#I know it’s bad hope they rot in prison and burn in hell

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

omg can you do the opposite of the one flustered jester idea? where the reader is the one flustered and let’s switch things up a bit by making reader a beast too she was also sealed cause well.. I mean girlbosses are always villains so, (reader is the weakest beast sadly, she’s weaker than sm) anyway so what if they’re ALREADY into eachother but they’re goddamn slow burn ass yk AGH and so bcz shadow milk knows she’s flustered and she can well flirt back but like bros already red so.. shadow milk has the upper hand here in terms of teasing / flirting YKYK sorry brain rot.. since this is a little more suggestive bcz well you’re flirting I believe that’s suggestive / a little spicy? hope this doesn’t break your rules I’m not quite sure if this counts as super bad.. if it is i swear it’s not intentional I LOVE YOUR WORK ❤️❤️

ohoho anon, you don't realize the power you've given me. Also, i may have changed it a bit to make Reader more of a Warden within the seal that... kinda sucks at her job at keeping the Beasts in the seal and detering them from escaping just to spite the witches. She's still a bit of a girlboss girlfail though.

Requested Prompts #42 - 💓

The five Beasts, five fallen heroes formerly revered now sealed away for their crimes against cookiekind. Everyone knows that Elder Faerie Cookie is the guardian of the seal, but what about the Warden? Yes, the warden of the seal. The Cookie placed within it by the witches to be the equivalent of a squeaky toy for ensure that the beasts stay within the seal from the inside. And, to put things rather simply... you didn't like your job. In fact, you hated the fact that the witches decided that you were apparently fit for the job. So, instead of doing your job, you got to know the beasts instead. Hell, you may have even caught feelings for one of them. And now, with all this information in mind, it brings us to now. " Oh little warden~" You could hear the beast of deceit purr, causing you to stop yourself in your tracks to look over at the (currently) contained beast. You noticed that he'd shrunken down to be around your height, though not small enough to slip through the bars like you could. " Seems you finally decided to pay me a visit again! I was getting so bored trying to entertain myself!" He reached through the bars of his prison, beckoning you inside. You, of course, obliged in his request. " Well, I have duties to attend to within the seal. If the Witches knew I was slacking off then they'd crumble me for sure." You said to yourself with a chuckle, as if the witches would even bother to care after basically abandoning you here all those years ago. " Oh hush, you and I both know very well that they can't possibly know what goes on in here. You can blame it on that Foolish King if something ever happens." Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, holding your face in his hands. " Besides, who would believe a Fool King like him? Nobody, and I mean nobody, knows just what happens here, little warden." There it is again, there's a certain lit to his voice that seemed to worm it's way into your heart to make it beat faster. You couldn't exactly tell if he was actually flirting with you or not, but there was a certain quality to it that tipped your thoughts towards the more flirty side of things. " Still," You begin, looking away to prevent yourself from staring into his gaze. " It's the only thing I can really do here, y'know?" Your reasoning seems to go in one of the beast's ears and our the other, even though neither of your technically have ears. " Hm... but you could be having a little bit of... fun with your favorite trickster, hm?" He suggested, and that may have been what broke your composure the slightest bit, letting the slightest hint of red creep onto your face. You certainly didn't trust that 'fun' meant exactly what you thought, it was probably another one of his petty puppet shows and he was doing all of this to rile you up and get a reaction out of you. " And what exactly do you mean by... 'fun'?" you question him, your composure breaking further as he let out a low chuckle. " Oh little warden... You're so cute whenever you act so clueless." He purred in this new, low voice of his. Since when could he do this? You knew he was an actor but what???? the fuck??? You could see that he was getting bigger as well, more or less of a good sign. " ... It makes me want to just gobble you up~" hoo boy, hoo fucking boy. You could feel the back of one of his claws rest at your leg. " Starting from your toes all the way to your itty bitty silly little head~ I wonder just what you'd taste like...? I could probably just eat you up in one bite~!" He purred, you could see his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking them in a rather teasing manner that got your heart working overtime. You couldn't tell if it was beating so fast out of fear or embarrassment because maybe this actually flustered you a lot and- by the witches he was fucking huge now. Holy fuck he could probably actually do it. He leaned down close, his wide grin inches away from your face.

" Oh you're oh so teeny tiny... i really could just eat you up in one bite~" He hummed as his hand wrapped around your body. You were pretty sure that your brain is going to short-circuit soon just from the way he's looking at you.

