#you know his lifelong victim

[ssahotchnerr]

jealous!Aaron would be super interesting in a situation where the reader has a meeting with an agent that has vibes similar to him and Kate Joyner (Whoever the reader meets kinda resembles and ex or maybe even Aaron himself and they're oddly friendly 🤭)

the one

OMG cw; bau!reader, jealous!aaron, aaron's petty (and a bit insecure), established relationship (and a healthy one at that <333), vague allusions to sex, fluff wc; 1.8k

"your team will be stationed here." the chief of police led you, aaron and jj into one of the conference rooms, complete with a large table, vast seating and numerous bulletin boards. "our head detective will be in to assist you shortly."

"thank you." once he had exited, aaron exhaled a breath - more so a let's get this show on the road, "alright, let's get settled."

jj began unpacking the evidence from the boxes collected so far, as aaron and yourself hung up photos; crime scene as well as images of the victims so far.

as promised, the door soon opened, allowing the noise of the precinct to drift in. it ended as abruptly as it had started, the door clicking shut.

"mornin', i'm detective parker." you heard from behind you, the name and voice strangely familiar, causing you to slow. "it's real nice of y'all to come all this way to help us out."

jj introduced herself, and then aaron, but no introduction was needed on your end; you turned and your eyes connected with the voice, both of you recognizing each other instantly.

"no way!" you grinned, moving forward and bypassing a handshake for a hug. he reciprocated your energy, exclaiming your name as he embraced you just as tightly.

aaron immediately stiffened, and jj was equally taken aback, studying the man. the first noticeable thing, the resemblance. the dark hair, dark eyes, tall frame...

while aaron began to seethe, and jj took the initiative to vocalize what they both were wondering - she had also noted the vein beginning to bulge in his neck. "the two of you know each other?"

"we worked together back in the tuscon field office." you explained, turning back to parker with a smile. "that was what, three, four years ago?"

"has it been? doesn't feel like it." he released a hearty laugh. "look at you, you haven't changed a bit. you look good, and i mean real good."

a swarm of jealous heat filled aaron's body, and only grew as you and parker began chattering away like lifelong best friends.

eager to draw it to a close, he cleared his throat, loudly. it regained both your attention, and cut your small reunion short.

"huh, a bau profiler," parker said as he sobered down, his smile lingering as he gazed at you. "who would've thought."

jj inserted herself into the conversation again, intrigued yet perplexed. "so the two of you were close, then."

aaron refrained - with a large amount of effort - from physically rolling his eyes. clearly. he opened a file, solely to maintain his composure.

"oh, absolutely," parker answered for the both of you, while also throwing an arm around your shoulder. "there was one time we-"

"fascinating." aaron deadpanned as he interrupted, closing the file in hand, rather aggressively as it produced a quaint slap. his eyes rose and studied the agent's arm placement for a few, obvious seconds, his lips drawing into a tight line before continuing. "need i remind you we currently have three victims and a killer who is unraveling as we speak. it's in our best interest to work diligently and remain focused."

parker nodded, his cheeks producing a faint blush at the injunction.

"the recent victim's family still requires an interview. you can start there."

"the two of us can go," parker said, gesturing to yourself, "it's quite a drive away, could give us the opportunity to catch up."

"that won't be necessary, jj can accompany you." aaron stated firmly, not even looking at him, nose buried in his file again.

an amused yet disdained expression formed on jj's face, nodding slowly in confirmation. "that i can."

parker opened his mouth, probably to protest, but aaron had already turned his back. he surrendered and headed out, jj following.

"aaron." you transferred your weight onto your hand as you leaned on the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow.

"what?" he looked at you. despite his query, his eyes were a telltale - he knew what he was doing.

you arched your eyebrow more, giving him a look.

he sighed, shutting the file. "i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"he wasn't-"

aaron gave you a pointed look this time, prompting your words to trail off. he tore his eyes away from you again, allowing his next inquiry to exit his mouth more easily, "so, were the two of you...?"

"oh, no." you began to shake your head, but halfway, you hesitated. "well... almost."

his lips fell into an uneasy line, a pained expression painted on his face as his gaze shot back to yours. "almost?"

"we went on a few dates, kissed and..." you released a breath, choosing to keep the summary short, but the brooding envy in aaron's eyes deepened. "but nothing ever came from it. we were better off as friends."

after a moment though, you added, on the quieter side, "and besides, i transferred before anything really solidified."

the lines in aaron's face only grew, biting down briefly on his bottom lip.

"but it's in the past." you quickly reassured, bringing your hands to his cheeks for a moment to relieve the tension. "i won't deny that we were close, but you know how partnerships work. i depended on him, him on me, and the majority of our time was spent together. it caused a lot of emotions, all of which, are gone. i haven't even spoken to him since, seriously."

aaron wanted to counter, does parker know that? but from the earnest expression on your face, and loving look in your eyes, he withheld from doing so.

the bitterness on his face still didn't falter, but "okay. that's fine."

you still weren't convinced. "are you sure?"

"yeah. you're allowed to have a history, but that doesn't mean i need to be optimistic about working with him." he said as he exhaled a breath. he meant it, fully secure and confident in your relationship. he simply detested the idea of another yearning for you, especially one you had a past with, and one who looked quite like him - a potential competitive force.

you were his.

"of course," you nodded, with full understanding. "if the roles were reversed, i know i'd feel the same."

"and as long as he doesn't try anything..."

you laughed, your fingers playing with and then smoothing out the lapels of his suit jacket - positioning them in perfect place just as they belonged. "he won't. trust me, he's not like that."

aaron nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. if it weren't for the current setting, he would've brought his lips to yours.

"i have you." you offered him a loving, genuine smile, the affirmation to his just-previous thought calming his heart rate further. "i have everything i could ever want."

-

despite aaron being a bit (very) high-strung, and keeping a close eye on parker, he kept his word - he remained civil. naturally, he still was passive aggressive, short, and didn't dare smile while interacting with him.

the team noticed the 'chemistry' too. you knew they were whispering about it; they had gazed questionably between the two of you upon their arrival at the precinct, and through the substance of the case - the naturalness, the easy meshing, bouncing ideas off each other. but you had worked with parker for years - you knew how he worked, and likewise. it was like riding a bike, old habits resurfacing.

they also noticed the familiar characteristics to aaron (morgan of course teased you about it, you simply waved him off). and even penelope all the way back home asked about it, "so this guy, what's the story there?"

but despite the at-times, annoying attention - the case proceeded and resolved easily. within a few days, it was time to return home.

as the team settled other matters - exit reports, paperwork, etc. - you found yourself with parker, packing up and clearing out the conference room.

the two of you were alone for the first time all week, and you could sense it in the silence - a pending question. it was a matter of time before it was brought to focus.

"what do you think would've happened, if we would've given it a shot?"

you froze, facing him. "what?"

"you and i." his eyes searched yours, creating a sense of deja-vu. it was familiar, having spent so much time with him and once it had sent shivers throughout your body. but as strong as they seemingly once were - it wasn't like with aaron. it didn't leave you feeling lightheaded and giddy and as if you could simply burst at the seams.

when you remained silent, he continued.

"we were good together." he stated, insistently. "you can't deny it. good partners, a great team."

"yeah... we were," you agreed, fiddling with some papers as you thought. "but in the field. romantically, no. we couldn't see eye to eye on anything non-work related, don't you remember how much we bickered?"

"that was good for one thing, at least."

you ignored that, firm and conclusive in your answer. "we wouldn't have lasted."

"and he's in the picture now." he chuckled as he crossed his arms, a tinge of irritation present.

"yeah, he is." you hardened your voice - he knew it as your tell to quit it. "like i told you the night before i left. i couldn't stay. there was more for me out there. and after joining the bau, i now know it was in more ways than one. i love the work, although it's tremendously difficult and gruesome at times. i love the family it's given me. and most importantly, i love aaron."

parker nodded silently, rather disappointedly, but understanding nonetheless.

"i love him. he's the one, i'm positively certain he is."

he sighed as shoulders dropped, his words melancholy but supportive. "well, he's good for you. if anything about him being attached to your hip, or giving me the subtle death glare constantly the past few days, has something to say for it."

you laughed gently. "profiling the profilers?"

"oh c'mon, the way he looks at you? anyone can tell."

-

on the jet, you weaved down the aisle, past the team finding their seats, getting comfortable for the ride home. when you reached aaron, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

aaron's lips tipped upwards in a smile, his arms mirroring yours. "what's this for?"

you only tightened your grip, mumbling into his chest. he could hear your smile in your voice. "just 'cause you're mine."

[castiwls]

unexplained cases

Paring; dean x reader

Requested; @walkinthefairygarden

Synopsis; working as an FBI agent means you were more than used to the unusual but even some things drew the line as to strange for you. Little did you know two brothers were also on the case, and this would lead you down a whole new rabbit hole.

Notes; this is the longest thing I've written for tumblr holy. this idea is lowkey so fun tho!! requests are open!

Masterlist

You were used to strange. You’d spent the last few years of your life dealing with any and all cases which were deemed slightly too abnormal for a normal investigation. You’d seen things most of your colleagues could never imagine, hell even you couldn't have imagined some of the things you’d seen. 

Your time working with the FBI had taught you one thing. People were cruel. Sometimes the worst monsters weren't the ones who lived in the pages of an old Brothers Grimm story, sometimes they were your neighbour or sometimes they were your own family.

It wasn’t abnormal for you to be placed on a case which involved situations where people would go out, have fun, get slightly too drunk and disappear off into the night just to be found the next day in an alleyway by an innocent passerby. More often than not if you found yourself receiving the call that the body that had been found was most likely mutilated in a way that would give most people lifelong trauma.

More often than not after looking around for a little and doing some research into past disappearances you would find a pattern in the victims. They were all young blondes or they were all young men between the ages of 19 and 23. That usually led you to the door of the town's new resident killer who got some sick kick out of killing innocent people and mutilating them to ‘leave their mark’.

But in this case. This was different. It had started out normal enough. Victims in alleyways after nights out. They were all mutilated in some way which led you to the belief that yet again, you had a small-town killer trying to make a name for themselves. 

Yet when the bodies began to be autopsided that was when you began to grow confused and…slightly concerned. Nearly all the victims after death had been drained of more the half of their blood and they all had small hole marks on their necks. 

The corner had laughed joking. “Seem’s we have a town vampire.” And you laughed along while staring confused down at the marks. They were nothing you’d seen before. Maybe you simply had a killer with a creative streak but the killings still left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

✧.*

“Another one?” You let a sigh fall from your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your nail. “That's the fifth one this week.” You frowned slightly sitting back further into your seat. The police chief continued to fill you in on the latest victim as you stared down at your laptop. None of this made any sense. 

You had a killer. You were sure. But who the hell was draining their victims of more the half of their blood? And where the hell was this blood going? “I’ll be there in an hour.” You nodded to yourself before ending the call and pocketing your phone.

Luckily it didn’t take you long to get down to the bar where the victims all seemed to disappear from. The police chief waved you down as you approached, he passed you a file which detailed the latest victim. “I didn’t know you had a partner agent?” He crossed his arms as spoke.

Your eyes paused on the page as you registered his words. “I don’t,” You said looking up from the file. You started at him confused for a moment. “I’m the only one on this case.” The chief stared back at you his eyes narrowing. “Two other agents came around just before you got here. They said they’d been put on the case after the most recent killing.” He waved a hand at you. “They knew who you were…well claiming to.”

“What were their names?” You racked your mind for a minute trying to think of anyone who could have been placed on this case alongside you but your mind came up empty. Plus if anyone was assigned to help you with this you would have been informed.

“Osburne and Butler.” You looked back down to the file in your hand nodding slowly. You’d never heard of agents with those names before. “Are they still here?” You looked around for a moment before looking back to the chief who nodded before pointing to a black car parked a little down the road. 

Thanking him you began to make your way over to the car. Clearing your throat you came to a stop just before the car. The two men quickly turned, clearly shocked by your appearance. Tilting your head you narrowed your eyes. You’d never seen these men in your life. “Osburne and Butler I take it.” 

