were sure your ellie could take them any day of the week. with that you nodded at the parents and told the girl that ellie would find her after dinner. walking back to the table you found joel’s gaze on you, a look in his eye you couldn’t quite comprehend.

dinner passed by and joel and you said goodbye to ellie, telling her to be kind but not to hesitate to leave if she feels unsafe. it was the first night you’d spent apart since you joined them.

joel took your hand in his as you walked to the edge of town and made your way to your condo. you were surprised by his touch but welcomed it nonetheless, with joel you’d take whatever he gave you. “you think ellie’s okay right now?”

“just thinking about that myself actually.” you knew joel was as worried about her as you were. he didn’t let on just how much he worried but you knew, you could tell from the permanent frown had gotten deeper.

“we can swing by their place, i already asked maria for their address.” you and joel could probably break in and check on her but that would be a bit extreme even for you two.

“of course you did.” joel shot you a smirk, making your heart beat pick up. you both entered the home and you kicked off your boots, throwing off your jacket and hanging it up. you watched as joel did the same, taking in his broad chest that stretched against his shirt as he took off his jacket. you could watch him all day.

“gonna hop in the shower darlin’.” you nodded, slightly in a daze, following joel like a puppy as he walked towards your shared bedroom.

“can i join you?” joel pressed a kiss to your lips as he grabbed a towel and opened the bathroom door. you shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against your lips.

“how bout you just sit pretty and wait for me hm?” he motioned towards the bed and you nodded eagerly, joel found your enthusiasm maddening. he wanted you just as badly but he’d rather take you in the bed, it was the least you deserved. meanwhile you didn’t care where you were with him, as long as you could have him. after what felt like the longest 5 minutes of your life, the bathroom door cracked open, to reveal joel in only a towel around his waist. you didn’t even think twice before you padded over only in socks and one of joel’s shirts. your eyes widened as you outstretched a hand to feel the graying chest hair and maddening small gut surrounded by strong muscles. joel watched you wordlessly as your eyes narrowed at scars he’d gained over the years, your small hand inspecting and feeling whatever you could. joel felt something swell in his chest as you eyed him down, there was no hesitation in you to reach out for him. when you finally seemed satisfying joel stepped to the side so he could at least pull on a pair of boxers. your eyes never left him and joel could’ve laughed at how hungry you were for him if his mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of your hard nipples through his fucking t-shirt.

joel toweled his hair dry, watching you as you continued to ogle him. he wasn’t any better, in the few seconds he wasn’t looking at your eyes he was taking in your curves or how he didn’t want you in anything other than his clothes. it was just as sexy as the suggestion of fabric you’d worn as lingerie before.

“come here darlin’,” you blushed instantly, moving towards him as he threw the towel to the side. your hands came up to smooth his hair down, it looked wild and you wanted to mess it for yourself later on. you raked a hand through his hair, your fingernails scraping his scalp, and joel let out a content grumble. your pussy clenched around air from the sound, you were exposed under this shirt, cool air making it clear to you how wet you were already getting. joel’s hands came up to your hips, squeezing and earning a gasp from your lips as your hands cupped his face. he pulled you closer, leaning down as he pressed a kiss to your lips, his tongue trailing the seam of your lips and you moaned out his name in response. “bed, now.” you wasted no time in backpedaling with joel’s hands still on your hips, not even breaking eye contact as you sighed out in content. when the back of your knees hit the bedframe, joel lifted you over it and dropped you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. you almost let out another whimper. joel climbed over you, his thighs caging you in as he sat up and raked over you.

“y’don’t know how long i’ve been dreaming about this,” you gasped as his hands traveled down until they reached the edge of your shirt, his rough fingertips brushing the bare skin where the shirt met your thighs. you whined and grasped the bedsheets as you tried not to just pull him to you, you were already so desperate you didn’t know know how much more you could forsake your dignity.

“how long?” you practically whined it out when his fingertips dipped under the shirt, slowly making their way up.

“ever since i saw you.” you whined out his name as his hands found their way to either side of your hips, the calluses on his thumbs created friction as they swiped along your soft skin.

“no underwear huh?” joel’s brown eyes were wide, his pupils blown out like you were sure yours were. you swallowed down as his eyes kept staring you down, staring where you needed him most.

“why waste time?” you noted, as his hands shoved the material up, past your belly-button leaving you exposed. joel pushed the material up until your breasts were exposed and your nipples poked up into the air. you would’ve felt shy if not for the low curse joel muttered under his breath. without warning the man dove down, his mouth traveling up your navel leaving kisses and bites along your center. your hands found refuge in his hair, tangling the damp strands between your fingers and pulling when he bit you a little harder than you anticipated. joel, tantalizingly slow, kissed his way to your breasts. his mouth latched onto one nipple as his fingers teased the other. the bite of his teeth, the suck of his mouth, and the rough pad of his finger felt like fire against you and it made your mind swim with desire. joel was mean to your breasts, not letting up until you could see red marks blooming on your chest. you had tried to be quiet, knowing joel didn’t want the whole neighborhood to hear you but you couldn’t help it when he pulled you between his teeth and moved away, “joel!” the fucker laughed at your reaction, pressing his now free thumb to your lips. without much thought you stuck your tongue out to lick it, joel’s grip on your hip tightened.

“want you inside.” joel’s erection was straining his boxers and you wanted to feel him, you’d beg if you had to. he nodded at your words, seemingly in a daze from your actions and words. lowering down as his hand followed and moved to finger you. he pulled your ankles to rest on his shoulders, giving him easier access. although you loved his hands, you wouldn’t last much longer, not with him looking at you like this and not with desire coursing through you more than any sensible thought. you wanted to come with him, placing a hand over his you spoke. “joel please just fuck me, i’m prepped.” joel seriously doubted that being that you struggled to take three of his fingers last time, but nonetheless he nodded and pressed a kiss to your ankle. joel pushed his boxers down, taking them off in one swift movement and your jaw dropped.

it was the biggest dick you’d ever seen, thick and long, perfectly cropped gray dark hair at the base and your mouth watered at the sight of it. despite your desire, doubt creeped into your mind, “joel it’s so big, i don’t think it’ll fit.” your words sparked a fire in him and joel had to push down the very real need to plunge into you and make you sob from the stretch but he needed to soothe your doubt. and despite your wide eyes he could see your pussy clenching on air as if begging to take him. joel had to stifle a smirk at the sight.

“you can take it doll, you’re a big girl.” you swallowed as you nodded, trusting him implicitly and sitting up as you watched him. despite your earlier comments, joel still had to check that you weren’t too tight and he didn’t need to grab lube to make it easier on you, he stuck two fingers into you, a low moan resounding from your throat at the feeling of something finally touching you where you needed. sure enough, joel found you were practically dripping. he looked from his fingers glistening from your ichor back to you with a teasing curiosity in his eyes and you just sighed in defeat, throwing your head back. joel took this time to move closer to you, your ankles going past his head as your legs glided over his shoulders, lining himself up. joel looked at you for any hesitation, except you were just looking past his face, nodding in anticipation.

joel does his best to move slowly, pushing his head in first, you gasp at the stretch. you’re burning up and yet you need more, you want him to break you. your eyes roll to the back of your head when he pushes two inches in and joel thinks he should take a picture of your face to save forever. he can keep his composure, control his speed until you look him straight in the eyes and smile so wide he thinks he might be imagining it. joel can’t help but plunge into you. your mind instantly goes numb, the stretch burning and his tip hitting your cervix, tears sting your eyes as joel gives you time to adjust, “so fucking tight pretty girl, it’s like you were made for me.” and you can’t talk, the pleasure cutting off any connection between your mind and your body. joel feels so suffocated by your pussy, he’s not sure he’ll last long, not when you look so pretty crying over his cock or when you’re so warm and wet for him he feels overwhelmed by the notion alone.

so he starts moving slowly, fractionally moving in and out, you start clenching less as your body gets used to him. it doesn’t stop the mind-numbing shock you feel when his dick kisses your cervix, but it still keeps you sane. joel feels himself going insane, even with his bad ear he can perfectly hear how fucking wet you are and the downright pornographic sounds your bodies are making. he’s still a gentleman, still has some decency to warn you before he fucks you dumb.

“safe word is texas okay.” you nod enthusiastically, clutching your breast as joel pulls out completely and fucks into you with his full length. your jaw slackens, tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, and you can’t help but scream his name. joel’s pace doesn’t relent after that, he’s bruising your cervix and your mind and body can only agree on one thing and that’s joel. you scream his name as the angle of your bodies does nothing to help the intense pleasure you feel. joel stretches you and you don’t think you could ever want another dick in your life, not when you can feel his veins imprinting on your walls, or the throb of his cock inside you. you cum when he angles himself even deeper, white painting your vision as you arch and stiffen against him, joel whispering praises as he keeps his brutal rhythm. you feel joel grow close when his grunts turn to curses and interchange with your name.

you think joel must be feeling as brainless as you do when he starts muttering, “this pussy is mine, y/n fuck can’t have anyone else after this.” you feel yourself close to another orgasm and then joel pushes against your hips, your legs stretching to get him closer, your bodies flush against each other and while you thought that joel couldn’t stretch you any more you were totally wrong. he’s dragging against your walls like he was made for them. pressing into you like he wants to put a baby in you, and you are so fucked dumb, words barely escaping your mouth as he slides in and out of you. you’re babbling nonsense and joel thinks he’s no better as he feels himself close. his thumb finds your clit, massaging until he feels you clench around him.

“come with me doll.” you cry out his name and joel takes it as a yes, his pace slowing down to an equally torturous slow and deep one. he moves to pull out and you whine. joel almost loses his mind.

“no no no please want your cum.” you’d deal with the consequences tomorrow right now you’d go crazy if you didn’t feel filled by him. and he can’t bring himself to deny you. you have tears streaming down your face from desire, and he’s not a monster. joel comes inside, burying himself to the hilt and you feel warm from his cum, feeling it fill you up and it’s so much you’re starting to think you’ll never feel fuller. when joel pulls out, your juices combined with his spill down your cunt, and joel thinks he’s worked up an appetite.

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[miley1442111]

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and  just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me. 

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck. 

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her. 

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-” 

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh.��

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist. 

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious. 

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years  of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now. 

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.” 

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes. 

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him. 

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid. 

[talaok]

Can you write a pedro x sick!reader story, but the reader doesn't just have a little cold im talking SICK reader. Like rushing to the emergency room hurt/comfort kinda thing.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

a/n: ok first of all im incredibly sorry for the wait, genuinely im really really sorry. and secondly im not 100% sure i did what you had in mind, which makes me feel like shit even more, so if it's not, you can tell me and ill try to write it again 

"Sir I need you to calm down"

"I will as soon as you answer my questions"

"sir," the paramedic said more sternly now "I've already told you I'm not a doctor so I cannot answer your questions, now please calm down"

And he wanted to fight more and beg that woman to answer his questions because, after all, the only one he cared about was: Is she gonna be ok?

But your eyelids fluttered and the ambulance took a turn and all the sudden he couldn't talk or think or do anything anymore but take your hand in his and start a low chant of the only thing he would allow himself to think, the only thing that still made him able to breathe oxygen into his lungs:

You're gonna be okay, sweetheart, he whispered, his words verging on prayer as he squeezed your hand and watched your beautiful face pale more and more You're gonna be just fine

__ __ __

And as it turns out, his prayers were answered.

"the surgery went well, she's gonna make a full recovery"

He had no words, all he could do was smile like a fucking idiot while he passed a hand through his hair.

She's ok

She's ok

She's ok

That's all his brain was able to muster up, and then for some reason he was hugging the doctor.

"thank you" he grinned "Thank you so much doctor-" he smiled, leaning away "Can I-can I see her?"

The woman cleared her throat, clearly taken aback a bit "Yes," she nodded "she's in the first room on the left, but just so you know the anesthesia is still wearing off so-"

"yes, yes, thank you so much doctor," he couldn't wait for her to finish as he was sprinting to the room already "thank you!" he said one last time, finally opening the door to your room.

He had to stop for a moment and look at you lying on the hospital bed, looking just as perfect as ever.

She's ok

"hey" he spoke softly, approaching your bed, and seeing a smile slowly part your mouth.

"hey"

"How are you feeling?" he asked, moving some hair out of your face and letting his hand linger on your cheek

"not great"

"I'm sorry" he cooed, taking your hand in his and feeling you squeeze it as your eyes watered "What's wrong?" he panicked "Does it hurt- do I call the doctor-?"

"no" you sniffled as a tear fled your eye "I just-"

"what is it, sweetheart?"

"I was just... I was s-so scared"

"oh baby" he murmured, bringing your hand to his mouth to leave a kiss on it "I'm so sorry" he cooed "I can't even begin to imagine how scary that must have been... but hey" he offered you a soft smile as he crouched down to be at your level "you're ok now, there's nothing to worry about anymore" he promised, gently kissing your forehead "you can relax now. I'm here for you, whatever you need you just ask, ok?"