----

this may be the spiciest thing i've ever written, what the heck.i only stopped here cause I couldn't write any more without getting too embarrassed.

[inafieldofdaisies]

(WIP) Music (not) Monday Tag | Tagged by @simplegenius042

You're the fire to my bullet The peace in a war We're hot and cold Keep me wondering all the time How I crave you in the morning When the moon is fast asleep But I feel you burning my chest Like a feather of flames on me I'm a prisoner to all of her I question who I am How can such an innocent woman have such dangerous hands? All over me All over you All over me With such dangerous hands

Can you catch your breath, watch your back, do you ever wonder? Who walked into the room with the boom, boom of the thunder Do you see the havoc? Who has the key? Don't close your eyes Don't fall asleep You can call me a savage You can call me a beast In the middle of the madness, I sharpen my teeth I'm the queen of the jungle No one's wearing my crown I'm the queen of the jungle Watch them all bow down

Devoured now forever in the depths Pave my home Forever i'm yours, you're my never ending poltergeist Forever immortalized To her demise, the banshee cries I know that you'll always be faithful, dear darling Rachel Wickedness around me, dreary sonder Fallen for the darkness of a songbird I'm done breathing Take you by the hand I promise I'm not leaving Bury me in sand, oh, won't you end my grieving Don't misunderstand, I told you I'm done breathing

Night terror thats haunting your bad dreams The last mistake you get See my face when you think of your enemies Lock your doors and draw the blinds I've been to hell and back so many times Now you pay for your crimes LION These claws and teeth LION We kill em in their sleep I've seen a lover die I've see my house burn down I've seen the end of times I've seen my luck run out I know the heartache I know the edge of hope Now look what you've done to me Now you can know the pain I know

Tagging, @direwombat @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @unholymilf @carlosoliveiraa @onehornedbeast @fourlittleseedlings @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @purplehairsecretlair @macs-babies @marivenah @finding-comfort-in-rain @voidika @jackiesarch @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @aceghosts @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @dumbassdep @strafethesesinners @corvosattano @thesingularityseries @kyber-infinitygems @socially-awkward-skeleton @shellibisshe and anyone that would like to share some songs this week <3

[whoaxisxme]

TAGS LIST

MAIN BLOG TAGS

Mr. Meek Speaks (OOC)

In My Crown I Am King; I Love Their Endless Worshiping (Answered Asks)

Watch Me Make 'Em Bow One By One By One (Submissions)

Maybe The Path Is Gory; Whatever It Takes To Get My Glory (Memes)

Perfectin’ My Passion Thanks For Askin’ (Headcanon Memes)

Live In Dog Years And I Feel Twenty-Six Yeah I’m Old Bitch But I Learn New Tricks (Munday Meme)

I’m Key Look At Me! (Self Promo.)

What Do We Have Here? (Promo.)

NSFW Tag - (NSFEvil)

Queue've Created A Monster; I Just Keep Getting Stronger

—

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TAGS LIST ➽➽➽

TO DO LIST ➽➽➽

TYPE BINGO ➽➽➽

CHARACTER TAGS

One Shot; Everything Rides On Tonight; Even If I Got Three Strikes I'mma Go For It; This Moment? We Own It (𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬)

Isn't This A Dream Come True? Isn't This A Nightmare Too? (𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡)

She Smells Like Strawberry Starbursts Taste; She Looks Like The Photo That Comes With The Frame (𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞)

And If You Make It Out Alive Hold That Bloody Head Up High (𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞)

You Don't Understand Unless You Reprogram; I Try To Assimilate; You Still Intimidate (𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧)

I Want A Girl With The Right Allocations Who's Fast And Thorough And Sharp As A Tack (𝐄𝐯𝐞)

Do You Have Any Love Left For Me? I'm Small; That's A Start (𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫)

From My Heart And From My Hand Why Don't People Understand My Intention? (𝐅𝐢𝐧)

Want To See His Mechanical Dance? (𝐈𝐯𝐨)

Find Out What You Want; Be That Girl For A Month But The Worst Is Yet To Come (𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫)

We've Fought Hard Not To Die; Yet We Don't Know How To Live (𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬)

Smart Guys Are Nowhere; They Make Demands; Give Me A Moron With Talented Hands (𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐱)

Nice House But No Home; All Skin Without Bone; Good Try But No Luck (𝐋𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫)

