#I had to go digging through the event to find this scene again

[hanafubukki]

Oh bean’s day I love you…

You and the Dance and Wishes event give me so many feels 🥹💞

The moment we have that scene with Lilia and Malleus in book 7 like we did in bean’s day, you’ll see me cry again.

[merwgue]

You thought I forgot? @naravelia

The Tamlin Mandela Effect: How Fandom’s Misremembering of Key Events is Turning into a Haters’ Anthem

There’s a peculiar phenomenon in the A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR) fandom that echoes something you might find more commonly in conspiracy theories or internet forums. It’s the Mandela Effect, named after an odd cognitive twist where people collectively misremember or distort facts—like a whole generation swearing that Nelson Mandela died in the 1980s, despite him actually living until 2013. But we’re not here to talk about Mandela (no, this is not that essay). We’re here to talk about how Tamlin, our misunderstood High Lord of the Spring Court, has been subjected to this exact effect. And it’s spiraling into disastrous consequences for his reputation in the fandom.

If you’ve spent more than five minutes on any ACOTAR discussion board, you’ve probably seen it. Tamlin haters, pitchforks in hand, rattle off the same tired arguments, claiming that he’s the worst villain in the series. “He sold Feyre’s sisters to Hybern!” they say, even though that literally didn’t happen. “He sexually assaulted Feyre Under the Mountain!” they continue, though that scene plays out very differently if you actually read it. It’s becoming a Herculean task to correct these misconceptions every single time someone drags Tamlin through the mud, but here we are, doing the Lord’s work.

Let’s dig into the mess, piece by piece, shall we?

The Non-Existent Sale of Feyre’s Sisters to Hybern: The Misinformation Continues

Here’s a hill people are dying on that is as fictitious as it is frustrating. There is this collective belief that Tamlin, in all his "evilness," sold Feyre’s sisters to Hybern in some dramatic betrayal. Let’s be real: if Tamlin were a sleazy car salesman in another life, he wouldn’t have any buyers. Because he didn’t “sell” anyone.

Let’s revisit the facts. Tamlin teamed up with Hybern in A Court of Mist and Fury out of desperation to get Feyre back. Was it the smartest move? No. Did he expect things to go smoothly without Hybern’s penchant for destruction taking the reins? Probably. But nowhere in the text does it indicate that Tamlin knowingly offered up Feyre’s sisters on a silver platter.

In fact, Tamlin seemed to have absolutely no idea that Elain and Nesta would be dragged into the mess. The King of Hybern double-crossed everyone, Tamlin included. Feyre’s sisters being thrown into the Cauldron was Hybern’s decision—not some malicious masterstroke from Tamlin’s end. This narrative where Tamlin is painted as the orchestrator of their suffering is wildly inaccurate. It’s like saying a passenger in a car crash is guilty of the accident. Was he complicit by being in the metaphorical car with Hybern? Sure. But did he plan for it to happen? Absolutely not.

And yet, despite this being pretty clear in the text, people still treat it as canon that Tamlin personally wrapped Feyre’s sisters up in pretty bows and delivered them to Hybern like Christmas gifts. The Mandela Effect strikes again.

The “Tamlin Assaulted Feyre Under the Mountain” Lie That Refuses to Die

This one is probably the most egregious example of people twisting canon to fit their own narrative. Now, look, I get it—Under the Mountain was a dark time for everyone. Emotions were high, trauma was rampant, and it was one hell of a mess. But this claim that Tamlin sexually assaulted Feyre during her time there? That’s not just a stretch—it’s an Olympic-level leap of inaccuracy.

Here’s what actually happened: Amarantha had Tamlin under her thumb. He was powerless, trying to bide his time and keep himself (and others) alive. Was he the best emotional support system for Feyre during this period? Absolutely not. Did he make questionable decisions? Yes. But at no point did Tamlin assault Feyre or take advantage of her.

The argument stems from a scene where Feyre, reeling from her third trial, is given a brief moment of respite with Tamlin. They have a charged, emotionally heightened interaction. It’s not comfortable, but it’s also not what people are accusing it of being. Tamlin is desperate, Feyre is desperate, and they’re both stuck in a situation with absolutely no control. If anything, it’s a moment that reflects the trauma of being trapped Under the Mountain—not a moment of assault. The fact that this narrative continues to be twisted into something more sinister is a disservice to both characters and to the complexity of trauma and survival.

Moreover, Feyre doesn’t feel violated by Tamlin in this moment. She doesn’t reflect on it later as assault. If Feyre, who narrates the entire series, doesn’t see it as such, why are we putting words in her mouth? The Mandela Effect here is just baffling—people are conflating Tamlin’s flaws with things that never actually happened. It’s like misremembering the plot of Titanic and insisting that Jack could have survived if only he’d kicked Rose off the door sooner. Except, you know, worse.

The Constant Gaslighting Narrative: Feyre’s Love for Rhysand Suddenly Erased All Else?

Perhaps the most absurd consequence of the Tamlin hate train is this retroactive gaslighting of Feyre’s own character. By the time we get to A Court of Frost and Starlight, Feyre casually drops that she’s loved Rhysand since Under the Mountain. Excuse me, what? Let’s go back to the text, shall we?

In ACOTAR, Feyre is doing everything in her power to save Tamlin—not Rhysand. In fact, Feyre hates Rhysand for most of that book (and rightly so). She is willing to sacrifice herself for Tamlin, to endure Amarantha’s torment because of the deep love she feels for him. The entire climax of the book hinges on Feyre’s determination to free Tamlin, not Rhysand.

But suddenly, we’re supposed to believe that she’s been in love with Rhysand this whole time? Yeah, no. That’s like claiming you’ve loved pizza your entire life but spent your formative years swearing you couldn’t stand the taste of cheese. It doesn’t add up. The revisionism here is frustrating because it attempts to erase Feyre’s complex feelings for Tamlin, reducing them to some passing crush while elevating her relationship with Rhysand to an almost predestined love story. It’s not only inaccurate; it’s unfair to the nuance of Feyre’s journey.

And for those who claim that Tamlin was manipulating Feyre from the start: let’s not pretend Rhysand wasn’t manipulative as well. Rhysand, for all his brooding High Lord charm, was hardly honest with Feyre at first. He didn’t tell her about the mate bond until after she’d fled the Spring Court, allowing her to suffer through an emotional tailspin in the meantime. If we’re going to talk about manipulation, let’s talk about it on both sides of the equation.

Tamlin’s Villain Arc: When Did Fandom Decide He’s the Devil Incarnate?

Let’s get one thing clear: Tamlin is not perfect. He has anger issues, control issues, and makes some boneheaded decisions. But turning him into the ultimate villain of the series is not just a misstep—it’s a full-blown mischaracterization.

Tamlin’s actions in A Court of Mist and Fury—his attempts to lock Feyre in the Spring Court, his alliance with Hybern—are not the actions of a villain, but of someone who is deeply flawed and unable to cope with the trauma he’s experienced. He is desperate to hold on to the one thing he thinks he can still control: Feyre. Is it right? Absolutely not. Is it a classic case of toxic masculinity and overprotection? Yes. But that doesn’t make him an evil character—it makes him a tragic one.

The fandom has somehow turned Tamlin into a one-dimensional antagonist, ignoring the deep trauma he’s endured and the complicated reasons behind his actions. People seem to forget that Tamlin genuinely cared for Feyre—enough to let her go at the end of ACOTAR. That’s not something a villain would do. Villains don’t sacrifice their happiness for the well-being of others, but Tamlin did. He wanted Feyre to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

But thanks to the Mandela Effect of the fandom, Tamlin’s complexity has been erased, replaced with a caricature of a monster. Every time someone falsely claims that Tamlin sold Feyre’s sisters, or assaulted her, or that he’s some irredeemable villain, it becomes harder and harder to pull the conversation back to reality. The narrative has been hijacked by misinformation and misremembering, and the truth is becoming increasingly difficult to find.

The Lord’s Work: Fighting Misinformation One Comment at a Time

At this point, defending Tamlin’s character feels like doing the Lord’s work. The sheer volume of misinformation being spread about him is staggering. And every time someone presents an accurate, well-reasoned argument about what really happened in the series, they’re met with a wall of denial from those who have bought into the Mandela Effect narrative.

It’s exhausting, and yet it’s necessary. Because if we don't keep correcting these misconceptions, the narrative only gets more distorted. The truth gets buried under layers of fan-driven exaggeration, selective memory, and willful ignorance. It’s as if every time someone tries to present a factual argument, they're drowned out by a chorus of “But Tamlin sold Feyre’s sisters!” or “He assaulted her!”—as though saying it louder makes it more true.

Yet, here we are, repeating ourselves like broken records, diligently doing the work to remind people of the actual storyline. Is it thankless? Sure. Is it worth it? Absolutely. Because when the truth is at stake, when a character as complex and tragic as Tamlin is being reduced to an easy-to-hate villain, it’s our responsibility to keep the conversation grounded in fact.

Why Do People Cling to These Misconceptions?

Here’s where it gets a bit more philosophical. Why, despite the evidence in the text, do so many fans persist in demonizing Tamlin and clinging to false narratives? The answer, I think, lies in the very nature of fandoms themselves.

Fandoms are not just about the source material—they’re about how people feel about the source material. And feelings, as we all know, are not bound by logic or facts. For many readers, Tamlin represents a particular archetype of toxic masculinity—one that they’re all too familiar with in the real world. When they see Tamlin’s controlling behavior, his anger, and his mistakes, it triggers a visceral reaction. He becomes, in their minds, the embodiment of every harmful, controlling man they’ve encountered or heard about.

Rhysand, by contrast, is portrayed as the perfect “feminist” male hero—someone who respects Feyre’s autonomy, who lifts her up instead of controlling her. It’s easy to see why readers gravitate toward Rhysand and against Tamlin, even when the actual story is far more nuanced.

The problem, of course, is that Tamlin isn’t just an archetype. He’s a fully fleshed-out character with his own trauma, motivations, and flaws. But once a fandom has decided that a character is “bad,” it’s incredibly hard to change that perception, even with cold, hard facts.

The Real Tragedy: A Missed Opportunity for Redemption

What makes this whole Mandela Effect situation even more tragic is that it closes the door on one of the most interesting possibilities in the ACOTAR series: Tamlin’s redemption.

Tamlin is a character who has made mistakes, yes—but so has every major character in the series. Feyre herself is no saint; Rhysand’s hands aren’t exactly clean either. Yet these characters are given the chance to grow, to learn from their mistakes, and to become better versions of themselves. Tamlin, on the other hand, is left to wallow in his misery, largely abandoned by both the narrative and the fandom.

Imagine if the fandom allowed Tamlin the same grace they allow other characters. Imagine if, instead of reducing him to a one-note villain, they embraced the possibility of redemption. Tamlin’s arc could be one of the most powerful in the series—a story about a broken man learning to rebuild himself, about a leader who learns to lead with compassion instead of fear. But as long as the Mandela Effect continues to distort his actions and his character, that possibility remains out of reach.