"ok" you nodded, taking a breath "thank you... for everything" you murmured, looking into his kind eyes "for this, for calling the ambulance, for being here for me... just- thank you"

He didn't know what to say, so all he did was kiss you,

"I love you" he smiled "and sugar... don't you ever think about scaring me like that again"

You couldn't help but snort at that

"oh so this is about you then?" you joked

"damn right it is" he laughed in that way he could only do with you "they were about to have to assist two people in that ambulance," he said jokingly (although it was the truth) "and I think I was annoying one of the paramedics so much that I was about to get thrown out"

"oh no what did you do?"

"let's not think about that now," he said, the smile on his lips not able to go away from the first second he saw you

"Baby..." you tilted your head, scolding him silently

"I've brought you a kit-kat" he smiled that smile of his that made you forget what you were talking about every single time 

"You did?" it was as if your eyes sparkled

"Of course" he nodded, handing you the candy bar "I'm not sure you can eat it, we're gonna have to ask the doctor, but I wanted you to have something you liked when you woke up"

Your eyes watered again, but this time, for an entirely different reason

"I love you" you whispered

"I love you more, sweetheart"

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 37: Heartbroken and vengeful

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Nothing really [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You crawl on your hands and feet out of the lake, spluttering and coughing up some of the nasty lake water. You wipe your face in an effort to get rid of the lake bits while you find your footing. 

You cast a drying spell on your clothes as the Golden Trio pulls clean clothes out of Hermione's beaded handbag and discuss the visions Harry saw and what their next step is. 

Suddenly, the trio turns to you and you halt like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes flicker from Harry to Hermione to Ron and back. "Sorry?"

"The next Horcrux is in Hogwarts."

You shake your head. "Snape's headmaster now. There is no way you can just waltz right in. And my cover is blown so I'm not much help either with sneaking you in."

Harry turns to Ron as he tugs down his shirt. "Uhm... well, we'll go to Hogsmeade, to Honeydukes. Take the secret passage in the cellar."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? The Dark Lord knows you're destroying Horcruxes. He knows which ones you've already managed to get rid of. Don't you think he has sent a horde of Death Eaters to police the streets?"

A chill runs down your spine as your head twitches to the side. Pain flashes through your neck and you bite down a groan, your hand shoots up to massage the sore spot. Hermione frowns as she watches you intently but chooses to stay silent.

By the looks of it, the trio has decided to go to Hogsmeade. You sigh. "I'll... I'll go to Sirius, alert the Order that you're on your way to Hogwarts."

Hermione jumps forward and engulfs you in a hug. You give her a small smile as you don't know if they survive this. With one last nod to the boys, you turn around and disapparate. 

You stumble into the foyer of Grimmault Place, finding your footing as you catch yourself against the stair railing.

"Sirius?", you call out, pocketing your wand.

There's some noise coming from upstairs and when you look up, you see Sirius hanging over the railing. Once he recognises that it is you, he races down the stairs and halts just before you. His eyes rake over your face with a sorrowful look. He lays a hand on your cheek before engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug.

"Never EVER let me think you've died! You gave all of us quite the scare." He cups your face with tears in his eyes.

You sniff with a watery smile on your face. "Sorry, I'll try not to be dragged down the Malfoy cellar the next time." 

The long-haired man before you gives you a look as he drags you into the kitchen. "First of all, you need a good meal. You look as thin as a sheet. Secondly, you gave me quite the scare young lady when Theodore ended up on my doorstep. Alone."

Casting your eyes down guiltily, you tug at the hem of one of your sleeves. "I've... I've heard he's out on a mission for the Order. In Europe."

Sirius' face softens. He takes your hands in his, making you look at him. "What you did was brave. I know how my cousin is and I wouldn't put it past her to murder him if he were there. To hurt you."

You do your best not to cry. You've cried way too much lately and you want to save your tears for when you really need it. 

"How's Teddy?" Your voice sounds small.

"He... he believed You-Know-Who killed you. Begged Shacklebolt for a mission. To keep his mind busy, he said. But everybody knew he was heartbroken and vengeful."

Chewing slowly on your bottom lip, your eyes downcast. Does Teddy really think you are dead? The thought makes you sad. And sick. You lick your lips and take a step away from Sirius. "I need him to know I'm alive."

But Sirius shakes his head. "Shaklebolt has given us a strict no-contact order with Theodore. The Order is crumbling down anyways."

"So Shacklebolt sent Teddy on a suicide mission? You mean to tell me that my husband is out there somewhere and we can't contact him? Fuck that! Harry, Hermione, and Ron are on their way towards Hogwarts and they need every help they can get!"

You grab your wand and conjure your Patronus. "Find Teddy and tell him I'm safe and to come home", you say to the Hippogriff. The slivery creature bows its head before spreading its wings and flying away.

Sirius looks at you with his mouth agape. You raise your brows at him, a silent dare for him to question your actions. 

"We have to collect what is left of the Order and send them to Hogwarts", you pocket your wand and run a hand over your hair, "The war ends today."

You stand next to Sirius as the Order makes its dramatic entrance into the Great Hall. Snape brandishes his wand but the students all dive away once McGonagall stands in front of Harry. She is the first to attack.

But the weird thing... Snape doesn't attack. He only casts defensive spells and lets the spells bounce off to the two Death Eaters behind him, rendering them unconscious. 

A cheer echos through the Great Hall as Snape flees out of a window. But the cheerful mood is soon dampened by screams from every corner of the Great Hall.

"I know that many of you will want to fight", comes the whispering voice of the Dark Lord, and your head twitches involuntarily. "Some of you may even think that to fight is wise. But this is folly."

You make eye contact with Sirius to make sure you're not the only one who's hearing this.

"Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour."

A student from Slytherin steps forward and points at Harry. Of course, it's Pansy. "What are you waiting for? Someone grab him!"

You pull your wand out of your coat and point it at the girl. "Shut your bitch ass mouth, Parkinson."

Professor McGonagall looks quite shocked at your foul mouth, and so does Pansy. Gaping like a fish on dry land. 

With a deep huff, you march toward the professor. "If I may, Professor. A fight is coming and I don't think it's fair to have to fight one's parents. And it's not safe for the younger ones. Wouldn't it be wise to let the Slytherins and junior years take shelter in the dungeons?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes travel over the student body and she nods. "You are right, Miss...", she trails off, unsure what to call you.

"Nott."

"Right. Mrs Nott is right. Mr Filch, if you would, I would like you to escort the Slytherin's and junior years to the Slytherin common room."

Mr Flitch reluctantly agrees and leads the students towards the dungeons. 

You quickly grab Blaise's sleeve and stop him and Lorenzo. "Please stay stationed at the door. Keep the kids safe." Both boys nod and Blaise gives your shoulder a squeeze. Good luck it says silently.

"I presume you have a reason for returning, Potter", says McGonagall when Harry approaches the two of you. "What is it that you need?"

"Time, Professor. As much as you can get me."

The professor nods. "Do what you have to do. I'll secure the castle."

Harry gives you a look and you follow after him. 

"Potter", McGonagall's words stop the two of you, "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Professor. Hold the fort, Neville." And with that, he's off. 

You pass by Sirius. "I'm going to help Harry. Promise me to keep yourself safe. Please keep an eye out for Teddy."

Sirius nods and gives you a tight hug. "Of course."

The castle is in chaos as students run from here to there. It's mostly last years helping the youngest children find their way to the dungeons and others readying for battle.

"Harry. Hermione and I have been thinking. It doesn't matter if we find a Horcrux."

"What do you mean?", asks Harry confused.

Hermione glances at you. "Unless we can destroy it."

"So, we were thinking..."

"Ron was thinking. It was Ron's idea. It's brilliant."

Oh, dear Salazar... you don't have time for this lovey-dovey stuff. And by the looks of it, neither does Harry.

"You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with a basilisk fang, right? Me and Hermione know where we might find one."

An imaginary light bulb goes off above Harry. "Okay. Okay, but take this. That way you can find us when you get back." Harry presses some parchment in their hands before giving your arm a slight nudge, motioning you to hurry up the stairs after him.

"Where are you going?", you ask, rushing after him.

"Ravenclaw common room. We have to start somewhere! For the search for the diadem"

"So, the lost diadem of Ravenclaw is the next Horcrux? If I were the Dark Lord I would hide it somewhere in the castle where lost things are. You know, the lost diadem, it's in the name." You raise one eyebrow as you also wave a hand around, stating the obvious.

Harry gives you a surprised look. You cock your head to the side. Hasn't he really not thought about it?

"Okay. So... The Room of Requirement it is."

While climbing to the seventh floor, a sharp pain shoots through your head and you brace yourself against a wall. "They've done it", you whisper, looking at Harry. Harry shares the same look. He felt it too. "We have to hurry."

A loud explosion is heard in the distance before Death Eaters start flying around. You dodge a spell before sending it on to a passing-by smoke cloud. It hits Bullseye and the Death Eater lays petrified on the ground.

Finally, you and Harry reach the empty wall that houses the Room of Requirement. It's early quiet inside. Even the broken record has stopped playing.

"You take left, I take right. When we find something, we call out."

Harry nods in agreement and splits up from you. Your eyes scan frantically around. Between the stacks of old furniture and useless nicknacks, there is no sign of the diadem. But there is a faint high-pitched ringing. Somewhere in the distance. 

You follow after the sound and when whispers prickle the back of your neck, you know you're close. Harry also seemed to pick up the ringing, as both of you end up at the same table.

Harry removes some ropes from the top of a wooden box. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he reaches out and slowly flips open the lid.

"Merlin's saggy balls, we found it", you whisper in amazement.

The blue jewel in the middle shines brightly. Almost too brightly for how dim the room is. Harry touches it, admiringly.

"Well, well. What brings you here, Potter?"

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326 @rinalouu @yazminetrahan @ellen3101

[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

[michanvalentine]

Things about Vincent Valentine that I read around and piss me off. Vol.2

"Vincent was too shy and passive. He is an idiot."

Usually in reference to his attitude towards Lucrecia after the breakup. As if he could somehow save his relationship with her (and thus prevent everything else). I say yes, perhaps he could have sought further clarification, but for me the situation has never been so simple and linear.

Ok, let's start from the beginning. First of all, Vincent is a sensitive and intelligent person, with an above-average education. A person who thinks a lot, even too much. So calling him an idiot, especially in such a context, is really having a superficial reading of the character. Honestly, this statement bothers me a lot even when it is extended to the other part: Lucrecia. But that's another story... Secondly, let's remember that the two had a real relationship. In DoC Vincent was never a sort of stalker fixated on Lucrecia despite the unrequited love, as he might have appeared in the OG (unless the remake wants to tell yet another story.) Even Hojo was aware of their love story, in fact when Lucrecia pronounces the fateful "Yes, doctor" he says: "So you've come to your senses and chosen me." And I don't think Hojo was exactly the type to care about gossip.

That said, I would add my interpretation on Vincent's "passivity". A while ago I read a comment, something like: Lucrecia went with Hojo to gauge how much Vincent cared about her, since she thought he hated her due to the Grimoire's death. So she was waiting for Vincent to react and take her away from Hojo, but Vincent was just too shy and passive to do something so outrageous. I couldn't help but respond to this comment like this: This would be a really sick way of demanding attention. In this case Lucrecia would be truly mentally ill and Vincent would simply be a sane person who behaves properly. I believe there are several biases in this regard. First and foremost, the old-fashioned concept of Prince Charming rescuing the damsel in distress. Which I hate. Secondly I don't think Lucrecia left Vincent because she thought he despised her for the Grimoire incident. Otherwise she wouldn't have needed to push him away, because in that case Vincent himself would have been the one to leave her. No, the reasons are different:

Feelings of guilt led her to think she couldn't be by his side. As if Vincent didn't deserve someone as bad as her in his life.

Every time she looked at Vincent, given the extreme similarity, she saw Grimoire again and remembered the event that had traumatized her.

Obviously Lucrecia didn't put Vincent to the test, she was determined to put as much distance as possible between her and Vincent because she felt it was right for him and too painful for her to continue. Stop. The relationship with Hojo is an addition, but also desired for other reasons. She neither expected nor wanted to be saved. Not to mention that Vincent is not Lucrecia's father and had neither the responsibility nor the duty to do so. She is an adult. Certainly, by breaking off their relationship, Lucrecia has also made a decision for Vincent. He didn't object, he passively accepted and stepped aside. But are we sure he could have done otherwise? Are we sure he could change Lucrecia's mind? How exactly? Young Vincent was naive and introverted, but Vincent's passivity in this case was also determined by other factors. Maybe he could have made his feelings about Grimoire's death and about Lucrecia more clear. But at the same time I think it wasn't necessary, because they were obvious. It's Lucrecia who no longer knows what her true feelings are. And she will only be able to clarify them for herself later, in fact at the end of DoC she will confess to Vincent: "I finally realized my true feelings. Even if you may never understand them".