If You Dig Under My Feet You Will Find Things That You Don't Want To See (𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬)

Unlucky Me Who Knows Way Too Much Who Fights To Make Changes In The Kingdom And Such (𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲)

Get Back Together; Come Back And See Me (𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲)

Neither Girl Nor Woman But A Demon In The Flesh Now; She Will Be Your Plague Tonight (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞)

I Think That I'm Still Here But If I'm Being Honest There's Nobody In This Chair (𝐑𝐚𝐭)

Running From My Past I'm Praying Feet Don't Fail Me Now (𝐑𝐞𝐭)

I'm A Bad Attitude; I'm A Villain To You (𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞)

Nothing's Too Excessive When You've Got Nothing Left (𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐬)

So Say Goodbye To Your Mr. Nice Guy; You Got Your Wish He's Rotting In Hell (𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞)

Hey Put On A Happy Face Then Everything's Okay (𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜)

I Go Hungry Every Night; Not This Time Around! I'm Gonna Eat You; You're My Desire (𝐕𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐬)

VERSE TAGS

V: If You Wanna Soar With Vultures You'll Have To Swallow Bone - Main Verse

V: Sour Patch To Acid Tongue - Precanon Verse

V: We Dance Like Marionettes; Swaying To The Symphony Of Destruction - Destructix Verse

V: You Lost Your Mind In The Sound; There's So Much More; You Can Reclaim Your Crown - Lost Crown Verse

V: I Hope Your Cellmate Thinks He's God - Third Time In Prison AU

V: Hail To The King; Kneel To The Crown- Born Into Royalty AU

V: I'm Just Another Victim Of The Bad Girls Club - Swapverse AU

V: Be Careful What You Wish For 'Cause You Just Might Get It - Prostitute/Stripper Scourge AU

V: I'mma Be That Bitch - Omegaverse AU

V: If I Suffer From Defeat Know I'll Come Back Stronger; But You Will Suffer Me This Time - Space Outlaw AU

V: I'll Rise From My Scars: Nothing Hurts Me Now Cause Power Is Power; Now Watch Me Burn It Down - Cyborg Scourge AU

V: The Girls Wanna Be Her; The Boys Wanna Be Her; I Wanna Be Her; Yes I Do - Fem!Scourge (Plague) AU

V: Everybody Says "Uh Oh; Let's Go; Here Comes Trouble; There's Sirens In The Streets" - Twins Scourge and Plague AU

V: It's Good To Be Loved; It's Profound To Be Understood - FinDoc Beloved AU with @synxis

V: With Your Blindfold How You Gonna See? With Your Hands Tied Are You Feeling Free? - FinDoc Beloathed AU with @synxis

V: And If You Try To Talk To Someone Well Then Someone Has To Die - Toxic Fin!FinDoc AU with @synxis

V: Get On Your Knees And Bark Like You Want It - Prison AU with @r-i-p-tothekid-iusedtobe

V: Some Call It Stalking I Say Loving; It's The Only Way To Be - Scourge Living In Corliss' Walls AU with @r-i-p-tothekid-iusedtobe

V: It's Sink Or Swim; It's Hit Or Miss; Man Overboard - Cetus Cyborg Scourge AU with @prcjectcetus

V: I Don't Think It's Supposed To Fit In My Mouth But I Just Can't Quit - God of Bounty!Scourge AU with @allcfme

EVENT TAGS

None At This Time

& Tags (My Blogs)

Can't Live Forever Angry And Blind; The Lengths We Go To Satisfy (Dolce & Feeder)

Tell Me How I Feel 'Cause You're Getting Pretty Gutsy (Dolce & Fin)

He Look Like A Superstar In The Makin' So I Think That I'm Going In For The Takin' (Dolce & Miles)

It's 4 AM And She's Out There With The Razor-Sharp Tongue Stuck To Skinny Cigarettes (Dolce & Penny)

I'm A Hot Girl; Pop Girl; Rich Girl; I'm A Bitch Girl; Fast Girl; "Catch Me If You Can" Girl (Dolce & Plague)

I Don't Dress For Women; I Don't Dress For Me; Lately I've Been Dressing For Revenge (Dolce & Scourge)

Piss People Off If You Want To Be Free; It's Death Or Glory (Dolce & Scraps)

I May Be Rude But I'm The Truth (Eggman & Ivo)

You're Supposed To Be My Friend; We're Supposed To Get Along (Eggman & Knuckles)