They both exchanged a quick look before the taller of the two nodded. “Uh. Yes. Is-is everything okay?” His tone was masked as concern but you could sense his slight nervousness from the way he shifted. “Yes everything is fine,” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m just wondering why you two think it's funny to pose as FBI agents and walk right onto a crime scene.” You hardened your gaze, watching in slight amusement as the one who had just spoken swallowed looking at his friend for help.

The other man scoffed rolling his eyes at you. “Listen here sweetheart, I don’t know who you think you are but we're not faking anything.” He gestured between him and his friend. “We got put on this case today, you can call our supervisor if you're so bothered.”

You frowned turning your attention to him. “You can’t have been put on this case.” You reached into your pocket pulling out your ID. “Because it’s my case. And in all my time working with the FBI I have never heard of any agents called Osbourne and Butler,” You placed your ID back in your pocket. “And last time I checked they were both pretty old.” 

You watched as the smaller man’s eyes widened at your words. You knew Black Sabbath? 

They both stared at you for a moment before the taller one smiled grabbing onto his partner's arm. “Excuse us for a minute.” You nodded, a quiet huff falling from your lips.

This was the last thing you needed right now. You watched unimpressed as the two seemed to go back and forth for a minute before the taller one turned back to you. He sent you another smile as he came to stand before you. “We’ll talk to our supervisor and find out what happened.” You nodded, looking back at the other man who was currently leaning back against the car. “Alright,” You nodded. 

You bid the two goodbye before walking back towards the bar where you could see the forensic officers beginning to move the body. You frowned to yourself as you looked back down at the file. 

Something about the two ‘agents’ seemed off to you. There was no way you wouldn’t have been informed. You watched as the body was taken away no doubt to the morgue which would be your next stop, though your mind was still stuck on the two men you’d just met.

You were 90% sure they were not agents, but before you acted on your suspicions you had to be sure. There was a low chance they maybe were who they claimed to be and somehow another division had caught wind of the cases and had decided to butt their head in but still never in your career had you seen that happen.

Pulling your phone from your pocket you quickly checked the time. You had more than enough time left to go check the morgue before doing some digging.

✧.*

Your fist banged against the door again for what felt like the hundredth time. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that there had never been any agents with the names Osbourne and Butler. It also hadn’t taken you long to find a case from a few years ago that involved another strange span of killings which had ended with the killer supposedly dead. 

Just as you raised your fist again the door suddenly swung open. The man’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at you. He opened his mouth but you quickly cut him off raising a finger. “Dean Winchester. Right?” You smiled sweetly at the man who simply gapped at you for a moment.

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Like we said yesterday, we got put on this case just like you did alright? Now I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up unannounced.” He sent you a small smirk. “If you really have an issue take it up with your supervisor.” 

You pursed your lips nodding. “Really?” You held up a file watching his face drop slightly. “Because this says, different Dean.” 

You pushed the file you’d been holding into his hands, crossing your arms over your chest. “According to this, you died a few years back. Yet. You look pretty alive to me.” 

Dean looked down at the file before looking back up at you. “This.” He waved the file. “Was a misunderstanding.” He glanced down the hallway seemingly relieved seeing that you were alone. “How did you find us.” He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

You could tell by his body language that he didn’t trust you. The way he glared at you was enough to tell you that he was less than friendly. Though you couldn’t deny the slight pull you felt towards him. 

You’d noticed him back at the bar but had kept a professional facade knowing that you had bigger problems. Though now being closer to him you finally were able to get a good look at the man and it only confirmed your thoughts from before. He was very attractive.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m more concerned about why you and your brother are pretending to work for the FBI.” You tilted your head as you questioned him. Dean rolled his eyes moving to lean against the doorway. “Well. Like you sweetheart, we were also doing our job.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You narrowed your eyes thinking for a moment. “Your job?” 

He nodded a small smirk growing on his lips. “What job could you possibly have which would require breaking the law.” Just as he opened his mouth to respond the trill of a phone ringing. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out your phone a small sigh leaving your lips as you noticed the caller's ID. “Again.” You mumbled exasperated before sliding your finger across the screen. 

Taking a step back from the doorway you watched as Dean’s gaze softened slightly. He stepped to the side before gesturing for you to come into the room. Furrowing your brows you stood for a moment, listening as the police chief began talking about yet another kill. 

Deciding he seemed relatively harmless you took his offer. When you’d first come you’d been under the opinion that Dean Winchester may have been your killer, and his hostile attitude upon seeing you had only furthered that belief. Yet getting another phone call while he was standing before you made you begin to rethink your original suspicions. 

Taking a seat on one of the beds you sighed. “Two victims,” Dean closed the door before moving to stand a few feet from you. “Alright. I’ll be there in an hour.” You ended the call before groaning. Two victims completely threw your pattern off. 

You looked around the room for a moment as you spoke before a thought hit you. Dean hadn’t been alone yesterday and you’d read on his file that he had a brother. “Where’s your brother?” You looked back over to the man who was watching you from his spot.

“He’s getting food.” Dean shrugged. “So two more victims huh.” He pushed. You nodded. “Yea. Why do you care anyway? What are you some kind of true crime fanatic.” He laughed quietly shaking his head.

“Oh no. It’s a bit more complicated.” He came to sit beside you, passing the file back. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the whole me not being dead to your boss.” You pursed your lips. “Why would I do that?” 

Dean Winchester being alive was very strange to you, but it wasn’t your issue. “Because we can help each other.” 

Dean gestured between you both. You stared at him confused for a moment. You needed to solve this case, and soon. Too many people were dying and you still had little to no leads on who it could possibly be that was committing these crimes. You thought it over for a moment. You were breaking so many rules even being here. You should have reported this to your supervisor straight away but you’d been curious. 

“Me and my brother, we deal with stuff like this all the time. We can help but I need you to promise not to try and shoot me if I tell you what we actually do for a living, alright?” 

✧.*

Working with the Winchesters was… interesting. 

You really hadn’t thought your life could get any stranger, yet here you were staring down at the bodies of three men. Turns out Sam and Dean Winchester had actually not been FBI agents and instead they spent their time traversing around the country killing ‘monsters.’

You initially laughed in Dean’s face calling him crazy before attempting to leave but he’d been quick to stop you. He’d then sat you down and pretty much showed you every piece of evidence they had to suggest that these killings were far from normal.

“A vampire?” You stared at him astounded as he simply nodded. “Yes. And most likely a werewolf. The killings line up.”

You’d not want to believe him but part of you after looking at the evidence knew he had a point. And so that had sent you down a spiral over the last week where you’d learnt of things that you’d only ever known about in your nightmares.

After that, the three of you quickly began comparing notes on the case. In doing this you’d quickly come to find at least three possible culprits. Each of the men had been seen in the club the night of the killings and they were always seen leaving with someone.

You’d surprisingly found yourself beginning to enjoy the company of the two. You normally worked alone during your cases and had always found that you’d worked better alone but during the last few days, you’d found that you actually enjoyed working with others.

Over the last two days, you’d always found yourself steadily growing closer and closer to the older of the two men. Dean Winchester was someone who you’d originally planned to keep at an arm's distance, but that plan quickly fell away.

You’d found yourself spending most of your time interviewing witnesses with him while Sam had stayed back going over your notes.

“Thank you, we’ll be in touch.” You smiled at the older woman as she said her own goodbyes before closing the door. Dean let out a breath as you walked down the porch steps towards his car. 

“You still think it could be her son?” You stopped beside the car to face him. Dean crossed his arms nodding slowly. “Yeah. Vamps don’t have to be born. The guy could have been bitten she’d be none the wiser.” 

You nodded pulling your lip between your teeth. “Okay. We got our guy.” A wave of relief ran through you as you stood there. For the first time in the case, it seemed like you finally had a strong lead who you were all sure was the killer.

Everything lined up. Now all you had to do was catch the guy. Dean reached into his pocket pulling his keys out. “We should go get Sam before heading to the bar. If he follows his pattern our guy should be there.” 

✧.*

“So. Case closed I guess.” You mumbled looking down at the body. Sam nodded from his spot opposite you. “Yeah.” You reached into your pocket pulling out your phone. You looked between the two.

“I’m gonna need to call this in, you two should probably disappear before the cops get here.” You smiled at the two. Sam nodded before looking over to his brother who was still looking down at the body. “How are you gonna explain this?” He asked pushing a hand into his pocket. 

“Suicide.” You gestured to the body. “Guy went mad, killed people and then couldn’t live with himself.” You shrugged. “It's more common than you’d think.” 

“Thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to do this without your help.” You rubbed a hand behind your neck before turning to Dean. “I’ll make sure your file disappears, just try and not get framed for another murder.” You teased slightly making the two men chuckle.

“I’ll try.” Dean grinned, his gaze settling on you. Over the last few days, you’d noticed the way he looked at you had changed. At first, he’d been hesitant, he’d always looked at you with a sceptical eye as if he was ready for you to flip on them at any moment but over time he’d realised that maybe you actually did want their help.

Maybe you really weren't going to lead him into a trap. And with that realisation, the way he looked at you had softened. He’d let himself become more comfortable in your presence. The way he looked at you now was different again. There was no lie that you felt something towards him. 

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that he was just another one of your passing crushes. You’d finish the case and he’d move on. Yet looking at him now you could swear he looked slightly disappointed.

“I’m gonna go wait in the car. I’ll see you there.” Sam nodded at his brother before sending you another smile and walking away. You both watched him go for a moment before you turned to Dean.

Dean didn’t say anything as he turned back to face you. He swallowed before raising a hand. “I guess I better let you call this in before someone sees us.” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck before he turned and began walking away.

You stood for a moment before beginning to follow him “Dean. Wait.” At your voice, he paused turning to face you. You stopped a few feet from him before taking a breath. You slowly stepped closer until your chests were practically touching. 

You heard his breath hitch as he stared down at you, his lips parting slightly. Pushing yourself up you connected your lips with his. His hand wrapped around your waist as your own went to his head. 

His thumb rubbed circles against your waist as he slowly pulled back. A slight blush covered your cheeks as you panted softly. “Hey. Why don’t you come with us?” Dean whispered moving a hand to brush against your cheek.

“What?” You gasped, furrowing your brows as you looked at him. His eyes had lit up slightly at the idea and he smiled resting his forehead against yours. “Think about it alright. We’ll stick around for two more days and if you decide you wanna come with…you know where we’ll be.” He pressed his lips against yours again for a moment before pulling back. 

You frowned slightly watching him disappear around the corner before your attention turned back to the body. Pulling out your phone you found the chief's number before pressing call. As it rang you found yourself nervously chewing on your nail.

You felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stay here and continue working for the FBI and leave behind a man who you were very much falling in love with or take his offer and discover a whole new world.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I just know for a fact that this man would do absolutely anything you tell him to do, even if it's just a joke.

Even if you mention something in passing, such as an annoying colleague that's pestering you, Chuuya is all ears. Depending on the severity situation he will either flat out cuss the person out right in front of you OR he will most likely do something like this - he won't say much, he'll hear you out and will not interrupt you at all. His face is flat as he holds a cigarette, making sure to redirect the smoke elsewhere that wasn't your face. As cute as you were to see so riled up, Chuuya was only okay with it if he was the reason why you were riled up. Anything else is off the table. If he sees a chance, Chuuya will pry for more information such as the name of the person, where they live, possible hobbies and routines, literally anything. In the heat of the moment you tell him everything you know, huffing in annoyance as you keep on rambling, completely unaware of the brewing storm inside of his head.

Chuuya made sure to keep his actual job hidden from you. A sense of normalcy and stability is something he craves like a man who was being starved to death and after endless years of search and betrayal, he found a lifelong companion in you. He hated lying but Chuuya simply wasn't ready to tell you absolutely everything about himself, not yet.

However, he was all too aware of the power he had. All the cards were in his hands and he was going to make his move.

