#//So now she’s constantly drafting and sending letters out

[dutybcrne]

Lisa won’t truly go out of her way for many things, but if there’s one thing she dedicatedly does, and quite happily, is write anonymous fanletters to her fellow knights

[zombiewhor3]

WE HAVE SHIT TO DO

rick grimes x fem reader

WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, male/fem orgasms, weapon usage, mentions/usage of liquor, Negan, mentions of character deaths, mentions of upset/un-comfy reader, mentions of murder, season 7 era tbh,

a/n: just watched the episode of where Carl died and where Rick read his letter and i am a sobbing mess, i cried so hard throughout the entire episode an honestly in the comics it says he has a happy ending so lets pretend that Carl never died and had a happy ending and that he just ran away because it's breaking my heart!

: sorry for the long wait, i've been trying to catch up stuff on my wattpad and i have a few drafts that i have saved so i'll be trying to post those throughout the week!

-

the runs had been hard, and food rations had started to become smaller and smaller by the day, and with children and people of Alexandria they needed to find something.

But it was hard with Negan breathing down their backs, constantly making random appearances to claim 'his deliveries' that they were supposed to somehow fulfill for him and the Saviours.

she had one of her hands intertwined with his while his cock was hitting her g-spot making her mouth form a sudden 'O' shape while their lips connected in a frustrating lust for one another.

she let out a soft cry into his mouth feeling as she was so close from her big O that she was bucking her hips up for one of his thumbs to rub circles on her clit to send her over the edge for him.

without a hesitation he used his thumb to spin on her clit hearing as she let out a loud set of delicate moans from her mouth, and it made him pull his lips away from hers just so he could hear how beautiful she sounded aloud while he fucked her.

"s-so close!" she whimpered feeling as her walls clenched to try and bring his throbbing cock even deeper into her tight soaked walls, one of their hands were holding onto the others so they could keep their bond of love even closer during the moment.

"shh shh, come on let it go"

he cooed to her feeling as she let out a loud whimper while her juices spurt out onto his cock that was irresponsibly not covered by a condom, however it felt to good for him to stop and by the time he knew it he was shooting his load inside her

"fuck" he practically gasped feeling the warmth of their juices creating a slight warmth over his cock, she let out a whine as he hadn't pulled out of her yet because he wanted to take in the moment

a loud knock at the door seemed to disturb her as she jumped sending a slight accidental pleasure to his cock that was still buried full length in her cunt.

"you done fucking in there Rick? because we have shit to do!" Negan called out while tapping his bat against the door so harshly Rick thought that he was going to somehow break through it.

he pulled out of her watching as she covered over her mouth to hide a loud gasp that she knew was surely to spill from her mouth, "one minute Negan please" Rick asked only hearing the knocking start to get louder and louder surely he was trying to scare him.

Rick had wiped himself and slipped on his lower half of clothes before Negan flew open the door smiling once he saw y/n covering herself with the tangled bed sheets around her.

Rick ran a hand through his hair while he pulled out a fresh white t-shirt from his dresser slipping it on while he holstered his knife and looked at the man standing in front of him.

"Rosita come here for me please"

Negan called out watching as the women slipped down the long and quite narrow hall leading to the bedroom, she stood behind him as she kept her gaze down on the floor.

"you and Rick are going to go on a scavenge trip and i don't care how long you're out there for, either you find something cool or useful for me or option one you don't come back at all and in that case i'll bash someones head in or option two i smash all of these sorry fucks heads in" Negan smiled rubbing his hand over Lucille.

"now get the hell out" he ordered watching as Rick skimmed past him as he followed Rosita back down the long hall and once Negan heard the front door shut with a slam a smile appeared on his face.

this time it was wider and cockier almost like he thought the girl trying to cover her nude body from him was a joke, his smile was implicating that he thought this was all so damn funny.

"can i please get some privacy Negan?" she asked calmly as her nails started to practically burn holes into the fabric from the strength of her grip that she had on it.

Negan rested the bat against the inner wall of the bedroom next to the snow white painted door frame, he used a hand to rub over the stubble on his face, he sighed and flipped his back around.

his hands rested clasped in front of him as he fiddled his thumbs and whistled impatiently, she slipped into the bathroom to wipe her self clean before she slipped back into the bedroom to put on a fresh set of clothes.

"you can stop whistling now" she bit at him while she adjusted the collar of her flannel that covered the blank tank underneath, she flipped over the cuffs on the sleeves and folded her arms.

"wow god you two really go at it" Negan remarked at her watching as her posture awkwardly changed in front of him, because her shoulders seemed to scrunch up at the uncomfortable remark.

"is that stuff never seems to go right around here? is you two's fucking getting in the way of my deliveries that you and your people should be making?" a hand rested on her lower neck as he made his way up to her chin watching and feeling as she swallowed harshly.

"you seem un-comfy baby" he spoke rubbing the side of her cheek, "i think you should leave" she spoke calmly but also with a slight fire in her voice wishing that he would just see himself out.

Judith let out a loud cry just a few doors down making Negan smile once more as he picked up Lucille and made his way along the hall making sure to scrape the floors up with him.

"don't please" y/n spoke pushing past him so that she could stand in the door frame the loud sound of her crying ringing through her ears like loud feedback echoing off of a microphone.

"oh please i'm not gonna hurt her what am i a monster?" he bit back bitterly skimming past her, he placed his bat down next to the recliner in her room while he lifted her up from her crib.

he sat back in the recliner while rocking her gently with his knee while he stroked the back of her head, y/n didn't understand how a man so cruel and so monsterous could have a heart like this.

how he could act so sweet after threatening to bash everyone's brains in if Rick hadn't followed his orders as directed.

y/n was surely biting her fingernails raw looking at the two, she seemed to have a liking to him, but it wasn't like she knew how much of a monster he was, after all she was only past a year old she truly didn't know anything about the real world yet.

it was making her sick seeing him hold her, seeing as he was able to get her to stop crying, she looked down the hall to see Carl standing there cocking his head while he looked at the quite visible nervousness y/n was emitting into the air around them.

she shook her head at Carl to go back with Enid who had her head peaking out into the kitchen to watch what Carl was doing from the hall even though she couldn't get a good enough view.

y/n gestured for him to return back to the room he had just appeared from but instead he walked his way down the hall his hand slipping out the silver knife from his holster.

y/n tried to put her hand out to push into his chest but once she saw the fire in his eyes she let him go, she let him slip into the bedroom to see the man that killed her friends holding his little sister.

it was causing an ache in him, it was making him so god damn furious that he was clenching the blade by his side,

"would you look at that it's the serial killer in the making isn't this a nice surprise for me" Negan teased looking down at the knife clenched with a fist down by the boys side.

y/n grabbed his wrist to take the knife from him and shockingly he let her, he let it slip out from his hand without even an ounce of a fight,

she slipped it back into his holster while turning his body away and sending him back down the hallway to where Enid was now waiting for her boyfriend with an explanation.

"he's a feisty one for sure, quite bold if you ask me"

Negan spoke to y/n while sitting up from the chair and resting the now sleepy Judith back in her crib, she pulled a blanket over her and handed the stuffed rabbit that rested next to her in her crib before he grabbed his bat and showed himself out of her room.

y/n shut the door behind her once she checked the baby camera to make sure that it was still on and hadn't run out of battery power again, she followed Negan into the living room thankful that the two kids had left the house to venture somewhere else.

"you have any bourbon or whiskey? i could really use a drink"

Negan asked plopping down on the couch and resting his feet a top of the coffee table un-apologetically while his eyes flicked over to look at the obviously unamused y/n.

"not much i think in the last of our rations we have maybe half a bottle i'm not sure last time i checked your men took it all"

y/n spoke sharply while opening the cupboards until she found the bottle of whiskey, she grabbed a clean empty glass and poured him some before she set the glass and the bottle on the table.

he moved his feet out of her way before he took his first embrace of the liquor in his glass, "perfect" he sighed happily as he downed his first glass of the brown liquid, "what is this exactly?" Negan asked watching as she had taken a seat on the opposite end of the couch away from him before she answered his question.

"Deanna's old husband had a old liquor cabinet so i'm guessing something vintage or some shit we found it in Spencer's room but i suppose whiskey is simply whiskey"

y/n reflected back at him while crossing her legs, she stared out the window where the curtains had been pulled back to let in just the right amount of sunshine necessary to light up the room so it wouldn't be as gloomy and dark for them.

"not when it's cheap but times are tough so anything will do these days but i have to admit this don't taste cheap sweet heart"

Negan admitted as he poured himself another round, after he downed it he licked his lips clean and looked at her.

"you've had your drink can you leave me be now" y/n spoke bitterly towards him as she got up from the couch,

"not until your boy toy and that chick gets back with my shit, is that what you call him boy toy or fuck toy?" he blabbed back before giving up on the glass and instead just pressing the glass bottle of liquor against his lips taking a swig of the burning liquid down his throat feeling the aftermath of the sting start to kick in from the liquor.

"i call him Rick that's all" she answered his question sounding uninterested in the games he was trying to play with her

she was tired of looking at his face and that smug ass smile laced on it, tired of looking at the leather jacket he wore that once had her friends blood splattered on it and she was sure as hell tired of looking at the damn bat that now sat between his legs.

because it was the same bat he used to bash in her friends heads the same bat that she had taunted her and the rest of her group with, the same bat that had smeared blood on her face because she refused to look at it that night when he ordered her.

she gulped looking down at it, Negan chuckled as he could catch her glance at the piece of wood, "is Lucille bothering you because i can promise you she isn't quite thirsty right now but if they come back with nothing she's gonna be damn thirsty for more of your friends"

"please just leave me alone Negan, please that's all i ask of you, you can have that entire bottle of whiskey if it'll get you to stop running your mouth to me hell i'll find you all the damn bottles that you want if it'll keep you away from me"

she spoke trying to hide the fire she could feel her body emitting, she could feel the anger every time she looked at him and it was starting to grow so much she wasn't sure she would be able to hold back from simply killing him but she knew that would be a foolish idea.

that killing him would reek a havoc on the people of Alexandria.

she slipped into her and Rick's bedroom sinking into the bed as she could hear the sound of his men outside, and well she could see partially some of them through the shadow of their figures through the light cream colored curtains covering the window.

she picked up the comic book that rested on the night stand next to the bed, her and Carl had a thing for comic books often swapping whenever they finished one, she ran her fingers over the cover before she set it back down onto the wooden night stand with a sigh.

she prayed that Rick would be back soon, and she prayed that if he did come back he'd bring something Negan wanted or else she knew that surely there was gonna be a blood bath in Alexandria.

-

it had been a week since Rick came home, and that meant she had spent a week living with a cruel man, it was hard keeping Carl out of the house away from his sister but she knew it would prevent him from pulling anything stupid when his father was away.

they had come back with two large bottles of rum, a pallet that had been slightly filled with cans of sweet corn and an old jack knife that Negan had let Rick keep himself as a so labeled "trophy" for being such a good scavenger for him.

Once Negan was satisfied with the resources Rick had brought to him he gathered his men and left, but not without making sure to take a look at the women who was soaking into her bed from the ability of not being able to look him in the face anymore.

Rick could tell that she had lost her mind spending the past seven days with him, that she was truly going crazy with the taunting and the comments and well the fact she felt so guilty for just simply trying to protect Carl from doing something stupid.

Rick pulled her into him so he could rub her hands and plant kisses onto the back of her neck and her shoulder blades feeling her shudder and slightly tremble at the needed contact.

"is he gone? i can't stand to look at him anymore"

she admitted feeling as he intertwined one of his hands with hers rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb,

"he's gone for now at least i'll make sure to take you out for scavenging next week to see if we can bring anything back for us"

Rick peppered kisses on her back trying to settle her as he knew that the true real life fact was that Negan could come back any day or any time he pleased and he could tell that it was starting to severely upset her, he knew that she hated him for what he did and in all truth Rick couldn't stop thinking about killing the man himself.

He knew that no matter what he did or no matter if he killed or defeated Negan nothing would ever be the same he had already tried that and it cost him two of his men, two of his innocent men.

"i want to kill him Rick i have to kill him i need to" she spoke with a sudden change of tone starting to lace and bite back at her.

she squeezed his hand, "but i can't put anyone else in danger, because i can't lose anyone else and i already know he has Carl on his list and i won't do that to you"

he shushed her softly again to calm her down from the amped-up ramble that she had been starting to spew out again

"and we won't lose him if we follow the plan we have, just a few more days and we can follow out the plan and see how it goes for us but i just know we have to try and fight our way out of this"

Rick was almost all jittered up from the thought of taking Negan down, the thought of taking him down so no one else they loved or cared about could ever be hurt again from him.

"then we'll find a way to kill him together without getting us killed and we'll find a way to take down his men with him"

[cookie-de-baunilha]

What bothers me the most about the cynical interpretation a lot of people have of Percy’s character and his feelings for John is that, besides cheapening the story (like I said in this post), it can’t be backed up by canon.

Like, I profoundly hate the utterly tragic, broken beyond repair path that Diana decided to make for him in Bees, but at least I can acknowledge that the point she was making was “he loves John but he is too weak”. But people go to great lengths to interpret everything he does in the most cynical way, so for them it’s like Percy is an evil mustache-twirling villain.