I Got My Own Money And There Ain't Nothin You Can Do To Me (Eggman & Knux)

There's Only Two Types Of People In The World; The Ones That Entertain And The Ones That Observe (Eggman & Scourge)

I'm Lettin You In; You're Lettin Me Down; I Swear When You Talk You Just Like The Sound (Eggman & Sonic)

I'm Fucked Up Looking At You As You're Looking At Me; I Want You To Be… (Fin & Feeder)

Pull Up In It And We Sippin' On That Jealousy (Miles & Scourge)

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship I Wanna Be Lovers Instead (Miley & Plague)

You're Such A Gorgeous Nightmare; Bad Habits Never Seem To Go Away (Plague & Fin)

We Running This Town Just Like A Club (Plague & Penny)

She Is The Love That You Make And Break; He Is The Drug That You Hate To Crave; I Am The Liar You Made To Praise (Plague & Scourge & Fin)

I Think You're Gonna Be My Biggest Fan (Scourge & Fin)

Please Don't Waste Your Breath On The Things I Don't Regret Baby I'm Just Here For The Ride (Scourge & Plague)

Ship Tags (My Blogs)

I Know That You Know That I Can't Be Alone So Don't Leave Me With Me I Don't Know How To Cope (Dolce ♡ Miles)

You Don't Love Me At All But Don't Think That It Bothers Me At All (Fin ♡ Feeder)

I Need A Man Friend Not A Boyfriend 'Cause I'm A Hot Girl A Fuckin' Legend (Plague ♡ Fin)

You're A Bad-Hearted Boytrap Babydoll But You're So Damn Hot (Scourge ♡ Fin)

& TAGS (SPECIFIC)

& Tags With @r-i-p-tothekid-iusedtobe

Let's Be Friends So We Can Make Out (Scourge & Corliss - r-i-p-tothekid-iusedtobe)

& Tags With @shadows-cafetalks

I Get The Feelin' I'm In Deep; Troubled Waters But They're Only Thigh-High (Scourge & Rosy - shadows-cafetalks)

& Tags With @bdkss

He Was A Punk; She Did Ballet (Scourge & Briony - bdkss)

& Tags With @dreamingofeos

You Tell Me I Saved Your Life; But I'm Cravin Your Attention; You Know I Got Two Sides (Scourge & Manic - dreamingofeos)

I Know I'm Lost; I'm Lost With You (Scourge & Sonic - dreamingofeos)

& Tags With @allcfme

All My Life I've Been Good But Now I'm Thinking "What The Hell?" (Plague & Umbra - allcfme)

I'm Not Your Friend Or Anything Damn; You Think That You're The Man; I Think Therefore I Am (Scourge & Shadow - allcfme)

& Tags With @synxis

All My Choices My Good Luck Appear To Go And Get Me Stuck In An Open Prison (Eclipse & Black Doom - synxis)

It's Been Ten Years Since You've Seen The Sunlight But I Know That You're Having Fun (Feeder & Doc - synxis)

There's Someone Lurking Inside Of You; That Someone Is Me (Fin & Doc - synxis)

Perfectly Clean He Was A Well-Oiled Machine; There Was Never A Wrench Thrown Into The Gears (Fin & Fini - synxis)

Too Much Head; Too Little Heart; Oh Honey; Not Meant To Be This Way (Fin & Francis - synxis)

You Like Love; A Losing Bet; You're A Mess; Sid Vicious In A Dress (Lecher & Doc - synxis)

You Bathe In The Light Of A Trash Fire; I See The Stars In The Eyes Of A Vampire (Lecher & Finii - synxis)

Blood Lust Blood Lust For This Girl (Plague & Doc - synxis)

Tonight We're Going Hard Just Like The World Is Ours; You Know We're Superstars; We Are Who We Are (Plague & Fang - Synxis)

Let Me Introduce You To Your Nightmare (Plague & Finitevus - synxis)

Just One Night Couldn't Be So Wrong; I'm Gonna Make You Lose Control (Plague & Nic - synxis)

Now I'm Stealing Your Body And Taking It Home (Scourge & Doc - synxis)

Misfit Misfit In Trouble; Misfit Get The Fuck On My Level (Scourge & Fang - synxis)

We Hurt Ourselves In Funny Ways So Subtle And Strange Because We Love The Pain (Scourge & Finitevus - synxis)