Conclusion: The Battle Continues

In the end, fighting the Mandela Effect surrounding Tamlin is an uphill battle. It’s frustrating, it’s repetitive, and at times it feels hopeless. But it’s also necessary. Because Tamlin, for all his flaws, deserves better than the treatment he’s received from large swaths of the fandom.

He didn’t sell Feyre’s sisters. He didn’t assault her Under the Mountain. He’s not the devil incarnate. He’s a deeply flawed, deeply human (or, well, fae) character who made mistakes but also showed moments of love, sacrifice, and growth.

So here we are, doing the Lord’s work, repeating the same truths over and over again, hoping that someday the message will finally stick. Because Tamlin’s story is not one of villainy—it’s one of tragedy. And it’s time the fandom started treating it that way.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

[little-diable]

A complicated man – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 5/?)

Chapter five, here we go! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, some heated making out, Aaron is a big asshole in this, mentions some typical CM violence

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

“Yes, Emily, I am on my way. I promised you I’ll show up, didn’t I?” A tired sigh left (y/n) as she watched the houses and streets blurr by, being driven to the BAU. Her heart was aching, mind racing, still hooked onto her last conversation with Aar- Professor Hotchner.

She wasn’t proud to admit that she had cried through most parts of that night, cursing herself, but mostly cursing the older man. Deep down she had expected the situation to go south, very well aware of his stoic self and the lines both had crossed.

And yet a small, pathetic part of herself had believed that everything would work out, that he’d want her as much as she wanted him. Fuck, how foolish she had been, how naive she had been, all because of a man who was almost twice her age. A man who should be more mature than how the professor was acting at the moment. 

Emily had called her a few days later, quietly begging (y/n) to find her way to the BAU, since JJ was sick and they were desperate for any help they could get. It hadn’t taken much convincing, even though (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder how crossing paths with him would play out. 

The brown haired agent was waiting for (y/n) to arrive, smiling at the young woman with a visitor’s badge already in her hand. Both shared a bit of small talk as they made their way upstairs, momentarily managing to distract (y/n) from her nervousness. But the second they stepped into the office, (y/n)’s blood ran cold, eyes instantly drawn to Aaron Hotchner’s dark ones.

An expression of confusion, annoyance, and anger crossed his features, instantly forcing the young woman to slow down the speed of her steps. Of course Emily hadn’t told the others about her plan, a fact (y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised about, and yet her insides didn’t stop churning. 

“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you.” Penelope was the first to break the few awkward seconds of silence, pulling the young woman into her grasp as Derek and Spencer also stepped closer. She tried to stop her eyes from searching his as her professor growled a loud “Prentiss, a word please”, but the second he had turned away, her eyes had snapped towards his frame once again.

“We missed you, sweetheart, you’re just the woman we need on this case.” Derek’s sweet words managed to make a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips, a smile that grew even bigger as Spencer quickly hugged her, and as Rossi squeezed her shoulder. But there was no time left to exchange any further pleasantries, falling quiet as the two others stepped back into the room. 

“Alright, let’s focus on our case. Reid and Morgan, I need you to go back to the crime scenes, go through the events that have happened, maybe we missed something. Rossi and I will talk to the people who worked at the slaughterhouse. Prentiss and (y/n) talk to the families again, dig deeper with Garcia's help."

……

“Why didn’t you tell him?” (Y/n)’s voice filled the car, fingers wrapped around her hot drink as Emily drove them back to the BAU. With a sigh leaving the agent she let her eyes flicker towards (y/n), taking in the sad expression the young woman couldn’t shake off.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he knows that we need you, we shouldn’t let go of this chance to have you on the team. But I knew he’d be too stubborn.” A laugh left the both in unison, momentarily taking some weight off (y/n)’s shoulders. “Do you want to tell me what went down between you two?”

“You can’t tell this to anybody, I need you to promise.” A hum left Emily, wordlessly promising that she wouldn’t spill (y/n)’s secret. “We, uhm, that night where we went to that bar and he picked me up, I stayed at his place. The next morning we did some things, but then he was called back to the BAU, and it was as if the switch had been flicked, he was such an asshole to me. Fuck, I’ve been crushing on him for so long and was so happy that something had finally happened, but now - I don’t know, Emily.”

It took the older agent a few moments to ponder over (y/n)’s words, letting the story sink in before she shared her perspective on Aaron’s behaviour. 

“He’s been hurt a lot in the past years, I can’t tell you what goes on inside his head, but I think he’s scared. He is clearly into you, we can all tell, but he’s your professor too, and probably your future boss. Aaron is very compliant to rules, I’d say he’s currently fighting some inner battle.”

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do with Emily’s insight, didn’t know how to accept the truth the woman had just shared. Her heart was pounding, and yet it was weighed down by what had happened, unable to shake off the worries clouding her mind. Aaron Hotchner had her trapped, perhaps without fully realising what he was doing to her with the way he kept behaving.

……

“Let’s recap what we got so far.” Aaron's voice boomed through the room, drawing all eyes to his tall frame. With one hand he smoothed his tie, eyes focusing on the picture he was holding, avoiding (y/n)’s eyes at every cost. “We know that our unsub stabbed our victim in the slaughterhouse, but the victim tried to escape, making it about a block before our unsub stabbed him again and finally killed the man. His stomach was cut open and he was beheaded, the head was left at another man’s house. Prentiss, (y/n), anything you can tell us?”

Emily’s eyes met (y/n)’s, wordlessly encouraging the young woman to speak up, leaving her to clear her throat before she took over, “Nothing we weren’t already aware of, but to me it seems like this was about a love interest that connects our victim to our unsub.”

“We first need to rule out other options before we take that route.” It felt as if Aaron’s words cut through her skin, almost forcing bile to rise in (y/n)’s throat. His eyes were cold, now staring at her as if she was their unsub, interrogated by every single member of the team.

“But why? If I remember correctly you didn’t deny my theory the last time you presented this case in class, what changed?” The unfamiliar undertone of her voice even managed to surprise (y/n) herself, not used to hearing herself speaking this coldly, challenging the man. She was too focused on him to pay attention to the others, not feeling their curious eyes on her, wondering how this would play out. 

“If I were you I’d watch my tone, (y/n), you’re not part of this team, and if you keep on behaving like this, you’ll never be. Either accept my decisions or leave, I certainly won’t stop you from doing so, you’d all do us a favour.” A silent gasp ripped through (y/n), followed by the sound of David Rossi warningly murmuring Aaron’s name. For a second neither of them moved, till (y/n) pushed her chair back, rising to her feet with a trembling “Excuse me” leaving her. They watched her leave the room, back turned to them as she moved towards the bathroom.

(Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not wanting to give Aaron the satisfaction of crying over his hurtful words. A few deep exhales left her as she stepped into the bathroom, both hands placed down on the cold sink, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t tell what she was feeling, torn between anger, embarrassment, and heartbreak, hearing him speak to her like that had felt like daggers being pierced into her heart, tearing her last strings of hope. 

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes snapped up towards the mirror, finding Aaron’s frowning features. Without speaking another word, he stepped into the small bathroom, locking the door behind himself. She watched him approach, only turning towards him as he came to a halt in front of her. (Y/n) didn’t dare move as his warm hand slowly cupped her warm cheek, didn’t dare move as a deep sigh left the tall man, eyes burning straight through hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be sorry for, if that’s how you feel I guess. I don’t understand you, and frankly speaking, I no longer want to. You’re too old for these childish games, professor.” His frown deepened, but he didn’t pull back, kept holding her as (y/n) rambled on. “You played me, but hey, I guess you got what you wanted, huh? It was easy, too easy, but you should know that breaking my heart-” 

She didn’t get to speak another word, shut up by his lips finding hers, silencing the young woman with a heated kiss. Almost instantly her hands found his dark hair, tugging on the roots to pull him even closer. (Y/n) melted against him, eyes fluttering close to relish in the feeling his touch elicited. 

With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) found herself pressed against the sink, small of her back coming in contact with the cold metal. The sounds he drew from her left the man smirking, tongue fighting hers to once again prove the power he held over her. She was his puppet, allowing him to toy with her how he pleased, pushing and pulling her around without caring about what he was doing to her – at least that’s what he wanted her to believe, not speaking on his true feelings. 

“Fuck, Aaron.” His name slipped from her lips as he kissed his way down her throat, hands finding her behind, squeezing the soft flesh. Both were panting, riled up by the still somewhat unfamiliar touches. And yet neither of them wanted to escape this very moment, finding comfort in the racing beats of their hearts, in the heavy breaths leaving one another. 

“I wish I could understand what you’re making me feel, but I can’t.” He kissed her once again, urgency dripped from his words, making her toes curl in excitement. But (y/n)’s mind was still hooked onto his words, wondering what he meant by them, ripping her out of her blissful state. Slowly she parted from him, hands placed on his chest, forcing them to give into the once again growing distance.

Aaron’s lips were just as swollen as hers, pupils dilated with lust swimming in them, but the glance she threw at him seemed to prepare him for the words that were about to roll off her tongue. With a sigh clawing through him, Aaron let go of (y/n), taking another step away from her.

“I don’t get you, I don’t get what you are trying to do, what you want me to do. You need to figure that out before you toss me around like that again. Do us both a favour and come clean with your feelings. Till then I’ll step away from this case, and the team. I can’t be around you, if you keep acting like that.” Wordlessly he watched her leave, not throwing one glance back at the heavily sighing man. 

……

The sound of her keys being tossed to the small side table placed near her door echoed through (y/n)’s dark apartment. Her heart was heavy, shoulders slouched, clearly projecting the emotional chaos she was fighting against. Deep down she had hoped that he’d stop her from leaving, coming clean with his feelings right there and then, but she knew him better than that, all too aware of the struggles he was fighting against.

She didn’t bother to light her apartment, glassy eyes unable to focus on anything as she poured herself a glass of water, drowning the sips one by one. Exhaustion clung to her, body tormented by the battle she kept fighting, hoping that she’d eventually get out of this very mess. 

A groan ripped through (y/n) as she pressed her forehead against her kitchen counter, palms pressed flat against the cold surface. Fuck, she’d do whatever she could to get rid of her longing for Aaron Hotchner, the man who had claimed her heart all these years ago. Nothing would manage to break the spell, chaining her to him as if she was the Titanic itself, sinking to the dark ocean ground without any help coming her way. 

Her exhausted body carried (y/n) to her bedroom, plopping down on the mattress the second her phone beeped, gaining her attention. (Y/n) reached for it with another yawn clawing its way through her throat, a sound that got stuck in her throat the second her eyes focused on the message that had been sent to her, from an unfamiliar number. 

It took (y/n) a few seconds to take in the picture that had been sent to her, some blurry screenshot that pictured a kissing couple. A gasp left (y/n) as her mind finally realised that it was a picture of her and Aaron, lips locked in the bathroom at the BAU. Attached to the picture was a short message, words that left the young woman shuddering. 