It might take him a day or so to find his target but he makes sure to be as brutal as he can be. His ability truly was a godsend in this situation, the screams of your tormentor was like music to Chuuya's ears. His hands were in his pockets as he grinned at his victim, his ability crushing his body and organs, leaving a heaping pile of rotting flesh on the floor, all for the flies to devour. The mafioso left the apartment with a smug feeling in his chest but he still needed to be careful. Just because he could kill someone for you doesn't mean that he should.

People like this were a fine exception though. He was sure that you'd be freaking out with the news that the man had died such a horrific death but he also knew that you would be over it just as fast.

He was more than ready to guide you through it all. Say the word and he will give it everything he has.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enomane, @ishqani, @satohruu, @bluepeanutharmony, @ficsreblogs

[wrtingsoftheunknown]

Vincent Sinclair HC

Vincent Sinclair hc SFW and NSFW

I’ve haven’t  been seeing my boy get repped recently so I have to do it myself. My first time writing something on here or towards this character ,I promise I will get better y'al,l I made this super quickly not proofread oops.

SFW

-While he can be insecure about his face he definitely has an ego from being the favorite child and having perfected his craft.

Lester drags him out to go for a ride around town or force him to come to his place for some quality brother time (Bo joins every now and then but wants peace and quiet dammit )

‘I know a lot of people have him learn sign language but I think he either writes what he wants to say, speaks as best as he can, or gestures, ( he was born in the south to parents that I don't think cared about communicating with him too much but he could have picked it up later in life maybe in his teen years or middle school era)

More sadistic than Bo when it comes to killing, he doesn't care if they are dead or alive when working on them and takes satisfaction in the result of his work

He prefers to work in silence but you can catch him humming now and then some country song or a guilty pleasure pop song from the 80’s( I see you Vince)

I think he partakes in multiple forms of art besides wax work.We see he’s able to paint, draw, but he also  takes pictures, , sews, writes, makes videos, anything artistic he’s learning and keeping up with new techniques.

Since he takes video of the killings at times I think they sell them as snuff films to make extra cash on top of stealing and selling victims stuff. (At least that’s what I thought when I first watched the film anyone else or just me)

Rarely happens but will keep victims that interest him like Bo ,but dispose of them when they get boring  or no longer match up the ideal version of them in his head.

-Does want a lifelong partner, the white wedding and picket fence, kids,  but knows it might be difficult with the line of work he does.

- He can talk but only does when it’s important or to emphasize something. He does have a southern draw like Bo and I imagine his voice to sound similar but raspier, maybe deeper/ quieter from not using it as much.

-like I said earlier you have to really catch his attention and be able to hold it for more than a week, if that happens then he’s obsessed and protective maybe a little too over protective.

Does indeed have a hair care routine I believe this full throttle and no one can can tell me otherwise I'm not listening.

NSFW

I don't know if he’s a virgin, I don't think he is something is telling me he isn't, but i’m not sure

He has no problem with nudity, bodies are seen as art, there's not as much of a sexual connotation with them as with Bo and Lester .

He wants to be in love with the person he is intimate with, he wants to be worship and worship his muse.

Drawings  of his partner naked as well as in the midst of a passionate night, he might tease them all night to make sure the sketch is as life like and accurate as possible

Good size and thick that's all I gotta say

Praise kink hard core, hearing his partner call him a good boy or how he makes them feel so good he will crumble

He starts slow and sensual, enjoys the control he has and having someone at his power.

I think he will edge you and leave you high and dry when you act out but he always caves by the end of the day and gives you what you need.

Can last a long time surprisingly

Mainly a giver but someone please for the love of god give this man the nastiest had he’s ever received will make the prettiest noises 

Is down to try anything new and more open about sex than you would think.

When he’s horny he comes up behind his partner and starts caressing every inch he can reach, while resting his chin on their shoulder acting as innocent as he can.

[sunshine-jesse]

In defense of Andrew Graves: Facing Yourself​

Alt title: Andrew Graves: The Will to Plow Her

I think my analysis of Andrew is one of the best essays I've written so far. But since then, I think I've expanded my understanding of his character in a way that urges me to add on to my prior essay. What I intend on doing is further fleshing out my reading of Burial, and going deeper in detail on why I think Decay ends up panning out the way it does. This essay will end up sharing a lot of text with my prior one, but will add enough scattered throughout that I think it merits a complete reread instead of just scrolling down and seeing what's new.

I've focused a lot on Ashley in my past writings. She's my favorite character in the story (and depending on how episode 3 pans out, maybe ever) and I'm pretty mortified by how some parts of the fandom have reacted towards her, so I pretty much made it my life's mission to push back against that. From highlighting the ways Andrew mistreats her, to coming up with justifications for her behavior that aren't just being a manipulative bitch, I really wanted to prove that a more favorable picture of her could be painted than most were willing to.

But in doing so, I've left Andrew in the dust.

In highlighting his flaws and the ways he mistreats Ashley, I think I've implied a level of intentionality to his actions that I don't believe he has. When I say that Ashley did nothing wrong, it's in direct response to the idea that she holds the most responsibility and agency in how their dynamic plays out, when in reality, I believe she has very little. Most of her actions in-story are in reaction to a variety of stimuli that come directly from Andrew, that he has control over and are aware of how Ashley feels about. His refusal to use clear and direct language to deny her most toxic tendencies causes her more and more stress as time goes on, and instead of giving her clear answers he opts to be catty, passive-aggressive, or, at his worst, threatening. Never direct and never clear, except when establishing boundaries over his name after the choking scene. Andrew fails to help Ashley be better in some frankly depressing ways throughout the whole story, especially in their childhoods, so we never get to see where she'd fall short if given a better influence.

...

Kind of. More on that later!

In mentioning his thing about preferring to be called Andrew instead of Andy, I also implicitly mention one of the places where Ashley falls short in their dynamic and could stand to do better: recognition.

This scene says a lot. It's the most heartbreaking scene in the game, if you ask me, and probably the single most profound and well-written moment in the entire story. I could write a whole 2000 word essay on it alone, but I've already said most of what I have to say about it through what I've said in other essays, so I'll spare you all that. Instead, I'll use it to highlight something:

"I had fun."

Their dysfunction is fun to her. She's so used to abuse and alienation that even the most awful, stressful (as far as we know) route of the game is still fun to her. And that's not a sign of her being a secret evil sociopath or whatever; that's actually not abnormal behavior to develop for a lifelong victim of abuse. Those highs and lows, those strong emotional highs and lows are -addicting-. They're -fun.- Part of why abuse victims get into so many abusive relationships is because it's easy to pick up on those patterns of thought and take advantage of them, and the cycle of abuse is often furthered when a victim of abuse tries to draw out mutually abusive behaviors in someone with no interest in having that kind of dynamic.

This is where I'm willing to acknowledge Ashley's manipulative tendencies. Not just as a matter of controlling Andrew for its own sake, purely out of jealousy or possessiveness, but as a matter of trying to further the only dynamic she's ever known in her life. Better the devil you know, right?

That push and pull- that emotional rollercoaster- is all many of us know. And it's all Ashley knows. This dynamic is something she's so used to that she reacts incredibly harshly to any attempt to change it, because she doesn't know that things can be better. Because of this, she refuses to engage with who Andrew really is, and tells herself- and him- that she *hates* Andrew:

This scene is almost as heartbreaking as the above one in a lot of ways.

Andrew putting his foot down about the Andy/Andrew name dichotomy wasn't arbitrary and it wasn't just about his comfort. It was about Andrew giving a clear indication about what needs to happen for their relationship to improve. He's recognizing the cycle between them and wants to put a stop to it, because he's confident that things between them CAN get better and evolve into something healthier. Ashley, not understanding that their dynamic can get better, because their "fun" little push and pull of abuse is all she knows, rejects that. She rejects the unknown, and says- in Andrew's mind at least- that she'll never accept that new dynamic, nor will she accept who he really is.

Ouch. No wonder he looks so sad in that screenshot.

They have a conflict of understanding here, and I think it's fair to pin most of the responsibility on Ashley. Andrew was clear in what he wanted, and Ashley just... Didn't. She didn't see the importance of it ("...whatever that means in practice") and didn't really ask. This gap in communication, perfectly displayed in this scene, is likely what causes the Decay ending. He wants things to be better, and wants to treat Ashley better, and whether or not he understands the ways in which she communicates with him is in part what determines what he sees her as.

But there's a lot of evidence that he always wanted things to be better, that he always wanted to treat her better. But external factors have made it very, very difficult, and I think there are two key points in which he started to shed the importance of those external factors and seek that better relationship, both of which happening in the apartment: The killing of the warden and the 302 lady. In the first case, he was forced to do it to protect Ashley in a way he hadn't done before, or depending on how you look at it, since the death of Nina. But the intentionality was the key point here. After this point, he calls Ashley Leyley, which may or may not seem important at this point, but it's something I'll draw attention to later, so keep that in mind.

Next is the killing of the 302 lady, which is the much, much bigger point. We don't learn much about it until later on- as at first he just gives an excuse about the nail gun that doesn't line up with what we see on the map- but during the dream, it's revealed it was a calculated, intentional killing that he did to make sure there was no evidence left behind, and because Ashley (supposedly) would've wanted him to do it anyway. I say supposedly because Ashley herself doesn't seem to ever want Andrew to kill for her past Nina's death, because he only ever kills for her to defend one or both of them. If you want more evidence that violence for violence's sake isn't something she wants, look at this part in the final dream:

A knife isn't what opens the door, despite it being placed on the ground in that very map. While it seems obvious that the knife (violence) would be the key to solving the puzzle, it's put there explicitly to show you that it isn't. It's not what she wants; what she wants is a flower.

So, why is this important? Why am I centering Ashley- again- when this essay is supposed to be about Andrew?

It's because these two killings are when Andrew's self-delusion over who he really is starts to break down. It's still there, mind, as he still relies upon Ashley as an excuse to justify it, but, as well as what I've said before, the name ultimatum is an implicit confession that the normalcy he finds comfort in is starting to lose its grasp on him. There's a lot that's been said about Andy being something close to a "moral impulse" for Andrew, given his child self's reaction to Nina's death being the only thing he does that approximates a normal moral response to his and Ashley's actions, but if you do think that- which I think is a reasonable thing to think even if I don't necessarily agree- there's something you must also keep in mind:

-He- is the one who doesn't want to be called that anymore. -He- is the one who wants to let that moral impulse go, and Ashley is the one making it difficult.

That reading is assuming that Andy is a moral impulse, which I think is... either wrong or too simplistic. Every time I see that reading, it's from someone who's trying to paint him too sympathetically and absolve him of most moral responsibility. I also find it infantilizing to equate morality with childhood in such a way? But that's another tangent that I didn't sign up to talk about. What I do think, however, is that it's a useful framing device to display his own relationship with morality; the allegory to his child self doesn't have to be there for the general pattern to exist.

When Ashley starts to grill Andrew over the killing of the 302 lady, he gets mad. Very mad. Ashley sees it as pointless, as him covering his own ass, but he genuinely did it for her sake, because he thought that's what she wanted, and that it'd make her happy. But what makes her happy isn't violence- or any similarly extreme action for that matter- it's attention and validation. Something he's always reluctant to give her, despite the fact that he always chose her over the alternatives. But despite making that choice, it's always empty and meaningless, because in Ashley's mind, he never did it for her sake.

And hoo boy, does he not like it being framed like this.

He is perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and safe... but only for her sake. It has to be for her sake. He still needs that traditional role, and he still needs to have a narrative in which he's the good guy- a protector. Because it can't be for his sake. It can't be because that's what he wants. He has to uphold that romantic (in the literary tradition sense) ideal. His darkly romantic idealistic streak colors many of his actions and beliefs. This is most plainly visible in his quip about a double suicide being romantic, but it's also visible within the symbolism present within his dream, such as how he can only pave his own path in blood unless Ashley lights the way. It's visible within his appreciation for poetry, and it's visible with how the cultist within the dream speaks in Shakespearean English.