Hold My Hand; Put On A Show; Still Don't Think You Understand But I've Got To Know (Viaticus & Finitevus - synxis)

& Tags With @cxffeeshxp

I Found Treasure Not Where I Thought; Peace Of Mind Can't Be Bought (Eclipse & Infinite - cxffeeshxp)

I See You Flauntin'; See You Tauntin'; It's So Sickenin' (Scourge & Shadow - cxffeeshxp)

Ya Say "That Ain't Fair?" Ya Say "That Ain't Nice?" Ya Know What I Say? Up Yours! (Scourge & Sonic - cxffeeshxp)

At First I Told Myself I Need My Head Inspected; I Notice Little Things; Same T-Shirt And Sunglasses (Scourge & Surge - cxffeeshxp)

& Tags With @littlemiss-mariarobotnik

And Who Will Be A Witness For The Solitary Host? The Visitation Of The Ghost (Shadow & Maria - littlemiss-mariarobotnik)

& Tags With @tripletrcuble

Nothing's Gonna Harm You; Not While I'm Around (Eve & Tails - tripletrcuble)

I'm Hyped Up Out Of Control; If It's A Fight I'm Ready To Go (Scourge & Kolossus - tripletrcuble)

I'm Inside Of Your System; I'm Inside Of Your Lair; To Haunt You Is My Destiny (Scourge & Rewrite - tripletrcuble)

SHIPPING TAGS (SPECIFIC)

Ship Tags With @r-i-p-tothekid-iusedtobe

Desperate And Ravenous; I'm So Weak And Powerless Over You (Scourge ♡ Corliss - r-i-p-tothekid-iusedtobe)

Ship Tags With @dreamingofeos

Like O-M-G You Make Me Com-Com-Complete (Scourge ♡ Manic - dreamingofeos)

So Why Do Good Boys Like Bad Guys? I've Had This Question For A Really Long Time (Scourge ♡ Sonic - dreamingofeos)

Ship Tags With @allcfme

Hide Your Back She Likes To Stab Them; My Butt Cheeks She Likes To Grab Them (Plague ♡ Umbra - allcfme)

Tell Everyone You Hate Me But Love Calling Me Baby (Scourge ♡ Shadow - allcfme)

Ship Tags With @synxis

So Rough And Tough Don't Care About Anything But Me; Yes I Just Love Him 'Cause He's So Crazy; Just Crazy About Me (Eve ♡ Fang - synxis)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys; I'm Queen Of Sand Castles He Destroys 'Cause It Fit Too Right (Eve ♡ Jazz - synxis)

I Love You And It's A Mistake; You're A Habit I Can't Break (Feeder ♡ Doc - synxis)

So Eat Your Heart Out Casanova; Love Is A Bittersweet Ambrosia (Fin ♡ Doc - synxis)

The Big Bad Wolf In Me Howlin' For You (Fin ♡ Finitevus - synxis)

You're A Space-Age Mountain With A God On The Top; I'm A Holy Mess Believer In A Tidal Wave Of Feeling (Lecher ♡ Doc - Synxis)

I Am Your Scumbag Baby; I Am The Scum (Lecher ♡ Finii - synxis)

Don't Worry About A Thing; Fuck The World; We Just Stay In Bed All Day (Plague ♡ Fang)

She Says It All Without A Thought In Her Head; She Says It All As She's Pressed Up Against Me (Plague ♡ Finitevus - synxis)

Look At These Badass Stupid Motherfuckers (Scourge ♡ Fang - synxis)

Drink My Tears; I'm At Your Mercy; I Love You Most But I'm Not Worthy (Scourge ♡ Finitevus - synxis)

I Can't Resist The Way You Flirt; I Should Be Dead But My Heartbeat's Quickenin' (Scourge ♡ Francis - synxis)

The Proof Is In The Pudding Baby; You're A Hot Jump Start; Let Me Eat Your Heart (Viaticus ♡ Finitevus - synxis)

Ship Tags With @tripletrcuble

High-Maintenance Means You're A Gluttonous King Narcissistic And Mean (Scourge ♡ Kolossus)

[thatpunkmaximoff]

[Book 3 of 4]

Story: 5 out of 5 Smut: 4 out of 5

I went into Twisted Hate expecting to not like it; 1.) because from the first two books I was not a fan of Jules and 2.) someone told me I was going to HATE Josh Chen.

After reading it, I LOVED IT!