But let's analyze the facts and see how they unfolded. Given the above, at first Lucrecia was so focused on herself due to guilt that she was numb to everything else. Even to Vincent. In DoC, when Vincent discovers the file on Grimoire, Lucrecia yells at him to "stop it". She doesn't want to listen and at the same time she doesn't give him a chance to express himself. Likewise, after apologizing to him, she ran away without giving him a chance to reply. And let's remember that out of the blue he was left by the love of his life for no valid reason, at least from his point of view. Not to mention that Grimoire's death must have been painful for him too. Reacting is not easy when you are confused, grieving and heartbroken. From that moment on, Vincent Valentine was completely cut out of Lucrecia's life. Lucrecia keeps him at a distance, due to points 1 and 2 above, and as a final barrier she puts Hojo in the middle (of course, the scientist is there too for other reasons). In the scene around the table, when Vincent asks her "if she's sure", Hojo really seems like a wall between the two that still prevents direct confrontation. And Lucrecia appears clearly angry that he has come forward with objections. At the Shinra Mansion Vincent Valentine seems to have no say in anything. Lucrecia doesn't give him the chance to argue, Hojo first rudely silences him because he's just a Turk and then definitively closes his mouth with a bullet. But even if silenced, Vincent's feelings and intentions remain evident. Even Hojo knew them, in fact when he discovers that Lucrecia is experimenting on Vincent's body he says: "How happy this fellow must be. Helping his beloved even after he's begun rotting away." Lucrecia herself, through her data, at a certain point in DoC will say: "I pushed you away, but… now I realize, I never wanted to lose you." And again later: "I made so many mistakes. And I hurt you so, so much. Why did I do what I did?" Deep down Lucrecia knew she had pushed him away for her own personal reasons, and not because he despised her or anything. She knew she had made a mistake, of having been blinded by fear and guilt, that she had mortified his feelings and that she had made him suffer for it, especially because the breakup had been practically forced on him. So I repeat: should he continue to chase Lucrecia, proclaiming his love like a crazy in the hope of changing her mind? Let's pretend he had the opportunity (always excluding kidnappings or ambushes). He could have to, yes, but in addition to reiterating the obvious and saying things already known even to the person concerned (after all, if there is something imperishable, capable of overcoming pain, time and even death, it is the love that Vincent Valentine feels for Lucrecia), she probably wouldn't have listened to him anyway. Because, as Vincent would say, "she was always like that, only believing what she wanted to."

[stanheightsimp]

This sick strange darkness | Adam Stanheight x GN(afab)!Reader (NSFW)

Sitting on the balcony and watching the rain fall with Adam | 2545 words

(this is an AI-generated image, to illustrate what I had in mind)

I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight I need somebody and always This sick strange darkness Comes creeping on so haunting every time - I Miss You, Blink 182

🪚 Content Warning : NSFW smut, vaginal sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spit kink

MINORS DNI

You're an urbexer living in Jersey City. Two months ago, a young man about your age, Adam Stanheight, disappeared. You were particularly affected, because he was your age. He could have been one of your friends, or even you. You'd often, if not every day, seen a sad-faced woman pasting missing person posters on the gray walls of Jersey. On several occasions, you went to her aid. She was Adam's mother. She often talked to you about him, about how, despite appearances, he was a good boy, passionate about photography, rock music and animals. Despite the fact that you helped this woman with all the determination you could muster, you were certain that Adam was gone for good. And that made you sad.

Despite the worrying climate of disappearances in town, this didn't stop you from doing your usual urbex. While exploring an abandoned house, "a great spot" according to your buddy who'd put you onto it, you found Adam. He was chained to a wall in a squalid bathroom, having not eaten for… days, weeks, perhaps? You still had one of his missing person posters in the back pocket of your jeans. Reassuring him as best you could (which wasn't easy), you called for help, and Adam was released.

Adam spent several days in hospital, before he was able to return home. But as soon as he stepped out of his shithole of an apartment, he felt very, very bad. Partly because it was the apartment in which he'd been captured. And secondly, because after spending several weeks alone, in complete darkness, he had a very, very hard time with solitude.

You were the first person he thought to call. Because you found him. Because you'd seen him at his worst, clinging to your leg, begging you not to leave him behind, as you were just about to leave for the front door to greet the paramedics.

You ended up sleeping at his place more often than you slept at yours, even finding his old sofa a pleasant place to sleep.

That evening, it was a stormy night. You couldn't get to sleep, listening to the sound of rain beating against the window and thunder rumbling in the distance. You didn't hear Adam's little footsteps approaching. He was curled up in his blanket, staring blankly at an invisible spot on the grimy living-room wall.

Hey, you you said. You okay?

He lowered his eyes and shook his head, before coming to sit on the sofa beside you.

Easy, Adam, breathe, you said, feeling the explosion near.

You'd learned to recognize the warning signs of Adam's mental breakdown. So you pulled him against you.

Another nightmare, eh? you guessed.

He gave you no response other than a slight nod, and a whispered sorry as he buried his face in your shoulder. You proceeded to rub the back of his hand with the palm of your hand, repeating comforting words in a low voice:

You're here with me, Adam, you're not in that squalid bathroom anymore. You're all right now. I won't let anyone hurt you, I'm here, Adam.

Outside, the storm was raging. Adam hiccupped, before starting to sob softly against your shoulder.

Adam, breathe, you whispered in his ear. Remember what we said. It's all right, Adam. Everything's all right.

He nodded weakly. Suddenly, an idea crossed your mind.

How about a smoke on the balcony? We'd be out of the rain and we could watch the rain fall. What do you say?

He raised his head and sniffed.

Yeah, I could use a cigarette.

You got up at the same time, Adam still wrapped in his blanket, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his coffee table, and you went out onto his balcony. The cold was biting, and you shivered.

As you both sat on the balcony, backs against the wall, Adam spread the flaps of his blanket so that you were both wrapped up in it, like a cocoon. His body was warm, you couldn't help but notice.

It feels good, he confided. You know, to be outside. It'd be better if it was somewhere else than in a place that's crap.

He pulled a cigarette from his pack, and proceeded to light it. And that's when, for the first time, you saw Adam. Of course you'd looked at him many times before, but now it pierced you. He was beautiful, painfully beautiful. Under the light of the moon, the flashes of lightning and the artificial illumination of the street lamps, the angular shape of his face was highlighted. So were his long, slender fingers encircling his cigarette.

He then handed you the pack of cigarettes, offering you one, which you declined:

I don't fancy a whole cigarette. Maybe I could have a few puffs on yours?

Yeah, no worries, he replied.

As he brought his cigarette close to your lips, allowing you to take a few puffs, he asked:

You know what's strange?

You brought your face close to his hand, took a drag on his cigarette, tilted your head back as you exhaled the smoke skyward.

Tell me, Adam?

Knowing that I could have died and no one would have cared. Not a single person in the world.

Your parents cared! you corrected him. Your mother put out missing person poster every day! And then… I cared.

That's what I don't get! he exclaimed. Why did you even care? Do you know how many people disappear every day? People who probably had a better life than me and a better chance of being found. People who deserved to be found!

His depreciation of himself, so sudden, so angry, brought tears to your eyes.

Because your mother told me about you! You're not the boy with the best life, but you're someone like me. Someone who does his best. Someone who's trying to keep his head above water in this rotten world. Someone who's imperfect, but who's human, sincere! you cried, your voice breaking.

Your gaze slid over him, and you whispered:

You're wonderful, Adam.

He flinched slightly when you raised your voice, and his gaze locked with yours, glistening with tears. A deathly silence now reverberated, interrupted only by the rain pounding on the roof and the thunder. His breathing seemed to freeze in his chest. So you did the only thing that made sense to you at the time. You took the cigarette that hung between his lips, half-open in surprise, placed it in the ashtray and then put your lips to his.

The first thing that popped into your mind as your lips finally met was the taste. They tasted of tobacco and mint toothpaste. Adam tastes warm. He tastes alive. His lips parted, allowing full access to his mouth, and your tongues intertwined. Who knew his tongue was so soft?

You deepened the kiss, coming straddling him, growling with pleasure as the kiss continued, Adam placing his hands on your cheeks. His teeth nibbled lightly on your bottom lip.

Adam… we… we should go inside, you said, your tone unequivocal about what's going to happen once you're inside.

Inside… he repeated. Yeah, good idea.

His lips were still touching yours, even if it had amounted to a gentle caress, his breath all against your skin. His hands slid down to your hips, and Adam let out a muffled growl before beginning to nibble your earlobe. Almost instinctively, your pelvis pressed against Adam's, and your hands went under his shirt, caressing his slim torso.

In one motion, you both stood up and walked back into the apartment, still kissing. Adam tackled you to the wall, devouring your lips with an avidity you didn't suspect, his whole body pressed against yours.

Fuck, Adam, I want you…

Yeah, I want you too, YN, he replied, breathing heavily, all against your lips.

With erratic movements and fingers trembling with desire, you started to unbutton Adam's pants, before giving up and attacking his t-shirt instead. Adam, raising his arms, let himself be undressed. You dropped his T-shirt to the floor, then ran your hands over his torso. He was really skinny; his captivity had left scars he hadn't yet healed. On his right shoulder, the bullet hole was still visible. He slid your pants down your hips, and his hand came to rest against your crotch, through your underwear. He smiled, his middle finger brushing against your already moist intimacy.

So wet for me, he said with a sneer, nibbling your lower lip.

Shut up, Stanheight, you replied, the end of your sentence choking in your throat as, through the fabric, you felt his finger sink viciously into your folds.

Hm? he said lightly, his lips sliding against your neck. You say?

Still groping, you made your way through the apartment to Adam's bedroom. You dropped onto the bed, Adam removing his jeans and rushing over to you with a hungry glint in his eye to remove your tshirt. Then, delicately, he grabbed your hand, slipping it between his legs. Through his underwear, your fingers wrapped around his cock and he let out the most glorious moan you've ever heard.

Take off my underwear, Adam, make me fucking naked, you moaned.

He made no bones about taking it off you, then taking off his own, sitting on the bed for a moment to see the mess you'd both become. Both completely undressed, both excited, both sweating and trembling with anticipation.

I want to do things to you, he says, his breathing shaking with excitement.

You pulled him against you again, naked body against naked body, eager to taste every inch of his skin. You kissed him full on the lips, savoring the taste of mint and tobacco, something new and yet so familiar. When you broke the kiss, a thin trickle of saliva connected your lips.

I want you to do things to me, I want you to ravage me, you said breathlessly, your mouth sliding down his neck to leave hickeys, as your fingers titillated his nipples.

Adam hiccupped with desire, his breath catching in his chest. His hand slid down your back, bringing your bodies together. He let his lips roam to your chest, kissing, biting and suckling your nipples with almost sloppy impatience. It was almost too overwhelming, almost too good.

You're incredible, you gasped.

He grabbed your hair, gently tipping your head back, and proceeded to devour your neck with ever so much ardor, while with his other hand, his fingers moved in and out of you

Adam… fuck me, you said, eager to have something other than his fingers inside you. You want it as much as I do, and I know it.

You proceeded to suck on his right nipple, tasting the salty, moist flavor of his skin. Adam let out another moan, more desperate than ever, and, moving his hips against yours, began to thrust delicately inside you. His forehead was pressed against yours, your panting breaths almost synchronizing. When he was fully inside you, everything seemed to stop. You stood still, as if suddenly aware of some kind of sacredness in the act. And also, let's be honest, that if you started to get wild already, you'd both cum very quickly.

Your hand grazed Adam's cheek and you got lost in his eyes. He gently began to initiate a movement, slow, ample. His fingers clutched at his sheets, nervously.

Your bodies were like two pieces of a puzzle. Don't think about the puzzle now, you are mumbling to yourself. Think only of Adam. You drew his face against yours, kissing him, and giving him tacit agreement to pick up the pace, which he did, kissing you almost desperately at the same time. Your nails dug into his back, probably leaving a few marks.

It's so, so huge, you whispered in his ear. You fill me up so good, baby.

In response, he grabbed your legs, and pushed them against your shoulders, sinking deeper into you. Your cry of surprise and pleasure echoed throughout the room. You opened your mouth, eager for sensation, but above all, eager for him.

Spit in my mouth, Adam.

Surprise flashed across his eyes for a moment, then, still pounding you mercilessly, he leaned forward, dripping a fine trickle of saliva into your mouth. Adam's taste invaded all your taste buds. He abruptly let go of your legs to place one of his hands on your cheek, kissing you passionately. A kiss filled with an almost indecent desire. Like, he'd just spit in your mouth in such a dirty way, and now he was taking you wildly.

Adam, I… you started, trying to hold back the climax that threatened to come. I love you! I love you!

Oh my God, I love you so much… he replied in a hoarse voice.

He kissed you almost brutally, almost as if he couldn't control himself anymore, as the rhythm of his hips increased at an indecent rate.