Except any attempt to say that his feelings for John aren’t sincere (e.g. people who believe he was just guilt tripping John by telling him that he loved him in that gaol scene in order to get John to save his ass) falls flat because Percy keeps showing that his feelings for John are the most genuine thing about him:

when he was incarcerated in BOTB and sent that letter to John that started like this:

“I will leave you to imagine, if you will, what the writing of this letter costs me, for that ultimate cost is up to you. I have been in perturbation of mind for days, debating whether I shall write it, and now, having written, whether to send it. The end of my deliberations, though, is the point from which I began: that to speak may mean my life; not to speak may mean yours. If you are reading these words, you will know which I have chosen.”

when he warned John about Richardson and told him William was in danger (people love to conveniently forget that this scene exists when trashing Percy)

when, defying John’s judgment of him, he went after William and told him John had been kidnapped by Richardson even though he was afraid of what Richardson could do to him

non-canon bonus: in the draft of the scene of their conversation that takes place when John is being held hostage by Richardson (the one that got discarded by Diana and got swapped by… that ship scene from Bees), Percy purposefully omits from John that his own life is at risk too, so that John could make the decision only for himself (when he finds out about that, John even thinks that Percy is braver than he — Percy — thinks)

But sure, his love for John isn’t real or pure and he must be a selfish insincere coward, right? 🙄

He is constantly choosing to leave his fears aside for John. He is constantly proving himself to be selfless and courageous when it comes to John, even by putting John’s life above his own. He finds his strength in the love that he feels for John and that, my friends, is powerful, beautiful and genuine. At least I think so.

[madefate]

“ i know you got your own issues, but we’ve literally spent the last three weeks talking exclusively about that. “ // for charlie 👉👈 / @hellpride

Charlie freezes, pausing mid word, her fingers stilling on the papers in front of her - an eclectic collection of hand written notes, some drawings snuck in, and even drafts of letters that she wants to send out around Hell - and a tremor runs down her arm and chills her spine. The reaction happens before even her constantly overthinking mind can catch up, stumbling over itself to take the situation in from a distance.

Had it been three weeks ? Of course any plans for the hotel had to have been put on momentary pause while it was being rebuilt, so there was plenty to catch up on - three weeks ? That's - that's so long. She should have a plan by now, maybe more ads already running, meetings with Overlords or the demon hierarchy -

He's going to leave.

It's a voice that whispers in the back of her mind sometimes when it's too quiet, floats through her dreams where she can't find it and extinguish it. Something cracks a little in her chest as she watches her father with wide eyes - and then, in a flash, easy as pie, she grins, bright and full.

❝ Oh jeez, has it been so long ? ❞ She laughs - a little mechanically, but hopefully he won't notice. ❝ That's totally on me ! You know how I get, I just - think and think and totally lose track of time! ❞ In one swift motion, she gathers the papers in a neat pile and pushes it off to the side. ❝ I'm sure you have a lot to do! I can always help if you wa - if you need it ! ❞

[howl-fantasies]

Since Y/N has such good hacking skills, has she ever hacked phones of our beloved Gothamites and did she find any juicy stuff? Maybe private photos, some suggestive messages or a potential new scandal?

I'm in a mood for some gossip, girl! 😎

Of course she did!

>> One of Y/N's main assets is to know a LOT of things about every villain in town or any important person who could potentially influence Gotham. If someone gets a new phone, don't even think to offer her a contract, she's on a mission and has to put a snitch in the new device in order to continue her never ending spying. In a way she's like Gossip Girl. Minus the upper east side thing and publishing daily all Gothamites' little secrets, preferring to sell them at a veeeery good price.

But since it's you, she would gladly open the chamber of secrets:

Oswald Cobblepot

>> Oswald's phone is one of her favorites to look at. She even organized "Ozzy nights" with Victor, laughing their asses out while looking at his texts and pictures.

>> Aside from the very interesting exchanges he had with Fish, Maroni and Carmine, Oswald's texts to his mother were priceless. The wannabe king of Gotham was a true mommy's boy, asking her to clean his favorite bad boy's underwear, the black one with little knifes on it. Spoiler: his mom constantly chastised him about it. He texted her where he was at anytime, pretty useful if you ask Y/N and Victor, and asking his mom to separate the vegetables he doesn't like in his night meals.

>> Pictures with mama. Here and there. Nothing interesting until Ed came in his life. The texts between the dorks were fun. When Riddler came out and Oswald started his little crush, pictures of the two flourished in his phone. Stolen pictures too: Ed studying, Ed plotting, Ed eating, annnnnd Ed coming out of the shower. This one is THE dirty little secret Y/N uses whenever she wants something from Penguin. Ed practically naked with just a towel around his hips, drop of water still in his hair and steam all around him is worthing the little chantage, right, Oswald?

>> Y/N also found the 237 drafts Penguin wrote when he tried to confess his feelings. The straight: "Ed, I think, no, I know I love you". The poems, the confession in foreign languages, the lame riddles he tried to wrote. She knows all of them by heart and likes to randomly tell them to Oswald to infuriate him.

Edward Nygma

>> Ah dear Ed, her second favorite phone to hack. Why? Because Ed being a genius he figured out - after a few minutes or hours, depends if he slept well - her spying. When people are playing Candy Crush to kill time, Y/N hacks Ed. It's their little game. And one of the reasons she made her phone and contacts as vague as possible. Cause the guy hacks too, and pretty well at that!

>> Ed's phone is empty most of the time because of that, BUT! Y/N once used a picture of Oswald in his white underwear as a wallpaper to distract him. And oh boy, it worked well. Very well. So well, she saw the screenshot Ed took of the picture. She also had the intelligence to screenshot the screenshoting on her phone, threatening Ed to send it to Oswald.

>> Ed threatened her to inform Victor about the : I used our boss almost naked as a wallpaper. The result? Y/N's vengeance is now to change all Ed's passwords making it a pun with one of Ed's traumas like, Kringle -> Kringlocked. Isabella -> Isabellocked. Riddler -> Freezdler. See the immaturity here?

Victor Zsasz

>> Victor is the most easy phone to hack for her since his password is always: Sweetness, or her date of birth, the date he met her, the caliber of one of the weapon she used on him and managed to touch him with, or something stupid like the first letters of "pepperoni". Not like he tries to hide his little secrets from her or his insane obsession 🤷🏻‍♀️

>> Pictures? Goodness, he has tons of her, them. Normal ones, goofy ones, badass ones, -18 ones... He also has one picture of Carmine, and one old picture of his family.

>> Same for the texts, nothing to hide here. The little scum loves to write dirty things in his drafts for her to read when she decides to pay his phone a visit. He's pretty proud of him at that when he sees her poker face ruined by a raised eyebrow or a frown or a scoff, depending of what he wrote.

>> The one and only time he made a real password, was when he decided to team up with Sofia. Y/N was fuming when she finally managed to hack it and discovered all the texts between them and how she ordered him around like a dog.

Barbara Kean

>> Barbara's phone is like her: an absolute mess. Texts to Jim, Tabi, Riddler, Oswald, Lee... Name someone in Gotham and you'll be sure to find them in her psychophone. The woman doesn't even try to be discreet, doesn't encrypt anything and texts everyone in town to either insult them - especially Jim - , cry like a river - especially to Jim - or tell them she loves them - especially Jim -.

>> You got it, she's obsessed by the good cop. Has so many pictures of him it should be considerate illegal, truly.

>> Her most interesting texts are to Tabi, when the two are plotting to kill Oswald or do something in hope to take Gotham's crown.

>> Her most funny one is when she threatened her hairstylist to sue him because of one failed hair cut. She even sent the picture of her usually platinum hair being as green as Ed's suit. Gold.

Jim Gordon

>> Jim isn't the most intelligent character of the series, but he's still cunning enough to understand Y/N hacked his phone at some point.

>> Does it change anything about the level of security of his phone? No. Even with Lucius' help, she managed to hack it. Spoiler, Ed helped because he was bored and she swore to explain him how to French kiss his little librarian, making him a true French lover. Spoiler no.2 she sent him a picture of a washing machine telling him to program himself on "speed" since she was afraid he wouldn't last much with IsabellAAAAH 😏. Riddler was pretty mad at her. And at Ed since the idiot trusted her on something like this.

>> Jim's phone helped Y/N to always be one or two steps ahead from him. She knew for his marriage. She knew for his little visit to Carmine when he retired. She knew basically everything of his life.

>> Though, she didn't want to know about his smut texts and pictures he sent to Lee. Never thought he was the kind of guy to suggest his girlfriend to take her on the morgue's table. She had to send Lee a text after that, to tell her to put a little something under her butt since the table can be pretty cold (DUUUH) at the beginning then all slippery. Jim was livid. And he still is whenever Y/N makes an innuendo about it.

Bruce Wayne

>> If you ask her about hacking a child's phone, she would only answer: "well that's why kid shouldn't be allowed to use a phone without an adult around to supervise them."

>> Drunk Bruce, frivolous Bruce, Emo Bruce, she saw and read every picture and text. Enamored Bruce too by the way, which she find highly cute. Just a normal teenager's phone so far.

>> Bruce's phone was pretty boring in term of plotting or threatening material, at first. But after his encounter with Selina, his investigations about his parents death and after that his little training with Alfred, Bruce's phone was definitely on her "keep it somewhere and don't even think to throw it" list. She knew something interesting was happening with him.

>> When Lucius helped Bruce to totally encrypt his phone, she knew the two knew about her spying. The boy's phone became as interesting to hack as Ed's phone, even more challenging since Lucius created a program generating a new password every minute. Brilliant, if you ask her.

>> When a new young anti-hero started to disturb the non-existant peace in town, Y/N wasn't that surprised and had strong suspicions about his true identity. She never told anything to anyone though. Maybe she'd be able to use it one day and see if Batman's "Never kill anyone" golden rule still stands after that. Same when she managed to finally hack the phone and saw a young lady looking very much like Selina, wearing leather in a suggestive pose. It's their little secret 🤫 Aahh youngsters...

Carmine Falcone

>> What? Trust doesn't exclude control. Y/N had to protect Carmine for a solid 6 years. Protecting him from others mobsters, from him, from other hackers... She knew what the last would found out in his phone if they ever succeeded to hack it. Logical, isn't it?

>> Relax, Carmine knows. She never told him, but he knows, somehow, maybe, probably. He always knows. And maybe Victor told him, being the only "good child" of the king of Gotham. Spoiler he did.

>> Carmine's phone is the epitome of "old". Old phone, for an old man, for an old fashion way to organize his things inside of it. His contacts are all write properly, his texts all politically correct, nothing the police can use against him.

>> He gets a notification every month when his favorite female cook send an article about a new 50's Italian recipe. After meeting Liza, he asked Victor to show him how to share the link to her. #GrandpaVibes here. He was super lame at it and simply told Victor to take his phone to share it after the third time he asked him to show him. He even wrote notes, poor man...

>> His wallpaper is religious, his ringtone for personal calls too. Except for Victor and her. She chose Misirlou (Pulp Fiction) for Victor because she thought Carmine's face was funny whenever his phone played it. And chose for her: Urge Overkill - Girl you'll be a woman soon (Pulp Fiction). Same, she finds it funny. Pros: Carmine you'll be immediately able to tell which of them is calling. Cons: Credibility - 50 but who cares? He's the king of the city. Since he was so lame with his phone, he stopped trying to change it and just shot whoever was laughing between the eyes.

I hope you like it. If you want, I can write a part 2 with:

- Jervis

- Jonathan

- Jerome

- Jeremiah

- Harvey

- Butch

- Tabitha

Don't hesitate to tell me if you want to read about someone else 😉 Have a beautiful day sweetheart, take care 🌹❤️

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I must say I am constantly baffled and angry that MPs can make such ludicrous amounts of money for doing absolutely nothing, meanwhile I can't eat any actual meals today because thanks to my job randomly falling through with no warning laying off several people I only have £30 to last me until next week. It's genuinely upsetting! Hate this country.

Yep! Let's get really angry. She became Education Secretary at about 9.30pm on Tuesday. I think it's fair to say that, if she did anything at all that night, it was likely just a super quick "Here's where I left the keys" chat with Nadhim Zahawi before he bustled off to stab Boris Johnson in the back with all 23 knives. Call it an hour.

Then she'll have slept. Let's assume for the sake of argument that took up eight hours, so she's up at 6.30 and into the office by about 7.30 - that seems about right for the long days the Cabinet are pulling at the minute in order to get their press briefings and resignation letters written etc.

So on the Wednesday, she works a full day. Starts at 7.30. She didn't tweet anything all day to get a timestamp from, nor did she say much to the press, to my knowledge - which makes sense, because Whitehall was basically on fire and Boris was probably going from room to room with a crazed look in his eye every half hour screaming ARE YOU AGAINST ME TOO??! or maybe even GOVE GET BACK HERE YOU SON OF A DICK, but also, she was probably learning what the actual job was - first day requires a lot of training, but the people who would normally have trained her all quit like dominoes. She probably took an hour's lunch though, and then... let's say a 6.30pm finish. It's a long shift, to be sure, but that's probably about right.