But the transient nature of this ideal is also revealed within this dream, because there's never a cohesive, guided path, even with Ashley there to light it up. Contrary to Ashley's dream, where you literally have maps showing you where to go, Andrew's dream has many more dead ends and no map to guide him. The symbolic role he acts out gives him no clarity, and there's no overarching narrative; merely a bunch of disconnected symbols.

This is contrasted with Ashley's dream, which has narratives so clear that the story literally gives the dream an episode title.

In a sense, he wants to view himself as an actor acting out a role in a story. He wants his life to be poetic, to represent something greater, and to have a cohesive narrative. This is why he's so disconnected from his true desires: He's more concerned with acting as a representative of an ideal than a person with agency. But every time the mask drops, every time he stops acting, his true self becomes visible. He naturally settles into being comfortable around Ashley, in treating her with warmth and kindness, and their banter becomes much less toxic. As intent as he is on acting out his role, it does nothing for him, and as his dream sequence shows, it doesn't even form a cohesive narrative, because he can't act one out. It's too contrary to who he really is, and what he really wants. But that idealization doesn't just apply to himself, it also applies to Ashley. Specifically, who Ashley is, vs who he wants her to be.

In his unique dream sequence, he sees two versions of Ashley; the child version of her- Leyley- and the adult version of her- Ashley. And the differences in the ways he interacts with the two of them are stunning. Leyley is an obstinate, annoying child. She's the one he NEEDS to take care of, and he hates that. He hates Leyley for what she did for his childhood. He hates that he needs to provide for her. He has the option of trying to kill her, even, over something as small as a candle!

But in the room with all the murders, the gilded cage, he sees Ashley as an adult. This version of Ashley is stuck in a closet that he himself has to open- and to choose to see. Their interactions are calm and friendly. She teases him a bit, sure, but she's still helpful, and they have fun together. He doesn't need her, and she doesn't need him. He needed Leyley- needed the candle- but here, there are other limbs strewn about for him to take. And, crucially, he doesn't even have the option to kill this Ashley for one of the limbs.

And during the choking scene, he lets her go the moment she acknowledges that he doesn't need her anymore. This is the first time we know of that he seems comfortable enough to set a clear boundary, which is acknowledging that their prior dynamic is dead and that they're now Andrew and Ashley, not Andy and Leyley. It's a bit late to express a clear boundary -after- literally acting like he was going to kill someone, but it's the first time we know of that he sets a clear standard for what, in his mind, would improve his relationship with Ashley.

After all, what he wants is to want her, not need her. He wants Ashley for Ashley's sake. Not for what she can provide him. He doesn't even need her for sleep, he just wants her. But Ashley has trouble acknowledging this, because he's never before shown that WANT. Only a NEED. She keeps trying to find ways to make him need her, because she's never seen what his desire for her is really like. She's only ever seen him desiring someone else, someone other than her.

She's only ever seen him as Andy, because she's never truly seen Andrew, only the violence he can inflict on others. But Andrew can see both:

He can see Leyley, the needy, bratty child who always needs his attention, that he needs to provide for. The one he hates and wants to get rid of. The one he kills for to protect.

And he can see Ashley, the one who engages in friendly and cute banter with him. Who comforts and shows him physical affection. The one he loves. The one he kills for to make happy.

He just can't choose which one he wants to see. Every outside influence- from his parents, to Julia, to Nina- makes him see her as Leyley. Ashley herself makes him see her as Leyley too, whenever she brings up all the things he did for her, and calls him Andy, his child self, instead of Andrew, his current self. And as long as he sees that child, he feels like one too, and can never give Ashley anything that comes from the heart.

But he really, really wants to see Ashley as an adult. He wants to take pride in her, how much she's grown, and how driven and competent she really is.

But god damn, does that bitch ever make it hard, because there IS no real difference between Ashley and Leyley. She's grown and changed over time, taking more adult (and stereotypically feminine) responsibility upon herself, but the fact that her temperament and personality hasn't changed much obfuscates that growth. When you talk to Ashley in the closet during the dream after getting the limb, Andrew asks Ashley to come out of the closet, but she refuses to come out because he won't invite Leyley over to play, which is a pretty strong metaphor for how he interfaces with different aspects of Ashley's personality and refuses to accept others. But the reality is that he needs to accept both, or rather, see her whole self as Ashley, rather than just the parts he likes.

In the end, it's him who has to make the choice how to see her. Ashley can only see what she's been shown, but Andrew can choose.

And in the basement scene, he makes that choice.

If Ashley refuses to leave him alone with their parents, that's it. In one of the most critical and important moments of his life, she couldn't give him the space needed to make up his own mind. She couldn't treat him as an adult. She couldn't see him as Andrew. If she does give him that choice, she chooses to acknowledge that Andrew is an adult who can be trusted to make his own decisions, even though she (perhaps foolishly) believes that this choice lines up with her own interests. And frankly it does either way, but in accepting their mom's offer, her chooses to see her as Leyley once and for all. He chooses not to reciprocate what Ashley showed him. He does it because he needs to, not because he wants to. Because it's his duty, not his desire.

This is what results in the Decay ending. Through his inability to see Ashley as an adult, he surrenders his agency and views all of his actions as an extension of his responsibilities, his role, which he no longer wishes to uphold. He dissociates fully from who he really is, acting in accordance with that disconnected, barely-cohesive narrative that exists only within his mind. The game starts to resemble the heartwrenching tragedy that many seem to take for granted that it is, as their dynamic fully doubles down on its painful toxicity. And, in an example of a poetic book end, Ashley's dream shows a double suicide, closing the book on their tragic tale.

It's tragic. It's heartwrenching. It's poetic. It's beautiful.

...Except it's not. Not at all.

It's actually fucking stupid, pointless, and brutal, and Burial shows us that. When we view their spiral as beautiful, we project the same darkly romantic ideal that Andrew possesses onto the story.

But the actual reality is horrifying.

Ashley spends most of Decay terrified of Andrew, the one person she found comfort in. He acts cold, distant, and aggressive towards her, showing pointless cruelty instead of any warmth. All she wants is comfort; all she wants is to not die. She doesn't want to engage in this death spiral at all, and, in her dream sequence, shows none of the same willingness to die alongside Andrew that Andrew does with her. The moment we stop focusing on the end of the Decay dream sequence, which has very striking imagery, and if you choose not to shoot, one of the most beautiful scenes in the game, we can see it for what it really is:

A scared animal running away from a predator.

The moment you see Decay through Ashley's eyes, and not the perspective of some romantic ideal, Decay becomes terrifying, tense, and painful. There is no catharsis to be had in this tragedy. It's easily avoidable as long as Andrew chooses to engage with reality, and not the empty promises of his mother and incoherent narrative of his ideal.

Finding beauty and meaning in tragedy is how we cope with the harshness of reality. But there is no coherent narrative to the tragedies we experience, just like there's no coherent narrative to the ideal Andrew wishes to uphold. It's something we create- that he creates- but it's not something that actually exists.

And when Andrew casts aside his desire for that ideal, and the responsibilities it shackles him to, it grants him clarity that he never had before. He sees the world for how it really is, and acknowledges that nobody- the least of which their mother- is as different from Ashley as they pretend to be.

They're no better than her, and he's tired of people pretending that they are. People are all the same, no matter what ideals they try to uphold and represent. They still sacrifice others in the name of advancing themselves, still punch down whenever they can, and still lay blame on those beneath them rather than try to take control of their lives. They just use those ideals to justify themselves, but Ashley, and now Andrew, reject even the need for that justification.

This is why I believe the story is nihilistic. Not in that it asserts the inherent meaninglessness of life, but in that it grapples with the ideals we uphold and how they obfuscate the reality of the world we live in. The story, intentionally or not, highlights how ideals are often but a pretense we use to justify what we were likely going to do regardless, and how holding to them too strongly can lead to our ruin- and how monstrous they make us look to those who do not share them.

Consequently, this is how I view the part of the fanbase who thinks Decay is a good ending.

(the characters themselves represent existentialism rather than nihilism but i couldn't really fit that analysis in here without it feeling forced so i might cover that another time)

From that point on, their relationship becomes a lot more friendly, lighthearted, and playful. They ironically start acting more like children, but to quote CS Lewis:

"Critics who treat adult as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence."

He's not ashamed of being playful with Ashley, or showing affection towards her. He's grown up. He finally sees her, and himself, as an adult- although he still doesn't show that in full until much later on (more or that later). But in Decay, he still sees her as a child, and to an extent, probably himself. Let's compare the ways in which he reacts to being called Andy. In Decay, he lashes out at Ashley and gets angry, even threatening her. But in Questionable Burial, he calmly says that Andy is dead and doesn't need Ashley's comfort, but still tries to reassure her that she's still needed. He's not ashamed of or hostile towards their prior dynamic, because he's grown past it. He still acknowledges Ashley's need to feel needed, but here, he recognizes its importance to her, whereas he was hostile towards it before.

It's a display of respect towards her feelings.

This interaction doesn't happen in the Sane ending, however. He doesn't play games with her and is just a lot less fun to be around all together. Why is that? Because he still hasn't yet shaken viewing Ashley as Leyley there. He still views her as a burden, as someone who needs taking care of. He's calmly accepted that, too, mind you, but he lacks respect for her because she's still a child, in his mind. But in Questionable?

The vision did more than just make him extremely embarrassed and lay his deepest desires bare. It forced him to recognize Ashley as an adult. When choosing between "Never" and "Never say never," if Never is chosen, the burden of thought is lifted off of him. But if Ashley chooses "Never say never!", he has to reckon with the fact that Ashley is an adult, someone who can consent to those kinds of things. Someone who MIGHT. Someone who has agency, and can make her own decisions. And more importantly… someone who can trust him to make his own.

Whether he desires sex or not is secondary; he's always had those feelings and has always been ashamed of them. But now that the part of him where that shame came from is dead and buried, there's no childish impulse to grow up. There's no attachment to the hate and bitterness he had before. Look at what he worries about when he picks up that she's uncertain or confused about who he is now:

​

It's her feelings.

He wants to be fun to be around. He wants to make Ashley happy. He loves her, and not as a romantic interest or even as a sibling. He loves her independent of all that baggage.

He loves her as a person.

Their relationship runs contrary to societal ideals in some pretty huge ways. So contrary, in fact, that it's hard for some to accept it as anything good, that it can ever be best for the people involved. It's incestuous. It involves them killing and eating their parents. It involves them distancing themselves so much from society that it's hard to believe they'll ever fit in it again. It's chaotic, it's messy, it's codependent, and maybe even toxic. And yet, here they are. They're coexisting. They're happy. They're healing. They're navigating the world in the only way they can: together.

Meanwhile, in Decay, Andrew refuses to allow himself to get closer to Ashley. He surrenders all agency to her, buys into his own narrative, drinks his own Kool-Aid, and may or may not condemn one or both of them to death in the process. Like it or not, the only path where Andrew takes ownership of his life is the one where he's closest to his sister. It's the one where he decides where they will go next, the one where he decides his own feelings matter, and acts in accordance with what he wants instead of how he thinks he should act.

His agency, his freedom, and his growth don't happen in spite of his codependency; they're happen because of it. They can't grow alone. They can't heal alone.

In reading the story, one must interrogate how important those societal ideals are in the face of the realities of what makes people happy. Are those ideals worth upholding in spite of this? Can we really allow people to fall through the cracks in the name of social norms? Can we blame people for taking rash actions when the social contract has failed them?

Or are we so blinded by those ideals that we can't see that people can be happy while blatantly disregarding them?

All I know is that in Burial, Andrew, having cast aside normalcy, now appears to be truly happy for the first time in his life.

Who are we to take that from him?

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 4: something to look forward to

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: You and Edith make significant progress on your mission to put Lucille behind bars; Thomas makes a confession before you go to sleep

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: ghosts; a lil bit of steam [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are married; more pining; simp Thomas

The ink had dried enough on the final document you were working on duplicating for tonight that you could group them together and place the original papers back in Lucille's hiding place. Tomorrow morning if ever she were to check on them, she would be none the wiser of what had been transpiring over the last two weeks. You repeatedly clenched and unclenched your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them after writing with barely a pause for break over the last few hours.