Then… orgasm reaps you. Just after he tells you he loves you, you cum, screaming his name so loudly that, if they didn't already, the neighbors must know his name by now.

Come inside me, you managed to articulate. Come inside me, I want to feel you.

I'm not wearing any... he began, hesitantly.

I don't give a shit about condoms, you replied, almost desperately, wrapping your legs around his pelvis. Come on, I want to see my beautiful boy cum in my little pussy.

Oh fuck… he murmured, burying his face in your neck.

You felt him spread inside you, and his hip movements continued for a while longer, before he came to rest, lying on top of you, his face still against your neck, his breathing short and choppy.

It was… he started.

Yeah. It was. you replied, stroking his hair.

He withdrew gently, and you felt all the cum he'd injected flowing out of you.

Oops! he said, chuckling lightly. Don't move, I'll get you something to wipe with.

He disappeared into the corridor for a moment and returned with a damp washcloth, which he ran gently over your crotch before caressing your cheek, looking at you with a look that expressed nothing but pure love.

I suppose now that we're… you begin, before interrupting yourself.

Maybe, after all, what you'd just done didn't have the same meaning for you as it did for Adam? Maybe it was just comfort sex in his eyes. He looked at you, tilting his head slightly to one side. Then the reasons for your hesitation became clear to him, and he gently kissed your forehead, before coming to nestle beside you:

Yes, we're together, and yes, you can sleep here. I promise you that by tomorrow, I won't regret anything I've done or said tonight, he said in a gentle voice.

You purred and snuggled up to him.

Outside, the rain had stopped. And deep down you knew it: this was the first night of a long series of nights at Adam's side.

[thatturtleleon]

Ramble about the TFP kids

sometimes I feel like people misinterpret these three, especially Miko and Jack. i've seen others write Miko off as an annoying girl who messes up everything, and jack as a boring/bland character. I actually haven't seen much "hate" on raf, we all love raf lol.

and of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, i totally understand being annoyed by the humans and just wanting the transformer action ! but for me personally, i've always really liked their dynamic and personalities in TFP. i love how much they act like siblings, and how they're so different from each other but love each other like family. we also have to remember they're still kids, so they're gonna act like kids.

Miko runs into situations head first, she acts before she thinks. yes, this gets her in trouble a lot but it also makes her quick to take action in dangerous situations (even if she was the one her got herself in that situation in the first place). i love how she's not afraid to be herself, she's loud, states her opinion, wears those funky shoes, etc. it's just her character yk? she's a wrecker, she's tough and does what she wants, but she also cares about her friends and isn't afraid to express that. an example i can think of off the top of my head is in that one episode about the three being stuck in an alternate dimension; raf dropped his glasses and although miko teased him about it, she still ran and got the glasses back.

now for Jack, he's pretty much the opposite of Miko. that doesn't mean he lacks character and/or personality though. his personality IS being average, introverted, and overall a pretty neutral guy. unlike miko and raf, he doesn't want anything to do with the bots at first. he's also incredibly selfless and caring. and those qualities are ones that i think some people tend to overlook. when jack's bully, vince, got captured by knockout, he still wanted to save him. despite vince being an absolute asshole. jack also risks his life for people he cares about, as well as people he doesn't. not to mention he and miko snap back and forth, so both of them are at least similar in the sassy department lol.

as for Raf, i know i said i haven't really seen hate on his character but i'm gonna talk about him anyways. him being able to understand bumblebee makes a lot of sense to me and isn't just some "random quirky ability he has". number one, raf is extremely smart, and very good with computers, so it makes sense that'd he'd be good at decoding and understanding what bumblebee's beeps mean. (idk anything about computers and coding and all of that so i'm just assuming that has something to do with him being able to understand bumblebee LMAO, honestly i might look into this and make a separate post abt it). secondly, raf and bumblebee are pretty similar, so that's another reason they are greater at understanding each other. they're both the youngest in their groups (from what i remember) and they each struggle with being understood, even by their own family.

in conclusion for this little ramble here, i love the TFP kids so much and their personalities are really fun to analyze. as well as the relationships they have with each other and the bots. i think that's another thing i really enjoy about TFP and the humans, the human-bot relationships. yes they're guardians to the kids but they eventually become family to each other. and as ratchet says, "they've grown to need each other". the kids aren't just some random humans who hang out at the base, they help out on missions and, as i've said a billion times in this post, they've become family.

note: i'm sick and slightly delirious while writing this so hopefully everything makes sense and isnt too repetitive lol, also please feel free to ramble in the comments or add onto this, i love reading them <3

[cr4zyoosh]

New & Improved Design of my CRP Oc/Sona! (Sort of)

So here’s some thoughts & details more about her I also provided color scheme for anyone who may want to draw her?? I know I’m not that popular but it would be so greatly honored to have that! 🫶😭

First I want to start off with the AGE OF HER!

So, in her backstory over the course of months part taking her backstory she is 18-19 years old, by the time she meets Slendy/Operator(?) it is in fact close to her birthday month. (Now I have no ideas for names or a different birthdate for her other than my own name & birthday)

Around the time she is finally in the mansion & has been there for at least a couple weeks it’s her birthday then that’s when she will endure the “proxy” sickness or whatever it is called just the sickness where she gets her powers, by the time her powers are finally overtaking her & finished she is at least around 19 or 20 years old. Then on the course of years she been there canonically she is around 20-22 years old! FULL GROWN YOUNG ADULT!

Secondly, her power!

Now I want to mention that yes at first I wanted her to be a very powerful “being” (will explain the ‘being’ part later) but in actuality, her power is actually not the strongest. Her power like mention in my story/ideas post that she has these powers where she can morph into this “demon type thing”; like sleep paralysis, but it takes up a lot of her energy. So she does not use it a lot, only for the “stunning” part where she makes the victim “paralyzed” like how sleep paralysis is. Then either she attacks the victim with the switchblade/pocket knife or the other proxy along with her on the missions gets their kill in. Of course when she uses her full power she is powerful absolutely yes, but it takes up so much of her energy that she needs to chill out & tag along with the other proxies & kill them how the others do.(such as how Jeff & Toby are both very much human with good amount of strength, that is what she would have to do instead of using her power.) Now she does still have that power where she’s in her demon form & she can use the red mist / shadow stuff to have it travel into the victims eye sockets & mouth, infecting them, along with this is when she infects them you can see red veins (glowing) travel up to the victims minds/brain, she then can see & hear their thoughts & dreams; marking her name as The Dream Reaper. She also then has them fade away into her “realm” of the souls she has “reaped”, so she can gain more energy. This also if the other proxies knock out the victims & she’s near, she can be able to send them directly to her “realm” to reap their soul, then even share the soul to feed for herself & the proxy that helped her. (Sharing is caring ya know?)

Now her weakness.

Previously mentioned she doesn’t use her full power all the time, due to draining her so badly. If she completely is drained she will grow sickly again like when she was getting her powers & end up having those dreams again that come to life. If she is that desperate & cannot use her power for gathering energy, she may end up in a cannibalisic state where another proxy needs to bring her a victim knocked out & have to be kept in a room for her to actually feed on the victim. THIS IS A IDEA NOT FULLY SURE TO GO THROUGH WITH IT!

I will explain in my story as I retype it all out & finally finish it instead of just the two chapters spread out what she endured during the so called “sickness”.

A bit of spoilers!

She… she isn’t really human. If you could not tell before about her power. Let’s just say she is more of a proxy absolutely, but is undead. Sort of like a zombie but less rotting flesh, etc. more of a zombie but still fully intact brain function & organs. I will explain in my story of how she became of that.

Notes about why I am posting this!

So I wanted to not per se “recreate” her but wanted to make her story & design more… original? I guess? I felt like her design for her “form” is definitely like Zalgos or Lazari’s which by the way IS NOT THE CASE! I was heavily inspired by a dream I once had with red & black images flashing & it was hella scary. Also the inspiration for this was I have such weird ass dreams & I am very spiritually connected to beings that no one can see from the naked eye, I also happen to love creepypasta & slenderverse stuff so win win! I want to also mention that, I’ve made fan art of her & Tim/Masky yes (the posted ones) in my story I won’t make it a “canon” thing because Tim/Masky isn’t MINE to own & do that to, but I may have her have a bit of a crush on him & have a few interactions with one another because why not? They have similar personalities sort of & similar trauma’s a bit so win win as well but also… daddy issues YAYYYYY (not). But if anyone would like to make fan art of him & her I would absolutely love to see it! (I know this won’t be too popular but it’s greatly appreciated to see fan art with the other Proxies or Marble Hornets characters or even your own CRP Ocs!!!)

I want to also add her personality!

Her personality is… anxiety ridden. She’s absolutely jumpy & paranoid half of the time, but once she finally settles down in the mansion, she’s a bit calmer but still slightly kept to herself, she’s also a bit mischievous as well. She barely sleeps & if she does, it’s for a short time. If she is weak she may sleep longer. She’s also alternative! She’s scene emo, hint to her hair. But she also likes the grunge clothing as well, obviously the music too, she enjoys PTV, SWS, MCR, Digital Daggers, aesthetically pleasing music (like the silent hill soundtracks, along with Alex g, Tv Girl, Julie, Wisp, etc!), along with this is of course some scene music like some Brokencyde, 30H!3, Millionares, some underground scene bands, now in for some more metal such as Korn, Evanescence, SOAD, Deftones, some Staind, Three Days Grace, Get Scared (of course). Also likes some gothic music such as some HIM, some Lebanon Hanover, & a bit of twin tribes! Other honorable mentions of music is The Front Bottoms, Current Joys, Cigarettes After Sex, some Nirvana, Blink-182, & Lana Del Rey. Some of the calm music help her calm herself down.

She also likes to draw & take notes on everyone in the mansion. She will draw them out & make notes on their personality, the way they talk, quite literally everything. (Will be explained more in story of why.) When she is around people she is comfortable with you would think she’s an absolute stoner (aka she sort of is). Now when she is out on missions, absolutely secluded to herself, absolutely INSANE due to lack of sleep, aggressive as fuck, quite literally the one to tell the victim what she will do to them kind of thing, does not hesitate towards anyone, maybe only children though & animals of course she isn’t fully insane. Duh of course she slightly knows how to play guitar & can sing a good ass mean rock/metal songs even ones sang by men! Absolutely loves guitar hero too. (I can see her, Jeff, & probably Ben playing that all the time for shitz & giggles). She also dresses scene close to Nina almost, but mostly Jean shorts with ripped tights or skinny ripped jeans along with a band tee or anything 2000s, along with some scene arm warmers sometimes or even ripped arm things like tights but for her arms along with thick bracelets or Candi (I totally see Nina & her making some for one another even having sally join in!) now her outfit to go on missions is in fact grunge looking but it keeps her hidden, able to carry more stuff in her pockets, & the outfit she wandered out & found Slenderman/The Operator (not sure which yet). Her grunge look is mostly casual wear but she mostly does wear Scene looks more, even if they are very simple. Absolutely her hair is dyed bright red & black obviously but she is a natural red head (like myself that’s why she’s more of a sona than oc but I call her both!) & yes she has a eyebrow piercing!

THIS IS HEAVILY BASED ON THE SLENDER MANSION BUT ALSO IN THE SLENDERVERSE IT IS MY OWN TAKE OF THOSE!!!

I think that’s all I have for now! Fill free to ask questions or like I previously said, draw anything with her with your own creepypasta oc or some of the characters themselves! 🫶🫶🫶

[kingstoken]

I've been sick for the past week, so I been binging Doctor Who again. To everyone who said that I would love Twelve you were right!

I have to admit I didn't like him at first. At first he is a little darker, a little colder, and really lost, but he goes on a great character progression over his three seasons.

First of all, his relationship with Clara is so interesting and complicated. He glomps right onto to her, more intensely then I think with almost any other companion that I've seen so far. He has this enormous fear of losing her, especially in the first season. Which does make sense considering how lost he feels, but again I think this is the first time I've seen this dynamic play out.

Previous companions really push the Doctor to be better, Donna does it for Ten, Amy does it for Eleven, but it's different with Clara. There are moments where she does remind the Doctor to be a more caring person, but the feeling I got was more like the Doctor was pulling Clara down to his level more often then not, and often to Clara's determinant.

I do think a third companion could have been helpful some times, someone to provide a different, more rational perspective at times, because the Doctor and Clara were often in this intense feedback loop bubble, especially in the second season.

Clara's ending was heartbreaking and lovely at the same time, and I'm so glad he got his memories back of her at the very end, because she deserved to be remembered.

Secondly, I love Bill Potts! She was so refreshingly normal. After a couple of companions that were extra super special, the impossible girl, Amy saving the universe with her imagine alone, etc, it was so refreshing to have a companion who was just a normal everyday person. I loved her friendship with the Doctor, it just felt so sweet and chill, not that things are ever really all that chill with the Doctor, but that is the term that comes to mind. Also, Nardole was hilarious! I loved that he really wasn't afraid to call the Doctor out on his bullshit.