She goes home. She sleeps.

She hands in her resignation at 8.51am the next morning. IF she went into work and did anything before that, it was 'Getting the printer to work' for the resignation letter. No actual work.

So in total, I'd estimate she performed around 11 hours of labour for the Department of Education, and for that, she was given over £16,000. Not including whatever the salary increase would be for the two, maybe three days she'll be counted as having been there. No one on this planet achieves £16,000 worth of progress in their first day of a new job while the rest of their department quits around them. No one. And you just know a chunk of that will have been furtive conversations with others about how she should quit, and drafting the resignation letter.

Meanwhile, there are legions of people in this country right now choosing between eating and heating, or indeed cutting out meals like you are, Anon, in order to stretch funds that this government have made worthless. The mind boggles and the bile rises.

Anyway, listen - if you feel comfortable, send me a paypal or KoFi link or whatever you have, and I'll gladly share it. £30 until next week is horrifying, let's at least get you a couple of extra meals :/ If not, I don't know if you've heard of the Too Good To Go app, but I strongly recommend if not - I use it when money gets tight and it's great for stretching a limited food budget. Take care of yourself, and I hope things pick up soon

[shikiii-skadi]

Hey. Life is a bit stressful right now. I wanted to write some hc's for the season 4 characters as well, before officially opening requests. So people know how I write them and what to expect. But I didn't come around to finish my drafts T-T Yeah, but other than that I am fine. Thanks for asking.

And thank you for your kind words as well <3

For a bit of context, the reader is going on a special mission and the characters can't accompany them.

Mikasa Ackermann:

Honestly, she would just come with you.

"You are going on a mission to the Karanese outpost? I will come with you."

Because she is such a talented soldier and a great addition to any team, no one of your officers, would have anything against it.

But there is a slim chance that she is not allowed or capable to come along.

She is missing you terribly. You have to see each other at least once a day for more than ten minutes for her to function properly.

Mikasa is in a kinda depressive state, where she is thinking too much. Her thoughts would be constantly with you. And she is afraid something might happen to you.

She would also be stressed over little things. For example, if you have eaten enough or if you get enough sleep.

Eren Jäger:

He wants to come with you as well. But because of his titan ability, he is not allowed to.

But that doesn't mean, he isn't going to ask your team leader at every opportunity he gets, to maybe be allowed to come along as well. Even like ten minutes befor you leave.

Eren would get so whiny. He would complain a lot to Mikasa and Armin. Low-key annoying them.

If he is with everyone else, he would sigh dramatically every minute. It's not on purpose. He just can't control it.

And of course Jean would yell at him to stop.

When you come back, he would act like you two haven't seen each other for years. Good luck at getting him away from you. He is attached to your hips for the next weeks.

Armin Arlert:

He wants to come with you as well but he knows that he probably wouldn't be a strong addition to the team. In the worst-case scenario, he might become an obstacle.

And he wouldn't want to stand in the way of you getting a higher position because of multiple successful missions.

He would tell you that he is sure that you will be successful but he wouldn't voice out his wish to accompany you.

He is not as depressed as Mikasa or whiny as Eren so he actually thought about away so you two could stay in contact.

It may not be highly efficient but he would purpose the idea of sending each other letters.

He writes you a lot of letters. Armin would even attach a gift to it. Nothing big or expansive. Maybe a flower that reminded him of you or a rock with a particularly nice pattern.

He might bring you up a few times more when he is talking with his friends but overall he would keep his feelings to himself.

Christa Lenz:

Similar to Armin, she wishes to come with you but wouldn't do it. She wants you to have the opportunity to show your skills.

But different than him, she would tell you about it. Not too direct, though.

"I will continue to train, so I can come with you on the next mission! Your accomplishments motivate me as well."

After you are gone. She would ask the higher-ups three times a day if they know anything about you.

She is more in thought than usual but I think only Ymir would really notice it.

Christa would also eat a little less. It is not intentional but without you, she just doesn't feel like eating.

She prays every minute for your safe return. Of course, she knows that you can handle yourself but there is still this lingering anxiety in the back of her head.

Porco Galliard:

He would act like it isn't that big of a deal.

Would probably also shift his feelings onto you. You are the one that's overdramatic about this situation. Surely, you will survive a few weeks without seeing each other.

While he might say that, in the background, he tries to pull the strings so that he can come as well. If he is allowed to he would act like it is a coincidence.

But he isn't allowed to.

He would be really defensive about anything that even just slightly involves you. Porco doesn't want someone to know that in reality, he misses you terribly. Yeah, but his behavior does kinda the opposite...

He is worried and thinks a lot about you but he tries to suppress it because it won't change the fact that you are not with him.

Pieck Finger:

Pieck is surprisingly chill about it. You are probably the one with the stronger reaction.

Of course, she wouldn't say no, if someone offers her to join the mission as well but she wouldn't actively try to get on the team.

She is confident in your skills. After all, there is a reason, you were picked and not someone else.

In the beginning, Pieck would think it won't be that hard to be separate from you for a few weeks. But she realizes that she was wrong after the first week.

Pieck would sleep in your bed because it still smells like you.

With every passing day Pieck would catch herself thinking how nice it would be to hug you right now.

[animerina]

Wine for Freedom-6

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)

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Thranduil x F!Reader

Summary: The Reader is left with nothing but three bottles of wine after Smaug destroys Laketown and somehow becomes Thranduil’s new brewmaster.

Note: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. This started as a one shot and ended up as a full story. You can read the rest on A03.

All Italics are Elvish.

Boe de nestad! Ego!-She needs a healer! Go!

Chapter 6: At Death's Door

Months passed quickly as Thranduil and I grew closer and more comfortable with one another. Although he was busy most days, he managed to visit with me often which gave me great pleasure. I’d found letters set on my pillow on several occasions, his words pulling at my heart strings, and sometimes leaving me in happy tears. As the days passed, my friends slowly grew more accustomed to my relationship with Thranduil although Elros still had his reservations. He never was a fan of his highness. Slowly, I began to realize that more than just my friends knew about us as well. I’d catch the guards who patrolled near the cellar either smirk or refuse to meet my gaze.

Things between Thranduil and I had been relatively slow; something I was grateful for. We were intimate but there was a line we never crossed though I was unsure exactly why. I thought perhaps Thranduil felt guilty, possibly viewing the act as being unfaithful to his deceased wife’s memory. He had confessed he had never laid with anyone since her passing and thought he never could again before I fell into his lap. He was constantly reminding me that I was no replacement and that he cared for me deeply. I believed him, but I still had my own self doubt to deal with, though it had become a much rarer occurrence thankfully.

Regardless, I was happy just being with him in whatever way he would have me. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so happy in my entire life and I had Thranduil to thank for it.

Like most days recently, I was in the cellar organizing my supplies in preparation for Turuhalmë which was only a month away now. I knew things would be getting busy as the celebration approached and I wanted to make sure we would have enough alcohol to send every elf into a stupor. I had started a list of everything I would need and figured I would have to catch the merchants heading to Dale and see if I could ask them to pick up some supplies for me. I had much too much to do and much too little time to do it. I felt an anxiousness boiling in my belly and tried to shake it by organizing my plans, though it didn’t help much.

A draft blew cold, winter air through the cellar and I pulled my coat tighter around me. It was dark green and woolen; a gift from Feren when I first settled in the palace. It was old and worn, and he claimed to have no use for it, but I found it warm and cozy.

I was going to need to run down to the main hall soon if I wanted to get to the merchants in time so I hurriedly scribbled away. As I worked, I suddenly heard a whistle of air escape one of the tanks and I gasped, rushing over to where the sound came from.

“No, no, no!” I cried out, turning the round handle to release pressure. The ugly feeling returned as I panicked. I started searching for the leak and spotted a piece of the wooden tank that had come loose. If I didn’t fix this quickly, the ale would be completely ruined and there was no way I would be ready for the festival in time.

I hurried down the steps to grab my tools to see if I could fix it myself, though I thought I might not be able to get to the merchants in time now. Groaning in frustration, I rushed back to the tank. This problem took precedence.

Surprisingly, I managed to fix it fairly quickly and determined that the ale would be fine, or rather, I hoped it would be. I wiped my brow, relieved for now, and ran for my list on the table, snatching it up and continuing up the stairs. I began to feel out of breath, but pushed forward. I knew I had to make it in time. I was sure I would feel better once I made it to the hall.

I barely caught one of the last palace merchants to leave and practically begged them to get what was needed, handing them the purse I kept for occasions such as this. While the elf I spoke to was hesitant to agree, one quick glance at Galion, who happened to be close by, had him snatching the list and coin purse from me before heading out the main doors. I waved to my friend in thanks and he returned it with a bow and a smile.

My heart was still racing though I had rested a while since running over. I walked out the doors towards the cellar with a hand on my neck feeling for my pulse. It felt erratic, which was odd, and I decided to stop walking to see if it would help. As I waited for a change I noticed my fingers began to tremble which caused me to panic, not helping the situation. I leaned against the wall to steady myself, my body growing numb as a cold feeling washed over me. I found myself stumbling forward remembering a bench somewhere in here. I thought that I’d feel better if I sat down for just a moment. Surely this discomfort would pass.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear muffled footsteps, but could not tell if they were far away or if my ears had popped distorting my perception. Everything seemed to slow as I tried to find the bench. My vision slowly darkened in the corners and tears fell as my fears grew. What was wrong with me? Was I dying?

I heard voices, but could not make out the words. Hands gripped the wall for purchase to steady myself. The voices were louder now and it occurred to me that whoever it was was speaking Sindarin. I turned towards the sound, but the action caused me to lose my balance and I fell backwards, landing hard on the marble floor, though the pain did not register immediately.

“Hiril vuin!”

I managed to spot one of the guards who usually ignored me, though I could not remember his name. He and his partner were rushing towards where I lay, but I found myself unable to move or speak. My vision was nearly gone by the time I was lifted up by one of them.

“What happened?” One asked.

My mouth moved but no sound came out making me cry harder. My breathing was haggard and I struggled to inhale through my crying.

“Boe de nestad! Ego!” The guard holding me shouted at the other.

I saw him run off, but I did not know to where. I didn’t understand what they were saying as my senses started to fade. The last thing I remembered was the guard’s worried expression before I finally blacked out.

Tag list: (If you’d like to get added please let me know.)

@velvetmotel20 @happycupcakeenthusiast

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 1/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope! Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader  Summary:  you live in Ketterdam, and your life is alright. things get excited however, when you receive royal mail Warnings: none Word count:  2K A/N: first time doing a (mini) series and I am ✨ nervous ✨ but this idea has been sitting in my drafts for too long and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m planning on writing seven parts :) enjoy reading!  PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST: @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling add yourself to my tag lists here 

You would always be torn between leaving Ketterdam, and staying in the city. You have a good life, it’s comfortable. Given that your father is one of the wealthiest merchants of the city, you could basically get anything you wanted. You had more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime.

But still, you weren’t happy. Your father may have a lot of kruge, he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold. All your life you’ve known him as a greedy, rude and unfair man. You’d give up all of your kruge in a blink of an eye if you could trade it for a different life. 

Your friends didn’t understand. They told you to be grateful. That many would kill to live in a mansion like you do, and to have the amounts of money your family has. But you had learned wealth doesn’t always mean happiness.

For years, you watched as your father treated people like garbage, simply because they didn’t have enough money in his eyes. He’d blackmail people, or worse. You couldn’t stand it.

Which is why you decided to join the Dregs a couple of years ago. In secret, of course. Your father doesn’t know. You took every precaution necessary to prevent him from finding out. You’d rather not find out all the things he’d be capable of. 

With the help of the Crows, you’d been stealing small bits of your father’s fortune. You either give it to the Dregs or transfer it to your own personal bank account, one your father didn’t have access to. 

To keep your identity a secret, only a few Dregs know your true identity. You use a fake name and whenever you’re at the Crow Club or the Slat, you wear your hood pulled down as low as possible, hiding your face from curious eyes. All precautions because you know all too well what gang members would do with a rich merchant’s daughter. 

You like hanging out at the Crow Club. Mostly because the Crows don’t treat you like a merchant’s daughter. They treat you like, well, Y/N. To them, you’re one of their own. And you’re glad they’re your friends. 

The Crow Club is also a place where you can relax. At home, you’re always on your toes, keeping a close eye on your father. He had the annoying habit of marching into your room unannounced. When you told him you wanted a lock on your door, he merely laughed it away. 

So, yes, you’d prefer the Crow Club full of thieves, gamblers and other criminals to the mansion you live in.

Of course, your father doesn’t know you spend most of your time at the Club. You take longer walks, you make sure you’re not followed, and conceal your face whenever you make your way to the Barrel. 

Once inside the Club, you walk to your usual table, and there’d always be someone around to join you.

Right now, you’re sitting at the table with Nina and Jesper. Enjoying a drink and a game of cards. You’re happy to be amongst your friends, laughing at their jokes and beating them at cards.

You look up when you see a familiar redhead approach your table.