“You’re mine, you belong to me, (y/n). Now you’ll have to pay for betraying me with him.”

[honorarysimp]

Interlude: The Diner

series masterlist

Out of everywhere in town you’ve been since you arrived two weeks ago, this is the only place you’ve truly felt safe.

The diner was a blast from the past, a relic of a time long gone. The checkered linoleum floor worn and scuffed in places, and vinyl-covered booths gave the place a retro feel, while the crackled and faded wallpaper added a touch of nostalgia.

The smell of stale coffee and fried food hung in the air, adding a distinct atmosphere to the place.

The diner was dimly lit, the fluorescent tubes above the counter casting a harsh, almost clinical light over the small space. In one corner, an old radio played quiet music, the sound barely reaching a few booths in the room.

You are currently sat in a booth towards the back, visibly exhausted beyond measure as you nurse a cup of black coffee.

Coffee is suppose to be the answer to everything, but you’ve had to reconvey your initial claim the last week.

Your phone suddenly rings loudly in the quiet diner, the sharp sound causing you to flinch, jarring and breaking the ambiance like a hammer against glass. You glance down at the screen, expression darkening as you saw the word "Mayor" flash across the display.

With a heavy exhale, you let the call ring through to voicemail. The Mayor was the last person you want to deal with at the moment. You’re frustrated and exhausted, as this investigation seems to be leading nowhere.

Why answer her when you have nothing to report? She knows where to find you if she’s that desperate for results.

You reach into your coat pocket and retrieved your tape recorder. You lay it on the worn tabletop and looked at it for a moment with a slight grimace.

You hesitate before starting the recording, the weight of your lack of progress weighing heavily on you. With a weary sigh, you hit the record button and began speaking, voice low and tired.

"It's been two weeks since I arrived here, and so far, I've got nothing. No leads, no suspects, just a whole lot of dead ends."

You continue, your voice growing more frustrated as you detail your efforts thus far.

"I've tried everything," you admit, hand running through your hair in exasperation. "Witness interviews, forensic analysis, even digging through records going back decades. But every time I think I'm onto something, it just leads nowhere."

You lean back in the booth, shoulders slouched in exhaustion. "It's like this town is intentionally keeping secrets."

You pause for a moment, expression thoughtful.

"The people here," you begin, voice a bit softer. "They're just as much victims as anyone. I've started to get to know some of them, and they're just trying to live their lives. But then there's this..."

You trail off, expression conflicted. You knew you’ve always tried to be logical and professional when it comes to your job, ruled by rationality and evidence. But this case is pushing your boundaries, forcing you to question your own beliefs.

"Maybe... maybe there's no logical explanation," you admit, voice barely a whisper “the only thing that’s consistent is the fact one person goes missing a month, but even that doesn’t make sense because it stops and starts randomly- goddamn it.”

You hit the pause button on the tape recorder, frustrated. You sit back, the silence in the diner somehow making the weight of the case even heavier.

You sat for a moment, eyes unfocused as you mull over everything that has happened in the last two weeks. The disappearances, the dead ends, the strange events... everything about this case was slowly chipping away at your certainty, your usual rational mind struggling to find footing.

You start the tape recorder again, voice weary but determined.

"The attack in the woods," you began. "I've tried to make sense of it, but it just doesn't add up. The masked figure came out of nowhere, silently and unexpectedly. The knife cut me, but there was no blood, no trace of any kind at the scene. And even after searching, there were no footprints or tracks of any kind. Nothing."

You trail off, eyes fixed on the tabletop. "It's like the assault never even happened."

You again continued, tense with disbelief. "And then there's Wes," you say, shaking your head. "He just vanishes after walking into the lake. We've searched the lake more times than I can count, and we haven't found a body. Nothing. It's like he just vanished into thin air."

Your frustration and confusion becomes more and more evident the more you spoke, the mystery of the case growing more complex with each passing moment as you verbally try to debunk it aloud. "It makes no sense," you mutter, raking a hand through your hair once more, knee bouncing in a fidget underneath the table.

You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm your frustration. "The disappearances, the attack, the lack of any solid evidence... everything about this case just feels wrong. Like there's something bigger going on, something just out of my grasp.”

You look down at the tape recorder, brow furrowed. "But how do I solve something when I can't even see all the pieces? How do I find answers when everything I've tried leads to more questions?"

You sat slumped in the booth, gaze unfocused as you wrestle with your thoughts. "I need... I need..." you repeat in a low voice, frustration and desperation mingling in your tone.

I need a fucking cigarette.

You clench your fists, refocusing on trying to piece together the elusive clues in your mind. "I need something decisive, something concrete," you continue, eyes sweeping over the steam rising from your mug as if the answers were etched within the small bubbles resting on the liquid’s surface.

You let out a heavy sigh, the frustration etched on your face. You reach out and hit the pause button, shutting off the tape recorder.

You lean back in the booth once again, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. The weight of the case hung heavily on you, the lack of progress a crushing disappointment. Never has a case had you so in the weeds before, you should have something by now.

"I need to find something," you mutter to yourself, jaw clenched. "I can't keep spinning my fucking wheels like this."

You rest your elbows to the table for a moment, rubbing a hand over your face as if trying to scrub away the fatigue and temporary defeat. Everything about this case was getting under your skin, the lack of progress wearing on your already frayed nerves.

The Diner's bell jangled as someone entered, causing you to look up from your thoughts. Your gaze lands on Tara of all people, who had just walked in.

You register the first responder uniform she is wearing, coming to the conclusion that she must be working the night shift. Or just got off it, depending on what time it is, that of which you aren’t sure. Your eyes lingered on her for a moment, taking in her tired but determined expression.

Her head turns and you’re already meeting her gaze, a pause between you, and then you silently gesturing for her to join you. You see the hesitation on her face, the fatigue and worry that mirrored your own. But after a moment, she relents and walks over to the booth, sliding into the seat opposite you.

“Hey” you start softly, watching her take your coffee mug off the table and take a small whiff before taking a sip.

You don’t question it.

“Nothing yet on our end, you?”

You shake your head, “even if we did, I’m sure Sam would be the first one to let you know.”

Tara nods, and you both fall silent.

The one waitress that seems to be working tonight walks over, she gives you both a kind smile.

“You’re working late tonight, Cici” Tara says politely, which makes the woman laugh good naturely.

“I could say the same to you, coffee?”

“Please.”

She scribbles it down, glancing back up “and the usual?”

Another nod from Tara, which then has Cici’s gaze going to you expectantly.

“I’m still doing okay with just coffee-“

“The Detective will have what I’m having Cici, thank you” Tara cuts you off, making Cici glance between you knowingly as she jots the order down and heads off without another word.

You look to Tara and narrow your eyes, but she beats you to it before you can speak.

“I wish you’d stop making assumptions about me, you know.”

A pause, you reach across the table for your mug but she pulls it from your reach.

There’s a good chance Tara is talking about the last conversation you two had before you found Wes and Chad, but of course you’d hate to assume.

So you wait for her to continue, after a moment her expression softens slightly and she nudges your coffee mug back across the table to you.

“For what it’s worth, I’m rightfully in the same boat. Worrying certain people are only around for information, for wanting to know things rather than-“ she stops, clearing her throat.

That’s when you get it. The hot and cold.

“Look… I’ve never once been dishonest with you, I’ve got no reason to be” you start slowly, giving your still aching shoulder a little roll before reaching across the table to accept your mug back.

“But-“ you pause, as your fingers brush against hers, neither of you acknowledge it as you pull the coffee mug back to your side “unfortunately that’s the one thing I’m under contract not to tell you, which is who hired me. You already know why I’m here, and if there’s one thing I can promise you is that I’m not using you for any reason.”

She is clearly skeptical, you can tell by the way she looks at you. But you can also see that slight softness between her brow, like she wants to believe you.

You sip your coffee, sitting it to the side before placing your palms flat on the table top, “ask me anything you want, no pool games, no deals, no trades, no bullshit. And then I’ll do the same.”

That look returns, the one Tara gave you a week ago when you’d asked her out for drinks.

“You still are trying to pick my brain” Tara says with an amused tone, you offer a smile and shrug.

“I wanna know you, is that so hard to believe?” You say as you nudge your coffee mug back over to her, a silent offer.

Tara eyes you, then the mug, then you again. She’s fighting back a smile, something you’ve noticed she does a lot with you. In a way you consider it a win, because it means she’s starting to like you even when she doesn’t want to.

“Fine” she agrees, pushing the coffee mug back across the table to you before crossing her arms, “but you’re on thin ice hot shot.”

You grin, trying not to feel triumphant for finally managing to somewhat get through to her.

“First things first, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

The disapproving look Tara gives you makes you laugh harder than it should, which in return, makes her smile more than she should.

And for the first time in a while, a sense of normalcy envelops you both. It won’t last, but for now, it’s nice.

previous, next

[maxislvt]

Have A Merry Little Christmas

Request: WandaNat and reader cuddling and watching holiday movies on Christmas eve night. An extensive kissing scene comes on and the reader starts to squirm, which gets the attention of wandanat.

Warnings: Smut, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Threesomes, penises, pregnancy

A/N: This basically solidifies that every fic in this event is either pure filth or the cutest thing you'll ever read on my blog and that's just so me!

Event Masterlist

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

As much as the three of you loved going big for the holidays, there were times when you and your lovers simply wanted peace. Sure, dressing up and getting wasted at one of Tony's parties was fun, but nothing could beat being wrapped up in the arms of two beautiful women and being treated like the most precious thing in the whole galaxy. Wanda on your left and Natasha on your right, the usual setup for a movie night. They had already gone through the trouble of getting snacks and picking out all the movies you'd be watching that might. You were practically reduced to a human teddy bear for the night.

Not that you were complaining. Wanda and Natasha had always made a big show of spoiling you any way they could. All throughout the night, you were kissed and praised for the slightest thing. It made your heart warm. The warmth of your heart seemed to spread to the heat of cunt a lot faster than you'd like to admit. With Wanda's choice of a rather explicit Christmas movie and the constant touch, if it was no surprise you'd get wet. You didn't want to ruin the holiday cheer and just kept it to yourself.

Your lovers knew you too well. It was part of their plan, to begin with, but you could never hide your neediness from them. One low whimper from your mouth and they'd be on you in seconds.

"Oh Wanda, I think someone's really enjoying the movie," Nat chuckled before placing a kiss again. "It's pretty late, I think it's time to give them that gift we made." Her words were punctuated with more kisses along your neck and jawline. A familiar hardness began forming in her pants as she rubbed against you. "I think you're gonna love it, malysh. It's something you've always wanted." Natasha's hands grew bolder as they explored your body.

Wanda hummed in agreement as she rubbed her crotch against your thigh. "I think you're right, our little puppy has been so good this year. One early present won't hurt." Wanda took the job of kissing the other side of your face and neck. Hers were much softer than Natasha's. More focused on getting you to relax than marking you up. "Isn't that fair, puppy? Just one gift before Christmas morning. We promise you'll like it," She said in a mocking tone.