"Tomorrow we'll be done with all the documents," you whispered into the silence, feeling Edith's presence nearby as you made your way to Thomas' workshop. "I'll need you to show me where the phonograph cylinders are hidden, and if you know which one has Lucille's demented confession…"

"I'll show you the way," she confirmed. "And I'll make sure that none of the more…how do I put this…bloodthirsty spirits don't touch you. They tend to be a bit overly protective of their turf."

"The what?" You froze in place at her mention of bloodthirsty spirits. You had enough of a fright when you'd first "met" her and Enola, you might not survive encountering their less agreeable companions. The feel of someone nudging you from behind had you moving down the corridor again.

"Don't you worry about them, Y/N. I'll do my part to keep them away, explain to them that you're our friend, and you'll put an end to Lucille's lifelong murder spree. It might take time for them to fully understand, but they will."

Once you crossed the threshold to Thomas' workshop, you heard the exaggerated groan that belonged to your fleeting husband. Checking the candle in your hand, there was only about a thumb's worth left.

"Right on schedule," Edith remarked before you felt a nudging sensation on your shoulder. "You know he must really care for you if he's willing to endure being with her for the sake of your safety. Before she made him go back out into the city to find a new wife--well, a new victim, he looked gaunt. Almost like he found his life grotesque. Then he came back here with you and…there was color in his face again. Like he's allowed himself to live while he wooed and married you. There's a happiness in him when he's with you that I only ever saw glimpses of back when I was--"

Her words fell dead, but you had a feeling you knew what the sentiment was. Back when I was alive. Back when I was his wife.

"Why Miss Edith Cushing, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were playing matchmaker with your ex-husband and his current charlatan of a wife," you mumbled, trying not to look to deeply into her words, her testimony of Thomas' time before you. You were already having enough trouble keeping your affections for him at bay whenever he engaged in your routine of a kiss to cap off the night, marking yet another rung on the progression ladder. Lucille's incarceration becoming ever closer.

You decided to hide the duplicated papers in between the pages of his sketchbook, thinking the chances were slim that Lucille would look into them since he only kept concept art of the toys he wished to work on within it. Flipping through the pages to evenly distribute the additional papers, you found a set of sketches that had absolutely nothing to do with toy designs.

The last few pages that he'd worked on in the journal were filled with sketches of you. Some depicted you asleep, others as if the image he had in mind was of you next to him at the dining table. And a full page that showed the bedroom you shared with the baronet, you perched on the edge, a light wash of orange painted on the page, like the scene was illuminated by firelight.

That was the day you arrived at Allerdale Hall. The fleeting moments of desirous bliss you had before reality came crashing down on you.

"You say this marriage is all an act for you both now, but it doesn't look that way. Not from where I'm standing…well, floating." Both of you shared a chuckle before she posed a question at you. "Y/N something I noticed at night when he makes his way back to you…there's an excitement in him, as if he can't move fast enough."

"I--I didn't know about that part," you answered her in hushed tones as you made your way to your shared bedroom, maneuvering the barely moonlit halls with what little candlelight remained. "I usually try not to look at him before we sleep. I fail, of course, but I make the effort. Granting his request for a kiss after he washes the night off of him was already a miscalculation on my part--"

"Completely understandable miscalculation," she quipped, managing to quietly open the bedroom door wide open. "Far too handsome for me to even think of knowing any better back then."

"My thoughts exactly," you mumbled, stepping into the bedroom and disposing of the used candlewax before stretching and allowing yourself to relax from the night's clandestine activities. "Goodnight, Edith."

"I'll talk to the spirits inhabiting the corridor where the cylinders are hidden," she offered, a faint whispering joining her once again before you heard her echoing chuckle. "It seems your husband's rushing to make his way to you. You still have quite the night ahead. Goodnight, my friend."

You could feel the fatigue setting in as you let the tub fill for Thomas' bath before putting away your tools and your blades, mentally preparing yourself for another night of insufficient sleep. Just as you had for the better part of the last two weeks.

Right as you made your way back to your side of the bed and shook your hair loose from your bun, Thomas walked through the open door. You gave him a small smile. "I should be done with the documents tomorrow, Edith and I will work on transcribing the recording cylinders that can lead the case more to Lucille than you two days from now at the latest."

"That's wonderful news, darling," he beamed at you, running his gaze over you briefly before walking toward the bathroom. "I shall see you in a few moments," he told you, his voice echoing across the tiles. A few seconds later the sound of the water sloshing and a sinfully satisfied groan filled the room as he sat into the tub. "You truly are a godsend, my wife. Thank you."

You did your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach hearing him call you that. You wouldn't hear it for much longer with the progress you were making. "You're welcome," you answered back, fighting back your own sounds of relief once your back hit the bed and you allowed yourself to finally relax for the night.

The cumulative efforts of the last dozen or so days seem to have finally taken its toll on you, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. You hadn't been able to hear the sound of Thomas padding his feet on the floor and back to you, or his little gasp as he saw you in your slumbering state.

"No…" he sighed, climbing into bed with you. "Y/N, darling, please tell me you haven't completely fallen asleep yet," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Hmm?" You leaned in to his touch, feeling a strange sense of comfort when your cheek rubbed against his slightly calloused hand. "'M awake…" you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. He gave you a tender smile when your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but return it.

It was only in these moments just before you both went to sleep, your parts in this perilous operation done for the night, that you could allow yourself to almost feel as if you were a normal married couple. Just laying in bed together before going to sleep, sharing a quick goodnight kiss before he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

Perhaps even indulge yourself, even for a moment, in the dangerous truth that once this was all over, you would miss these fleeting moments of peace with him. You'd miss how he held you through the night and how you'd wake up wrapped in his arms. How in the last few days he would greet you in the morning with a soft kiss to your nose before you both made your way out of bed and stepped out of your room.

You would miss him when all this was over. When you'd both signed the divorce papers and went on your separate ways, and you were back in your apartment in the city, going to bed alone, you would miss him.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a small sound coming from the back of his throat as he sighed into the kiss, almost as if he was relieved. "This is the only thing getting me through the nights," he said solemnly, settling more comfortably into the bed as he kept kissing you. "Knowing that this was what awaited me when I get back."

Instead of your usual night routine of a few kisses and he would pull you into his arms, both of you falling asleep to the sound of the other's breath evening out, he moved his body closer, kissing his way to your neck, his hand traveling down the side of your body until it settled at your waist. His lips began to trace along the neckline of your nightgown, the contented hums against your skin combined with the feel of his lips on you had you struggling for breath. "Thomas--"

"It should be you," he whimpered, his exhales warming your skin. "I should be spending my night with you. Laying with you." He kept on kissing along your neckline, his other hand pulling along the string that exposed your décolletage and he immediately pressed his lips to your chest, above your heart. "You're my wife, I should be with you."

He kissed his way back to your lips, your shock from his confession letting his tongue slip past your lips and tangle with your own. It was like flames licked all along your body at the contact, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingers weaved into his onyx curls.

"Thomas, wait--" you tried to say, placing your hands on his chest in a paltry attempt to get him to pause for a moment, failing to fight against your eyes fluttering closed and your entire body melting under him the moment his tongue delicately ran along the roof of your mouth.

"I want to lay with you," he said once he pulled away, looking at you with those wide pleading eyes that likened him to a pup asking for a treat. "May I?"

For the love of all things good in this world say yes, you hissed at yourself. You struggled to breathe properly, fighting against every instinct to give in as he repeatedly whispered "please" into your skin. Trying to not let the curiosity and desire consume you and see how far your husband was willing to go.

This was the fantasy you wanted to lose yourself in, where by some miracle when all this was over and you both made it out alive, that you'd found something with each other that neither of you wanted to lose. That after all this perhaps you could have a life together, preferably far away from Allerdale Hall and the figurative and literal ghosts that roam the corridors.

The fantasy that perhaps when you were both safe from Lucille and she was serving her time behind bars, locked away where she couldn't harm anyone anymore, that Thomas might not want to sign the divorce papers. Because maybe he was falling in love, too.

"We've come so far already, we can't afford to lose focus now," you answered him, your voice coming out so small it was like the words all but refused to get through the lump in your throat. "Once all this is done, and we're free of her, you'll be free to do whatever you please…with whomever you please."

The last part left a bitter taste in your mouth, like it physically pained you to say the words.

"You're right," he sighed, leaning away enough so that he could look at you. The expression on his face was akin to that of a wounded pup, making the guilt and regret from your decision overwhelm your system. "Of course." He moved over to his side of the bed, taking a breath before hesitantly touching his fingers to yours. "May I still hold you?"

You didn't think twice, moving over to him and settling into his arms. "Yes, of course." The words refused to be spoken, but you'd found a strange comfort in his embrace. That despite the very real danger you both found yourselves in, and the looming dire consequences of Lucille and the business end of her cleaver if you made so much as one misstep on this perilous endeavor of yours, you felt almost a safety in his warm embrace.

And while no one would ever be able to get you to admit it, it made getting up out of bed in the mornings near impossible. You didn't want to leave him. You wanted him all to yourself.

All the more reason why you needed to be done with this and go your separate ways. You should never be so selfish as to beg him to stay with you and deny him yet another freedom. So much had already been stolen from him.

He brushed a lock of your hair away from your face before asking softly, "How long do you reckon before Scotland Yard comes here after you send the papers?"

"Not long," you answered him, your words full of confidence in your peers. "I'll include a summary of my findings to help them through the papers I've sent them, process them faster. I'll also try and emphasize the urgency of our situation, that we're currently living in a manor with a woman that has the intention and means, not to mention the stomach, to kill me. That we have very good reason to believe our lives are in imminent danger. Should get them moving pretty quick."

"And what are we to do until they arrive?" You could feel him tensing as he anticipated your response.

Bile flooded your stomach from what you had to tell him. "We keep routine." His beautiful face looked so pained as you said the words. "She has to believe that there's nothing wrong, that everything's going to plan. If she gets even the slightest whiff that we're up to something and she kills me. Maybe even you if she finds out that you helped."

He took a shuddering breath, pulling you closer against him so he could press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's hope they move quickly then," he mumbled against you, pressing more kisses on the same spot as he took calming breaths. "I can barely stomach any more of it." His breath hitched at his words, his tone rife with shame.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his pulse sprinting like a madman. "This burden shouldn't be on you. Never should have been. She's stolen so much from you…" Your sentiment caught in the back of your throat as you did your damnedest to fight back tears. "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't steal any more of your life away."

"What if she figures out what we've been up to? Or if she gets impatient and realizes there's no money coming after all this time?"

It took you a moment before you could answer, the implication hanging over you both now like the Sword of Damocles. "Then Scotland Yard will arrive here to a corpse. Either mine or hers."

Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I won't let her hurt you, I swear it." He stole a few more kisses from you before he cradled your head against his chest. "You should sleep, I can feel how tired you are."

"Exhausted," you confessed, settling into his embrace, the comfort from his hold blanketing over you as your cheek rubbed against the soft hairs on his chest. "Goodnight, husband."

You couldn't resist calling him that. In a few short weeks you'd never be able to again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, stroking your hair before he whispered, "Goodnight, my darling wife."

As the minutes passed, and the only sounds that filled the bedroom were your breathing and the crackling of the fireplace, Thomas found himself unable to succumb to sleep just yet. He was still riddled with so many questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask you quite yet.

What if by some freak accident of a chance, Lucille comes across one of your colleagues when she runs her errands in the city and they were to mention who you were, and what you did before you married him? What if now that she was armed with this new information, she deemed you too much of a threat and decided to do away with you like she'd done with so many other innocent women?

What if she decided to make it even worse, and ordered him to kill you instead? Spout some nonsensical notion that he needed to get his hands dirty this time around so she could see if he still had the stomach for it?

He knew he wouldn't be able to hurt you, that he would be completely unwilling to. But would he be able to protect you against Lucille?