‘Hi Wylan!’ you say as you enthusiastically wave at him. Wylan smiles at you as he sits down next to Jesper. Jesper raises his hand at the bartender to order another round of drinks as Wylan shrugs off his coat.

‘I’ve got something for you.’ says Wylan, while looking at you.

You raise your eyebrows in question as you finish your drink. ‘Watch out, Jesper, I might steal your boyfriend.’ you chuckle.

‘Oh, no, you won’t.’ says Jesper, reaching out and pulling Wylan's chair closer to his own, making Wylan blush.

‘He’s going to ask me out on a date, I can see it on his face.’ you say, failing to keep a straight face. 

‘What? No!’ says Wylan, looking from you to Jesper. ‘No, I’m not asking you out on a date, I’ve got a letter for you.’ 

You frown. ‘You’ve got a letter for me?’ you say. ‘Why wasn’t it just delivered to my house?’

‘I don’t know.’ says Wylan. ‘Someone stopped me in the street and told met to give it to you. They said it was urgent.’

‘How did they know you knew where to find me?’ you ask him as you take your new drink the bartender passes you.

Wylan shrugs. ‘I don’t know. She had a pretty heavy Ravkan accent, though. I tried to read the address to confirm it was yours, but I couldn't.’ he says. You notice a slight blush on his cheeks, but ignore it.

‘Is the letter from Ravka as well?’ you say.

‘I think so.’ says Wylan, finally pulling the letter out of his coat pocket. ‘I mean, it’s got a pretty distinctive seal on the back of it.’ 

Before you can ask him anything else, Jesper snatches the letter out of Wylan’s hand, looking at it. 

‘Why would a Ravkan send you a letter?’ he chuckles, flipping the envelope around in his hands. When his eyes fall on the seal, they widen. ‘Correction.’ says Jesper, while looking at you. ‘Why would a Lantsov send you a letter?’

Now your eyes widen as well. ‘What?’ you say. ‘That has to be some kind of joke.’

You lean over the table and take the envelope out of Jesper’s hands. You take another sip of your drink as you look at the seal on the back of it. Indeed, the Lantsov double eagle is on it. 

‘Nina.’ you say, turning to her next to you and handing her the envelope so she can look at it as well. ‘Do you have any idea as to why your king would send me a letter?’ 

Nina looks at the seal as well, running a finger over it. ‘I don’t know.’ she says. ‘But this looks like a legitimate seal, though. It’s on the ones I get as well. I don’t get a lot of them, but I do recognise that seal. This isn’t a fake.’

She hands it back to you and your flip it over in your hand. When you look up, you see all three of your friends looking at you. 

‘Why would he send me a letter, though?’ you wonder out loud. ‘And how does he even know I exist? Or where to find me?’

‘Well, after all, you are a merchant’s daughter.’ says Jesper.

‘Shh!’ you quickly say. ‘We’re still in the Crow Club, Jes!’

Jesper quickly apologises, looking around to see if anyone heard him. But the people around you are too caught up in their own drinks and games to have heard anything you were saying. 

‘But why would the king of Ravka keep track of Kerch merchants? He only approaches the merchant council for loans. And if he needs to contact them, he sends letters directly to the members of the council.’ you say. 

‘Well, you won’t know until you open it.’ says Nina. ‘Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t even know you.’

‘You’ve got a point.’ you say. ‘And I can’t deny I'm curious.’

Slowly, you open the envelope, pulling out a short letter. You’re well aware of all of their eyes on you as you read the message.

“Dear miss Y/F/N Y/L/N,

My name is Nikolai Lantsov (as you probably would have guessed upon seeing the wax seal on the envelope), I’ll spare the ink and not name all of my titles. Though my triumvirate would like me to. 

I am writing you to tell you I am hosting a ball, one week from now, at the Grand Palace in Os Alta, Ravka. You are hereby invited to attend said ball, at the end of which I will choose a bride.

I await your response, and I promise there will be good wine.

Yours sincerely,

King Nikolai Lantsov, of Ravka”

You read the letter over and over again, trying to get the words to sink in. Nikolai Lantsov himself wrote you an invitation. To a ball at the Grand Palace. And he’d choose a bride. Someone to be his queen.

You snort and throw the letter on the table.

‘Well, that was interesting to read.’ you say.

Jesper moves to pick up the letter, but Nina is faster. Wylan and Jesper lean in closer, and she softly reads the letter out loud. You see looks of surprise and confusion on their faces as Nina reads the letter.

When she’s done, they all look at you in confusion. You chuckle and take the letter from Nina’s hands, folding it and tucking it in your pocket. 

‘Do you think I could sell this to the highest bidder?’ you say. ‘It’s got an authentic Lantsov signature on it.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’ says Jesper.

You look at him. ‘You don’t seriously think I’ll go?’ you say.

‘Duh!’ says Jesper. ‘Why not? Y/N, this is a king. And he’s inviting you to a ball. You could become queen!’

‘I have no intention of becoming queen.’ you say, finishing your drink. ‘Besides, I don’t want to leave Ketterdam.’

‘I bet Os Alta is a whole lot nicer than Ketterdam, though.’ says Wylan.

‘And have a servant do every little thing for me? Eat the finest food all day every month? Go to balls and war meetings? No thank you.’ you say.

‘Why do you talk about it as if it’s a bad thing?’ says Wylan.

‘Because I told you, I have no intention of going to a ball and becoming queen. If you’re asking me, I think writing that letter was a waste of ink and paper.’ you tell them. ‘Besides, if he’s smart, he’s going to marry a Fjerdan or Shu princess to establish an alliance. Even if I wanted to go, there’s no way he’d pick an ordinary Kerch merchant’s daughter to be his queen.’

‘A word of advice?’ says Nina. 

You look at her and motion for her to keep on talking. 

‘I’ve met Nikolai several times. He’s a good man. Would it really be that bad to even attend? You’re not agreeing to marrying him, you’re just going to a ball. Why not give him a chance?’ she says.

‘Because I think balls are a waste of time. And money. And simply because I don’t want to play dress up and act like a perfect daughter.’ you say, getting up and putting on your coat.

‘At least think about it?’ says Nina.

‘For your sake, I will.’ you say. ‘I’ll even pretend like I haven’t made my decision yet.’

‘It’ll be great for your reputation!’ says Jesper as you move through the crowd toward the door.

‘I’m not going to Os Alta!’ you yell at him over your shoulder. When you’re at the door, you wave goodbye at them and head outside. It’s a particular cold night, and you wrap your coat tighter around you and pull your hood further down.

Somehow the invitation feels like lead as it sits in your pocket. So Nikolai Lantsov himself invited you to the Grand Palace. Though you’re flattered, you’ve already made up your mind. 

You’re not going to Os Alta. After all, what could be waiting for you there that you couldn’t find in Ketterdam? You’ve got very good friends here, plenty of kruge, and you live in a mansion. 

Surely Os Alta couldn’t offer you more than that?

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[miraculouscontent]

Kagami and Marinette deserve so much better.

Anyway, let’s just start literally where this episode starts, because it makes no sense. Remember back in my “Truth” critique where I basically said that the episode seemed like it’d been shoved through multiple drafts and no one checked the final one?

Same applies here.

Like--okay, ”Truth” and “Lies” take place at roughly the same time, which means that the same filler akuma/sentimonsters appear to interrupt Adrimi’s moments just as they did with Lukanette’s, giving its audience a clear timeline of how the episodes line up. The reason this is important is because the writers can’t even keep consistency within singular episodes and then honestly thought that they could do it within two.

“Lies” begins with Marinette talking to Tikki about the grimoire, because apparently she has the non-translated version and there’s a secret to figuring out the code that Tikki believes Marinette will discover eventually.

...Alright, I’m derailing here but I have to add how absolutely stupid Fu was when dealing with translating the grimoire. He was supposed to teach Marinette how to be guardian, yet he didn’t teach her how to read the grimoire (if there’s supposedly a “secret” to it, is he really going to bank on Marinette figuring it out herself eventually instead of just giving it to her and avoid the risk altogether??), kept the translated pages on his tablet without sending them to Marinette as he deciphered them, and took time to write a letter to her in “Miracle Queen” but left no guardian-centric advice for her to work off of, meaning that Tikki had to explain how the Miracle Box worked to Marinette back in “Truth.”

The show goes out of its way constantly to turn everything against Marinette even if it makes all the characters around her look either incompetent or cruel. It’s not that I’m not used to this by now but it’s just infuriating that it keeps trying to raise the stakes and tension when Marinette made such a tiny mistake to cause the issue in the first place, and now we find out that Fu had no back-up plan or strategy, apparently expecting this 14-year-old girl to act perfectly and cover for him.

And of course, instead of leaving the scene off on Marinette being encouraged by Tikki and Marinette showing confidence in herself (i.e: what would’ve been a nice scene), the kwami accidentally fumble with the keyboard in such a way to have Marinette’s computer bring up  a news story about Adrien, which leads to Marinette leaning towards her computer and sighing over Adrien and his “amazing life.”

Can I just point out how annoying it is that all the Adrienette moments so far on Marinette’s end have been forced, not just in general (because we’re used to that), but literally forced by the plot so Marinette would talk about him or other characters would bring Adrien up?

“Truth” had Alya insult Marinette to her face over her Adrien crush because Marinette was freaking over something non-Adrien related that they couldn’t have known about, Luka was sent a no-context picture of Marinette’s Adrien wall which led to him lowkey teasing her about it, and then Truth was forced to listen to Marinette’s friends and Tom babble about Marinette’s supposed crush on Adrien even when Truth points out that it’s not a secret, making the “joke” fall absolutely flat.

And now “Lies” comes along and has the kwami drop things and step on the keyboard in the exact way to pull up Adrien stuff for Marinette to fawn over. It’s at this point I’m realizing that - had the kwami stayed inside the box or just not been around in general - Marinette literally wouldn’t have brought up Adrien at all in either “Truth” or “Lies” and now I’m sad. I really don’t want to have a counter for “episodes where Marinette wouldn’t have so much as breathed Adrien’s name if the kwami/someone else wasn’t there to force it.”

So yeah, the episode had to force Adrienette into its Adrimi episode because the show can’t go five minutes without reminding the audience that Adrien exists even though this episode is primarily from his point of view, made worse by this scene’s lack of ability to exist.

See, from the timeline in “Lies” lining up with “Truth,” there is no possible way for this opening scene with Marinette talking about guardian stuff and then fawning over Adrien to happen. There’s an akuma scene in “Lies” that literally is just copy-pasted from “Truth” (it actually does this again with another scene later but that’s not important right now), so that means anything that takes place before said scene in both “Truth” and “Lies” have to line up.

Except they can’t. The akuma scene in question interrupts Marinette’s movie date with Luka in “Truth,” and before that, she had just opened the Miracle Box, wrangled up the kwami, talked to the girl squad over video call, talked to Luka, and then immediately had to leave. There are no cuts or wiggle room anywhere in there.

Therefore, the scene in “Lies” is impossible. Either the scene is supposed to go elsewhere in the episode (we don’t actually know how many days it takes up so it’s hard to say on that front) which just makes the episode even more convoluted, or this means that one would have to pick between the scene in “Truth” and the scene in “Lies” because they literally cannot co-exist.

“Lies” was supposed to coincide with “Truth” and they messed it up in the first scene of the episode.

Then comes Adrien himself, who really shows the series’ clunkiness in focusing on other characters. It’s not that I’m against the show moving away from Marinette to show other people’s point-of-view (I definitely didn’t complain during the Couffaine sibling scene in “Reflekdoll”), but Adrien cannot carry his own episode.

In Marinette’s opening scene, we immediately got details on the grimoire and lore about how reading it actually worked. I didn’t like it and it wasn’t good, but it was new information.

Adrien, meanwhile, spends a large portion of the episode being sad (a very grand and unique plot, my dudes) and giving us information we already know. “Truth” has to come first because “Lies” is half of a follow-up on it, meaning that the audience is already aware that Ladybug has been forgetful and has had to miss out on patrols. It’s just that now we get to see Chat Noir sulking about it and--okay, I am just going to go off, alright?

Firstly, Chat Noir tells Ladybug later on that he “understands” her guardian duties, but he previously mocked her behind her back by using air quotes when he was talking to her answering machine (since she obviously wouldn’t see that). We saw in “Truth” where he admitted that he doesn’t mind her being guardian “as long as it doesn’t change their relationship,” and that’s on display right here with his comments.

Not only is it extremely disrespectful, but for someone who claims to be so loyal and understanding to Ladybug, he sure doesn’t show it.

Secondly, he leaves her a message about how he’ll take care of patrol, then proceeds to slack off because she’s not there to keep him in check. He sulks around Paris, mumbling about how Ladybug isn’t around and constantly checking his messages to see if she’s replied to him. Chat Noir has shown his “priorities” in terms of heroism before, but patrol isn’t supposed to be about getting time with “““his lady”““ yet that is clearly all he cares about. He even ends the patrol unprompted, either giving up or just generally having not finished, because I don’t believe that the “end” of patrol just happened to be at the place Kagami was.