You helplessly tried to squirm away from the strong hands grabbing at your body. "N-no, I'm fine! We can keep watching the —" Any attempts to argue were immediately stifled by the searing kiss Wanda pulled you into. Wanda's heavy tongue invaded your mouth while Nat began trailing kisses down your stomach. All the strength in your body was needed to pull away from Wanda just for a second. "I wasn't being needy, I promise!"

Wanda raised her eyebrows in shock. "Oh, really? Why don't we check?" She held up one of your legs, exposing your cloth-covered heat. "Let daddy touch you and we'll find out fair and square." Her nails dig into your skin to keep you from closing your legs. "You're getting your gift either way, but you know how we feel about liars."

Natasha shook her head. Even with the barrier of her fingers, your cunt had practically covered her fingers in slick. "Oh, baby you're soaking. There's no need to hide it." She kissed your pussy over your underwear before pulling them off. Two of her fingers slipped inside you with ease. "There's nothing wrong with being needy, that's what we're here for baby."

Wanda's other hand snaked down to play with your clit. Rubbing it in slow, tight circles just to hear you whine and beg for more. "That's right, just let us make it better. We just want you extra happy for Christmas." Her lips went back to attacking your neck "Just keep being good and everything will feel so good!"

You could only whimper and nod along. Unable to think for yourself, just letting yourself be marked and stretched. "Wanna…wanna cum," You said, barely stringing the words together in a comprehensive sentence. The feeling of two more of Natasha's fingers stretching your sopping wet cunt nearly sent you into orgasm. Your hand clamped over your mouth to prevent any more obscene noises from coming from your body, only to be snatched away by Natasha.

"Nope, none of that. Mommy and Daddy won't know they're doing a good job if you hold back." Natasha curled her fingers against your g spot, finally letting you fall into the ocean of pure bliss. She wanted you to drown in it. No matter how many times you tried squirming away from her fingers or tugging at her shirt, her fingers never stopped. "I know it's a lot but you're gonna need to be extra wet for our gift, puppy."

It was only by the grace of Wanda's lust that you were freed from Natasha's torture. "Let mommy have a turn and then you'll get your gift. I promise!" In one swift motion, Wanda turned you around to face her. "Just one taste." Greed had clearly over the plan the two originally played out as Wanda spent what felt like hours eating you out. The nerve endings on your clit were assaulted by both her tongue and fingers.

Wanda's tongue easily forced out two orgasms before she was done eating you out. You were thankful for the few minutes you were given to recover. "Thank you, momma. Thank you, daddy." Words were barely above a whisper but it was all you could get out before your brain short-circuited. You could only make a confused face and let out a "Hm?" When Wanda pulled you into her lap.

"It's time for our special puppy to get their little gift!" Wanda smiled before peppering your confused face with kisses. Her hand reached in between your bodies and guided the tip of her dick around your clit. "I know you're still sensitive, but you're a good puppy. Mommy knows you can take it." Wanda slid inside of your cunt and bottomed out in almost record time.

Natasha pushed you forward a bit. "And now you get the extra fun part." She peppered your cheek with kisses before slipping her dick inside of you. A deep groan came from her as she pushed as far in as she could. "God, this little hole was made for having babies." Her hips slowly began to thrust in sync with Wanda's and she grinned.

If you weren't so cock-drunk and full, you would've noticed the way Wanda slapped Nat's arm and reprimed her for almost ruining your surprise. Instead, you enjoyed the feeling of being stuffed and stretched out. Mindlessly bouncing on your lovers' dicks with much concern for how late it was becoming. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again!"

Wanda smiled. "Go ahead, make a big mess for your mommy and daddy! You're gonna make us so proud!" She groped your hips and pulled you closer to her. Having you sandwich between her and Natasha was forever a blissful experience, but not one of them would ever compare to how important this instance would be. "You better hope your daddy can hold it for three more minutes or she'll ruin the gift. Then the two of us will have to punish her, won't we?"

It seemed you liked the idea of a little revenge because your walls tightened unreasonably around your partners. "Fuck, I don't think either of us are gonna last if they keep pulling shit like that." Nat was practically rutting into you at that point. Her stamina was at its peak and not even the threat of Wanda's punishment could break her need to cum. "Be easy on me, just 2 more minutes."

Your brain barely processed Wanda's threats. Her words were far too big and long for your fluffy little head to understand. "No punishment…just wanna be full." You grabbed both of your partners' hands and signaled them to press down on the bulge in your stomach. The second your lovers fulfilled your wish, you came for the fifth time that night.

The rapid clenching and fluttering of your walls sent both of your lovers into orgasms of their own. They coated your insides with sticky white cum they'd been holding in for days. Their bodies moved as one in an attempt to prolong the bliss you three were captured in. Natasha was the first to collapse and Wanda didn't follow much longer after.

"Merry Christmas, malysh."

"We're gonna be a family."

[kissesandarsenic]

I asked my girlfriend how many people she'd had sex with and didn't like the answer. In fact I hated it. I couldn't deal with it to the extent that I ended up sedating her every night and retiring to my little room where I watch monitor screens of the multiple CCTV cameras installed in her bedroom to ensure she never has sex with anyone but me ever again.

One night we get burgled and five men in balaclavas break in, gag and tie me to my chair making me witness the ensuing events.

They have rough sex with her and I have to watch the pleasure in her face as she finally gets what she's dreamt of after all these years. My panic and fear turn to arousal. I see glimpses of her through all the thrusting bodies. Her dimpled cheeks, her eyes rolling back.

I have to ask for trick in the hope for a plot twist as this is so awful for me.

I'm insecure about the size of my penis. Go to town on this if you like, I'm currently caged for Locktober.

Rape is a hard limit (obviously) but cnc and somno would be excellent! Maybe it was inside job and she texted the security alarm code to an ex lover?

You don’t know what hurts worse, the ropes digging into your naked flesh slowly cutting off the circulation or the looks of raw pleasure on your girlfriend's face as she's fucked from behind while another man sucks on her clit from below.

Or maybe it's the way your little cock is straining against the bars of it's cage at the sight in front of you. It might be breaking your heart but it's also turning you on like nothing ever has before.

The balaclavas have been torn away at this point and you recognise the faces of her five ex lovers. Of course you know who they are. You did the research before you bought the security system. Before you decided it was okay to drug your girlfriend into compliance. She must have had a hand in this. There's no way these men could have gotten in on their own.

But your girlfriend is past the point of coherency, can't answer your pathetic cries. She's had two loads fucked into her and a third on the way and you, her darling boyfriend, have drugged her out of her mind. This is exactly what you deserve, and everyone in this room knows it.

'I bought this for her,' a dark haired ex says, pulling out a large hitatchi wand. 'She told me you bitched about her using toys. Said it emasculated you.'

'Jesus,' a heavily tattooed ex says with an eye roll. He nods down at your caged cock. 'You expected her to cum just from that fucking thing?'

Shame curdles like milk in your gut. You try and squirm back as the one with the toy approaches you. But the bonds hold firm. He plugs the toy in and turns it on. The sound is almost enough to drown out the wet slaps of your girlfriend being ruthlessly fucked.

'She doesn't need this,' the ex says. 'But you're sitting here aching. So I have a proposition. I strap this to your thigh while the rest of us fuck our pretty girl dumb. If you manage to not spurt in that cage of yours, we'll call this a once off and never darken your doorstep again.'

'But if you do...' the tattooed ex says.

He grins wide, eyes sliding lazily over to your girlfriend and dancing with mirth. You swallow hard. Twisting and straining to get away from the approaching toy.

'Colour, baby?' your girlfriend calls out.

The scene pauses, everyone looking to you. Warmth bubbles up in your chest at the concern in her eyes. Despite the awful feelings bludgeoning you before, you find yourself smiling.

'Green,' you say and choke on a gasp as the toy is pressed taut against your caged cock.

Trick or Treat Ask Game! Send in a fantasy with a "Trick" or "Treat" attached and I'll elaborate on it!

[veliseraptor]

just thinking about the "xue yang never cared about xiao xingchen he doesn't have real feelings and just thinks of him as a toy" take again and @ameliarating pointed something out to me namely:

Xue Yang broke into peals of laughter. "Wei-qianbei, you're merciless!"

"Fine, laugh. Even if you laugh yourself to death, Xiao Xingchen's soul will still be too broken to put back together. He found you repulsive, yet you still insist on dragging him back so that you can play games with him."

Abruptly, Xue Yang swung from laughter into rage. "Who wants to play games?!"

"Then why did you kneel in front of me and beg me to fix his soul for you?"

Of course, someone as clever as Xue Yang must have been aware that Wei Wuxian was trying to bait him. First, distracting him with anger, and second, provoking him into shouting, Wei Wuxian made it possible for Lan Wangji to deduce his location and strike. But still, Xue Yang couldn't help replying. "Why? Hah! As if you don't know. I want to turn him into a fierce corpse - under my control! Didn't he want to be a pure, virtuous cultivator? Then I'll make him endlessly slaughter people, so he'll never find peace!"

"Ah? You hate him that much? Then why did you kill Chang Ping?"

Xue Yang sneered. "Why did I kill Chang Ping? Do you need to ask, Yiling Patriarch? Didn't I already tell you? I said I was going to kill the entire Yueyang Chang Clan - I wasn't even going to spare one dog!"

[...] Wei Wuxian said, "You sure came up with a good explanation. Too bad the timing doesn't match up. Someone like you, who can't even let a dirty look go without avenging yourself a thousand times over, someone who strikes so swiftly and ruthlessly - if someone like you really wanted to kill off an entire family, why would they wait so many years to finish? You know perfectly well why you killed Chang Ping."

"Then tell me, what do I know? What do I know perfectly well?!"

He shouted this last sentence.

"You killed them, yes. But why lingchi? Killing someone that way signifies that it was punishment. If you were only getting revenge for yourself, why did you use Shuanghua and not your own Jiangzai? Why did you have to dig out Chang Ping's eyes and make him like Xiao Xingchen?"

Xue Yang shouted himself hoarse. "Bullshit! It's all bullshit! It was revenge - was I supposed to let him die comfortably?"

"Indeed, it was revenge. But whose revenge were you seeking? How ridiculous. If you genuinely wanted revenge, you should have sliced yourself into pieces!" (MDZS, Chapter 42)

so if we're meant to buy that interpretation, then...what is the point of this passage? what is it trying to say? is it just to give Wei Wuxian a means of distracting Xue Yang and making him show himself? then why this means? and why are we taking the line that Xue Yang himself, a famously reliable narrator (?) gives (re: wanting to turn Xiao Xingchen into a fierce corpse and control him) as the truth of the situation, as opposed to Wei Wuxian's own interpretation (where Xue Yang is taking revenge on Xiao Xingchen's behalf, albeit expressed onto a different target)? and what is the point of Xue Yang's reaction after this, where he suddenly goes silent and stops responding, meant to indicate? the fact that Xue Yang gets angrier and angrier at Wei Wuxian for pressing the point?

these are all cues present for a narrative purpose, not "just because," and they're pointing in a direction that indicates that Xue Yang in this scene is lying through his teeth, whether or not he admits that to himself.

furthermore, since inevitably "but adaptation" comes up in these conversations, CQL actually retains this scene in a remarkably intact form:

coming to the conclusion based on this scene alone (not even touching the narrative surrounding the events in the past) that people who claim that "xue yang had no genuine feelings about xiao xingchen whatsoever" is to be taken as truth are not just taking the most boring possible read of this text but also at least a little actively reading against it.