I kind of figured Jules’ persona was a front, but learning of her past made me feel for her. And then Josh dealing with his past betrayals, it just hurt all the more when his trust was broken yet again. Jules and Josh’s love story is a chaotic one, but so far it’s been the most beautiful as they overcome their pasts together.

For most of the book, I didn’t understand why I was told I was going to hate Josh.. but when THAT scene came up I freakin’ bawled. I’ve never felt so bad for a character like I did with this book. But no worries, as the two previous books were, this one is a HEA.

Now enjoy my rambling..

* These two are so annoyed by each other, I can’t tell whether I’m going to like it or be annoyed by it 😂

* Lol Aw fuck. She would get mugged.

* Oh. Well they tried to mug her. Jules is a badass apparently.

* Oh no. What happened to Jules in Ohio?

* Pam is being a twat. Enter Christian Harper, who obviously has a thing for Stella, and I have a feeling the girls are getting this penthouse.

* That’s right, Pam. Do as you’re told and draw up them papers 😂

* The audacity of this dude to tell her to quit just because it’s his “safe space”. Get the fuck outta here.

* One bed trope. Always love it.

* They’re giving me whiplash. Just bang it out already!

* Oh come on, Jules. Don’t act like a sleepy Josh cuddling you was that disgusting 😏

* Aw fuck. What does Max want?

* “You want someone who can challenge you. Excite you. Keep you on your toes. And as for what you need.. you need someone to bend you over and fuck that attitude right out of you.” — Josh fuckin’ Chen, ladies and gents.

* Todd ruined the moment lmao. Fucking Todd.

* Jules is a fucking savage at putting Todd in his place 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻

* Jesus Christ. Josh fucks rough 😳

* Oh no. This arrangement is going to crash and burn lol

* Fucckkkkk. Max is in DC.

* I hate this Max dude so fucking much. Please let Alex or Josh kick his ass.

* Goddamnnnnn. Josh really likes choking during fucking 👀 👌🏼

* Josh doesn’t want anyone else seeing Jules all blitzed out post orgasm? Yeah, he definitely broke the rules.

* Josh defending Jules against Micah.. be still my heart 😂

* Ava being woken up by Josh and Jules’ sex noises has me laughing 😆

* Lmaooo. The girls getting arrested would ruin Alex and Josh’s make up moment.

* God, I really wish Jules will just ask Alex for a favor.

* Fuckkkk. She broke down. They really need to end this arrangement.

* Ding, ding, ding. So Josh realizes he has feelings. Finally!

* Holy shit. He actually told her she was his 😨 We’re only halfway through so I know the heartbreak is up next.

* Wow. Fuck Alistair and Adeline for doing that to Jules. But come on, girl, that was your moment to tell Josh the truth about what’s been going on!

* He fucking switch his plane tickets at the last second 😩 He gave up New Zealand to be with her in Ohio!

* Ohhh. He knows about the name change!

* A bookstore scavenger hunt as a first date? 🥹 Hell, I’m in love lol.

* Dammit. I wanted Alex and Ava to see them.

* THE AUDACITY OF MICHAEL CHEN!!! FUCK YOU! I hope you rot in prison.

* Damnnn. He tied her to the bed 😂

* Fucking Max ruining the afterglow. And I can’t believe what he wants her to steal. GET ALEX INVOLVED!

* Oh my god. Just tell Josh! This is gonna blow up in your face so bad 😩

* Goddammit, Jules. Your plan better be good.

* Ew. You went to Christian? Alex would have been better.

* Yesssss! Fuck Max. Now the hard part comes. Telling the truth.

* Wow, Josh. That was fucking cruel.

* Should have known Max wouldn’t go away so easily. Fuck this dude.

* Well fucking finally! Max got the beat down he deserved.

* “Take however much time you need. I’ll wait.” // “Why?” // “Because you’re it for me. Whether it’s today, tomorrow, a year, or decades from now, that’ll never change.” — 😭😭😭

* They made up 🥹

* Aww. They told Ava. Now who’s gonna tell Stella? Lol.

* Oh no. What’s going on with Stella now?! Where’s my last book!?

* Why do I get the feeling Dante Russo is very bad news and that this isn’t the last I’ll see of him?