Patrol is about protecting Paris and scoping things out. Ladybug is trusting him to pick up the slack when she’s not around and he should be picking up slack, yet he has completely failed on that front. This is made worse when considering that the Season 3 finale had Ladybug breaking down to him from guilt and we know that Marinette had a breakdown before that to Luka, yet Chat is doing nothing to lighten Ladybug’s burden, putting up a falsehood on Ladybug’s answering machine to make him look better than he actually is.

Then, thirdly and most importantly/infuriatingly, Chat Noir knows that Ladybug is busy and he knows that she’s taking on a new responsibility, yet he not only jabs at her for “how hurtful it is when she leaves him to patrol alone” (one, cry me a river, and two, I don’t care if it’s a joke, it’s insensitive), but before that scene, he was actively hoping for people to get akumatized so Ladybug would be forced to show up and he could spend time with her. He egged Xavier Ramier on, even asking him if he “missed being Mister Pigeon,” and then looked on with glee as Chloe bullied Sabrina because he thought that an akumatization might happen.

And this is on top of so many other issues with this whole scene. Adrien complains all the time about his schedule and how restrictive his father is, but suddenly - in the episode right after Marinette had to break up with her boyfriend due to her cramped schedule - is lounging around and wasting time. It hurts to see Marinette suffering from all of her responsibilities while Chat’s biggest problem is how little time he gets with Ladybug.

Also, another point on Mister Pigeon is that that’s the akuma that had interrupted Marinette’s movie date and kiss with Luka. I’m not suggesting that Chat egging Xavier on led to him getting akumatized, but I am saying that Chat wanting akuma to happen with no regard for Ladybug’s happiness is yet another point on the list of why I hate the love square. Marinette genuinely forgot about patrol with him - genuinely was forgetting about everything, really - and as a “punishment,” her own partner whined, didn’t patrol properly, and egged on an akumatization that eventually ended up happening which then broke up the little bit of happiness that the universe was allowing her to have.

Oh, and did I mention that he’s also dating Kagami at the time as well because here we freaking go.

Now, I did not get on Marinette’s case for her Adrien wall and stammering because Luka is largely aware of where she stands in the relationship and she only brought Adrien up when someone else did, even when Luka wasn’t around or being mentioned. Adrien, however, I have multiple bones to pick with, starting with how utterly needy he is for Ladybug’s attention.

This guy has tons of friends, all these fans, and could get people to flock to him whether in or out of the mask, but he wants Ladybug, and anyone not Ladybug isn’t good enough. There’s a scene later in the episode where Kagami - his girlfriend, mind you - is pouring her heart out to him, and he gets distracted by Ladybug instead of listening to her. Even when he excuses the distraction, he then gets distracted again even though Ladybug is no longer in the background.

Lying to protect his identity is one thing, but what Adrien does to Kagami goes beyond that. He’s pining after and flirting with another girl and Kagami has no idea. She’s speculated before that Adrien likes Marinette, but she’s mostly left in the dark because Adrien hasn’t told her anything, nor has he confirmed with her whether it’s okay or not for him to flirt with other girls so long as he’s not pursuing them. He could’ve admitted that he was in love with Ladybug but that he wants to try things with Kagami, but he refuses to open up to her or put himself out there.

Except, he technically does, once, when Kagami tells him to pose for her and he strikes his transformation stance, but he caught her completely off-guard and it’s no wonder why she was put off by it or thought it was unnatural. Not only that, but when Kagami tells him that he’s acting like a clown in that scene, we can see by jumping back to “Truth” that Chat Noir fished for Ladybug’s compliments which then led to a line about him talking about how Ladybug enjoyed him acting like a clown; a direct connection.

Kagami didn’t validate him, so he fished for Ladybug to do so because Ladybug was both forced to answer the question and wasn’t able to lie to him. The show has Ladybug state that her most preferred trait of his is his humor but I am certainly not laughing.

Chat Noir even goes further after the fight with Truth (so another copy-pasted scene) by saying that he has the most fun with Ladybug specifically, and this is all while he’s still dating.

Then this guy has the gall to talk during his break-up about how his fun times with Kagami weren’t lies after apologizing to her for his constant lying, as if he’s trying to earn her sympathy when we know that he’s been pining after Ladybug and flirting with her like she were his number one when he already had a girlfriend waiting for him (and who, by the way, had covered for him earlier and was sitting sadly on a staircase outside, feeling abandoned). The episode presents the break-up as if Adrien’s problem was the fact that he had to constantly lie to Kagami due to being busy with hero work (which is already dumb when we also saw him lounging around and complaining about how nothing was happening, meaning he was inadvertently supportive of the idea of having less time with Kagami and more time with Ladybug even if that means Paris is in danger), but the real problem ends up being that Adrien neglected Kagami emotionally and wasn’t able to give her the attention she wanted.

It’s both sad and annoying that Adrien has always sulked about his dad not paying attention to him and then we get Adrien not paying attention to Kagami, looking for Ladybug when Ladybug had already left and Kagami is trying to tell him something very important.

This is what I mean when I say that Adrien can’t carry an episode on his own. He’s incredibly selfish and most of his dialog just involves him complaining about Ladybug or making excuses. Kagami carried the episode more than he did because more details were revealed about her - specifically the fact that she likes drawing - and she’s active in making things happen (being the one to make the excuse to set up their fencing lessons, deciding what they’ll do with their hour of free time, etcetera).

And regardless of what girl he’s interacting with, Adrien can’t respect either of them. I just talked about Kagami and I’ve already talked about how he treats Ladybug when she’s not even around, but now we get to how he treats Ladybug when she is around.

During the climax of the fight with Lies, where Ladybug requires a distraction to safely pull off her lucky charm, Chat Noir decides - without Ladybug’s input - to sacrifice himself yet again.

I have to stress that Ladybug is stressed and Chat has always talked about her plans and listening to her, yet he has a horrible habit of making decisions all on his own and letting Ladybug deal with the fallout. Whenever he has the chance, he’ll throw himself in front of her and take the big hit, presumably with the mindset that Miraculous Ladybug will fix everything so it’s not like it matters.

Ladybug even shouts at him when he hints at what he’s about to do and there was absolutely time for them to talk about it, but Chat Noir just lets himself fall and be bait, even throwing out what is a clear confession (again, while he’s still dating someone else) before he’s knocked unconscious by Lies’ power.

And when Ladybug yells at him for it when everything’s said and done, pounding at his chest and looking absolutely upset over the whole thing? He not only brushes her off, but he boops her nose and talks about how “irresistable” her “angry little pout” is.

He might as well have just said, “you’re cute when you’re angry,” because that’s exactly what he’s implying; that Ladybug’s anger is something “amusing” to him and not something he takes seriously. We’ve already seen it before in “Reflekdoll” and “Oblivio” as well, so this is just a continuation of already-annoying behavior.

Then, instead of Ladybug getting even angrier for it, the episode has her smile at him, which not only isn’t a normal reaction compared to how she’s reacted before, but now gives the impression that she’s being conditioned by the narrative to accept Chat Noir’s behavior in whatever shape or form it takes.

Because think about it: regardless of how upset Ladybug gets over Chat Noir, it never works out for her and she’s forced to either make up with him quickly or just get over it because she can’t be fighting with her partner (meanwhile, like in “Glaciator,” Chat Noir can be as upset as he wants and she’ll apologize first). She presumably would now have the authority to take away his ring by virtue of being guardian, but he’s also been her partner from the beginning and he’s had so much time to get used to the cat. Most likely, she would sooner blame herself for failing to reign him in than blame him for failing as an adequate partner.

There’s nothing she can do. She has to deal with the hand that she’s been dealt and getting angry at him has done nothing; rejecting him has done nothing.

And of course the episode throws everything under the rug in the ending with an insulting LadyNoir scene where Ladybug and Chat Noir talk about the secrets their forced to keep but also how they can trust each other.

Meanwhile, Ladybug has no idea of all the things Chat Noir has done behind her back. She still has no clue about “Copycat,” nor “Syren,” nor any of the stuff he did in this episode that she’ll probably never know about. Factor it in with “Miraculous New York” (whether one considers it canon or not) where she rightfully shouted at him because he betrayed her trust, and here we are one and a half episodes later (since “Truth” and “Lies” take place at similar times) where suddenly they’re all buddy-buddy and Chat Noir doesn’t have to deal with any consequences to his selfishness.

I’m glad that Kagami didn’t forgive Adrien in the end (even if I’m upset that she doesn’t know how bad it really was) because she had every right to walk away and not want to be friends with him. I only wish that Ladybug could do the same thing and never look back, but due to the love square’s status as endgame, we know that can’t happen, and Ladybug will eventually be forced to fall in love with a guy who mocked her responsibilities behind her back, disrespected her authority by opting to tease/flirt with her, continued pursuing her despite her rejections, and hoped for Paris to be in danger just so he could see her.

And... yeah, that hurts. It really does.

[ibijau]

Concubine nhs pt6 / on AO3

“What if you lived here,” the emperor says as he peppers with kisses the crook of Nie Huaisang’s neck. “I could arrange to give you quarters of your own. You’d get to spend your time as you please, you’d only see the people you want to see, and it’d be easier to be together.”

Nie Huaisang hums, tracing patterns on the other man’s sweaty back, enjoying the warmth and closeness. He’s never actually complained against Nie Funyu, but the emperor might have picked up on his reluctance whenever it’s time to go home. Or maybe he didn’t notice, and just wishes to have him more at his disposition. They’ve counted themselves lucky when they could see each other once a week in the nearly two months since they’ve become lovers. The emperor is often busy during the day, and worries too much about Nie Huaisang’s reputation to make him stay at night. He doesn’t want the Nies to get the wrong idea, he’s explained, even if in this case the wrong idea would be the right one.

It’s sweet of him. The emperor would probably be horrified to learn that Nie Funyu has given him spring books, ‘for inspiration’, and encouraged him to ask for advice to Meng Yao, whose mother was a courtesan.

There are many things the emperor doesn’t need to know.

At least, the war against the Wens seems to be going well. Nie Mingjue has captured a strategic city already… though the Wens apparently have shown signs that they might attack the lands under Jiang Fengmian’s protection, and if they succeed that could be a serious threat to commerce. Nie Huaisang has spent a couple of sleepless nights peering over maps, trying to guess what his brother’s strategy might be. They might need to rely on the armies that are under Jin Guangshan’s command, which won’t be pleasant because he’s a prick and difficult to work with, but his son is engaged to the young lady Jiang, so maybe…

“Huaisang, what do you think then?” the emperor asks, rising on one elbow to look at his lover’s face. “About living here?”

“I think your uncle won’t like it.”

“This isn’t about him, and I’ll deal with him if needed. Do you like it?”

A home of his own wouldn’t be unpleasant, Nie Huaisang figures. It would make it harder for people to order him around, and he wouldn’t have to report everything he does when he’s alone with the emperor. On the downside, it means being forced to follow protocol and learn a whole new set of rules to avoid getting in trouble in the imperial palace, where people are ever so attentive to rank and constantly plotting for their own schemes. It also means losing Meng Yao, the only friend he’s managed to make since coming to the capital.

“I don’t want people to think of you badly,” Nie Huaisang says, and means it. He doesn’t like hearing the emperor insulted. “They’ll say you brought in a servant’s son as your whore when you won’t even take a wife.”

“I don’t want a wife, I want you,” the emperor replies with such sincerity that Nie Huaisang can only smile at him and steal a kiss. The emperor allows that kiss, but ends it before it can turn heated, an air of concern on his face. “If you don’t want to live here, just say no.”

“Hm.”

“But if you’re scared of what people might say, then I’ll make this as official as can be. I can’t take you as my wife, but there have been male concubines in the past. You’d have every honour that I can bestow upon you, a monthly allowance, your own quarters, as many servants as you’d like… People would owe you the same respect they’d owe anyone else in my household.”

That’s probably not as much respect as the emperor thinks. Having lived so much of his life as a servant, Nie Huaisang has overheard a lot of gossip and is only too aware of what people say about that sort of situation. He’s heard his father chat  with his guests about the many whore of their good friend Jin Guangshan, or share stories about the old emperor and his tragic romance that elicited more laughter than compassion. 

And that’s just what nobles share among themselves. Servants are just as ruthless when talking about their masters. Nie Huaisang knows what people said about his father for taking a pretty servant girl into his bed a whole winter, even talking about marrying when she became pregnant, before eventually sending her back to her old job after deciding he didn’t want to divide Nie Mingjue’s inheritance. If Nie Mingjue himself hadn’t become fond of his bastard brother and insisted on seeing him legitimised... and people gossip about that, too.

People are mean.

“What if you change your mind about me?” Nie Huaisang asks.

The emperor looks sad and brings a hand to Nie Huaisang cheek, caressing his face with unbearable tenderness.

“I won’t. I’m sure about the way I feel.”

Nie Huaisang says nothing. People are always sure at first, always ready to say whatever it takes to get a pretty little thing in their bed, until someone prettier comes around and catches their attention…

But the emperor isn’t people. He’s someone who means what he says, and his every action make it clear that this isn’t just about sex. He’s so genuinely happy when they’re chatting, when they’re playing a game, when he gets to make Nie Huaisang try some new food. Even today the emperor was more interested in painting together, and they probably wouldn’t have made love if Nie Huaisang hadn’t seduced him.