[nenyabusiness]

Regarding Halbrand/Sauron and the concept of humiliation.

In The Silmarillion, right after Morgoth’s defeat, Sauron was given a chance to repent. He might even have taken it, if it hadn’t been for his pride and his fear of humiliation.

“When Tharongorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgement of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, it might be, of long servitude of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-earth; and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong.”

Am I going to dig deep into something from The Rings of Power that might turn out completely irrelevant because I’m looking way too deep into it? Yes, yes I am. Here we go.

I’d say that the first time we see an example of Halbrand/Sauron’s issue with humiliation is in Episode 3, when the Númenóreans in that tavern make fun of his lower status. Even though they’re only insulting his low Man disguise, they still manage to get under his skin. We get to see that glorious murder glare, and he then proceeds to beat the shit out of them in the alley.

This look serves no purpose for his disguise. It’s clearly a crack in his façade, because moments later, the mask is back on, and he’s brushing it all off as a joke. That, right there, though? That’s Halbrand/Sauron feeling humiliated, and it affects him to the point that he nearly drops his disguise on the spot.

Then we have a less explosive event in Episode 5, where Galadriel outmaneuvers him in front of Queen Míriel. This interaction doesn’t end up in violence, but it does lead to him ripping off his pouch and giving Galadriel the silent treatment for quite some time. She doesn’t insult him like the Númenóreans, but she tricks him. There’s definitely a sense of humiliation in that, and he’s not having it.

This leads me to Episode 8, when Galadriel declines his proposal. This is, by far, the strongest emotional reaction that we see from Halbrand/Sauron in the entire season. It’s hard to tell whether or not he meant everything he said about making her his queen and binding himself to her light, but to me, that final reaction was genuine. Would a denied business proposal cause such anger? No. There’s more to it than that.

Through the season, he’s revealed bits and pieces of himself to her, but in this particular scene, he puts it all out in the open. His past. His relief of being free from Morgoth. His dream of healing Middle-earth. His wish to do so with her by his side. If he’s being even remotely genuine here, he’s showing her his true self, and all he gets in return is hatred and repulsion. Is there anything more humiliating than that? Letting someone in, and and finding that they’re disgusted by what they see?

So, how does Halbrand/Sauron deal with this humiliation?

... not great.

Anyway, let’s see how long this temper tantrum lasts in the second season. Considering how he usually handles humiliation in Tolkien’s works, it might be a while.

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hello. In the post 'SEASON 06 | What we know so far - Chenford Edition' you mention LAPD Psychiatrist. Do you think, maybe this is a doctor for Tim? Can he seek help to get rid of his injuries and fears related to working undercover? Perhaps this is how the screenwriters see the solution to this problem. The problem itself will not go away, otherwise they will have to come up with a reason that will make Lucy give up what she has a talent for. Do you have any other ideas how this problem will be solved? which solution would you prefer?

From what I understand, this psychiatrist is going to be introduced in relation to the events of the s5 finale/s6 premiere. So if I had to venture a guess, I'd say she's there either to assist the team in finding out who's behind those attacks, or to assess the team in the aftermath of said attacks. But since she will apparently have a recurring role, she could be used for other storylines. And let's be honest, all the characters could use some major therapy after everything they went through along the years.

So, yes, it could absolutely be there to further Tim's arc regarding his trauma with undercover work (or childhood, army…). I honestly doubt it, but it could be. Especially since the writers intend to dig into Tim's past this season - this could give some meaty materials for Eric and be an interesting way to deal with this arc. I'm just not sure that's the plan. (EDIT - from @roguetwelve : 'Eric mentioned in a cameo chat that he filmed his first scene with the psychiatrist in 6x07' - so right after his big storyline...).

I don't really know how the writers are going to 'solve' that… It's so complicated and there's no easy solution. The one thing I want to see is Lucy and Tim be honest with each other. Talk about their fears. There was a glimpse of that at the end of 5.21, so I hope they'll continue on this path. Right now, it's clear that Tim is terrified and doesn't want to admit it (and I believe he didn't even admit it to himself either, not until Isabel's return and Lucy's subsequent UC op) and that Lucy is hiding her feelings because she's worried about him and his reaction. And that's not sustainable. The thing is I'm not sure Tim will ever be fully okay with Lucy going undercover. He's always going to worry, that's part of who he is. But maybe he can find a way to live with it without triggering him. I could be wrong of course, but in my mind, Tim thought he was ready for it when he took that leap of faith with Lucy. He knew that was the career she wanted, he encouraged her for it… And that was incredibly brave of him to take this risk again, to open himself to being hurt that way again. All of this implies some healing. But a part of me believes that he was also in denial on how much it would affect him. He saw her go undercover several times before they started dating and I could see him rationalise that this would be no different once they were together. Only, Lucy's first UC mission since they became a couple happened on the heels of Isabel's return, bringing back a lot of buried memories and feelings he probably didn't expect to resurface. So this is something they need to work on. Together. As a unit. It won't be easy but it is worth the effort.

I don't know if I have a preference when it comes to a resolution. I'd just say that if Lucy were to give up UC, I want her to make that choice for herself. Either because the UC lifestyle is not something she can live with or because it doesn't fit with the life that she wants (at least for long-term undercover ops). I simply don't want someone else take that choice away from her.

[sleepy-writer84]

Tangerine

AKA a Kageyama x Hinata oneshot based off of the prompt "Person B buys Person A a special treat when they go out shopping" and the song Tangerine by Glass Animals

Tangerine. Tobio Kageyama was lost. He had never been to a festival before. The boy's volleyball club had an extra day in Tokyo after their practice match with Nekoma, so they all decided to head to a nearby event. It was a free day and as Ukai told them, they should take advantage of this time to build their bonds with one another. Stronger bonds meant stronger communication, which meant they would play better on the court. Kageyama knew this. However, as they all had sat around in the dining area that morning, discussing what they should do, the last thing he expected was Nishnoya, Tanaka, and Hinata to bring up a nearby festival that Kuro had told them about. The three were especially excitable at the concept of a city festival, even though technically they were still in the suburbs. Kageyama kept to himself as everyone agreed to attend the festival. Maybe if he would have attested, he wouldn’t be where he was right now. Maybe he could have convinced his fellow teammates to allow him to stay back at the inn. Maybe he could be practicing tossing right at this moment, instead of being swallowed up by a huge crowd. The moment they all stepped foot onto the fairgrounds, it was every man for himself. Everyone dispersed in excitement, breaking up into groups. Kageyama however was left behind, which led to him being all alone, gripping his hands in a tight fist as he tried not to allow himself to get overwhelmed. Taking a deep breath, Kageyama looks at the people around him, desperately searching for a familiar face. It isn’t until he feels a sharp tug on his cream-colored sweatshirt, does he turn his head downward, letting his tense shoulders fall as he sees the familiar mop of orange hair, the color reminiscent of a tangerine.

“Kageyama,” the smaller man starts to speak, “You look like you’re about to take a dump” he comments plainly. 

Kageyama grimaces at this, “I do not” he grumbles. 

“Yes, you do,” Hinata states simply, tugging on his sleeve again, “Come on let's go” he orders the taller man, practically dragging him through the crowd. 

Kageyama doesn’t protest. Even though it’s a bit embarrassing, he isn’t alone anymore, and he's grateful, something he would never tell Hinata. Kageyama lets the smaller man guide him through the crowd, his bright brown eyes widening at every booth they pass. He points at each one, gasping as he sees what they have to offer. Kageyama rolled his eyes at this, wondering why Hinata was letting himself get so worked up about such simple things. The energetic boy finally stops his zigzagging as they approach a booth that is offering stuffed animals as a prize. The shine in Hinata’s eyes is a familiar sight for Kageyama. It’s the look the redhead gets when he plays volleyball. It's determined, and if Kageyama knew any better, it’s a look that meant Hinata would win no matter what. Letting go of Kageyama, the shorter man digs in his pockets, finds some money, and offers it to the booth attendant. With a smirk, the booth attendant pockets the money and hands over a couple of small balls. The premise of the game seems simple, Kageyama thinks. Hit three targets and you get a small prize. Hit five targets and get a big prize. In total, you have ten chances to hit the targets, it didn’t seem unfair. He watches as Hinata makes a big scene, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his arms out in front of him. He then watches as Hinata misses every single toss. Kageyama snickers at this, watching as Hinata deflates. The booth attendant asks if Hinata wants to try again, but Hinata shrugs his shoulders, telling him he doesn’t have any more money. Of course, Hinata blew all his money on this stupid game, Kageyama thinks. If it was so stupid though, why did he find himself stepping up to the booth, digging in his own pockets, and paying for a turn himself. It was because he was competitive, is what he told himself. Even when he had made all 10 shots, and had chosen the prize that Hinata had his eyes trained on from the very start of this endeavor. 

With a bear plushie in his hands, Hinata does his best to keep ahold of the cream-colored sweatshirt of Kageyama’s and continues to drag him around the festival. The two run into some of their club members, but for the most part, the two are left to their own devices. Since the redhead did not have any more money, he seemed to stray away from the booths that required funds to participate. Instead, his brown orbs shined brightly as he took in the entire fairground, enjoying the sights and liveliness of it all. Kageyama tried to do the same, but it was all still too overwhelming for him. The best he could do was let his cold blue eyes focus on the curls of the short man in front of him, concentrating on the pressure of his hold on his sweatshirt to try and ground himself. It worked for the most part, but it still felt strange to him. Why couldn’t he enjoy this day like everyone else? Why did he always have to be so socially inept? Times like this made Kageyama insecure. Times like this made him want to be more energetic and happy like the man in front of him. But Kageyama knew this wasn’t possible. He and Hinata were two entirely different people, raised in two completely different environments. He could never be him, and Hinata could never be him. He knew that. But even though they were two separate people, Kageyama couldn’t help but feel like being with Hinata was comfortable. It was like a breath of fresh air, and it made situations like today more bearable. He was warm, like the sun, is what Kageyama concluded. Kageyama also concluded that the only reason he described Hinata like this was because of his untamed red hair, why else would he think of him so brightly?

The sun was starting to set, and Hinata was dragging Kageyama all the way back to the entrance of the festival. The day was eventful, to say the least. Not much was spoken between the two, but Kageyama did enjoy the company. It was a lot better than the alternative of being all alone today, overwhelmed and too in his head. As they were walking back, or more so as Hinata was tugging Kageyama behind him, a certain stand caught the eye of the black-haired male. It was a food stand, and the orange display is what had caused him to stop in his tracks, making Hinata fall back into his chest. Following his eyesight, Hinata smiles softly before turning his head upward, looking up at the male whom he still was backed into. 