And the question that had him looking upon the coming weeks with a mix of dread and hope, all depending on how you would react if he were to even muster up the courage to say the words: What if you stayed together after this fleeting partnership of yours? What if you were open to exploring what a life together would truly be like? Move away from Allerdale Hall and find a place in the city?

"What if I begged you not to leave me?" he whispered into the empty silence, stroking the backs of his fingers along your cheek. "What if I've fallen in love with my wife, and I want to turn our marriage into something real?"

A/N: *popping out my head from my writing hidey hole* Well hi there! Been a long while since I updated this story, but I can promise you now…I didn't abandon it 🫡 And we're picking up with our precious meow meow baronet big tiddy goth husband really showing his hand here that he's catching feelings 🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[ghost-bxrd]

Tim going absolutely feral in his attempts to get Mockingjay away from Hood.

Sure, all of the Bats want to rescue the kid, but they don't really get the danger the kid is in, they are still under the impression Hood cares about keeping the kid safe.

But Tim SAW what Hood is like at the Titans Tower, okay? Hood is freaking insane. Doesn't matter if he cares about the kid or not, he's going to end up hurting, maybe killing, the boy in one of his 'episodes'.

And Tim will do anything to get the kid to come away, to understand what Hood is doing.

He's not going to bother with kid gloves. He's fully willing to scar the kid for life if it means the kid will at least get to live, which he's convinced won't happen if he's left at Hood's mercy.

Tim to Mockingjay on a rooftop: Hi! How's the gang war your boss started coming along? Last one was so exciting. I watched my friend - not a vigilante friend, mind you, just this civilian kid - bleed out when one of the gangs decided to shoot up my school. About two dozen civilians died in the first couple of days. Wanna bet how many you and Hood will bag this time? Have fun!

Tim, tossing Mockingjay crime scene photos of a gang shooting, showing a headshot corpse : Hi! Thought you might like a keepsake! This is Danny, he was eighteen. Dad died, three kids at home, couldn't get any job that paid enough except with these guys. I hear his sister signed up with Penguin's pimps after she got the news. Someone's still gotta feed the kids, right? Have a good lunch!

Tim, waving to Mockingjay: Hi! Sorry I'm late! Had to stay with a kid who found his mom OD'd. You should really ask your boss to show you what an OD death looks like - you'll probably find it pretty cool, all a nice blue shade, with this bloody foam spilling from the mouth, maybe twisted up a bit if they had convulsions first. The kid was crying about how he's gonna get the bastards who sold the stuff, but of course, you and Hood have pretty nice security, right?

Tim waging absolutely ruthless psychological warfare.

Ooo yes Tim would definitely try to pull something like that. What he wouldn’t expect is Mockingjay to give as good as he gets.

After the first few times you can bet Bruce is Fed Up™️ and devises his own little counter attack.

The next time he greets Robin with a merry little “Hey Rob, guess what? Frank just got out of jail again! You know, the guy you locked up in Black Gate for killing his girlfriend? Guess what! He went back to murder her sister, too! Had her spread out all over the apartment with a kitchen knife. Have a nice patrol <3”

Mockingjay, crashing a bust: “Sorry we’re late to the party! Had to take out a pedophile you guys locked up last month but was set free on parole. Guess what? He had two new victims locked up in his basement!”

Mockingjay, cupping his ear: “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of a two year old screaming because he just saw his dad get murdered in front of him. Because you guys ‘Didn’t have enough evidence’ to get the guy who threatened him convicted. Should we tell Social Services to bill you the lifelong therapy bill or…?”

Mockingjay, throwing a file at Robin’s head: “Hey, Dickhead, remember Tiff? The street kid? Thanks to you sticking her in a “safe foster home” she was forced to go work street corners. Maybe you should tell your boss to do better research.”

Mockingjay is a menace, and if Tim thinks he can guilt trip/horrify the kid into condemning Jason’s work than he’s going to have a rude awakening hehe

[ghostfacd]

I’M HERE, I’M THERE, I’M EVERYWHERE | LUKE HUGHES

synopsis: in which capitol mentor luke hughes, falls inlove with his tribute, yn dubois.

song recommendation: can’t catch me now by olivia rodrigo

author’s note: in honor of the ballad of the songbirds coming out in the next 2 weeks and olivia’s amazing song, here is my favorite person (lukey warren hughes) in one of my favorite fictional books ever, the hunger games! this was so fun to write, and as always, enjoy <3

It was in the early years of the Hunger Games, where students at the academy in the Capitol were still allowed to train the incoming tributes from the district. Luke Hughes, a teenage boy who had been born and raised in the Capitol had finally achieved his lifelong dream; to mentor the awaiting tributes for the 6th Annual Hunger Games.

His best friend, Kelsey Ivies, shared his excitement, for they had both aspired to this role since they were kids. In their eyes, the Hunger Games were necessary, a punishment for the districts that had once rebelled, which had resulted in not only the loss of many lives in the District, but also in the Capitol. Luke’s grandfather was one of the victims, and he remembered how his father used to tell him when he was younger.

He hated the districts, they were like salt to a wound.

Luke's heart raced as he stepped into the training center, knowing that he was about to meet the tribute he'd be responsible for, a girl from District 2. His breath hitched as he laid eyes on her for the first time, shocked by her beauty.

“I’m Luke,” he says, placing out a hand for her to exchange. He’d never seen a district girl in his life, and it gave him a sense of adrenaline.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, her eyes felt like they were piercing through Luke’s insides. “Y/N Dubois from District 2.”

Over the weeks leading up to the Games, Luke and Y/N spent countless hours together, training and getting to know each other. He taught her how to differentiate berries, for some of them were poisonous in the arena. He had rewatched every single hunger games leading up to the one now, for he wanted to be the best mentor in his academy. He wanted to make his father proud, so that meant he had to make sure Y/N would come out the winner.

While they were practicing Y/N's swimming skills in a secluded lake, she playfully extended her arm out to him.

“Hey Luke,” she says, her smile loosely hanging on her lips.

He quirked his eyebrows, but nonetheless held her hand. He liked how it felt, anyway.

Suddenly, the girl yanked him into the water, making him let out a shriek of surprise, causing her to laugh hysterically. For the first time, Luke was able to see Y/N not as a tribute, but as a girl who he was falling in love with.

The following night, Luke managed to sneak Y/N out from the tribute cages, holding her hand tightly as the both tried not to giggle to loudly. The sky was clear and starry, and the two found themselves on the rooftop of a building, laying side by side. Luke’s hand brushed against Y/N’s as they gazed up at the night sky, away from the chaos and expectations that weighed on both of their shoulders. The stars above seemed to twinkle knowingly, as if they held secrets of their own.

Luke, who was normally reserved and didn’t talk much about his personal life, decided to open up to Y/N. If she were to die in the games anyways, it wouldn’t matter what she knew. His voice trembled as he spoke, "Y/N, there's something I've never told anyone before." He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "My father, he's always expected me to be the best mentor, to uphold the Capitol's values and ideals. But it's suffocating, you know? The pressure, the constant scrutiny. He made me feel like I was never enough."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes filled with understanding and empathy. She took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I can imagine how tough that must be, Luke."

Tears welled up in Luke's eyes as he continued, "I've always felt like I was living in his shadow. But being here with you, it's the first time I've felt like I could be myself. I don't have to pretend, and I don't have to meet anyone's expectations. For the first time, I feel free."

Y/N smiled warmly and leaned her head on Luke's shoulder. "I love you Luke."

He knew he couldn’t say it back, he couldn’t. He was from the Capitol, and she was merely a tribute. He could feel her stiffen beside him when she’s responded back with silence. He only wrapped his arm around her frame, pulling her in.

As the Games drew nearer, Kelsey noticed how Luke had become increasingly anxious and distraught.

She scoffed. “What, don’t tell me you’re falling inlove with her?”

Luke’s lips form a thin line, “why does it matter Kels?”

“Because it’s pathetic Luke.” The brunette girl laughs. “I mean, cmon, a mentor falling inlove with his tribute?”

Luke didn’t expect for his best friend to be so outright bitchy. “What game are you playing at Kelsey?” He grunts out.

“Nothing,” Kelsey shrugs. “But you’re playing a dangerous game here, Hughes.”

However, the unexpected had happened. A rebellion began to form among the tributes a day before the games were set to start.

Luke panicked, his eyes moving in a fast motion as he searched for the one person that mattered. Y/N, his Y/N.

He was shocked to find her in the crowd, along with the other rebelling tributes. When the peacekeepers start firing, Y/N, filled with fear and anger, made a run into the nearby woods, and Luke, driven by an need to go after her, followed.

Unbeknownst to Luke, Kelsey had watched this with her calculated eyes. Positioning a peacekeeper gun around her shoulders, she made her way into the woods after the pair.

When they caught up to Y/N, Luke was overwhelmed with emotions. "Y/N, you weren't supposed to rebel," he said with a mixture of anger and desperation.

Y/N, eyes bloodshot, stood baffled, looking him in the eyes. "The Games are evil, Luke. Evil. And you’ve just been brainwashed into thinking they're necessary.”

Kelsey, who had been lurking behind them, saw an opportunity waiting to be used. She sneered and positioned the gun in her hand, ready to put an end to the rebellion and silence the tribute that had been bringing her annoyance since her arrival at the Capitol. But before she could pull the trigger, a idea flashed in her mind. She thrust the gun into Luke's trembling hands, knowing this was going to make it all more satisfying.

"Shoot her, Luke," Kelsey hissed. "Or I'll rat you out for treason, and you’ll die with her.”

Luke was trapped. He felt like he couldn’t move, and his heart ached as he stared at Y/N, the girl he had come to love despite everything he had once stood for. With tears in his eyes, he reluctantly obeyed Kelsey's command and aimed the gun at Y/N.

Her eyes, now falling with tears had practically begged silently with his to not do it.

“Luke, Luke.” Y/N begs, “what happened to our swimming practices? Don’t you remember what you said to me that one night on the roof? Did it mean nothing, Luke?”

Tears streamed down Luke's face as his hands shook with the gun in them.

Kelsey puffs in annoyance, elbowing Luke harshly on the side. “Well? Are you gonna do it? Or do I have to shoot both of you?”

Luke closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger, and he watched the girl he once loved crumble to the floor, eyes that leaked tears earlier now remain lifeless.

She’s dead, and it was all his fault.

- - -

Luke suddenly woke up in a cold sweat, his body shoot up his bed.

He had been experiencing the same dreams of him shooting Y/N, only each time, it showed a new detail, one that struck every corner of his heart.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s mom had awoken from a loud sound in Luke’s room. She placed her hand on his forehead and frowned. “What happened?”

“I’m fine..” he says, although it seemed like he was reassuring himself more than he was her.

“You can’t bottle up your feelings forever.” She sighs, but she leaves him alone, thankfully.

He swears he sees her everywhere. In his dreams, in random people he sees at his academy. She’s everywhere, even in the meadow grass, or in the corner of his eyes.

Her face of betrayal never leaves Luke’s mind, staying ingrained like a portrait.

- - -

Years have passed since everything had occurred, and although Luke’s heart felt like it was ripped in two, he forced the memory of Y/N into the deepest parts of his brain, wanting to erase every memory of her.

He ended up marrying Kelsey, whom he had 2 kids with. Two boys named Hermes and Lucretius.

One evening as the family gathered to watch the latest Games on their holographic screens, Hermes and Lucretius were jumping in their seats with excitement.

“Mama! One day, me and Hermes will get to mentor a tribute too, right?” Lucretius says excitedly, holding onto Kelsey’s hand.

“Isn’t that right dad? Me and Lucre will be mentors!”

Luke and Kelsey exchanged a knowing glance. The memory of Y/N, flashed through Luke's mind for the first time in years, felt like a painful echo from the past. The ache in his heart remained.

Kelsey placed a reassuring hand on Luke's shoulder, “You know, it’s a pretty big position, takes a lot of responsibility," she said, trying to explain the weight of the role to their children.

Their youngest son, Hermes, looked at Luke with wide eyes, "Dad, did you ever mentor someone?"

Luke hesitated for a moment, his gaze distant. Finally, he replied, "Yes, I did once. I attended the same academy you guys are attending.”