Nie Funyu scolded him after the one visit that didn’t end up in bed, accusing him of not putting in the effort, of being selfish, of risking his brother’s life by not giving in to the emperor’s every whims. So now, Nie Huaisang is careful, even though he’s half sure he doesn’t need to be.

The emperor is not like other men.

It’d be easier if he were. It’d be just a transaction, which Meng Yao says is the best way to deal with those situations. When feelings get involved, things become messy, he said, and made Nie Huaisang promise not to do something stupid like falling in love.

It might be too late for that, but Nie Huaisang promised anyway.

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s fine,” the emperor says when Nie Huaisang has been silent for too long. “Just know that I’m willing to give this to you. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to run away with you,” Nie Huaisang replies too fast. “Far away from here, and hide from everyone we’ve ever known.”

The emperor sits up, a sad smile on his lips. It’s unfair that he’s beautiful even when he’s sad.

It unfair that Nie Huaisang can’t have the only thing he really wants.

“What about your brother?”

Nie Huaisang stretches, and wrinkles his nose. It’s getting late, he realises, looking through the window. He needs to wash and get dressed so he can leave. He doesn’t want to.

“I guess Mingming is allowed to visit us sometimes. But only if he’ll keep the secret.”

With a short laugh, the emperor takes Nie Huaisang’s hand and helps him sit up as well, before stealing a kiss.

“And my brother?”

“I don’t know. Would you miss him?”

“Very much so.”

“Then he can visit as well,” Nie Huaisang generously allows. “In fact, he can even live with us, but he’ll have to do his share of work. Can he hunt?”

“Wangji is a strict vegetarian.”

“So what? Plenty of people eat meat who can’t hunt. He could hunt and not eat meat. I’ve heard people say he’s amazing with a bow. If he lives with us, he can go hunt for rare furs, that will make us some nice money. I can sell my services as an accountant or something of the sort. And you… well, you can just stay home and write poetry, you’re good at that.”

“A kind way to say I don’t have any useful skill!” the emperor complains, pulling him close for a kiss that’s more laughter than anything else. 

For a moment, Nie Huaisang thinks that the kiss will lead to more, but the emperor is too serious and reasonable for that. Instead he gets a soft towel to clean Nie Huaisang’s body until the only traces of their lovemaking are a few red bites. They both have other things to do. The emperor must lead his people, and Nie Huaisang must humiliate himself by sharing more than he’d like about his intimate life with his father's cousin.

As they both get dressed, the emperor chats quietly, trying to figure out when they might be together again. There are some important celebrations coming up, and he needs to hear the grievances of a great number of officials and supplicants because of the trouble caused by the Wens. It probably will be two weeks before he can make time again, if not more.

Two weeks feels like a very long time. Not only will Nie Huaisang miss the emperor, but he’ll have to deal with his cousin’s temper, who is sure to be upset by this long pause in their acquaintance.

“Xichen, I’ve decided what I want,” Nie Huaisang says as he finishes tying his robes. The emperor looks at him with a puzzled air, as if he’s already forgotten what they were talking about. Then, as he remembers, his expression turns hopeful, so much that Nie Huaisang can only smile. “I want to live here, with you. As your concubine, your servant, your whore, I don’t care, I just want…”

He can’t finish, because the emperor crosses the distance between them and kisses him as if his life depends on it. 

They do end up making love again after all. The entire time, the emperor swears he’ll take care of Nie Huaisang, that he’ll protect him, that he loves him,  that they’ll be happy. Life isn’t that simple, but Nie Huaisang can pretend that it is. It’d be nice to be happy.

In his next letter, Father says that the emperor has written to him about taking Nie Huaisang as his concubine, and sent a contract draft regarding that offer. Father then congratulates Nie Huaisang for tricking the emperor so well, and forcing him to make his support of their family as official as if he’d married one of their daughters. That praise leaves him feeling dirty. The emperor is a good man, who doesn’t have to be tricked into doing what he thinks is right, and Nie Huaisang hates that this is how others see their relationship.

The best thing about going to live in the imperial palace, Nie Huaisang decides, is that Father won’t be able to write such cruel things anymore for fear the emperor might see it.

[quinnfabrayapologist]

What's the Dawn Dorland v Sonya Larson thing?

Simplified version below the cut or see the nytimes article on it here

Author Dawn Dorland donated a kidney and created a facebook page to talk about it, which she invited some writer friends to, including Sonya Larson. In the page Dorland posted a letter to whoever gets her kidney. Dorland went on to be an activist in favour of live organ donation and met the guy who received the kidney, all of which she posted on social media.

Larson doesn't react to the initial facebook post (the letter) so Dorland emails her to ask why she hasn't reacted. Larson replies that Dorland donating was nice and that's about it.

In 2016 Dorland hears that Larson is writing a story about a kidney transplant. She emails Larson about her topic choice. Larson replies that while it does involve a kidney transplant, it is not solely about that, but acknowledged that Dorland inspired the piece.

Dorland responds that she was surprised Larson didn't mention it as they're friends, and Larson replies that she didn't consider Dorland a friend. Dorland then messaged Larson (repeatedly) saying she feels hurt that Larson wrote about her without consent and spurned her friendship. Larson responds that no hurt was intended and that as a fellow writer Dorland should understand that real life inspires fiction constantly, and that again, it is not solely about a kidney transplant.

The piece itself, called The Kindest, is about a recurring character of Larson's called Chuntao. Chuntao, like Larson, is Asian-American. The Kindest features Chuntao, who is an alcoholic and has just been in a car accident, in need of a kidney. She receives a kidney from Rose. Rose is a live donor who is white and wealthy. In early drafts Rose was called Dawn. She writes Chuntao a letter that resembles the one that Dorland posted on facebook, asking to meet. It is shown that Rose is looking for Chuntao to basically worship her for giving her a kidney. Chuntao refuses to give in to Rose's white saviour complex and the story leaves both characters unredeemed, but Chuntao's actions are seen as more forgivable, while Rose is just objectively the worst.

Dorland reads The Kindest in 2018, sees herself in Rose, and then finds out that the story has been selected for a common-reads program and 30,000 copies are about to be sent around Boston. Dorland reaches out to the festival who are organising the program, the writing community Larson is part of, the centre who once gave Larson a scholarship, and The Boston Globe, among others, and when she gets a lawyer they send a cease-and-desist to the program to stop the copies being sent out.

Larson claims this is harassment, but offers to settle so she can publish, either with changes to the work, or with a financial settlement. Dorland refuses, asking for larger sums and for The Kindest to be retired (never published again). At one point she asked for a writing credit. She finds an earlier version of The Kindest online and the letter in this version is even closer to the one she posted on facebook. Larson states that Dorland is not Rose and vice versa, but Dorland is acting like the white saviour character she wrote, victimising herself and expecting to get a boost off a WOC's efforts.

Dorland plans to sue Larson for emotional distress but Larson files first as Larson's career is in jeopardy following the plagiarism claims and the book being cancelled. Dorland then files her emotional distress countersuit.

Earlier this year it came out that Larson had a group chat with several other authors and in 2016 she posted in the group chat that she was working on a draft of The Kindest that had Dorland's letter pretty much word for word and that she had to edit it but it was too "perfect" for the character of Rose. The group chat also included a lot of discussion of Dorland, saying she was "feeding off" the attention she was getting from her transplant, as well as concluding that while Dorland's behaviour served as a basis for the character of Rose, that doesn't mean that the story is about Dorland, as the focus is alcoholism and Asian American life, with the white saviour/organ donation being secondary.

During all of this, Dorland has continued to work to stop The Kindest being published and to prevent Larson having a platform, including lodging more complaints about her and attending panels that Larson has spoken at. She has also been contacting news outlets and asking them to write about their dispute.

Now they have another copyright case pending, where it will be determined if Larson's use of Dorland's letter constitutes plagiarism

Dorland contacted the New York Times and asked them to do an article on it, which brings us to now.

[koushisatori]

All you have to do is ask

It’s me again! This isn’t beta-read yet, but I’ll do so tomorrow after lunch!! But i need to get this out of my drafts asap and...well, here you go!!  Edit: 16.11.,13:10: I beta’ed it now and weeded out dumb mistakes (and made new ones, probably ) !  ♡ ～('▽^人)  

oikawa x f!reader

genre: small bit of angst, fluff

warnings: someone kinda trying to force themselves onto you??

word count: 3.4k

note: this was supposed to be a drabble, now look at what it turned out to be </3</blockquote>

____________________________________________________

Tooru was sure that he had saved at least thousands of people in his last life to deserve you liking him back

you didn’t play ‘’unreachable’’ but he had to out in some work for you

especially with his fan club being all over him all the damn time, 

but you never gave him any reason to doubt your intentions with him which is why he took wooing you very seriously

both of you actually spend a lot of time by just talking and getting to know each other due to that

for example: he liked taking you on cute little and spontaneous dates on volleyball-free afternoons and would then walk you home after

or on lunch breaks that you (at first) spend with him alone 

(sometimes he waits at your classroom door to pick you up if it’s manageable for him - aka if he’s not swarmed by people with confession letters)

later you both are consequently joined by Iwa, Mattsun, and Makki 

the last two loved teasing him with their ‘fun facts for lunch’

’’(Y/N)?’’ you hear Makki sing even before you can see any of the other three. next to you, Tooru groans in advance 

’’Did you know that ‘Kawa can reach a g’’ as soon as he’s eye to eye with an insect larger than your pinky finger?’’ the strawberry haired boy says, mattsun next to him wagging his eyebrows 

the professional that you are easily suppresses a grin, you merely chuckle amused 

’’Who isn’t afraid of bugs larger than that? There are way smaller things that could kill you!’’ you exclaim with wide eyes ‘’...and I’ll gladly channel all my bravery and…’’ you look around before leaning forward, the two boys following your example, intrigued by the secretive expression on your face ‘’…annihilate everything and everyone that might scare Tooru or make fun of hi’’ – ‘’WOAH, (Y/N)-‘’

they had tried to flirt with you just to fuck with Oikawa (so with no real intention) but they had to realize rather quickly that this was a hopeless task – you couldn’t tell that people were flirting with you unless they spelled it out

(literally that one meme;   you: ’’were you flirting with me, Tooru?’’ Tooru: did for the past half-year, thanks for noticing tho <3’’)

Don’t worry you know the setter well enough by now to be able to tell when he does, and really - only Tooru’s flirting matters to you

it also makes you blush furiously, now that you truly get it, but we’re not talking about that

Iwaizumi took you to the side one day while you were waiting for Oikawa to finish his training

he asked you sternly if you were sure that you would be able to handle days, weekends, and sometimes weeks in which Tooru would unintentionally prioritize Volleyball over you

said, that you had to find a balance on the fine line that was leaving him be with his training and stopping him from overexertion (and really ruining his knee)

after assuring that yeah, you would because you genuinely liked him, volleyball obsession and all, and that wanted to be with him, Iwa let go of any rest reservations he had had against you and joined the general teasing

Okay, moving on

as soon as his and your interest in each other became clear, you kept a clear distance from other males (and females, ‘yer that desired, as you should btw)

if they pushed it, you unmistakable stated that you’re not interested in other advances because you liked someone

Like??? Oikawa really just had to say the magic words at this point, you'd say yes in an instant

for god's sake tf is he waiting for?!!

despite you being obvious with your interest in the setter and disinterest in everyone else regarding this you constantly get approached by admirers

some people need it spelled out that you mean what you say, honestly

A thing Tooru liked so much about you was your kindness, but it also was the reason that - as already said - some people still thought they might have a chance

it’s not your fault, your natural charm is like...the 8th wonder of the world!!

due to your impeccable behavior and perfect grades, you obviously were the teachers’ favorite student to pick to help out other students

cue to: oh, look!! you're chosen again *sigh*

up until now, the tutoring never bugged Tooru too much, it was more like an itch he couldn’t scratch

but usually, they weren’t after school (giving up your lunch break, you’re a hero) and never awoke any rumors

your latest ’student’ seemed to think that he was close to ’’winning you over’’, though, that you were secretly but undeniably head over heels for him by now

’’I’ve heard that he plans on asking (Y/N) out today!’’ - ‘’No way! Even with Oikawa-Senpai obviously being interested in her?’’ - ‘’Yes!’’ - ‘’Death wish~’’

Tooru had to hear it in between classes and while he trusted you (and the last comment made him chuckle a bit), this was not the case for that guy

You: go home after class, Tooru, I need to give another tutoring session :(

of course, he wanted to hear none of that, especially with the hushed words fresh in his mind

meanwhile, you vividly imagined his annoyed expression reading it and the cute little huffing sound; you couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself </3

Tooru Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→: I’ll wait for you, (Y/N)-chan, Iwa-chan and me wanted to try out something anyway (^.~)☆

Tooru Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→: also, I waited to try out the sweets at the patisserie for too long to not eat my weight in cake twice today, so you better hurry if you want me to share with you

His answer clearly stating: I will wait for you, don’t take too long

Okay, maybe he was a bit jealous 

that this guy gets a reward – another hour with you alone - for being stupid ?? it obviously fed into a crazy fantasy and it was unfair

Oikawa reminded himself that he had no reason to be jealous, especially since he had yet to ask you out and make it official

(it had to be perfect and cute just like you, okay? no rom-com was able to prepare him for the real thing!!)

training – for the first time in years – dragged on endlessly

his mind kept wandering, and after the first 5 volleyballs to the head, courtesy of a very annoyed Iwaizumi, said one took matters into his own hands dragging his sulking best friend out of the gym

‘’If you’re jealous, Shittykawa, then fucking confess already.’’ Iwaizumi says with his no-bullshit voice, letting go of Tooru's jacket. 