“It’s a tangerine stand” Hinata explains, his eyes scanning over Kageyama’s features. 

“Like your hair” Kageyama states, not catching himself in time to stop the words that fell from his mouth. 

Hinata’s nose scrunches up at this, “Like my hair?” he giggles softly, reaching up to poke Kageyama’s chin, “You’re weird” he huffs out. His back still was pressed into Kageyama’s chest. The grip that he had on the man’s cream-colored sweatshirt hadn’t faltered even when he had stopped walking, so Kageyama’s arm was slightly resting on the smaller man's waist.  Kageyama scoffs at this, tilting his head down to look at Hinata. As they make eye contact, Hinata laughs, sticking his tongue out at him. This causes the blue-eyed man to roll his eyes. 

“Would you like one?” Kageyama asks him softly, his gaze moving back to the stand. The question surprises Hinata, causing him to stutter and blush a bit. 

“You already wasted money on this, it’s okay” Hinata responds, motioning to the bear in his hold. 

Kageyama tsks at this, “I don’t mind, would you like one?” he tries again. For some reason, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the orange color of the stand and the fruits it harbored. 

Smiling slightly, Hinata nods his head, slightly hitting the back of his head against Kageyama’s chest, “Sure”. 

Tangerines. As the two walked back to the entrance, meeting up with the rest of their club members, Kageyama couldn’t help but smile softly. He’s glad he had gone out with everyone today. He was even more glad to have the company of the man who was still persistent on tugging him every which way, even as they neared the end of their trip. Even when his hands were full, he still made sure to have a tight grasp on the cream-colored sweatshirt the black-haired man sported. Gazing down one last time at the curly mess of orange hair, Kageyama concludes that he really did like Tangerines. 

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba’din - Chapter 25: Exhale

Summary: There’s two of them, now.

Warnings: headache, flying reptiles (similar to keeradaks), playful banter

Author’s Note: oh my god two updates in a row? and only a couple hours late What are the odds??? actually kinda high because I’m almost down writing this series

5 chapters remain

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Crosshair wasn’t grumpy. He wasn’t moody, or snippy. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t even vaguely upset. In fact, he couldn’t say he felt negatively much at all.

He’d gotten up to take watch nearly an hour before, only to find Jaine had fallen asleep on Tech’s pauldron, and Tech, known for his general sleeplessness, was against the cave wall, quietly snoring.

Despite the odd angle of her neck, Jaine seemed to be comfortable, a pleasant look across her snoozing features.

He snuck over, crouching down next to her, brushing a few loose strands of her hair from her face.

She mumbled quietly and a small smile crossed his lips as he watched her snuggle into Tech’s shoulder even more despite his armor.

“You alright?” Hunter whispered behind him.

Crosshair sighed, standing up. “I should be upset, shouldn’t I?

“Dunno. Should you?”

“If this is what she wants- anything she wants, I couldn’t hesitate if I wanted to; it’s hers.”

Hunter merely chuckled.

“What?”

“Missed the look of affection on you, vod,” he grinned with a pat on Crosshair’s shoulder. “I’ll take your watch, you go join ‘em.”

Crosshair thought about protesting, but the scene before him looked so warm. So he settled in on the other side of Jaine. Tucking his arm under hers and feeling his chest fill up with that warmth as she intertwined her fingers with his.

-

Echo woke with a start, as always; his wide eyes hurriedly taking in his surroundings.

Right, he thought, remembering the previous day’s events.

“Alright?” Hunter murmured.

Echo nodded, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, fine.”

“Caf?”

He nodded again, gratefully accepting a cup of what reminded him more of jetpack fuel than actual caf, but drank it anyway.

“Figured we’d give ‘em another few minutes,” Hunter said, tilting his head towards Jaine, sandwiched between the twins.

“That’s… an interesting development,” Echo noted. “Tech’s coming back around?”

Hunter shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“‘Ey, since when does Tech cuddle again?” Wrecker grumbled, blinking at the small huddle.

Echo scoffed. “Since last night, I guess.”

-

Jaine woke up with her face pressed against the cool floor of the cave. She squeezed her eyes closed tighter, hoping that it would disperse the headache currently setting her brain on fire.

“You’re awake,” Hunter noted quietly.

She grumbled, struggling to find the energy to sit up, let alone speak.

“Caf?” Echo asked, despite already knowing her answer.

“I hate this osik,” she muttered, accepting the cup being handed to her. “Hot dirt water.”

“And yet you drink it every day,” Echo mused. “No wonder you’re so cranky.”

Jaine scowled at him, but sipped the caf, her face contorting into a disgusted expression. “What, did you wash Wrecker’s blacks in this?”

“Ey!” The large man protested. “They’re not so bad!”

Echo and Hunter exchanged a look, bemusedly rolling their eyes.

“Where are the others?” Jaine asked, rubbing at her sore neck.

“Scouting,” Hunter answered.

“And hopefully getting along,” Echo muttered with a smirk.

“Have they not been?” Jaine frowned, glancing around. “I actually got the feeling I might be smoothing things over with Tech.”

“Sure seemed like it to me,” Wrecker laughed, playfully whacking Echo on the shoulder.

“Seemed to me, too,” Hunter smirked, handing Jaine her bag. “Certainly looked cozy.”

“What are you going on about now?” she mumbled, digging through the bag.

“Sandwiched between two batch twins can be a dangerous game, Ad’ika,” Echo hummed, his smirk giving away his attempt at disguising his amusement.

Jaine rolled her eyes. “Oh, ha-ha, very funny.” She continued digging through the bag until she found a small round container. Opening it carefully, she took a small amount of the magenta paste, smearing it from the base of her skull, down and towards her jaw, beginning to hum as she rubbed the substance in.

With Wrecker and Echo off bickering about something nearby, Hunter found himself entranced with Jaine’s little ritual. Each quiet note her voice hit filled his ears and calmed his senses. He felt a tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying release as he watched the simple process, but found himself feeling almost heartbroken when her humming finished.

“That song, what is it?” he whispered, afraid to break the atmosphere she’d created around them.

Jaine’s eyes fluttered open, looking up at him, wide eyed. “Oh, um, it’s a Qoljaki song. It was typically sung at weddings, but my parents sang it all the time,” she shrugged. “My dad’s voice was lovely, but mom’s wasn’t very good. She used to say that she couldn’t carry a tune even if it was in a bucket.”

Hunter chuckled. “I guess you took after your dad then.”

She felt her cheeks flush as she looked towards the floor. “Yeah, right,” she snarked.

“I mean it, your voice is beautiful,” Hunter reassured her. “Just like the rest of you.”

Jaine’s eyes darted to his as surprise widened both sets. She searched him for any hint of insincerity or clue that he might be joking, but found nothing but a warm smile and admiration in his expression.

“Hunter,” she began but a loud thump followed by some shouting from the entrance of the cave drew their attention.

“What the hell was that?” Hunter growled, meeting the others at the opening of the cave.

He was immediately shushed by Echo, whose eyes never left the object of his attention.

“My files have no data on this kind of…creature,” Tech whispered.

“Has it seen us?”

“If it has, it has not shown any indication of attacking us.”

Hunter nodded. “Wrecker, Crosshair, keep an eye on that thing. We need to get moving.”

Hesitantly the three clones made their way back into the cave to begin to gather their meager camp.

“What’s going on?” Jaine asked.

“Creature outside,” Echo grunted. “Big one.”

“It appears to be a creature similar to the keeradaks on Skako Minor. Flying reptiles are somewhat uncommon to come across,” Tech noted.

“Flying reptiles?” Jaine chuckled. “That’s a new one.”

“Maybe for you. Sometimes I forget you’re newer than me,” Echo smirked.

“Oh yeah, that three month headstart really gave you a leg up, huh?” she snarked. “Two, even.”

Echo feigned offense, but couldn’t hide the lightness in his eyes.

“Alright, you two,” Hunter grinned. “We should get back out there.”

“Hunter,” Crosshair’s voice rasped over the comms. “Our new friend has a partner.”

“There is another?” Tech asked. Jaine could hear the fascination in his voice.

“Yeah, only this one looks meaner,” grunted Wrecker.

“Best hurry,” Crosshair scoffed. Wrecker looks like he wants to poke at them.”

Thanks for reading! - River

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[ejzah]

Could you write a fanfiction set during the events of the season 8 finale where Kensi and Deeks take a moment to grieve and comfort each other over Michelle's death and Sam's heartache, taking place after Callen and Sam leave the scene, but before they get back to Ops.

A/N: This one was a little hard since I didn’t want Kensi and Deeks to come off as selfish.

***

When No One Wins

Deeks glanced around the crime scene, shaking his head at the carnage left behind. The coroner had taken Michelle’s—had taken Michelle, and Callen and Sam had left shortly after. Only a few cops remained, processing the last of the evidence, and so forth.

It was horrific, not in the least because they’d been so close. So close to saving Michelle, to keeping Sam’s life whole. He kept running through what they could have done differently, where they’d been too slow or too stupid to it the pieces together. And Michelle had paid the price.

Turning away from the lines of caution tape, Deeks glanced around for Kensi. He’d last seen her talking to one of the LAPD officers maybe 15 minutes ago, but had lost track of her since.

A rush of panic, and the sudden, intense need to find her had him ducking back under the yellow tape. He didn’t think Tahir would attack her, but he needed to check for his own peace of mind. After a few minutes, he found her tucked away at the very back of the building.

“Kensi? Did you find something else?” he asked, covering his relief at the sight of her.

“No, I, uh, I needed a minute,” she said softly.

“Sam and Callen already left, so we should probably get back.” Kensi nodded in response, just the edge of her jaw visible, but it was enough for him to tell she was barely holding back tears. “Hey, come here.”

“I’m fine, I just—” she waved her hand in a vague gesture, keeping her body firmly turned away from him.

“Kens.”

At the sound of her name, she crumpled, shoulders caving inward as she cupped her palms over her face.

“Oh baby,” he murmured, gently taking her arm, and she didn’t resist when he tugged her into his arms. Burying her face in his chest, Kensi gripped the back of his shirt so tightly, he felt her nails dig slightly into his skin. Her shoulders heaved with silent sobs.

“I can’t believe this happened,” she gasped. “Michelle’s gone. I thought we’d find her in time.”

“I know, me too.” He swallowed heavily, his anger from before giving way to sadness. He clutched Kensi to him, breathing in her familiar scent, the comforting press of her body against his.

After a few minutes Kensi heaved a sigh, rubbing both hands over her damp cheeks as she eased back.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to take a minute, grieve, for Michelle, for Sam,” he said in a gravelly voice, brushing his fingers up and down Kensi’s back. “And then we do whatever it takes to find Tahir. Because that’s what Sam’s going to need right now. We support him however we can.”