Lucretius, always having been curious, continued, "What was it like, Dad? Was it fun? Did your tribute win?”

A heavy silence hung in the room as Luke reflected on the question. Kelsey squeezed his shoulder, before getting up to bring the dishes to the sink.

“I did my best, but sometimes, things don’t go as planned.”

Their children, oblivious to the hurt behind their father’s words continued to chat excitedly about the Games. But in that moment, as they watched the televised games, Luke’s brain couldn't help itself but revisit the past, his heart heavy with the memory of Y/N, and the lingering question of what could have been if he had chosen differently.

[moonlight-tmd]

What do you think would happen if tfp Bumblebee meets tfa Bumblebee?

Tfp Bumblebee: A child soldier who has seen nothing but war watching everyone around him die or return with serious injuries and lifelong trauma, Megatron tore out his larynx and because of this he is now unable to speak so that humans can understand him. He had to face Megatron repeatedly after that. He had to leave his planet because it simply wasn't safe for him anymore.

He continued to lose more friends and then saw his father figure almost die in front of his eyes and the only option was to enter Megatron's mind (please leave the boy alone) in order to save him.

He then had to deal with Megatron in his mind trying to control him and he hurt two of his friends because of it so that in the end he lost all control and now Megatron forced him to revive his body to to be able to come back to life.

(there are many more things, but I don't want to be overwhelming or anything like that)

What do you think?

From TFP Bee's perspective; he would be so relieved in a hurt way... this version of him was spared the absolute horrors he endured and had a chance to live a somewhat normal life. Little Bee had his downsides and struggles no one saw as serious, it hurt him but not as much as it would hurt to know Little Bee met a similar fate as him. He was happy that at least one of many other possible versions of him has a happy life. To be quite honest he wished so badly that was him... at least he has Raf and others back at their home, they're his family.

TFA Bee's perspective; tiny man Bee would be both amazed and jealous of how cool and badass this giant alternate universe him is. He always wished to be like that and now he can learn just how to do that. It was until later when Big Bee started to open up (cuz he was unbelievably shy, according to Little Bee) that Little Bee learned what it takes to be a proper soldier. He went from seeing the big version of himself as a heroic idol to seeing him as a victim of war and cruelty of the world. I guess he would see how lucky he is to be where he is right now- Big Bee had not said alot (Bee had a hard time understanding some of the binary beeps) but he said enough for Little Bee to not take everything he knew and had for granted.

Both of them learned things from each other- Big Bee taught Little Bee how to fight some and and defend himself while Little Bee provided emotional comfort and ways to soothe when he was hurting that Big Bee has never knew. I'm not entirely sure what would Big Bee do but Little Bee would definitely be more thoughtful and cautious with what he says and does- be it with his chosen family or in combat. He was grateful for all the things and comforts he had now, that one meeting will stay in his mind forever.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Ultimately the reason Percabeth is such horrifically bad ship yet gets praised so much is that while Percy and Annabeth canonically love eachother,they also canonically don't like eachother LMAO.Percy's constantly wishing Annabeth was extremely different than who she actually is because he finds her unbearable and hard to be around and finds escapism in being around people who're unlike her with the biggest example being him having been in love with Rachel before they settled into still close exes

There's also his friendships with the Grace Sibs,Thalia had infinitely better progress with him in TTC than Annabeth has in the entire saga and he admires her a lot more too and it's a running theme that Jason is Annabeth's opposite and Percy became instant best friends with him upon first meeting and all three of their first meetings are more charming and unique than Percy saying his type is princess-y girls in his narration but Annabeth hating being seen as one because she's gnc and 'You drool when you sleep'.I also think if anybody is Percy's cosmically intertwined soulmate it's not any s/os but Nico and Hazel and by that i mean in a found siblings with him also being their pseudo-parent way.All their dynamics are interesting and richen their characters and they're from different time periods which only adds to how special their bond is

And on Annabeth's end.......She kinda straight up hates his existense.She's always talking about how stupid he is and that he's useless without her and i get that Rick tried to sell it as affectionate teasing but she's angered by it so often it's obvious it's just Rick being a cishet nt white old man.She gets angered by finding him attractive too?????This trope can be good but Percy never actually does anything,he's literally just existing and that includes not actively pursuing her back since he dosen't want her even half as much as she thinks she wants him.It's rare compared to her mean-spirited comments he explicitly never consented to and finds unnecessary and one of the many thing's he wishes she wasn't and he never returns her physical assaults so 'they're demigods and it's normal!' excuse dosen't add up

Yeah,they're dating in canon and gonna get married.Percy's also gonna not only go to college but a demigod college when again and again and AGAIN he says he dosen't want to be a half-blood and he's only going so he can live out a traditional lifestyle with Annabeth so so much for 'his thether to his mortal side' i guess.Annabeth never got any shit from Poseidon like Percy did Athena or terrorizing like Aphrodite does everybody else she talks to and Percy was forced to narratively forgive Luke,again,only because of Annabeth when he groomed him for a bit and abused him tons too and it's so vile to gaslight us into thinking Luke was anything but a serial pedophile and beyond far right to Percy's lifelong outcasthood and anarchy and Annabeth as a direct victim of his sick sexual 'interests' in plausible deniability font due to being a pg series.Percabeth is the peak cishet romance norms taken up to 12 like the Olympians and it's embarrasingly obvious nobody saying they're t4t has ever been in a transmasc4transfem relathionship

That's why this moment is so fucking depressing.She knows him and she dosen't like any of what he is and he dosen't say it outloud because he's scared of the truth,that he ended up with the wrong person,that he fucked up again and she's hollower whenever she's around him because she exists FOR him and for almost nothing else.They weren't eachother's choice,they were eachother's destiny decided by everyone but themselves.This fucks up my autistic ass so much man,no wonder i only ever liked that lesbian!Percabeth au with transfemme Percy and butch Annabeth that was popular when i was a kid,that's deadass the only way you can make it work,they'd need an entire rehaul but at this point i don't care to try because the shippers don't deserve it after how demonic they've been since the 2000s.Percabeth was never a good ship,you were just a tween

[horce-divorce]

something something about the power imbalance inherent to being an unhoused person, how similar it is to the dependency that abusers intentionally foster in their relationships to keep victims from leaving. but if you're homeless and someone is putting you up, especially if it's for free/some kind of exchange other than rent, you're basically expected to put up with whatever indignity they can imagine for you and still just be grateful. And if you set a boundary or speak up for yourself in any kind of way, that's Taking Advantage of this poor kind person who's doing SO much for you already, how could you?

sorry its 2am and I'm trying to write a better draft about this for later too but its like. being homeless is a huge, huge vulnerability. ppl people will look to exploit that, intentionally or not. and doubly so if you're homeless because you're disabled.

also something the ableism involved... about how I know so many fellow disabled people who have struggled with homelessness, and we all have similar stories about people we trusted, friends or loved ones who seemed all too happy to help and take us in, and how we repeatedly impressed upon them the nature of our health and the situation, and they swore up and down that they understood and that we were on the same page about boundaries and expectations... only to have them blow up and kick us out at the absolute first sign of conflict or miscommunication, or because we didn't get jobs fast enough, or because we didn't contribute financially even after being told that wasn't expected, and so on.

and how, I know so many housed people who have never been through this, who all have very similar stories about how they tried to help a friend in need once, and they were SO lazy and horrible and took SO long to get their shit together that they clearly were just a freeloader taking advantage who should've never been trusted, just like all homeless people, and that's why we give them socks and canned beans instead of money.

I was never allowed to complain about ableist expectations or abled people ignoring my boundaries in my parents' home. Especially not after I became a disabled adult who still needed help with housing. And that's been true of most of the couch-hopping I've done since then, too.

Currently we have a fairly nice situation... we live with a trusted and pleasant friend. It's a whole house, not an apartment. Not even in the city. We have our own entire room. We don't have to pay rent or anything. It's temporary even aside from our discomfort, it's just been a nice place to land for the cold months.

However. Friends parents are not so chill. Their dad is the most disgusting man alive and has repeatedly gotten us sick bc he's always got something, bleeds all over and never cleans it up, never washes his hands, leaves his dentures on countertops and tables with food still stuck on them, coughs all over our stuff and never masks, is actively making the mouse infestation worse with all the food he leaves out, and puts our health at risk in SO many ways.

he used to work in Healthcare btw. His wife still does. They know we're here bc we're homeless; they know we're both disabled and immunocompromised; neither of them will wear a mask. Both of them are constantly coughing everywhere and not even covering their mouths. We've tried to politely bring this to their attention multiple times and nothing changes. They just ignore us.

We could literally die from this. We could get lifelong health complications even worse than what we have now. Bel lost his sense of taste today and now we're terrified that it's gonna be long covid or something else that sucks what little joy is left from our daily lives.

You lose everything, and then you're supposed to just say nothing and accept your lot, no matter how much danger you're in, because beggars can't be choosers. If you're disabled and poor you'd better just be fine with people abusing you and putting your health and safety at risk indefinitely, because you're lucky they're even helping you at all instead of JUST abusing you.

You dont get to have a home. You dont get to collect things, or keep sentimental things, or have a whole, adequate wardrobe. You get what you can carry with you and what won't get stolen or destroyed by others, or by the nature of moving so much. You dont get to have safety and stability and roots and community. You dont get the dignity of boundaries or your own space. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. And be happy and say "thank you" if people are merely ignoring you instead of actively silencing you. And if the people "helping" you actually give you the thing that kills you, at least you didn't die of exposure, I guess? Or something?

Its just. Every single thing you do as both a homeless & disabled person reminds you how utterly worthless you are to the """normal""" people around you. Every day. It's so demoralizing.

[ravenquills]

My MC's student ID 🐇

Really wanted to introduce my MC but didn't know how to and then I saw @sparxyv's student ID for Mousey I knew I had to make one of my own!! This amazing template for the student ID is by @kiwiplaetzchen!!

Also wrote a silly little story to help grasp her personality... I wonder if anyone else is as obsessed with those little knights around the castle as I am. Counted 79 so far, but I couldn't get into the other house common rooms so, if you're in anything other than Ravenclaw, please tell me how many knights are in your house dorms!!! 🤭💙

“Sir Mistle! Would you please tell me exactly what it is that bothers you about Sir Medlar?!” Holliday scolded the set of armor standing outside the Trophy Room. In response, the enchanted metal simply slammed his mace against the floor. Such defiance from such a stubborn knight! Holliday huffed, lifting her chin in exasperation. But as soon as she shut her eyes, the sound of clanking metal echoed down the deserted hall. 

Her eyes flew open, and she jumped back just in time to see Sir Mistle swing his mace at Sir Medlar’s back, knocking him off his platform. The attack didn’t stop there—Sir Mistle slashed, stomped, even jumped on Sir Medlar until his victim lay in pieces on the floor. With one last kick to his fauld, Sir Mistle stepped back onto his platform and settled in place without a sound.

“Sir Mistle!!!” Holliday groaned, dropping to her knees to gather the scattered armor. “Poor Sir Medlar…” she muttered as she polished the breastplate. “I’m amazed you’re not dented yet.” Her narrowed gaze flicked to Sir Mistle, who now stood motionless, as if he hadn’t just violated his neighbor. Tsking, she adjusted Sir Medlar’s helmet, making sure it fit snugly.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she slowly turned to face Sir Mistle with a deadly glare. “Sir Mistle, I must inform you—I am quite adept at the Bombarda spell and I am not afraid to use it, should the need arise.” Her voice turned monotone as she threatened, her eyes wide and unmoving. “I do hope you cooperate next time.” She kept her gaze locked on the offending knight until she turned the corner, rolling her eyes with a sigh and a smile. Oh, how sweet it would be to watch that infuriating knight melt. Well worth the lifelong trip to Azkaban for destroying school property. Or would it be murder?... Either way, what bliss. Sweet, sweet Bombarda…

Minoo Holliday—the knight whisperer of Hogwarts.