While it was obvious that Oikawa is, in fact, super fucking jealous, he chuckles and puts on an easy smile. ‘’Silly Iwa-chan! I’m not- OUCH!’’ The brunet yelps, holding the back of his head and looking at his childhood friend with a pout. 

‘’First of all, fuck you, Shittykawa, for thinking I’m falling for your dumb act.’’ The ace growls, narrowing his eyes. ’’(Y/N) is a beautiful girl. Of course, Extras try to get close to and confess to her, you morron.’’ The spiky-haired let’s out a tsk-sound, seeing Tooru’s wide eyes. ‘’I at least hope you are aware that she is waiting for you to ask her out officially, right? It’s literally on you to put your foot over the line between a girl friend and your girlfriend. But if you take too long, she’ll eventually be fed up with waiting…so why in hell are you stalling?’’ Iwaizumi huffs, crossing his buff arms over his chest.

With a shrug, Oikawa looks up to the sky before his gaze travels down to settle on his feet, shuffling from side to side. ‘’I’m scared that making it official will do more harm than good, Hajime. She never said something else but…is she really fine with me forgetting basic things over Volleyball? Or will she leave me after a while like my last girlfriend? Because she realized Damn, he’s really into volleyball. I also don’t want to hurt (Y/N) by asking her to be mine and then…being me and screw everything up again.’’ Tooru whispers quietly, trying to hide the vulnerability while intentionally avoiding his best friends eyes. 

‘’You’re dumb, Tooru.’’ 

Well…that’s not what he was expecting Iwaizumi to do or say. A punch against his upper arm or chest maybe, or a kick to the shin – always with love but still painful enough to get the message across. But not a soft-voiced statement paired with a sigh. 

‘’I hate...’’ Iwaizumi says, waving his hand up and down. ‘’...why do I have to do...the emotionally charged pep talk.’’ He grumbles, pulling his hand over his face before he looks up directly into Oikawa’s insecure but also curious eyes.

’’You might not be aware of it, but things already are different compared to last time. (Y/N) does not just accept your passion, but supports you fully. With the amount of time she spends on the bench doing her homework and cheering for everyone when we do training's matches, while remembering our schedules and matches, she’s practically an inofficial second manager. By any means, she’s a perfect match to your madness, it’s scary.’’ he jokes, thinking of all the small things you do for his best friend that - in the end - make him trust you even more.

‘’But…what might be more important to you right now is that you’re not behaving like last time as well. You still are so freaking stupid and overexert yourself…but you check up on her whenever you take a water break. If it's asking in person or sending her a message. You make sure to have at least two free afternoons where you spend time with each other, which is two days more than you did last time by the way. You have that stupidly dopey smile on your face when you see Y/N. I mean…nothing ever breaks your focus after you set foot on the field and yet here we are, standing outside because all you do is mope around instead of playing!’’ The spiky-haired player huffs.

After a moment of silence, Tooru cries out an ‘’Iwa-chan, you do love me!’’ while draping himself over his best friend. ‘’Oi, Trashykawa!’’ the other protests with a fake angry voice, yet hugging the other back for a second before he pushes him off nonetheless. 

‘’Okay, now move your ass, the pinning you two are doing is a pain to witness.’’ Iwa says accusatory before going back into the gym, leaving Oikawa to make a decision. 

Hurrying through the gym to the changing rooms, Tooru nearly makes it out unseen until Yahaba is half asking, half yelling from the other side of the hall. ‘’Oikawa-san, where are you going?’’ 

With a wide grin and his signature peace sign (it’s for his own emotional support here, okay, his nerves are killing him), the Captain turns around to announce ‘’I’m finally getting myself a girlfriend!’’ before he quickly leaves his hollering teammates. 

(Oikawa was quite sure to hear Mattsun yell something like ‘All of you! Pay up!’ and Kyoutani muttering an ‘I’m leaving.’ somewhere in his vicinity.)

5 Minutes later, the brunet looks through all the classrooms in the hallway you should be in, teaching a good for nothing that was adamant about trying to steal you away from him. Tsk. 

Right after turning around the corner, Tooru hears a dull thud, followed up by a soft gasp that made his insides churn uncomfortably. That it’s immediately followed by a low, deep voice doesn’t help at all with calming Oikawas heart beat. He slowly creeps closer to the slightly ajar door to the room with the treacherous sounds. The soft whimper following was unmistakably you, and his heart suddenly felt like it was on the verge of breaking for a second.

Should he turn around and leave? Perhaps Iwaizumi was right with you being tired of waiting for him. Maybe you were tired and accepted someone else? 

Luckily, a gruff inner voice growls – surprisingly sounding like his best friend – and mentally slaps him. You never gave him a reason to doubt your affection! And if he had to fight for your affection then so it be! Also, you wouldn’t engage in something inappropriate out in public. There was a 99,9% chance of him misinterpreting everything due to his own insecurities, and you being uncomfrotable right now. Unacceptable. 

With his resolve strengthened again, the setter finally takes the last steps over to the door. Standing there, he finally could understand the words being spoken. Oikawa suddenly had a presentiment of what was happening inside.

Meanwhile, you were struggling unceasingly. ’’It…it is flattering that you…that you like me, honestly!! And…there are surely many other girls that would feel honored to be confessed to by you, but I like someone else, I’m sorry. Please, accept my choice!’’ you say, damming your voice for shaking and underminding your own statement.

’’Ah, ah, pretty girl, it’s not nice to lie.’’ the guy in front of you chuckles. The usage of such a pet name makes you cringe in disgust. There’s only one person allowed to give you tese kind of names. ‘’I know you like me, too. You with your cute little blush when you talk to me and lingering soft touches-‘’ 

A scandalized sound of protest leaves your lips. You were just short of stomping your foot. ’’I did no such thing! I-’’ But as before, your words meet a seemingly deaf ear. 

’’I will be the best boyfriend a pretty girl like you could ever wish for.’’ Moving closer, the guy slowly backs you up until you meet the chalkboard behind you. ’’Come on, give in.’’ He murmurs, hitting his hand against the board next to your head, which forces a scared whimper out of you. ‘’I’m all you need.’’

Stepping into the room, Tooru couldn’t believe his eyes and ears,. The blood in his veins slowly but surely starts to boil. 

’’Please, let me leave! I told you, I am not interested. I am with-’’ You plea softly, one hand pressed against the guys’ chest to stop him from coming any closer, – did he really try to kabedon you against the chalkboard? - while your other was hidden from his view. Even though you were trying your best, the distance between the two of you was insultingly sparse, the guy making up for the lack bodily closeness in general by leaning forward enough for your faces to be separated by only a few inches. You could probably feel his breath on your face. Tooru really felt like punching the guy.

’’What’s so special about the pretty boy anyway? He has many girls running after him to choose from, let me have you. I’ll treat you better! I have so much free time and I would spend all of it on you. Let me take you out for a coffee, pretty girl, or dinner. Hm? I’ll prove my words directly. I mean…he hasn’t even asked you out! It’s unfair how he is keeping you on the back burner, stringing you along. To you…’’ suddenly the boy moves closer, lowering his voice to a sultry murmur ‘’…and to m-‘’ 

’’That’s enough.’’ Oikawa says, his tone icy, sending shivers down the other male's spine. You on the other hand… 

’’Tooru…’’ you whisper, relief evident, as you watch him move closer to you as fast as humanly possible. Yet you still aren’t able to reach out. ’’Please, Tooru…’’ 

Upon hearing your soft whimper, his brown eyes follow yours to your other hand, realizing that said one is still in the firm grip of the guys' right. At that a clearly dangerous growl leaves the usually sweet brunet. ‘’If you don’t let go of her in the next two seconds and leave her be for good in 5, I can and will break your arm.’’ Oikawa threatens with an overly sweet, yet terrifying smile, wrapping his own hands around the guy's wrist, blunt nails pressing painfully into the sensitive flesh on the inside.

With a hiss, the guy finally pulls back his hand. It allows you to seek shelter behind the tall setters back. Your fingers tightly hold onto his shirt while you peek at the other from behind him. ’’Aww, come on, pretty boy,…’’ he says, voice provoking, the words clearly meant to degrade Oikawa. ’’…let me have some fun with sweets over there, and when I’m done you can have her all to yourself.’’ To top of his words, he winks at you. 

With the way he had tensed up the first moment, you half expect Tooru to suit the action to the word, and really break his arm...instead, Oikawa looks the other dead in the eye, while saying ’’Hey, (Y/N)-chan,? There’s that really sickening wretched smell in here, it’s kind of painful. I’d like to take you somewhere nice, will you get your things?’’

You hastily nod and do as you are told while Tooru continues to stare the other down, keeping his attention away from you and using the slighty height difference to his advantage. The moment you reach him, Oikawa finally lets go of the others wrist, grabbing yours instead. You tug him to the door as quick as possible, when suddenly life found its way back into the other. 

‘’Hey, what did you mean?’’ he asks, half angry, half clueless. Unable to accept his loss. 

Oikawa turns back one last time, a smirk settling on his lips while his eyes twinkle with amusement. ‘’I said, that a mouth breather as pitiful as you are is a disgrace to be in the vicinity of someone as amazing as her.’’ And with that, you both finally leave.

(Y/N)-chan…are you alright?’’ Tooru asks once you left the school grounds. His thumb drawing little circles on the back of your hand. 

You nod before you eventually look up, worrying your lip. ’’Thank you. I…I was really scared. Even though I'm sure that he would have done something…something…’’ you swallow down the nasty words, shuddering slightly. ’’I’m glad you came to save me, Tooru.’’ You finally settle on, pink coloring your cheeks. Beckoning him to lean down a bit by waggling your finger, you softly craddle his face and press a kiss to his cheek. The blush becoming more intense now with every passing moment.

Before you can pull back your hands, though, his had already found purchase on yours, keeping them - and you - in place. Everything about this moment felt right to him. Maybe now was the right time. ’’Pretty girl...’’ he murmurs, assessing your reaction. (He notes, pleased, that your blush intensifies, and your smile turns all giddy. He needs you to forget about that douchebag calling you that. He would repeat it until all you remembered was his voice using it.) ‘’I kind of really, really, really want to kiss you right now…’’ He whispers, the warmth of his cheeks telling him that he was most likely sporting a blush similar to yours. ’’…Will you be mine? Will you allow me to hold your hand? To kiss you silly? To steal bites of your food and make up for it with compliments and as many cuddles as you wish? Will you allow me to brag about you being my girlfriend and force you to wear my jersey to all my matches now and in the future?’’ His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second. He enjoyed watching yours light up as if he had just hung the stars in the night sky, or as if he had made you the best present a girl could wish for. 

’’Tooru…I thought you’d never ask…’’ you say with a smile so affectionate that it makes him feel mushy and warm all over. And then he finally closes the gap. 

The moment your lips meet for their first kiss is better than anything he had ever imagined. It isn’t a firework exploding, nor an unbalanced fight of passion and dominance. Instead, it’s gentle. A loving flow and exchange, wrapping you both in a blanket of warmth. A bubble just for the two of you. He understood what Iwaizumi meant with different, because – even though this relationship just started – he knows, that with you he had found a completely new world of comfort and love. Being with you already felt like coming home.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain. 

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.” 

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?” 

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

[little-ideas]

Once Upon a Fantasy

Invitation to The Mystic Dance hosted by @little-butterfly-writes here

This was so much fun to do! Thank you for having me :3 I started writing and the story just took on a life of its own resulting in my longest piece yet ^^;

I know I don’t usually write OCs, but this story centers around Vanderwood and my CMC Ao (though Saeyoung also features a bit). The setting is supposed to be in an older time, but I have no sense of history’s fashions, technologies, and music, so please just consider this either a fantasy world or some hodgepodged amalgamation of decades/centuries

Hope you enjoy! ^ w ^

Lengthened shadows flickered about the fringes of paper, the glow of lantern flame warm yet small in the dawn of night. Said paper was of fine quality but wanting in splendor next to the companion twould respond. The clinking of metal nib against glass dotted silence, followed by the soft scratch of pen on the paper’s surface.

Dear Mister Vanderwood,

the letter began, each character drawn slow and exact, crafted with as much precision their writer could muster. Before her leaned a slate, smudged with chalk and the scribbles of drafted note from which she now copied. Ao much preferred the flow of ink on parchment to the drag of chalk on rock, but paper cost a pretty penny and could not be wasted on the idle ramblings of initial thoughts, so the slate had done until she knew precisely what she would write. She only wished she knew where to send her letters instead of waiting for Saeyoung to take and deliver them; but no matter, such were simply the ways of the rich, she supposed.