Lastly, Missy. I loved Missy to bits, the best version of the Master so far for me. I loved her when she was unhinged, and when she was trying to change. My only compliant is I wish we had gotten more of her. More of her being unhinged and more of her and the Doctor trying to work out things between them. They had part of one episode near the end where Missy was going to try and do a good mission on her own with the Doctor as her guide in her ear, and God I would have loved a full episode or episodes of that. And yes, I ship it! I ship it like crazy. I love a friends-to-enemies-to-allies-to-maybe friends again-to lovers. I'm so sad the Doctor will never know that she chose him in the end.

I'm probably missing a lot, but overall I loved Twelve and his companions, and his Master.

I'm probably going to take a long break before I start Thirteen's run. I just need to sit with what I've seen for a bit.

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Sitri Attacker Card - Chapter One

TW: Supposed death of a loved one, Grief, Angst, Mourning, Remembering Solomon, Sitri is having a bad time.

———————————————————

“S-Solomon? No… No!”

She couldn’t be dead! Not when the war was still going on, not when all of Hell needed her!

Not when he needed her.

Sitri was overwhelmed with thoughts, he couldn’t think clearly, trying to run through every possible way as to how this could have happened.

His hands were shaking. Ra-On wouldn’t die so simply like this. If she was dying, she would have told someone! Paradise Lost would have been able to help her if she was sick!

No, someone must have done this to her. Heaven must have sent in disguised angels to get rid of her! Those unpleasant bastards!

No.

No matter how war-torn Gehenna may be from the consistent angel attacks, it was always safe for Ra-On. There were multiple nobles within the palace that could protect her. A personal attack would be impossible.

Which leads back to the theory of a natural death. Maybe she didn’t want her beloved devils to know. With all that she experienced, maybe she was ready to pass away, even if it meant her contract becoming null and void.

No.

She wouldn’t have gone like this. She would have said goodbye…

Although Solomon didn’t say goodbye when he left before…

Tears stung Sitri’s eyes as they blurred his vision. He recalled the last time he heard her heartbeat. It was always nice to listen to.

“Solomon, please, I can’t lose you again… I’ll do anything to hear your heartbeat once more…”

He choked out a sob, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he carefully sat by Ra-On.

“Solomon…”

But this was not Solomon that lay before him. Solomon had disappeared all those years ago, presumed dead by all that loved him.

He glanced at the woman lying peacefully on the bed. Fingers reached out to brush her hair away from her face. His thumb swept across her cheek.

Tears started flowing uncontrollably now. He reached out to hold her hand, pulling it to meet his lips. Sitri shakily planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. He swallowed hard, as he quietly whispered to her.

“Solomon, why did you have to leave us? Why… Why did you leave me?”

There was no denying it anymore. Solomon was gone, so shortly after coming back. Sitri furrowed his brow, remembering that there were procedures to follow in the case of such an event.

Each kingdom had protocols in place, formed shortly after Solomon’s Descendant arrived in Hell. She was key in winning the war against the angels. But she was human, and thus could easily succumb to injuries that would otherwise incapacitate a regular devil.

If Solomon’s Descendant was to pass away, either from natural causes or battle-related injuries, there was a code-phrase that the 7 Kings agreed on to let each other discreetly know of the news. Although they mutually hoped they’d never have to utter it out loud.

‘The war ended with her.’

It was a fitting phrase that had two meanings. Firstly, their hopes at winning the war would diminish at her departure. Secondly, Ra-On was the last descendant of Solomon; there would be no-one to take the key role that she held.

The first step was to inform the high-ranking devils of the country of which she passed away in. They had the responsibility of watching over her and preparing her for the funeral proceedings.

Step two involved calling the attendants to the other Kings, uttering the phrase that would devastate all of Hell.

The attendants would then contact their Kings to pass on the news. The Kings would chair a meeting, planning for their countries during the period of mourning.

Mourning.

It was a feeling that Sitri thought he wouldn’t have to live through for a long while. He couldn’t see past the tears, his head overwhelmed by a mix of emotions and state affairs that he would have to assist in.

He shakily reached for his phone, preparing to contact his fellow nobles, as well as his King, in a group chat. As the attendant to the King of Gehenna, he would have to summon them to a meeting; breaking the news over text would be too informal. Something stopped him from hitting the send button.

“There will be no going back after the first message. This will start a chain of events; meetings after meetings, followed by a funeral.”

He glanced at Ra-On’s body.

“I-I’m not ready to let you go… Not yet. I need more time to say goodbye.”

Sitri placed his phone back in his pocket before he turned his attention to the human before him.

He gently took her hand in both of his once more, bowing his head. Memories of the human flooded his thoughts. Sometimes Solomon appeared masculine, while having feminine features other times. But what remained consistent was the love he had for this captivating mortal.

“Solomon… You only just returned to us. Why did you leave us again, without saying goodbye? We’ll miss you…

I’ll miss you.”

His heart was breaking, seeming to beat irregularly. Quick, slow, quick, slow. Almost as if two heartbeats were simultaneously wreaking havoc in his chest.

“Wait…That’s not normal…” Sitri thought, as he pressed two fingers to his own neck. His pulse slammed against them with a rhythm like a caffeinated heartbeat. No irregularities there. He glanced at Ra-On, before gently grasping her wrist, feeling for a pulse.

Thump…Thump…

“No. This can’t be possible!” Sitri recoiled, silently trying to make sense of this. She’s gone, and no amount of wishful thinking can change that.

…Gasp!

Ra-On suddenly stirred, sitting upright as she inhaled shakily. She continued to breathe raggedly, as her body tried to remember how to take air in again.

“S-Solomon?!”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Performer: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: Hold on. Just hold onto what's good. Don't let him see how broken you are. Spencer becomes heartbroken when he realizes that you don't want to see him but you'll see everyone else. How can you see yourself through his eyes like this?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: just another reminder that I know this isn't how prisons work in real life but this is how my prison works for the sake of the story. I know fighting in prison has more stricter rules than what I'm going to be putting.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Derek takes in the sight before him. The newest murder victim was found on the side of the freeway where everyone could see her. She wasn't covered, she wasn't laid to rest, she was just dumped there like trash. If you were here, you'd be able to see what happened to her. You'd be able to see the unsub's energy. It's weird how much he relied on you until you weren't there anymore.

"Highway crew found her just as the sun was coming up," Kim says.

"How long has she been here?"

"Probably an hour. She's barely cold."

Emily notices something on her stomach, and she wears some gloves to lift up her shirt. On her stomach, two words are carved into her skin.

"The Liar."

"It's the same message. It wasn't just meant for Tara. I wonder what it means, then. Detective Kim, can you have your crime scene techs keep us apprised of the processing? We're ready with a preliminary profile."

"That's quick."

"So is this unsub."

The rest of the team and Kim head back to the police station to give the profile with Spencer. He isn't too sure about the profile but knows it has to come out now or more people are going to die.

"We aren't looking for a vampire in the supernatural sense, only in the sense that this unsub has a very strong desire, a need, for human blood. Fortunately, vampirists display several characteristics that will be helpful in finding him. He will have cut himself repeatedly. It's called auto-vampirism, essentially becoming his own first victim. It's the way by which he first tasted human blood. Most vampirists are incredibly ashamed of this and will wear long-sleeved shirts in order to conceal it. Secondly, there will be a long history of animal abuse starting with smaller animals such as insects and rodents, and then working its way up to larger things like dogs and cats. Though this is a well-recognized component of the homicidal triad seen in other serial killers, in the case of the vampirist, it's more pronounced. There will, interestingly enough, not be any animal torture as with other psychopathologies. The killing isn't the point, it's merely a means by which to obtain the blood," Spencer explains.

"Look hard at your animal control section records, as far back as you can. They will probably have some record of this unsub as an adolescent. This guy also most likely lives in a poorly kept older home. He needs a house for the privacy, not an apartment. It takes some time to drain a body completely of blood. Uninterrupted time."

"This unsub also most likely lives with an elderly woman like a grandmother, a mother, or even an aunt."

"How could you know that?" Kim asks Rossi.

"This type of mental illness, accompanied by extreme schizophrenia, dominates a family's entire existence," Emily answers. "It often leads to a broken home, and a woman ends up as the primary caregiver. The men generally leave."

"Oh, and one more thing," Rossi says before the conclusion, "this type of disorder cannot be hidden for long. I guarantee you someone out there already knows this unsub is very, very sick."

The worst part about cases like these is the waiting game. The waiting after the profile is given out because leads aren't going to come in right away. JJ is on her way over to Tara's friend's house when her phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this a collect call from Virginia Correctional Center for Women for inmate Y/N. Press one if you'd like to accept the call."

JJ frowns but she answers the call nonetheless. Why would you be calling her instead of Spencer?

"Y/N?"

"Hey, JJ," you whisper.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why are calling me? Shouldn't Spencer get this time?"

"I can't face him when he knows I don't want him here."

"He heard the word Twilight and almost cried. I felt so bad for him."

"Yeah, I've been wanting to watch the movies with me. They're cheesy but I wanted to share that with him," you sniffle.

"Yeah, he's pretty upset."

"It's better he be upset than for me to see myself as this broken woman through his eyes. I might be selfish for that but I can't handle any more pain right now. Rossi is the only one that knows but I'm not doing too good in here. There's a reason why psychics like me don't go to prisons. I feel everything, JJ."

"I can't imagine what you're going through. I wish I was there to help you."

"JJ, you're too good for prison. Please keep an eye on him. I know he'll hate me for it but he needs you right now."

"Of course. I hate to break this up now but I have to go. I'm following a lead."

"Okay. See ya."

You hang up on JJ reluctantly, wishing you could have a few more moments with her. Hearing their voices is what keeps you grounded. If you're not talking on the phone or with visitors, you're back in the yard, drowning. You wonder what the team is doing and what kind of case they're on.

"Agent Morgan," Kim says, "we've identified this morning's victim. Her name is Erin Hickman. She worked for a caterer at an event last night. They're still there cleaning up."

"Let's go."

Derek, Kim, and Emily head over to the outdoor restaurant where Erin was working. They're still closing down as Kim said, and Derek easily finds the manager of the place.

"Excuse me, Ms. Masters? I'm Lieutenant Kim, LAPD."

"Is this about Erin?" she asks, already knowing.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is she really dead?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. These are FBI agents Morgan and Prentiss."

"FBI?"

"Did Erin work for you?"

"Yeah, until last night. She walked out on me in the middle of the party. She was here one minute and gone the next."

"Was it uncommon for her to be irresponsible?"

"Look, I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but she had a problem with drugs. Like, a big problem."

Someone walks by the trio with a handful of CDs, and Emily does a double-take when she sees what's on the front cover. She stops the man, grabs a CD, and shows the other two. On the cover is the same man that was on Tara's walls, and the album name is called "The Liar".

"Morgan. Rossi and I saw a poster of him in Tara's house." She takes out her phone and calls Penelope who is eager to answer. "Hey, Garcia, give me everything you've got on a singer named Dante."

"Dante, the vampire guy? I was just about the call you."

"Do you know him?" Derek asks.

"He's the one thing that all of our victims have in common. They have cyber shrines set up for this guy. They worship him. They're obsessed with his music. His new album comes out today. 'The Liar'. Isn't that what was written on them?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, all of our victims, including the first two, were diehard fans. Tara and her best friend, Gina, were practically running his fan club."

"What about Erin Hickman, our latest victim?"

"I haven't run across her name yet."

"Okay, we need to talk to this Dante guy. Can you get us an address?" Derek asks.

"That's gonna take a little while," Kim says. "These celebrities are protected by layers of privacy. It's like finding information on a deeply--"

"22423 Greenvale Circle in Holmby Hills. GPS coordinates are uploading to you now," Penelope cuts Kim off. "His name is Paul Davies, by the way."

"Run him for a criminal record, too."

"You got it."

"I'd hate to think what she could find out about me," Kim chuckles once she hangs up.

"Oh, I prefer not even to consider it."

The trio heads over to Paul's house immediately which is located in the rich part of the neighborhood. There are nice cars in the driveway, the house looks like a mansion, and with high trees that block out the paparazzi. It makes sense that someone like Paul would live in a place like this. What doesn't make sense is the part about him being the unsub. The unsub doesn't come from money like this, and the profile suggests the unsub isn't well-off.

"I hate to ask this, but are your profiles this far off sometimes?" Kim wonders.

"They haven't been yet. This probably isn't our unsub, just a piece of the puzzle." They turn the corner and see all the nice cars on the driveway, and Emily whistles lowly. "I could get used to this. This is definitely not poorly maintained." Among the expensive-looking cars, there is one that is beat up and much older. "One of these things does not belong." She takes out her phone and calls Penelope. "Hey, Garcia, can you run a plate for me?"

"This isn't our guy, is it?" Kim asks.

"I highly doubt it."