“It won’t make this right,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing will.”

“I know it won’t. But it’s the best we can do.”

Kensi pressed her lips together, visibly fighting for control of her emotion. She looked up at Deeks, carefully cupping his cheeks, and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you,” she said with great intent in her voice.

He was almost certain she was thinking of Sam and Michelle, and the utter unpredictability of the future.

“I love you too.” He embraced her again, allowing himself one more moment of selfishness. “Now let’s go help Sam.”

***

A/N: I hope this is alright, if a little different than what you might have imagined. I’ll admit while I did review a few clips and the transcript, I did not rewatch this arc, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Rest in peace, Michelle.

Thanks for the prompt!

[penwieldingdreamer]

Brewing Storm - Questions

I'm so sorry...I've been swamped with work (and it doesn't look like it gets better any time soon) but here's the next installment of Brewing Storm. Let me know what you think. Thank you for leaving likes and reblogging.

If you want to be tagged in future chapters follow the link . (Link is updated so you guys should be able to us it now, sorry it wasn’t working properly)

Have fun and happy reading ❤️

Betas: @fortheloveoffanfic @ladyelissarose @missathlete31

Warnings: 18+ in future chapters, MDNI, canon violence, mentions of injuries, fighting, drug trafficking

Reader is non-descriptive, only Candy is frequently used as nickname

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Part 3 - Questions

You walked through the bustling NCIS office in San Diego, your expression a mix of determination and concern. A thick file containing the details of the incident at the football game in hand, you were ready to question Lieutenant Jake Seresin about the events that had unfolded. Stepping into the room he was held for questioning, you immediately felt the tense atmosphere, the chatter of the other agents fading away with the door closing.

The aviator was seated at the table in the middle, dark circles underneath his eyes and his face a mask of apprehension and determination. You approached him, seeing the weight of the situation etched in the lines of his forehead.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” you began in a firm yet empathetic tone, taking a seat across from him, opening the folder in front of him. You scanned the evidence pictures, locking eyes with him ready to dig deeper into the night that had forever altered  your lives. “My name’s Y/N Gibbs, I’m an agent with the NCIS. I appreciate your cooperation. I need to ask you some questions about you being on the scene tonight.”

Jake sighed, feeling the tiredness seep into his bones. "I told the other agent already and I'll tell you again: I did nothing wrong. That boy was in danger and I was helping him."

"Chief Petty Officer Andrew Cain sustained a gunshot wound to his left shoulder. He got lucky, a few more inches to the right and he would have been in the morgue instead of a hospital bed. Question is what we're you doing there and where the hell is the gun?"

Jake took a deep breath, his memories flashing vividly in his mind. "I was going to find you. Wanted to get the date we talked about, but I heard these guys. They were threatening Chief Petty Officer Cain - as I now know.”

You leaned forward, your eyes intent on Jake's face. "And then what happened?"

"I walked up to them, I don’t know why but I had to help him," Jake continued, his voice filled with a mix of adrenaline and trepidation. "They told me to leave and one pointed his gun at my head. I swear I nearly shit my pants - if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it instantly. All I know is he turned so swiftly and shot at Andrew, I wasn’t fast enough."

You nodded, your pen poised above a notepad. "So, you are telling me you didn’t have a gun on you?"

Jake's eyes flickered with regret, as if replaying that moment in his mind. "Yes, Agent Gibbs. Though I wished I had. I should have protected the kid."

Scribbling down his response, you then pressed further. "Can you recall any specific details about the individuals involved? Any distinct features or what you overheard?"

Jake furrowed his brow, his mind racing through the fragmented memories. "It’s all fuzzy. I know they were out for a job, one said their boss wanted the job done. The guy with the gun had a tattoo on his neck, looked like those Yakooza ones but I can’t be sure. The other one was stocky, short with a scar on his temple."

You nodded, making notes as she absorbed the information. "Were you able to see anything else, a ring, special feature?"

"I'm not sure," Jake replied, frustration tinting his voice. "I was more focused on the gun pointed at me."

Silence hung between you momentarily, the weight of the investigation pressing upon your shoulders. You could sense Jake's unease and his desire to assist in any way possible.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," you said, your voice soft and laced with appreciation. "Your cooperation is crucial to getting those guys. We will do everything in our power to keep you safe and bring those men to justice."

Jake's gaze met yours, a mix of gratitude and determination shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he paused, not sure if calling you Darling on record was going to go over well. "uh, Agent Gibbs. I know you’ll bring them down."

You offered a reassuring smile, making his insides flutter like they did the night before. "We might have more questions in the future, so we might call on you again."

Jake nodded, anxiety slowly melting away. He couldn't imagine how it might have sounded to Mav and Cyclone if he was arrested for trying to murder the son of an Admiral.

Closing the folder with all your notes, you rose from your seat, gesturing to the pilot to follow you. You were just at the beginning of your investigation and had a feeling it was going to be a long one. “I’ll show you out, Lieutenant.” 

Grabbing the jacket he had haphazardly thrown over the back of his chair, Jake followed you out of the room, entering the bustling bullpen of the San Diego NCIS office. "Just sign the papers before you leave and I'll be"

"Candy!" Ellie’s voice drifted over the hustling agents and you could hear her feet stomping along the carpet floor. "It's so good to see you."

With a grunt you planted your feet into the ground as the blonde agent pulled you into a tight hug. "What are you doing here?" You ground out, lightly patting her shoulder as you spotted Gibbs and Torres in a heated staring match with a man you remembered coming by your entrance at the game.

"SECNAV wanted us on the case with the kid of an Admiral involved." Your uncle ground out. You sighed - in all the years you had been in the same space as Gibbs you never understood how he always heard or saw what was going on, even ways away from where you were. Must be his really special talent as a sniper. 

"Great, well, I, uh, already got Lieutenant Seresin's statement. He was involved, trying to help CPO Caine." You glanced to your left, Jake still standing there awkwardly while Gibbs and the other man came closer. Ellie raised her eyebrows at you, a smirk making its way on her lips.

He's hot. She signed to you, something you had picked up after first meeting her right after leaving the FBI. Shaking your head you waved your hand at the blonde, making her giggle loudly behind her hand.

"Good, we'll keep coming back for more questions. And for you as well, Captain Mitchell. Don't think we won't be asking your team or you as well."

There was an obvious tension in the air between those two and you scoreboard yourself you'd get to the bottom of this.

"Wouldn't have thought otherwise, Gunny. Still the same old grumpy Marine."

"Still the same old cocky flyboy."

There was definitely some history there and judging by the curious faces copying your own you knew that Torres, Ellie and Jake wanted to know what was going on as well.

Tagging:

@none-of-your-bullshit @fortheloveoffanfic @ladyelissarose @missathlete31 @chipendenspook1997 @mayhemmanaged @aviatorobsessed @genius2050 @chickensarentcheap @harrypotteranna23-blog

[hikaaa-bi]

(rant ahead, proceed at your own risk)

honestly though, i do not like it when a show has no problem putting characters through trauma but doesn't want to address it afterwards. especially worse when they keep dogpiling trauma onto one specific character and then just forgets all about it. oh yay, the world is saved and this character is alright now, i guess.

exhibit A: Marcy from Amphibia. she was already having issues with leaving her friends and trying to combat that with escapism. she got reasonably rejected by her friends when they realized she tricked them. she got backstabbed by the king, both metaphorically and literally. the stab scene literally needed a content warning. she gets put on life support for a while and then gets turned into a weapon. the VA did a really good job with the screaming that it really made us think Marcy was going to at least have scars later. if they went all out, she'd probably be paralyzed or disabled for a while. if not, the least they could do is have her being weak and unable to move too much or fight.

but guess what? her friends rescue her from the core and after a little bit of crying and apologizing, girlie is a-okay. no visible scars, no physical injuries, not even a little bodyache. she jumps up immediately and is fighting the enemy in her super saiyan form moments after.

and do we even have to talk about the emotional and psychological trauma? nope. Marcy is saved now, that's all that matters. apart from a little bit of character growth, this girl is not affected by what she went through one bit.

don't forget that right after seeing Marcy get stabbed and presumably killed, Anne goes back to earth, has exactly 1 second of crisis and then completely forgets about her friend. a lot of the viewers argued that Anne was just repressing her feelings and trying to act happy. if this is true, the writers should show it. just having her act happy and have fun at grocery stores and museums doesn't really send the point across. you start to wonder whether the character got amnesia or if the writers have it.

The Owl House temporarily succeeded in showing a happy-go-lucky character repressing their feelings a.k.a Luz in s2b. we clearly see Luz looking anxious or sad when she's alone or when no one is looking. you see her panicking and trying to overcompensate with jokes, when she's actually not feeling okay. it's done really well in both animation and voice acting.

exhibit B: Hunter from The Owl House. now TOH wasn't overall as bad at showing emotional impact and trauma as Amphibia was. it had its fair share of tears and panic attacks. we see multiple characters very clearly experiencing the aftereffects of traumatic events they went through - King, Eda, Luz, Amity, Hunter. the only problem is that these arcs aren't really resolved well.

Hunter being the most popular example. like Marcy, Hunter was someone who was just given trauma after trauma to deal with. he was a child soldier, raised by his abusive "uncle" who was also the emperor. he was brainwashed into doing whatever his uncle wants him to, with the golden child complex tacked onto him. he is already in a very fragile position at this point, accepting his death and digging his grave when he fears that he's about to disappoint his uncle. he later finds out that he was a clone of said uncle's brother and that there were thousands before him, disposed of easily when they turned against the emperor. he has to fight his uncle in the finale, where said uncle tries to manipulate him again. after getting stranded in the human realm, his uncle later possesses his body, almost killing him in the process. oh, and his best friend actually gets killed.

and the aftereffects? TOH wasn't as avoidant as Amphibia. they did show Hunter having multiple panic attacks, identity crises after leaving the emperor's coven and very obvious fear and negative impacts of abuse.

but the whole grimwalker thing seems to be not taken as seriously as it should have been. Hunter is worried about his friends knowing that he is a clone, rather than about being a clone. i mean, in a world where grimwalkers aren't implied to be a common thing, surely it must be very existentially shocking and confusing to suddenly learn that you're not you, right? i mean, if i learned that i was a clone of someone else, i know the first thing i would think of wouldn't be about how my friends would take it. because i havent had the time to process it myself.

like i get it, these are Hunter's first friends and he doesn't want to lose them, yada yada. but it's still a bit strange to address it this way.

the main problem i have with Hunter's arc is that he never gets his closure with Belos. after Belos possesses his body and kills Flapjack, Hunter tells the others that they have to find and defeat Belos in order to avenge Flapjack. he is clearly distressed and angry. but then the story suddenly seems to forget about his trauma and focuses on Willow's issues instead and just handwaves the whole revenge thing aside.