Glancing at the box upon her shelf, she wondered when she might receive another letter from the gentleman.

~*~

He came the week the invitations were delivered. Town abuzz and bursting with excitement for the Mint Palace Ball, Ao had nary a hope she might see Saeyoung’s companion once more before the festivities began, yet he had appeared at her door in lieu of his friend.

“Saeyoung’s busy with the dance, then?” Ao questioned, pouring two cups of coffee. “Couldn’t escape with you?”

“He’s under extra watch after sneaking away too many times.” Vanderwood responded.

Ao flinched, had it been her fault? Vanderwood must have noticed for-

“He likes to skip his tasks to play with the town’s strays,” he explained, sipping from the cup she handed him. Ao smiled, where once Vanderwood had hesitated to drink, now he waited no longer.

Taking her own sip, Ao mulled over Vanderwood’s recent tidings. Saeyoung would be unable to visit until after the dance -her cats would be displeased at that for he always brought them delightful treats- and she would be unable to send any letters. A shame, but she understood and selfish she should not be. Not now, for if Saeyoung was busy, then surely her guest must also be, yet he was spending time here, with her.

“Vanderwood,” she began, trying to keep her tone light, “is it really ok to be here? Surely, you must be busy, too.”

At this he grinned, and for the briefest of moments, Ao felt her heart stop.

“Whose work do you think Saeyoung is doing?”

She blinked, answer unexpected. Then, slowly, his words sunk in and Ao, too, began to smile. Then giggle. Then could not help but laugh alongside him, tears dotting the corners of their eyes. Through Vanderwood’s letters and his own boasts, Ao knew that Saeyoung -their energetic, brilliant, rapscallion of a friend- had a habit of absconding to destinations unnamed and, though she knew not what it might be, forcing Vanderwood to do their work instead. How appropriate, then, that Vanderwood act in kind for the busiest event of the year. They both knew Saeyoung would not learn his lesson.

As the laughter lulled and soft silence settled betwixt them, Ao could not help but admire her friend- the ease of his countenance; his acceptance of her “tiny beasts” pawing at his sides -creatures she and Saeyoung adored but he was not particularly fond; the divide between his conversations both oral and written -the former dictated by necessity, the latter far more relaxed. Upon their first meeting, Ao had found Vanderwood to be terse and intimidating, despite Saeyoung’s introduction, but through months of correspondence, she had grown to know him -far more verbose in letter- and thought him endearing. She feared not the silence amongst them anymore.

It was he who spoke first.

“Will you be going to the dance?” His voice startled her, causing her to jump, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup.

“Pardon?”

“The Mystic Dance at the Mint Palace, will you be attending?”

Ao paused before responding. She supposed she should, the whole town would be off, the food was sure to be delicious, and she might even perchance to see her two friends; however, people were different in the eyes of society, and she wondered if the night might end what little relations they currently had. An event open to all, free of status on paper, did not mean such conventions would be adhered to in practice. Looking at Vanderwood, though, she shook head of such notions; he and Saeyoung would not do such, and to think as so would despair their reputation. She smiled at him.

“I will if you teach me to dance.”

~*~

The counts had been easy; the closeness, movement, and posture, not so much. Vanderwood had come several times since his last visit, true to his promise of being her instructor, and Ao might have felt bad were it not for the heat flaming her cheeks whenever she recalled Saeyoung’s laughter at her miserable attempts at turning during their last visit (how he escaped, she knew not, only that she pitied the poor soul waiting on him). She would learn, she’d vowed, if only out of spite.

Determined not to become a spectacle again, Ao’s evenings had been filled with enough practice that her head was now constantly counting off 3s, her shoulders held a dull ache, and the furniture had been misplaced for days. Yet as Vanderwood now led her around the room, she had not glanced at her feet and had only stepped on his once. Maybe twice. Alright, three times, but in her defense, she had tripped! Or so she insisted to Saeyoung, whose rapid applause came the moment they separated.

“Marvelous, indeed! Would have thought you a different lass!” He teased.

Ao stuck her tongue at him, and Saeyoung leaned against his friend, arm draped across his forehead. “Forsooth, Mary, our lady doth wound me!”

Vanderwood sighed at their antics, yet his smile betrayed his amusement.

“Perhaps you’d care to dance with the lady?” He gestured to Ao; brow quirked.

“And risk my toes?” Saeyoung gasped, “I’d never!”

“Saeyoung Choi!” Ao shouted, attempting to stomp on his shoes. “You absolute heathen!” She missed and the two began a chase about the room, jerking knees and squashing stones, until Saeyoung ran back towards Vanderwood.

“Help me, Vandy!” He cried. “A demon gives chase!” His attempt to hide was thwarted by Vanderwood’s arms surrounding his own and holding him in place, grin stretched across his face. Saeyoung gasped in mock betrayal -twisting to get out- before slumping forwards and extending a foot in defeat. A firm press upon the top of his shoe and Saeyoung was freed, rejoining his friends’ sides to complete an afternoon of mirth and merriment.

~*~

Laughter echoed down the streets as people clapped and cheered -fiddlers skipped along the cobblestone roads whilst onlooking peddlers tapped rhythms with the boxes of their wares. Shops were closing, but with the dawning of the ball in a few days’ time, taverns opened early, seeking to make coin from their many guests. In town, nary a room twas available at any inn, yet still the folk kept coming.

Parading after the fiddlers, people poured into the streets, bouncing with the beats as they sashayed along towards open spaces. All this Ao and Vanderwood had witnessed through her windows yet remained inside. Now, rocking upon her heels, Ao grabbed Vanderwood’s hand, tugging him towards the door and the festivities beyond.

Initially, Vanderwood had no intention of participating in such jovialities -his latest letter from the week prior apologizing for his previous and most likely continued absence- but Saeyoung had pulled him from his desk, knocked upon Ao’s door, thrust him at her, and vanished within the throngs of people scurrying about. Graciously, she had offered him welcome and rest in her abode, but Vanderwood had caught her gaze frequently flit to the outside merriment. Having arrived unannounced, it would not have done to kept her from whatever plans she may have had, or so he told himself. Truthfully, he, too, wished to join the crowds -the carefree and lively spirits of the townsfolk were always a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of High Society. As Ao sternly told her cats to mind the house and behave, before pulling him with her into the party beyond; however, he wondered if perhaps that were not his only reasoning.

*

It was not his only reasoning, Vanderwood realized, watching his friend dance about, the fires illuminating her smile as a new tune picked up. He saw her beam when her eyes met his own, then beckon him over, but he shook his head, lifting his goblet. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him, yet quick as her smile had fallen, it returned, and she twirled around once more.

Vanderwood took a swig of drink, attempting to ignore the beat which seemed to thrum louder now in his chest. He should rest while he could -Ao would soon drag him out to join her, of that, he was sure.

*

True to form, she had sought him out after a few more songs had pass, laughing as she spun and planted her feet firmly in front of him.

“Mary Vanderwood!” She panted, grin undermining her admonishment. “One does not simply turn down an invitation to dance!” Vanderwood merely watched as she struggled to regain her breath.

“Drink?” He offered at last, holding out his cup as the notes of a new song began. He chuckled when Ao frowned at him before downing its contents.

“Well,” she sighed, “one song can wait.” Then, as though realizing what she had just done, stammered a “thank you” and handed back his cup.

When the music began anew, Ao tugged Vanderwood towards the crowd of dancers, weaving betwixt the bystanders, pattering along seemingly as though she had missed not a beat of song. And as she kicked up her skirts and twirled about, pulling him deeper in with her, Vanderwood was glad the fire’s glow concealed his cheeks’ blush.

~*~

Well, tonight was the night. Donning the dress before her, Ao prayed it would be nice enough -what little remnants of her wages she had after necessities and paper, she had saved for the fabric to sew a proper, formal dress. Though simple in design and decoration, the dress fit her well and complemented her complexion -vibrant red to catch the eye, with a silhouette that tapered in towards her waist before flowing out about her once more. Practicing a few steps, Ao found she rather liked the way it fanned around her when she spun.

Against her neck sat not pearls, but a ring -a memento of family long gone- and she gripped it tight, wishing for all to go well. Drawing her cloak about her, invitation in hand, Ao left for a fate unknown.

~*~

Ao blinked once. Twice. Pinched her hand and -ow! - this was real. The gentleman before her -noble of birth, correspondent of the treasured letters she kept within the box upon her shelf, beloved friend- stood now with hand outstretched and crown atop silken, brown locks. He chuckled at her reaction.

“Well?” He asked, nudging her hand. “I believe one does not simply turn down an invitation to dance.”

Timidly, Ao placed her hand in Vanderwood’s, and he pulled her closer -left hand closing around hers, right palm tucked against her back- before leading her about the floor.

“You never told me!” She hissed, gaze flickering to his crown before eyeing those around them. He laughed, a familiar sound in so foreign an environment.

“You never asked.”

Ao frowned, about to retort when they spun and she tripped, stepping on his foot. For a moment, they both froze. Then, slowly, they giggled, chuckled, laughed, roared -voices filling the room, and their eyes with tears. Vanderwood took Ao’s hand once more and continued leading her around the space, and for the first time that day, she relaxed.

And if Saeyoung saw the pink that tinged both their cheeks? No, no he did not.

[sunflowersupremes]

Next of Kin

Part 1/???

Read on AO3

He didn’t know what to think when he got the letter.

Redania and Temeria were constantly fighting one another, so the news that there’d been a skirmish wasn’t a shock to him at all. What was a shock was that one of the soldiers had apparently put Geralt down as their next of kin.

The solider’s name - one Julian Alfred Pankratz - wasn’t familiar to him at all, so that didn’t explain why he’d been chosen. He thought about ignoring it, assuming it was a mistake, but he was close to the skirmish - which was how the envoy had found him - so he took a day off from the Path and found the Redanian encampment.

His letter was only enough for him to be informed, rather bluntly, that Private Julian was still alive, but that visitors weren’t allowed inside.

But the commander saw him and said that if he dealt with a drowner nest he’d invite Geralt in as his personal guest.

It took less than an hour to handle the drowners, and soon he was back, demanding entry and explanations. He was taken to a nurse who promised she would take him to his friend.

“How is he?” Geralt asked, glancing at the lines of sick men, laid out in cots in the hastily constructed medical tent. He didn’t recognize any of them, but she just walked straight past, apparently none of them were Julian.

“Feverish,” she explained.

“What was the wound?”

“An arrow to his leg. His discharge paperwork has already been completed.”

Geralt frowned. “Discharge?”

“Yes, he’s too wounded to continue to remain on the front, he’ll be honorably discharged and it will be noted with the draft office, so he won’t be called up again.”

“Where will he go?”

“I thought you were here to take him home.”

No, Geralt thought. I’m only here to solve a mystery. But he remained quiet, admitting that he didn’t know Julian now would only keep him away from the wounded man, and then he’d never get any answers.

“Here he is,” she said suddenly, pulling Geralt from his thoughts. She was standing at the bedside of a young man, his eyes were closed, his face flushed, and his blonde hair in ragged curls.

Upon seeing the man, the mystery was solved immediately, but with it came even more questions that he lacked answers for.

Dandelion.

It took all of Geralt’s self control to keep his face impassive as he thanked her for her help, kneeling beside the cot the poet was laying on. As she left she promised to notify him as soon as the paperwork was completed.

What happened? The Witcher wondered, studying Dandelion’s face with a frown. Haven’t you got any other family to take care of you? He’d barely known Dandelion a full two years, they’d traveled together a probably ten months in total, so why would Dandelion have given Geralt’s name?

More curiously, what was Dandelion doing being drafted? He was Oxenfurt trained, he must have family money, connections, relatives would who protect him from a draft.

But, most importantly, what could Geralt do to help him? Leaving him wasn’t an option. Though he barely knew him - a fact which was becoming more and more obvious - he didn’t know how to help.

He studied the man’s flushed face, tilting his head and noting his symptoms. Feverish. I can smell an infection, although it’s not terrible and it could be from anyone else in the room, though I suspect it’s from him.

“I’m here to see my brother!”

Geralt ignored the loud man, no doubt some lord or another that fancied himself as someone important. Most likely some lord who had dodged the draft, coming to check in on a sibling who had thought going to war would be a great time. He shook his head.

“Nobles are fools, Dandelion,” he murmured to the poet. “Stay away from them, please.”

“Julian!” the man cried, rushing up to Dandelion’s other side and staring at him in horror.

Geralt stared at him. “Who are you?” they both asked, staring at one another across the unconscious bard.

“I’m his brother!” said the noble.

“I’m his next of kin,” argued Geralt, holding up the letter. If you are his brother, then why the deuce did he send for me?

“Oh,” said the noble, his voice slightly strained. “You must be his friend, then, I imagine?”

“I am,” confirmed the Witcher. “Forgive my suspicions, but he’s never mentioned you-”

“He wouldn’t have,” the man said, shaking his head. “Listen, sir Witcher, I’ve already secured him a bed at a local hospital, he’ll receive far better care there. If you’d like, you may accompany me and I shall explain on the way.”

A bed at a proper hospital was far better than Geralt could offer Dandelion, so he nodded. “Fine.”