Derek and Kim walk to the front door and knock, and the one known as Dante answers it. However, instead of in goth clothes, black and white makeup, and fake fangs in his mouth, it's a man who has freshly washed hair, a scarf around his neck and looks nothing like the guy on the album covers.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Paul asks in a British accent.

"Dante?"

"No."

"You're not the singer?" Derek asks.

"Dante's not my name. He's a character I play. So, who are you guys?"

"We're investigating a murder--"

"Sir!" Emily cuts Kim off. "Would you mind coming in to answer a few questions?"

"Prentiss, what are you doing?"

"That car is Erin's car. The victim's car. Would you mind coming in, sir?"

That put everyone on alert. To avoid a whole stink, Paul goes with the team without fuss hoping that no one from the media will know about this. They're doing their best to get the unsub and prevent deaths while you're still in prison trying to protect your friend. Ever since that bitch beat you up, you've been careful to keep yourself and Ashley in view of the cameras or guards at all times. You're not in the same cell, thank God, so you don't have to worry about your safety in there.

The woman, you have no idea what her name is nor do you care to know it (even though people call her Big Sue), is always watching you two. She won't come near you if you're near another guard or in view of the cameras because she doesn't want to be placed in solitary confinement. Anyone who is caught fighting goes in the hole. The bigger the fight, the longer someone stays in there by themselves. You've heard of someone staying in there for two months straight, and she doesn't want to do that.

Ashley is the kind of person who hates violence. She is a pacifist and would much rather run from a fight than confront the bully. If you were to leave, who would protect her? You need to make her realize that all she has to do is stand up to the bully once and they will back down. Big Sue does this to people to make herself feel better, but she's nothing more than a small dog. Bark loudly once and she'll back down.

You walk into the cafeteria and search for Ashley. She is sitting in your usual spot waiting for you. You look to the right and see Big Sue with her group of friends. She is the leader of one of the gangs on site. Her gang isn't to be fucked with, especially the leader. However, you're not backing down.

Big Sue notices Ashley alone and decides to fuck with her. Not on your watch. You find yourself in almost a run to get to Ashley before Big Sue can. You slide in between the two women and face Big Sue who looks pissed at your presence. Ashley cowers in fear at what might happen but you're not going to let Big Sue touch her.

"Walk away," you warn.

"Do you want another black eye, bitch?" she snarls.

Some of the other women look your way but not enough to grab the attention of everyone in the room.

"Oh, I was being nice before. I didn't want to hit back, but touch her or even go near her, and I'll dropkick you so fast you won't know what hit you."

Now everyone is looking at you. A threat like that to one of the gang's leaders isn't the wisest decision. Some of the guards look over but won't do anything because an actual fight isn't happening. No one is moving, eating, or making a sound because they want to see what's going to happen. Either you're going to get your ass kicked or she is, and they don't know which is going to be worse.

Big Sue nods twice and turns around as if she is going to go back to her friends. Instead of doing that, she immediately turns back around and goes in for a hit. You duck just in time to avoid another hit. She stumbles forward having expected to hit you. You move out of the way and give her some room to collect herself. She is so full of anger that she will do anything to take you down. She won't stop and think what is the best move, only that she needs to hit you.

She runs at you to tackle you to the ground but you jump out of the way and kick your foot out so she trips over you. The more she fails, the angrier she gets. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Where she hits, you dodge. You dodge so well because you can see her energy and anger tell you where she is going to hit next. You punch her in the jaw hard enough to throw her off balance, and you grab her arm and twist it behind her. You shove her face-first into the ground and twist her arm tightly behind her. She cries out in pain and tries to move but can't because you've got her pinned. Everyone gasps at the shift in dominance.

No one will look at Big Sue again. No one will treat her the same. She might even be demoted in her gang. Whatever is going to happen, it's not going to be good for her.

"Tap out!" you yell. She cries in pain and slams her open palm against the floor. Guards come rushing in and pull you off her. They're not gentle with you either as they drag you away. "Stay the hell away from her!"

Ashley stands up and watches you leave with concern weighing heavily on her shoulders. You're taken to the solitary confinement room and thrown inside like you're a ragdoll.

"Maybe a couple of days in here will change your attitude," the guard says before shutting the door on you.

At least now you can think clearly.

x

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[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part IX: horseshoe overlook v

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

summary: Three days after watching Arthur fall, three days of grief, three days of regret, and it all comes crashing down on you in one bittersweet moment.

a/n: here we are fellas... a much awaited chapter, technically the second half of last chapter. Star waits three days at the bank of the river... and so I've made you wait three days too. I want to say a few things so if you're sticking around to read the notes buckle up. Firstly I could absolutely not have done this chapter without Margo (linked below). She literally held my hand through writing this lol, and offered me more support, kindness, and praise than I deserve. She gave me so many tips and ideas and suggestions for this and I'm just so proud of the way it turned out, thanks to her. This was a group effort for sure. Secondly, I'm still in shock from the level of support this series has been getting. Its just incredible to see how many people come back so consistently. Last but not least, I love you guys, really I do. And I can't wait to see what you guys have to say about this chapter.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, violence

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

It's been three days, searching the banks, knowing that he won't be back, won't be coming home. You saw him hit the water, and he didn't come back up. A fall like that is barely survivable. You know he's gone and it isn't until you allow yourself to think it that you break. All that you should have told him, should have opened up about and you didn't. You didn't. And now Arthur will never know any of it.

Arthur is gone, and he left thinking that you didn’t want him. You hate yourself, for your inability to open up and you hate him for this whole job. You told him you didn’t feel right about it but no one listened. Now he's gone and you're so mad, so angry with the world and your heart and him. 

It's pouring, thundering and lightning in the dark night and you've started to accept that he isn't coming back. In your head you know it, it's all you've thought about. You know he's gone, he's never returning to you, but your anger keeps you from returning to camp because what is the gang to you without Arthur? Can you really go back there and live with his ghost?

The rain pounds down on the top of your tent, falling down and drenching the ground. Lightning lights up the night, showcasing to you the dark, empty lake. John had come by a day ago, and when you realized he was alone your heart shattered all over again. It's a strange thing, you realize, to love someone but never have the courage to admit it until it's too late. Thinking back, you know you loved Arthur, it's obvious, but you couldn't admit it at the time. It took losing him to realize how much you need him. You don't know who you are, here now, without him. You belong nowhere, you have nothing, you want nothing other than him. 

You think about going up north, up to West Elizabeth for a while, but you can't bring yourself to leave the shore just in case. You haven't eaten. You haven't slept. You've been sitting in this tent at night haunted by ghosts and regrets, and surveying the lake in the day, futile as it may be. You know you need to do something, to go somewhere other than this damn shore, but you're lost. Your head tells you to run, but your heart tells you to go back to those who care about you. 

Arthur cared about you. And it's sick, and it's twisted but you're so mad at him for your feelings, so mad that he cared about you so much because it made losing him that much harder. 

Lost in thought, you don't even hear the footsteps as they approach the tent, nor do you hear Balius's quiet nicker. The rain doesn't help, coming down along with thunder that shakes the ground. You don't even notice his presence until he speaks up. 

"Star?" 

Everything stops. Your eyes go wide, and immediately fill with tears at the familiar, gravelly voice that you haven't been able to get out of your head for three days. At first you're sure you're imagining it, losing your mind, until he speaks up again. 

"Star? Y'in there?" He asks again, and too shocked and confused to speak, you crawl out of the tent. Your eyes land on him as you stand in the rain and you freeze, mouth agape. He looks…  he looks fine. And you take a step back as the emotion of it all comes crashing down. At first you're shocked and confused, and then you're relieved… and then you're mad. Because you spent three days thinking he was dead, and he's standing in front of you washed up in a brand new outfit with a smile on his face. The rain soaks in your clothes, drenching you as you try to breathe. 

"Where have you been?!" You cry out, full of emotion and fear and rage. Arthur sees it all playing out on your face, and his eyebrows draw together. 

"What-" He begins but you interrupt him.

"Why are you walking up here  like everythings just fine? Where were you?!" You half cry- half hiss, thinking of all the time you'd spent scanning the water, waiting for his body to wash up. 

"Swam down the river and hid out for a couple days till the bounty hunters lost me." Arthur sighs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "What's the matter wit you?" 

Arthur isn't used to having someone to return to. No one asks or complains if Arthur comes back late from a job, he's never had anyone care so much as to worry for him like this- he's just not used to it.

You huff, a humorless, sarcastic laugh. 

"So you were just hidin' out?" You ask as a loud boom of thunder shakes the ground. 

"Yeah." Arthur huffs, irritated with your attitude. Your tone is angry, condescending and sarcastic as you continue on. Tears fill your eyes, but he can't see them in the dark.

"Well, I'm glad you've been safe all this time." You reach into your tent grabbing his hat before throwing it towards him angrily. "Here's your damn hat. Found it washed up in the river after you fell. Y'know, it would have been nice if you let me know- If you let me know you were just camping, taking a few days off while I've been here!" You yell, fighting back sobs, watching as he grips his soaked hat, growing more confused. 

"Star- what is your problem?" 

"It doesn't even matter." You toss your hands in the air, chuckling humorlessly. Your hair is soaked through, and Arthur glances to the sky as it lights up with bright white lightning. 

"Clearly it does matter! Ain't my fault you can't express your damn feelings!" He yells, growing angry alongside you. 

"Oh, that is rich coming from you. Like you can?!" You immediately bite back, voice growing louder as you step closer to him. 

"Yeah! I can, with you! I told you about my past, about my son and my parents and Mary! And I know nothing- I know nothing about you- what you want, where you've been." Arthur yells louder than the thunder, pointing his finger in your face as he does so, "You won’t open up and it's killing you. God- what are you so afraid of?! What's holdin’ you back? It's eating at you and you won't just deal with it SO WHAT IN THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLE-" 

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" You yell, stepping forward with your shoulders squared, meeting him with just as much aggression. You're so angry with him, for the train and for coming back like nothing happened. Your anger gets the better of you as you lean forward, hands pressed against his chest and you shove him backwards with all the fire you can muster, growling as you do. He stumbles backwards, eyebrows drawn together as you ball your fists, ready to scream at him, to berate him for leaving you out here. But at the thought, something in your heart cracks, and the fire and the rage pales in comparison to the fear of losing him. 

A loud boom of lightning sounds out, and Arthur prepares for your inevitable verbal knives with his eyes cast on the ground, but you never throw them. 

When he looks back up, your shoulders are rising up and down heavily, and your finger points at him like you're about to chastise him, but you don't. He watches as your shoulders slump slightly, and he sees the way your hand, pointed at him, falters. Glancing up to your eyes, he sees that you're fighting back tears, and biting down on your lip to stop it from trembling. 

Exhausted, and terrified and hurting, you can't find it within you anymore to yell. In fact your voice is barely above a whisper as you meet his green eyes, 

"I spent days thinking you were dead… Do you have any idea what that was like?"  

Arthur sees the moment that you break. He watches as your face crumples, and he sees the pain that you've been going through. God, he didn't even think. He didn't even think. You crumple, erupting into quiet sobs as you hold your face in your hands. In two strides his arms are around you, and you sink into his touch, letting all of the pain and the grief be washed away by the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Star. Shit, I'm so sorry. I'm here. It's okay." He coos, protecting you from the rain with his warmth as you sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him to make sure he's really here. 

"John had to pry me away from that bridge…" You choke out, "I thought you were dead and I can't- I can't lose you, please, please don't leave me-" You whimper, feeling more vulnerable than you ever have in your life, but knowing that you trust Arthur with every fiber of your being to be the one to piece you back together. At your words, Arthur's heart shatters, falling to the ground in fragmented pieces along with your own that had fallen apart three days ago. Even with the rain, lightning and the pitch black, he cups your cheeks, pulling your teary eyed gaze up to him. 

"Look at me. You aren't alone- look at me, Star- I'm not going anywhere." 

And looking into his eyes, seeing him here, you know it's a promise he intends to keep. He's in front of you, he's safe, and having him here is too much and not enough all at once. He's scanning your eyes, searching for something to signal that you're going to be okay, and that's when it happens. With his hands resting on your face, and his eyes searching yours, you lean up on your toes, and you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have in you, ignoring the storm and the pain in your heart. You thought you'd never have the chance to do this. And with him here in front of you, you need him to know that you want him too. You've repressed so much love and so much emotion, and now that he's here in front of you, you can't help but feel it all. 

He's shocked at first, eyes open and lips slack until he catches up and leans back into you with just as much emotion. His eyes slip shut, and you curl your hands into his shirt, opening your mouth for him to gain entrance. Your tears slip down your cheeks, mixing in with your lips. It's hungry and raw and filled with the emotion of you terrified of losing him, and needing him in every way possible now that he's here.

You pull away to catch your breath, tears slipping down your cheeks as you look up to him, making sure once again he's still here. He smiles down at you, wiping your cheek with his thumb, smearing the rain and the tears away. And then you're pulling him back down to you, kissing him again with the same hunger, and he kisses you back. His hands grip onto your waist and he pulls you against him as your lips slot against each other. It's him who breaks the kiss this time, and he looks down to your eyes, his green irises searching yours and seeing the intention in your gaze.