Hunter did not have to be part of the final fight against Belos. but he needed some closure after everything that had happened. i mentioned this in a previous post but remember when Zuko was able to confront his dad, call Ozai out on all the shit he did and loudly reclaim his destiny? Zuko was allowed to face Ozai and say "I'm not going to be who you want me to be. you are a horrible person who abused me all my life and I'm finally cutting myself free from your influence, and I'm going to right all the wrongs that you made." this was such a powerful moment and Hunter deserved something akin to it too.

but in the end, Hunter isn't even at the scene where Belos dies. Luz, King, Eda and Raine are. and sure, all of these characters were affected by Belos's actions one way or another, but Hunter was the one who was most deeply impacted by Belos. and he never got his closure, he just.. had to move on. it was just such a disappointing end to his arc because he was a character that had so much potential, but they pushed his entire arc and development aside, so that huntlow can happen. yes, i dislike huntlow, it's a very forced and poorly written ship that sabotages the personality of both these characters.

anyway, yeah. either take time to address your character's trauma or don't give them trauma at all. believe it or not, not everyone goes through absolute life-shattering trauma and pain. people deal with problems, sure, but if you can't write about trauma well, please don't.

[dreamlandreader]

Foolish Fire Chapter Five - A Charming Beast

The time has come for the final chapter of your gift to be released @popjunkie42-blog 💖 I’m so happy that you now have your entire gift out in the world, but I am also a little sad that it’s finished as I’ve had such a wonderful time getting to know you and it has been my greatest pleasure getting to write for you.

Thank you so much to the organisers of @acotargiftexchange - this event has been an absolute joy to be involved in and you must have worked so incredibly hard behind the scenes to ensure that it all ran smoothly. It’s such a fabulous way for people in the fandom to connect with others and I hope you know how brilliant you are!

You can find the masterlist here, or read this fic on ao3 here

Content warnings - Suggestive language

Rhys woke to the early morning sunlight breaking through the trees. He was freezing cold with pins and needles in his left arm, which was trapped under Feyre’s head. Sleeping naked under the stars seemed like a brilliant idea until now, when his lack of clothing meant that several sharp stones were digging into his bare ass cheek.

Feyre sighed between gentle snores and nestled herself further into Rhysand’s embrace, crushing his arm in the process, but he didn’t care. He savoured every moment with his wife, especially these moments when it was just the two of them curled up together.

Rhysand knew he would never complain about early mornings again. Not when he got to wake to his mate sleeping soundly, a smile gracing her peaceful face. Not when she woke up first, and he opened his eyes to hers, taking in every inch of him. Like she truly saw him for what he was and loved him, not in spite of that but because of it. Not on the mornings when their beautiful son would squeeze his tiny body between them and chatter away giddily.

Rhysand kissed Feyre’s forehead, smoothing her hair out of her face with his free hand, and began to wake her up slowly. Early in their relationship, he had learnt that Feyre did not take kindly to being awoken abruptly.

“Wake up darling, the sun is coming up. We should start moving again and try to find our way out back to the camp before the others start to panic,”

What Rhysand was not aware of, though, was that it was already too late.

Nesta woke to the image of Elain bursting through the flaps to her tent, delicate hands covering her eyes.

"Wake up! Nesta, get up!" she shouted at a level far too impolite for this hour in the morning.

"For cauldron's sake, Elain, go away," Cassian mumbled, his face planted so far into his pillow that Nesta was slightly concerned he might suffocate.

"I will not go away, Cassian. Get your lazy asses out of this tent immediately before I damn well drag you out!" Elain shrieked, her voice several octaves higher than usual. The urgency in her tone caused a terrible sinking feeling in Nesta's gut as she sat up and took in her sister, Cassian, not far behind her.

"Elain, what's wrong?" Nesta asked softly.

"And why are you covering your eyes?" Cassian added.

"I'm … well, I … urgh", she stumbled, slightly uncovering her eyes and peaking until she knew it was safe.

"Feyre and Rhysand are missing! I came here to wake you up so we could try to find them. But I was concerned I would walk in on your mid-morning activity again," she grimaced, remembering a particularly unwelcome memory from a few months prior.

"Gods, Elain, it was one time!" Nesta moaned, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, and the memory of Cassian spread eagle still hasn't left either mine or Lucien's brain, thank you very much,"

"I am a sight to behold," Cassian smirked, winking at Elain, who blushed furiously.

"Oh, Mother, spare me; we aren't talking about Cassian's manhood again, are we, sweetheart? I thought we swore never to discuss it again," Lucien drawled as he climbed through the tent flaps and hooked his arm around his mate's waist.

"Can we please get back to the matter at hand," Elain sighed, throwing Nesta a desperate look.

"They'll probably just be off somewhere having sex in the woods," Nesta said, trying to calm the worry that was rising in herself, never mind Elain. "I thought so too when I first noticed them missing 4 hours ago when I got up to use the bathroom and noticed their tent flaps still open. However, I just went to see if Feyre wanted a cup of spearmint tea, and their tent is still empty. In fact, it doesn't even look as though they've been in there at all,"

"Maybe they've just winnowed home. You know Rhys, he loves his home comforts. They probably just thought they could sneakily sleep in their own bed and then slip back this morning, and nobody would notice," Cassian guessed, knowing his brother had spent most of the previous day whining.

"No. Something has happened. I know it!" Elain insisted, and Nesta couldn't shake the feeling that she was right.

"How about we give it a couple of hours, stay here and wait for them to turn up? If they still aren't back by then, we can start to look for them properly," Lucien suggested, the warmth in his eyes soothing the fear in Elain's heart.

"Okay, I guess. As long as we go as soon as those two hours are up," she agreed.

"I promise. Why don't we go and drink some of that tea? It might help to calm our nerves?" Lucien asked, leading Elain out of the tent with a nod to Nesta and Cassian.

"They'll be okay, Nesta," Cassian said, gripping her hand in his own, able to read the silent panic she radiated through the bond.

"Yeah, I know", she answered, but her concern still remained.

Feyre and Rhysand, now dressed again in their dirty and bloodstained clothes, began their journey once more, trundling through the forest, hoping to find their way back to their family.

"I wish we knew where the hell we were going, Rhys," Feyre grumbled as they walked through thousands of identical russet-coloured trees.

"We just need to keep walking. We'll come to something we recognise eventually,"

Before Feyre could respond, a small yelp echoed in the distance, and she immediately stopped in her tracks, her attention now focused on the small creature in obvious distress.

"Feyre, no. It could easily be another trick," Rhysand said, knowing exactly what his selfless wife was thinking Rhys.

Another yelp rang out.

"But it sounds like it is scared, Rhys, we can't just leave it!"

"Darling, it's likely just another creature trying to separate and kill us. We can't take that risk so soon after last night," Rhysand begged, praying to the Gods she would drop the subject and continue walking.

Rhys took a single step forward before one more yelp penetrated the frigid silence of the woods, and he turned to his mate, knowing this fight was already lost.

"Fine," Rhys said, turning to look at Feyre, who stared back with hope in her eyes. "Let's just be very careful. Neither of us has enough power back from the faebane yet to be able to defend ourselves sufficiently. We can't just go barging in there,"

Following the noise, it became apparent that the distressed animal was not alone. As Feyre and Rhys approached, a deep, rumbling voice sounded out with laughter so loud that Feyre was surprised she didn't feel the ground shake beneath her feet.

Looking through the trees, the couple could see a gigantic beast whose legs were as thick as tree trunks and who towered over everything in its wake. In the centre of the creature's face was a single dark green eye, and in its fist was an animal so small that from their angle, neither Feyre nor Rhys could figure out what it was.

“A cyclops,” Rhys whispered, having recognised the larger creature from brief encounters in his past when rogue individuals had wandered into some of the nearby Night Court villages and caused utter chaos.

The tiny animal in its grasp let out a short howl, and the cyclops laughed again, dangling the little black bundle from its hind legs and swinging it back and forth over its open mouth.

“He’s teasing it,” Feyre fumed, enraged with the creature’s cruelty, before storming up to the monster, hands clenched by her side and giving it a swift kick.

Rhys stared at Feyre with his mouth wide open as he ran to her side. He was simultaneously annoyed that she didn’t stick to the plan and incredibly impressed by her determination to fight for what she believed was right.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Feyre screeched up at the beast, fury igniting the flames in her eyes.

The creature growled, it’s rancid breath overwhelmingly their fae senses as it peered down upon them with irritation.

“It’s a baby. Leave it alone. Go and fight with something your own size,” Rhys shouted before pulling Feyre back as the Cyclops threw out a leg.

He knew the monster’s size slowed it down significantly. However, its brute strength meant that they would easily be torn to shreds if it managed to snatch either of them in its grasp. The creature glared down at them once more, likely coming to the same conclusion, and smirked.

“Look, the last 24 hours, I have been through hell. I got lost in the woods, had my mind taken over by a creepy ass butterfly, nearly got eaten by a fucking lake monster, witnessed my mate on the brink of death and fought off a demonic psychopath. Oh, and to top it all off, I slept on the forest floor last night, so my back fucking hurts. But trust me, I still will not find you a challenge,” Feyre snarled.

Rhys prepared himself to run from another attempted blow. However, instead of attacking, the creature began to laugh once more, the sound booming so loudly that golden leaves began falling from the trees, showering down around them.

Placing the cowering creature on the floor, the cyclops stepped back, took one more amused glance at Feyre, turned around and stomped away.

"What just happened?" Feyre asked, bemused.

"I think you just defused that entire situation by making him laugh," Rhys replied, just as confused as his wife.

Moving forward, Feyre looked down at the scared animal by her feet, and let out a gasp as not one, or two, but three heads lifted and looked back at her.

Approaching gently, she let the three-headed pup sniff her hand and giggled when three tiny pink tongues began to lick it to thank her for her assistance.

"Where's your Mama," she asked, kneeling to see them closer, her heart melting at the six round eyes that looked back at her. In reply, the pups let out a sad whine, and Feyre knew they were orphaned. Looking up at Rhysand, Feyre and the three-headed dog appeared to all be asking the same question.

"Absolutely not. Our lives are full enough, Feyre. We have a court to run and a toddler, never mind that we'd need to find somewhere to put it. Do you know how big these dogs get!"

Feyre just continued looking at Rhysand, not saying a single word, yet still pleading with him to bring them home.

"Oh gods, fine!" he moaned, "but I, for one, will not be walking it!"

Feyre sprang up, peppering his face with kisses as the puppies let out tiny howls of excitement, their little black tail wagging with glee.

"Come on, we still need to find our way out of here," Rhys sighed.

Suddenly, the three-headed pup, who seemed to have been listening to the entire conversation, began to run, Feyre chasing after them and Rhys hot on their trail. After a few minutes they found themselves nearing a clearing, with three tents sitting in a line, and four worried fae sat around a campfire.

"Where the hell have you been?" Nesta says, hands on her hips, "We were scared to death!"

Scooping the pups into her arms and giving them a grateful squeeze, Feyre replied, "It's a long story," and plonked herself down onto a camp chair.

"We have time," an equally concerned Elain said, looking to Rhys for answers, and so, with one arm around his mate, he began to tell their tale.