Sir Medlar (left) and Sir Mistle (right)! #justiceforsirmedlar

[michirukaioureincarnate]

You know, with discussions of Neil Gaiman and all the disappoinment that's followed, especially of his admirers that are struggling with him not being the basic decent human being we expected and believed him to be, there's a lot of inner reflection that needs to be done to prevent more heart ache.

Not only that, but this is a wake up call to stop putting human beings on a pedestal. No one is above causing harm. Not you, not your mom, not anyone. Especially men. I don't know if this is just my way of thinking, but every single man is a potential s*x *ff*nd*r.

It's not a generaliziation, but an indisputable pattern after years of social, biological, political, and systemic conditioning. It's not a matter of if, but when, and sometimes the when never comes because the man luckily dies without tainting his slate. And if he does commit the crime, he's more likely to get away with it than his victim ever is of healing from it. The richer he is, the easier it is, but even men without power and resources get off with a slap on the wrist.

But that isn't really the point, and bear with me as I try to articulate myself through the nausea I'm feeling since stumbling upon the recent news. If you're hurt, disappointed, confused, and struggling with it because you have so much love for this man and his works: good.

You're not brushing it off. You're not acting like it's okay. If you're finding ways to justify your love for his art amidst the small voice of guilt in your chest, it's because you're a human being who, at your core, acknowledges that you don't agree with what he did. If there's an iota of fear that you may harbor the same negative qualities he does that compelled him to act so heinously, no you don't.

Before Gaiman was ousted as a predator, you knew him as a creative, a visionary, whatever positive perspective you had of him, and you wanted to admire that. Undeniably, Gaiman's a wonderful storyteller AND a s*x *ff*nd*r. The latter doesn't negate the former. But it's possible that it may have dictated some of his creative choices.

But how would you know which ones? You're not him, and you're someone who is self-aware and accountable enough to not do what he did when he hurt someone.

On that note: you are not him. You don't know him personally, neither does he know you personally. There's nothing to defend about him, because he's not yours to defend. His works aren't yours to defend.

That's his job.

Have some emotional boundaries and decenter yourselves from his life so that you're able to swallow the truth of the matter: that Gaiman's hurt real people who have to live with lifelong emotional and even physcial scars.

His actions have nothing to do with you as a fan or admirer, and the least you can do is withdraw your support until he, by some miracle, proves himself innocent and regains your trust.

YOU, as the consumer, are the prize here, not him. Have some standards for yourselves, my goodness. YOU, as a human being, are a completely separate entity from him and his actions. Gaiman would be nothing without those who actively decided on giving his works a shot.

And his ideas, whether you decide to continue consuming them or not, do not completely belong to him. Artists channel inspirations of life as they go through it, inspired by people they meet and events that happen to them, most of these things being external factors that are open to interpretation regardless of the artist's internal perspective that they present it with.

What you should worry about is if your money is going directly to him and his team, which may be used to suppress the victim's voices and provide him an unfair advantage in the matter. This is something that's still in your control more than anything else. Hell, pirate his stuff and consume it in secret if you really can't let go of it.

The conversations around "separating the art and artist" are important, and I personally don't believe in separating them at all, but a more immediate concern is to stop contributing to the artist through their art as soon as something concerning crops up. He's a business man, and you're his investors. Take your space. Breathe. Rationalize. And let his social stock value plummet, jfc, he'll still survive without your money and adoration. As long as you're not directly contributing to his ability to inflict more harm, allow yourself the space to grieve.

And, please, you're your own person. If anything, you're probably going to be the next writer, director, artist, etc who creates stuff that's on par with his or even better. Only difference will be that you won't be someone who actively hurts people.

[eroguron0nsense]

The Nagi Nagi no Mi and Trauma Defence Mechanisms

Not sure if anyone else has written on this but I've always found it interesting that they gave Corazon the power of silence to use as a defence against Doffy in both literal and metaphorical terms. Of course, it's a fairly practical thing for a covert operative like Cora to have in that it helps him conceal his presence, but it also protects him from Doffy and lets him fly under the radar because he's continually underestimated by the family because of his supposed trauma-induced aphasia and general clumsiness; it's assumed that he's good at fulfilling his assigned role, but that he's ultimately not a threat and he's only there in spite of his muteness because he's Doffy's younger brother. Even the children, who are under the impression that he hates kids, continually underestimate him and laugh at his antics, oblivious to his attempts to protect as many children as possible from his brother and the family's abuse.

On another note though, that avoidance and solitude might be interpreted as a perfect way to avoid the attention or ire of a terrible family member who is more than willing to hurt you for crossing them; even before he presumably ate the Nagi Nagi no Mi, he never gets any speaking lines in childhood save for begging Doffy not to kill their father. His silence maintains his nonthreatening, unobtrusive facade in front of Doffy, and even when he breaks that facade to protect another potential victim of Doffy's manipulation and violence, he quite literally uses his powers to protect Law from his brother at the moment of his death and allow him to escape undetected. His silence, which leads to his underestimation, is ultimately necessary to defeat the man who hurt him time and again, who robbed him of their father and left him for dead, who was eager to sacrifice him on the altar of his ambition.

We can see that Doffy is a pretty violent and sadistic child, who's internalized this horrifying entitlement and abuser logic by virtue of being raised in Mariejois, and his parents, while well-intentioned, do little to nothing to counter this conditioning or even intervene when he starts throwing tantrums in public where he calls for public executions and enslavement of regular townspeople. We know that he was more than willing to sacrifice Cora for the Ope Ope no Mi. We can also see that Doffy, for all his ostensible pride in his "family", cares nothing for them beyond how he can manipulate them to his own ends and only defends them publicly as extensions of himself. If that's how Doffy feels comfortable behaving in public, it's highly likely (even though its never stated) that he harmed or otherwise made Cora hate and fear him at home even before shit went south, with little to no real intervention from their parents. And I just like that, rather than cowardice, they made Cora's voluntary silence–his defence mechanism against his abusive brother– into something that he uses for the sake of undermining and ultimately defeating Doffy, and for the sake of protecting another child from his lifelong abuser.

[chaifootsteps]

so someone made a tweet about how it's dangerous to portray abusers as 100% evil because they're frequently charming and have lives outside of the abuse they do, etc

and the thing is - they're right about that, but it's a massive stretch to apply it to Valentino

put it this way - if we want to understand abuse and avoid doing it ourselves, we collectively need to avoid othering abusers as incomprehensible monsters who cannot be understood, because then we can't learn how to recognize the signs and help the people who need it, or stamp out those urges within ourselves

but there's a difference betweent that and what Viv is doing with Val. the way Viv writes Val makes me think that she struggles to really want to condemn him for how he treats Angel. to her it's just a dramatic element to a story with the benefit of getting flowers for 'talking about abuse' when her handling of it is frequently cartoonish. most abusers don't hit their victims or abuse them in front of other people, but Val gives Angel a black eye right in front of the princess of hell, before they're due to do a shoot. both Val and Stella are incredibly stupid characters, and just like Crimson Viv's only understanding of abuse seems to be 'whatever makes my characters miserable and therefore sympathetic', instead of what it should be - a means of establishing a pattern of control

same reason why none of her shows allow the characters to escape or even try to kill their abuser despite it being set in Hell. the abusers just have to stick around forever for angst reasons. the only character who has managed to even attempt it is Stolas, and despite him having all the power, money and resources he could hope the show won't allow him to cut Stella out of his life because the divorce plotline is like a never ending nightmare in HB. a better show might use it as a comment on how abusers effectively terrorize their victims in lifelong campaigns for the upper hand, but here it's just an excuse to get the audience to feel sorry for a literal prince instead of questioning why he doesn't think it's wrong to extort sex out of someone far less wealthy and powerful than him

not to mention that part of the reason abusers are charming is to make it harder for their victims to come forwards and be believed. Val by comparison is just a pathetic wet cat who needs coddling by Vox and talking out of impulses that should have exposed him as an abuser long ago. in anyone else's hands I'd assume they were trying to do the thing The Idol attempted (the Weeknd's car wreck of a tv show) of pointing out the charming abuser isn't charming, they're just pathetic, but Viv herself seems to genuinely like Val and want people to simp for him

did Viv even write Angel's prequel comic? the Valentino in that is so much more convincing as an abuser - he restrains Angel's freedoms by threatening him, punishes him, demeans him, tries to keep him in a strict little box about what he is and isn't allowed to do, etc. and he does it in the privacy of a limo, around other employees, not where there'll be witnesses

Well said. I'd argue that it's fine to portray some abusers as 100% evil -- sometimes it works, and the world's no worse off for the abusive dog boyfriend from Courage existing -- but Viv does this thing where she refuses to portray abusers as 100% evil, or even evil period, if they're male characters she likes. Female characters like Stella? Need to be killed, then killed some more, and if you sympathize with them at all Viv will make fun of you publicly. It's so much more dangerous than if she just made them all outright monsters.

Also I don't know if Faustisse wrote the Angel prequel comic, but it wouldn't surprise me. The writing was too mature to be all Viv.

[kcyars99]

The truth about Tim Miller:

A gay man whose world view led him to become a lifelong Republican has the political acumen of a Jewish man who becomes a Nazi.

But it's even worse than that: it's like a Jewish man who helped build the Nazi party. That type of person can never be one of the faces of the Democratic party because he'll never understand it. And honestly, how could he?

To be part of a persecuted minority but find your identity in an alliance with the persecutors? You're unable to grasp any kind of reality that exists outside of whiteness. Whiteness is going to always come first.

And after you spent a decade being Frankenstein, your Republican monster inevitably chased you to the only other game in town: the Democratic party.

Because the GOP never really stood for anything but racism, sexism, and chasing power, and because there's no culture, no values, and no soul, a totally insane lying lunatic was able to swoop in and demagogue his way into ruling the party with an iron fist.

And I get it, you're gay, and now your allies wants to destroy the lives of everyone like you while being happy to use you to further those ends. It's untenable. But instead of putting up a fight and trying to save your party, you go to where the grass is bluer.

One problem: the Democratic party has a soul and it's name is the BLACK VOTER.

Where you wouldn't fight for your party? We will. Where you wouldn't guard your party from demagouges? We do. We don't have the caucasity to assume that we'll be alright. We're not white. It's always existential for us. We can never take our political power for granted.

That's why when you were grooming your party to fall victim to Trump, Bernie Sanders was over here falling flat on his face. Hillary built with us. Biden spent his whole life with us. They have equity. If you want anything over here in Dem land? You need us. Being a former Republican, you have no idea how we work because YOUVE NEVER HAD TO LISTEN TO US.

I'll get to how I know YOU, Tim Miller, have never listened to us in just a second.

That's also why we kill off culture vultures. We're so sensitive to anyone who wants anyone who wants to use us for their gain when we know they'll never get in the trenches with us. And we see it coming a mile away.

That's why we never fall for Trump scams in trying to astroturf black support. Not only does our life depend on us seeing through it, we're disgusted by it.

Now you've abandoned your party. Despite all the money you've made grifting off the party, you have one bad day in your new Democratic life, and now you're trying to rally us to abandon our decades long investment in Joe Biden because he needed a nap, a Joe Biden who beat Trump when you losers couldnt, and you are flumoxed as to why we won't give up like you.

It's because you don't belong here. You have no equity. You haven't built anything with us. You've never been in the trenches. You're not in touch with us. You don't know the community. And more than anything, you don't have the first clue about Black culture.

And in the past 3 days, with endless Black people, specifically Black women, telling you you're wrong, you have no idea what you're talking about, and that you need to LISTEN to Black people, your every response has been the white privileged casually racist response of "I know the Black community better than you."

You don't.

Hell, the idea of representation never even occurred to you until you adopted a Black kid and you're walking through the toy aisle and couldn't find any black dolls. If you couldn't grasp that until it was forced upon you, what makes you think you know us better than we know ourselves? We've been black our whole lives.

And how do I know you'll NEVER have a place in our party?

759.8K

You adopted a little Black girl and still don't even bother to listen to Black women, let one Black people.

In the words of Kendrick Lamar: You're not a colleague. You're a fucking colonizer.