"You sure you want this?" He asks you, rain soaking his hair and causing a piece to hang down in front of his face. 

"Stop talking." You whisper, barely a breath as you run your fingers through his hair before leaning up to kiss him again. Your hands grip onto him, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue mixes with yours. You need more, you need him. You need to know he's with you. 

Arthur seems to read your mind, hands grabbing the underside of your thighs as he pulls you up against him, carrying you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you only break the kiss momentarily as he carries you into the tent. He lays you down on the soft blankets, taking a moment to admire you laid before him in the lantern light. Then he lines your body, leaning over you on his forearms as the storm rages on outside. His lips are on you again, in the crook of your neck, kissing the spot where your pulse beats erratically. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, and as he kisses you, his left hand unbuttons your shirt. 

"You done this before?" Arthur asks, pressing messy kisses to your jawline. He remembers your conversation up in the Grizzlies, and he's almost certain this is new for you. You shake your head. 

"No." You admit. You're no saint, but you've never trusted anyone enough to go this far, not before Arthur at least. 

He exhales, nodding, but he seems hesitant, his hands slowing on your buttons. You grip either side of face, pulling his attention to you.

"I want it to be you. I need it to be you." You admit, whining as he groans, nodding. He leans back, sitting up in between your legs to shed his clothes. You help, pulling his shirt off of him quickly once the buttons are undone. He's left in just his jeans then, but you stop him from taking them off. You pull him down back over top of you, and he obliges, though a bit confused. 

"Kiss me." You plead, and he does. He kisses your lips over and over again, he kisses your neck and your jaw and your forehead while you get used to everything. He wants to do right by you, he wants to do this your way. 

You reach your hand down between your bodies as Arthur pops the last button to your shirt. You line your hand along the bulge in his jeans, and you press against it, eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. You smirk, popping the button of his jeans before slipping your hand inside. You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling how much he wants you. 

It's overwhelming, all the feelings he gives you. In every way. He's perfect. Warm and loving, and his tan skin is kissed with freckles all over and he's so beautiful it makes your heart ache.

"I'm ready, but I don't know- How do we do this?" You whisper against Arthur's ear. You're letting him take control, and he nods, kissing your lips softly. 

"Let me take care of you, let me be strong for you." He whispers, pulling your shirt over your shoulders and kissing your collarbone until there is a mark.  Then he leans down, pulling your dark jeans down over your legs by the waistband, leaving you fully exposed. Once your denims hit the discarded pile of clothes, Arthur leans back, smiling down at you. You can't find it within you to be self conscious, not with the way he's looking at you. You lean up on your elbows, watching him drink you in as he leans up to grip onto your hand. 

"You're so beautiful…" He mumbles, eyes trailing up your figure lovingly. He squeezes your hand, and leans down to your right thigh where a messy scar lies, the gunshot wound from Blackwater. He kisses the scarred skin. 

"N' so strong." He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.  Leaning up to meet him, you crash your lips against his own, trying to shove his jeans down off his form. He chuckles, leaning back to shed the denim. Now both fully undressed, he stops, looking over you again. Your wet hair is sprawled out on the blankets, lips plump from where he's kissed them. He's sure you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"Arthur-" You whimper, pulling him back down to you by his hand. He takes his time warming you up. There's no rush, and you're so glad to just be together. 

He places kisses down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, and you chuckle, fingers intertwining into his hair as you pull him back up to your lips. 

"Arthur?" You breathe out. 

"Hmm?" 

"Touch me." You plead, spreading your legs for Arthur. He smiles, running a finger down your thigh as he leans in to kiss your neck. You gasp, feeling his fingers brush against your core. He stops, groaning when he feels how wet you are, the sound cathartic. Then once you wrap your legs around his waist, he resumes his pace. His thumb gently rubs around the small bundle of nerves at your core, and you gasp, gripping onto his shoulders as he continues to kiss your neck. Then as his thumb continues, his middle finger stretches into your tight heat, and your nails dig even deeper into his shoulders. 

"Please, just-" You beg, but he stops you, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

"Sweetheart, I gotta take my time. I don't wanna hurt you." He says, and you nod, trusting him. He works his finger in you for a while, curling it up and coaxing little gasps from you. Then, he stretches a second finger into you, and you wince from the pull, but after a while of him working you, it starts to feel good. And shortly you're breathing quickly, ready. 

"Perfect." Arthur whispers, sliding his fingers out of you while he presses a kiss to your forehead. His arms flex on either side of your head as he holds himself up, and your legs wrap around his waist as he lines himself up. 

"You ready?" 

"Yes, yes-" You mumble. 

You feel the tip of his length against your entrance, and you spread your legs even further for him. And then he's sliding in, slowly. You gasp loudly, gripping onto him tightly as he thrusts in, slow as to not hurt you. 

"S'it hurt? You okay?" Arthur asks, stilling as you toss your head back and pant. 

"No- yes-?" You whimper, acclimating to the feeling. You nod, signaling him to continue as the thunder rumbles outside, not nearly as loud as your gasping breaths.

"Oh, Arthur-" You moan as he slides into the hilt, and bumps into your sweet spot. He slides back out partially, and then picks up a slow, steady rhythm. Your body arches beneath him, and you moan, pulling his face down to yours in search of his lips, tears coming in rivulets. He kisses you again, giving you butterflies as he thrusts in and out of you. You grant him access to your mouth then, and when he pulls away to breathe, still thrusting steadily, you whimper, tears running down your cheeks. 

"Star?" Arthur asks, worried. And he stills his movements. 

"No- don't stop." You beg, pulling his head down into your chest as he resumes his movements. 

"I'm so glad you're okay Arthur." You cry, shaking against him as you hold his head against you. 

His lips are on yours then, reminding you that he is here with you, safe, loving you. 

"I'm right here, darlin'." He reassures, and you nod against him, biting your lip. You can't help the moans that you start to let out, timed with every one of Arthur's thrusts. He runs his thumb over your hard nipple, teasing it and giving you goosebumps. You don't have to worry about the noise, as there is no one to hear you but the raging storm outside. The power of the black clouds, bright lightning and pounding of rain pale in comparison to the crashing together of you and Arthur. Your moans seem to encourage Arthur, and he begins to thrust even harder into you, kissing you in between his movements. You can't keep your hands off of him, running them from his face, pulling his lips to yours or digging them into his shoulders as you gasp and moan. 

He feels the same way, gripping your hips, kissing your breasts, and your lips and your neck it's almost too much. You feel yourself approaching an orgasm quickly, but you fight it, clamping down on yourself in an attempt to slow the process. You don't want this moment to end, you could stay here forever with him, and never have to worry about anything else. But your abdomen clenches and you feel your nerves begin to tingle. Arthur isn't oblivious to this, and he runs his thumb over your sensitive bud, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Star, let go." He whispers, lightly biting your earlobe. You shake your head, gripping his shoulders as tight as you can manage. .

"No." You argue, squinting your eyes shut and shaking your head, thighs clamping around him as you try to stop the inevitable. 

"Darlin, let go. I told you, I'm not goin' anywhere." He whispers again, and you release, automatically setting off the intense waves of pleasure that crash down over you. You set Arthur over the edge, constricting around him and your moans fill the tent as you arch your back, pulling his lips down to yours. You moan into his mouth, hips rocking against his own as you climax, feeling so close to him and so intimate and vulnerable. You never knew it could be such a beautiful thing. 

He begins to groan loudly in your ear, and you pull him down to you as you continue to rock and moan against him. Your grip on him tightens, and you're not sure whether or not he's planning on pulling out, but you don't want him to. You need him with you. Your legs wrap even tighter around him and he gets the message. A few stuttering breaths later and Arthur groans, grinding his hips against you as he finishes in you, lips pressing kisses to your own between heavy groans and breaths. 

His forehead falls against yours, resting there as he catches his breath. You do too, still clinging to him in every way possible. After a few moments, he presses a slow kiss to your forehead, and then slides out of you. You wince from the pull, but once he lies down on the blankets beside you, he pulls you into the crook of his arm and covers you with the blanket. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by his heart beat after the past three days. 

"You okay?" Arthur asks, running his hand up and down your back over the blanket. You nod, truthfully. 

"I think I'm better than I've been in a long time." You admit. Arthur leans up on his elbow, grabbing your canteen from his side of the tent. 

"Here." He offers you the water, and you take it willingly, sipping down some of the cool liquid before handing it back to him.

You cuddle down against his chest again, hand sprawled out on his stomach as he looks up at the ceiling, thinking. 

"We gotta talk about this. Please, don't close up again, not now." Arthur says, worried that come morning you'll close yourself off again. You nod. Truly, you have no intention of hiding anymore, not after tonight. But for now you don't want to talk, you just want to be with him.

"In the morning?" You ask, tucking yourself into his side, yawning. 

"Yeah, in the morning." He whispers, and you lean up, pressing one last, slow kiss to his lips. He chuckles as you toss your leg over his, formed tightly against him. 

"Arthur?" You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

"Hmm?" He asks, hand still running up and down your back while the other holds yours tightly. 

"I'm so glad you're okay." You say again, a tear falling down your cheek and getting lost against his chest hair. You draw stars on his bare skin, distracting yourself as he wraps the blanket tighter around you both, protecting you from the thunder outside. 

"I know, sweetheart. S'alright now, you just get some sleep."

Everything seems to make sense now, like it's finally fallen into place. You grip onto his hand, holding it as you start to drift off to sleep. You're his grief, his joy, everything he desires and loves. And you feel the same about him. You've denied yourself this for so long, that finally having it happened in one big collision. You wouldn't change it, lying here with him now. You know you have to talk about this, and you have to get Arthur back to camp, but it's all a problem for tomorrow. Right now it is about the two of you, just existing together for the first time.  

— — — — 

When you begin to wake up, it takes you a few moments to come to your surroundings. Your eyelashes flutter open, eyes squinting to block out the harsh sunlight that is filtering through the tent flap. There is a strong, steady warmth underneath you, and realizing your surroundings, you smile. Your head is laying on Arthur’s chest, legs still intertwined and hands still locked together under the blankets from the night before. Arthur's other hand runs soothingly up and down your bare back, and you prop your chin on his chest to look at him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks, voice deep and groggy. 

"Real good." You hum, telling the truth. You've slept in the same bed as Arthur on a handful of occasions, but you've never been able to do so as openly as now. You've never woken up so content before, even with the residual ache in your hips. It's a good ache, a reminder of where Arthur had touched you, binded his body to yours in the most intimate of ways.

"I'm sorry that I just… jumped you last night." You whisper with a chuckle, fingers running down Arthur's chest, tracing through the sandy blonde hair there. 

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asks, looking down at you sprawled over his chest. Immediately, you shake your head.

"No. Not at all." You say truthfully. Even though the circumstances around your crashing together were less than ideal, you don't regret it even for a moment.

"Good." Arthur hums, smiling down at you. 

It grows quiet for a while, comfortably so. You listen to the birds and the river, but mostly Arthur's steady breathing, and you realize that you could lie here with him forever. You thought you'd lost him, and now that he's here, you can't bring yourself to let go for fear that he will disappear again. At the thought, you realize that you've not discussed what happens now, and a question forms on your lips. Your hand is still intertwined with Arthur's, and you play with his fingers as you speak up. 

"I reckon I already know the answer to this… but this was more than just sex right?" You ask, a little nervous. You're almost certain this is an emotional commitment, but your anxiety still prods at you. Arthur cracks a smile, bringing your wrist up to his lips before tenderly kissing the point where your pulse beats.

"Yes," He laces his fingers back with your own, "I'm all yours darlin', if you'll have me."

"Always." You whisper, ear pressed against his chest. The rhythmic pounding of his heart is a sound you can't get enough of as you slip your eyes closed, still reassuring yourself that he's here. 

"We gotta head back soon," You sigh, "I know John is worried sick. I'm sure everyone else is too." You whisper, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest for keeping John in the dark while you'd kept Arthur to yourself all night. 

"Just a few more minutes." Arthur counters, wrapping his arms around your waist. His thumb glides over your lower back, and you look up to see him lost in his head again. 

"Why did you stay out here? Why didn't you go back to camp with the others?" Arthur asks, propping his hand under his head to look at you. 

"How could I have left you? I didn't know if you were alive, I didn't think you were, god- that fall… but the thought of you hurt somewhere, or needing help, I couldn't just leave." You whisper, emotion bubbling up again at the thought of his fall. You don't bother to hide it anymore, even though your nature wants you to. 

"I can't stop seeing it, Arthur. I've never been that scared in my life." You admit. 

"It was a hell of a fall, I'll tell you that. Hurt like hell hittin' the water too. I didn't even know if I was alive, the water turned me around real bad and then I was on the shore of the Upper Montana River." He explains, eyes lost in the memory, "Hid out for a while and I heard the law whistles so I stole a horse n' ran to Strawberry. I was so worried about you… I didn't see you get away." 

"Cause I didn't." You whisper, "John had to pull me away from the bridge. Athena carried me here and I sat in the grass the rest of the night just… waiting for you," You take a deep breath, a loose tear slipping down your cheek, "and then your hat washed up, and I was sure you weren't coming back."

You can't shake it. Every time you bring up the bridge it all comes rushing back. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come back to you." Arthur hums, feeling terribly guilty as he sits up in the tent. You sit up next to him, pulling a blanket around your shoulders to cover your breasts. 

"Well, you're here now." You whisper, teary eyes looking into his. He shakes his head, and you see the regret in his eyes. 

"I shouldn't have called you a hypocrite. That was unfair of me." Arthur says, and your hand reaches up to his cheek, running through the thick stubble there. 

"No, you were right. That's somethin' I've thought about a lot the past few days, somethin' I plan on workin' on." You say, "And, Arthur, I shouldn't have gone through your journal."

Arthur huffs, humorously. 

"S'all you anyway." Arthur admits, and your eyebrows pull together, not understanding. 

"My journal. It's all you." He reiterates and you smirk. 

And then he's pulling you into his lap, unable to keep his hands off you now that he's able to touch you like this. 

"We have to go." You chuckle as Arthur runs his thumb over the purple splotches on your collarbone. His lips are on your jawline in a heartbeat, pressing slow, languid kisses to it. 

"They can wait." He whispers against your skin, thumbs gripping onto your bare hips as the blanket slips down from your shoulders. You lean into his kisses, loving the feeling of his lips on your skin, something you've denied yourself for so long. 

Your stomach grumbles lightly, and Arthur slowly leans back, raising an eyebrow at you. 

"You eaten anything?" He asks, and you sigh. 

"No." You admit, sighing as he slides you down off of his lap. 

"C'mon, let me make you breakfast." 

"Didn't think you were the type; cookin' a girl breakfast the morning after." You chuckle as Arthur starts plucking your wet clothes up off the floor, tossing them in a useless heap. 

"Yeah, well… only for you." Arthur huffs, grabbing your saddlebag from his side of the tent.

"You got any other clothes? These are drenched from the rain." Arthur asks, nodding to your outfit from last night. You nod, searching through the bag until you find a decent outfit. You grab a pair of black jeans and a white long sleeved shirt and you pair it with a tight black vest and a choker-style neckerchief, it's a damn cute outfit. 

“Alright, go on and get breakfast ready, I’m starvin.” You joke, pulling your shirt over your arms and buttoning it from the bottom up. Arthur laughs, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he groans, getting himself dressed for the day. 

He makes a little fire out front, and you smile, sitting at the entrance of the open tent as he prods and pokes at the smoldering logs with a stick. He puts on a little pot of coffee, and pulls a few cans from his satchel. 

“It ain’t much, but it’s what we got.” Arthur says, stabbing his knife into the top of one of the cans and cutting away the seal. He hands it out to you then, and you smile at the label. Strawberries, another delicious treat that Arthur had stashed away in his bag.

“It’s perfect.” You hum, slipping your fingers into the can and pulling out one of the berries. Today proves to be the calm after the storm, and despite the rain that soaks into the ground, covering the grass in a mist, the day is beautiful. The sun shines brightly down onto you and Arthur, sipping your coffees and making quiet, comfortable conversation. One by one, eating the berries, you begin to feel replenished. Not having eaten for the past three days, too devastated to even move, you devour your whole can of strawberries, and then you pick at Arthur’s. It breaks his heart a little, seeing how you’ve deprived yourself of basic needs in his absence, but he says nothing. You squint your eyes shut, relishing in the warm bitterness of your coffee until you’ve drunk it all down. 

“Thank you.” You say, placing the empty cup on the ground next to the empty cans, “For everything.”

“Course.” Arthur smiles, standing from the ground with a groan. He picks up the trash, and you raise an eyebrow at him as he tosses it into the woods. In just a matter of one night he’s managed to piece you back together, both physically and emotionally. It’s a debt you’ll owe him forever, though you know he’ll ask for nothing in return. 

“Star?” Arthur asks, looking at the tent as you stand from it, packing up, “This John’s tent?” He asks, looking over the familiar dark camping kit, one that he’s pitched his own next to on many occasions while out working.

Your eyes go wide and you snort, remembering that John had left you his camping kit back when you’d told him you planned on staying by the river. 

“Oh my god-” You say, horrified, “We’ll have to get him a new one.” 

Arthur chuckles, amused as he brings the tent down and starts packing it up with the blankets. 

“Nah, he won’t know.” Arthur brushes it off, snickering to himself. 

“Arthur-” You chastise, jaw open slightly as he rolls everything up and ties it onto the back of Balius. Arthur says nothing, a smirk on his lips as he walks to the front of his scarred shire, petting his head. 

“Missed ya, boy. I hope you took real good care of the lady while I was gone, I know you did.” Arthur whispers to his stallion, patting his neck a few times while pulling some mints from his saddle bag. He gives Balius one, and then looks back to you, blushing at the smile on your lips from his whispering. 

“Ready?” He asks, gripping the horn of his saddle. 

“As I’ll ever be.” You sigh, kicking dirt into the fire before mounting onto Athena, patting her in thanks for getting you across the river all those days ago.

You wonder what happens now. When you return to camp will Arthur showcase your newfound relationship?- If that's what you’re calling it, that is. You don’t know if things will slip back into their usual routine, or if this will change everything. You’re not ready for the gawking, hushed whispers of the girls, or the disapproving glare of Dutch. Though it's nonsensical, you feel that everyone will know what happened out here, and you feel terribly selfish for spending the night with Arthur when his own family didn’t even know he was alive. Still, you don’t regret it. 

Trotting across the river back towards Horseshoe Overlook, back towards home, you glance up ahead. Arthur is in front of you leading the way, and you release a breath, letting all of the worry and the guilt fall from your shoulders and be lost in the river. Because no matter what faces you back at camp, he's with you now, by your side with no intentions of leaving. You'll face it together.

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[brosser-les-dents]

How can I make sure that my damaged teeth won't get worse?

I have a chipped tooth and a broken one, and going to the dentist isn't really an option due to a serious fear of doctors and medical procedures

Should I brush the insides of the broken tooth directly? Do I need to brush the damaged areas more or less than the rest?

I've gone and reblogged a response from our resident dentist @nothingiswrongwithyourarmrests right before this one, so check it out. I think they cover your questions about not letting them get worse and where to focus on brushing.

I know there are people who have serious fear of medical professionals and that fear isn't always unfounded. But in this case I strongly encourage you to seek out professional dental help.

My dad, for a very long time, was really afraid of going to the dentist. His teeth are literally falling out and he still refused to go. I've convinced him to start doing a cleaning every 6 months now, and with more exposure he's starting to find it more comfortable going. He literally had a tooth pulled at his cleaning on Saturday and is feeling better.

Once again, I'm just a person on the internet, but I can give you the advice I have given him and other people.

Firstly, let the dentist/dental office know you've got serious fears/anxiety about the dentist and medical procedures and see what they may be able to do to help relieve your fears. If they immediately brush you off, then move onto someone else. Find someone who will listen to you and take you seriously. I realize this can be really difficult bc reaching out is already so scary and you may not have a lot of dental offices you can access. But a quick initial phone call can really help suss out a good provider.

Secondly, I don't know what your particular fears are, but work with them to find some sort of solution for what's causing you the most amount of anxiety. My dad has a particular fear of the feeling of the instruments. We found out they can apply a numbing cream before the cleanings to dull the sensation. I have a friend who hates the sound of cleaning, like it almost makes her physically sick it's so intense, and she's actually found that noise blocking headphones with music really help. I have another friend who has a deep distrust of medical professionals. She actually brings her boyfriend as support during appointments.

I hope some of this advice might be useful for you. You sound like you're suffering and I'd love to see you get to a better place.

Remember to brush and floss everyone!

Edit: upon rereading this, I might have gotten confused and assumed you were cavities nonny. It was very early and I am very tired. I don't have any advice about chipped and broke teeth, so I'm still leaving that to our resident dentist. But the advice remains the same as before about professional dental care.

[chloe-caulfield94]

Bay Max as a modern-day sin-eater

Sin-eating was a religious ritual practiced in various times and places, including the 17th and 18th century British countryside. The ritual was performed shortly after a person’s death. A piece of bread was placed on the body of the deceased, to absorb the sins they committed throughout their life. The bread was later eaten by a person designated to be the sin-eater. The purpose of this was to free the deceased from the burden of their own sins, so that they could go to heaven. But the burden of their evil deeds would not be lost. It would instead be transferred to the sin-eater, who would have to answer for someone else’s sins upon their death.

I can’t help but see Bay Max sacrificing Chloe as Max acting in the role of a sin-eater, consuming the many sins of the dwellers of Arcadia Bay.

I think the discussion surrounding the question if Max is responsible for the coming of the Storm misses one important fact – Max rewinding time to save Chloe from being murdered on Monday was just a last link in a long chain of events. Max only reacted to things that had been in motion for years.

The seed of the Storm is not Max’s noble instinct to save a stranger’s life. The seeds of the Storm are the sins of the dwellers of Arcadia Bay.

Mark Jefferson choosing to derive sick pleasure from the suffering of others.

Nathan Prescott choosing to become an accomplice in Jefferson’s crimes.

Nathan Prescott acquiring such a taste for Jefferson’s repulsive “art” that he chose to perform photo sessions of his own, with Rachel and Chloe as his models. Nathan choosing to attempt a photo session with Chloe even after he overdosed Rachel, clearly not bothered by the possibility of overdosing another girl.

Frank Bowers selling drugs to underage school kids. Frank selling sedatives to a teenage boy known for violent outbursts, even though anyone with half a brain would suspect he needs them to date rape someone.

Victoria Chase, witnessing something that any rational observer would deem to be a date rape in progress, but instead of putting a stop to it, choosing to laugh and record. Victoria choosing to lie that Kate got herself drunk, even though she knew Nathan “hooked up” Kate with “good shit”.

Principal Wells choosing to sweep Nathan’s violent outbursts under the rug, in exchange for bribes.

ABPD officers taking bribes from Sean Prescott to look the other way when Nathan peddled drugs at school.

Hatred, disdain for others, cruelty, callousness. Over the years, they accumulated and created a perfect storm. A storm which could be stopped. But it required two things:

Firstly, a sacrifice in the form of a girl who never chose to hurt someone else, but who often chose to hurt herself. And who was willing to choose to hurt herself that one final time. Chloe was called upon by cruel fate to serve as this sacrifice.

Secondly, a sin-eater who would accept the crushing weight of all that evil on her shoulders. Who would carry the incomprehensibly heavy burden of the sins of others for the rest of her life. Max was chosen by cruel fate to perform that task.

Should Max choose to willingly consume the sins of Arcadia Bay, the town would be spared. Nathan and Sean Prescott, Frank and principal Wells would live. Victoria, Steph and Mikey would continue their lives, without tasting the bitterness of loss. Unaware that Max is carrying on her shoulders the grief and sorrow they should be experiencing. And Max would be left wondering what could’ve been if she hadn’t taken her love and friendship back at the last moment.

Why would anyone choose to become a sin-eater? In the times and places where that ritual was practiced, was being a sin-eater a respectable calling? Where people like that appreciated for their utmost sacrifice?

No! Sin-eaters were recruited exclusively from among those most reviled by society. Almost always they were beggars, so desperate in their poverty that they were willing to damn their souls in exchange for a dirty six pence coin and a piece of bread. Because with an empty stomach now, it’s very difficult to think about what comes in the afterlife. There was no gratitude, only disdain for the sin-eaters of old. Just like there would be no gratitude for Max, who would have to suffer in silence for the rest of her days.

Why would Max trade her very soul for a dirty six pence coin? At the moment she makes her final choice, she’s already the richest person in her world. Because in her hands, she holds the greatest treasure that anyone can ever discover – love.

By going back to Monday and erasing the events of the week, Max would simultaneously:

Discard the greatest treasure – love.

Accept on her shoulders the most crushing of burdens – the sins of other people.

Why would anyone choose such a fate?

I know that the theme of innocents suffering to expiate the sins of others is present in many cultures. We are conditioned to see it as something noble. But I can’t see it that way.

If I did something truly evil, something deserving of a punishment, the last thing I would want would be for someone innocent to suffer that punishment for me. That wouldn’t wash away my sin. It would make it much, much worse. My guilty conscience wouldn’t be relieved. It would torment me twice as hard. There’s a saying attributed to emperor Justinian the Great, that it is better for someone guilty to walk free than for someone innocent to be punished. The thought of someone innocent being punished for the sins of others offends my sense of right and wrong on a fundamental level.

I find nothing noble or heroic about two teenage girls being punished for the evil of others. The mere thought of it I find revolting.