* Aww. They moved in together! But Stella stayed in the apartment under Christian? I don’t trust this dude 👀

[sukiekagamine]

Bad and Crazy episode 12 was perfect to me and here is why

1. It showed Suyeol's attempts at escaping multiple times in a hilarious way (I felt so bad everytime he got knocked out yet I laughed my ass off) and K, the ever loving boyfriend, cheered him on. I love how their relationship developed from watching the other being beaten up to actually supporting and worrying about each other. They have changed so much.

2. Suyeol and K sharing the tiny bed with their giant bodies. And talking about the past. Just chef's kiss. I know they did this because it's the last episode, but still, the nostalgia got to me. I didn't enjoy the violence at the first stage of their relationship (not because it was bad, but because I didn't expect it), but seeing it through the present lens changed it a lot. And how Suyeol phrased it was amazing: "Whenever I think about those moments, I feel like I can do anything." Like he had survived everything including K's antics, and now with K by his side, nothing could stop him.

3. And I noticed the reference to fire and water in the series. We all noticed how K was tied with water in Suyeol's memories, but what about fire? He pulled Suyeol into the burning apartment to save Gyeong Tae, appeared in a dramatic landing while brushing off fire on his shoulders, and at the end, Suyeol went into the burning house to save the boy too. While water was present to pull them to the lowest, fire was the ultimate background to elevate their coolness. Like both are dangerous, but fire is nothing to them. And they even had this conversation like "Wait, we're afraid of water, not fire!" and decided to jump into fire again, which was kinda funny to me.

4. I just loved how smart Suyeol was. Like, holy shit, I adore characters that outsmart the viewers. The fact that he was just pretending the past four months and still had that burning will to break free was the only ray of hope in episode 11 for me. And the part when he ground the drugs to put in the guards' drink? The part when he drew the prison map on his paper? Perfect, God, I love his brilliant mind just like I love K's combat skills. Suyeol went from the snakey coward in episode one to an absolute boss.

5. The last four months of training did him well. The confidence when he approached the doctor and when he strangled the nurses with his long, long, beautiful, elegant legs? Please. That would be the best way to die. And K had fun doing it! A special thing about K is that he had fun doing everything.

6. Suyeol's family. I was kinda annoyed at Dongyeol before, but now that he's shown how much he cared for his mom and Suyeol, I changed my view of him. Suyeol and his family's reunion was so touching. Dongyeol asking him if he was okay with those teary eyes and tight hug? Loved it. But damn, that whole sequence with mom was stressing me out. It hurt so bad seeing her like that. Jeong Yun Ho was cursed. Like, he would rot in hell for doing that to Mama Ryu. I could basically hear Suyeol's heart shattering in his chest at that moment.

7. Yun Ho's drive to do all of this - all of this manipulating, gaslighting children, murdering, isolating and criminalizing Suyeol, building a master plan - was to make Suyeol admit that he was Suyeol's savior and not K. It was so pathetic, but I liked how almost funny it was, because this guy is obsessed with Suyeol in such a pitiful way. He could have gaslit people into giving him fame, fortune or any other thing since he basically had superpowers now, but no, all he thought about was his first crush failure. I imagine him being beaten up by K for the first time and becoming mesmerized with how Suyeol could get out of his grasp. Yun Ho first appeared as a gay mess getting lost in Suyeol's eyes, and was defeated as a gay mess lost under Suyeol's fists (or forehead). He could have stabbed multiple times to make sure Suyeol was dead, or run him over with his car, but no, he had to be all poetic and make a fire and whisper into Suyeol's ear and whatnot. What a pathetic bitch. Oh, and the actor was phenomenal as well. It's like two completely different people - he was sooo angelic when he had his glasses on, like holy cow he's so suspicious but who could not trust those sparkling deer eyes, and suddenly when he took the glasses off he became a total typical psychopath that looked disgusting. The actor had my respect.

8. The last battle was spectacular. Unlike the one with Kim Gye Sik, where Suyeol fought thinking he was alone, he came into this one having K's words of 'trusting himself'. He managed to win the battle by himself, but he wasn't alone - K was there to support him all the way. And God, the moment when they reached out to each other while dying out and calling each other's names? POETIC CINEMA. And he didn't just faint like any other time! He actually got up and saved the boy and went over to beat up the bad guy! It was pretty unrealistic for a stabbed man to be able to bounce back like that, but man, do I love seeing a character getting up after a seemingly defeat. Suyeol's fighting skills were turned up a notch thanks to the time training with K, and I'm forever grateful. You've become so much better at everything, Suyeol.

9. And don't even get me STARTED on the break up scene. It was everything I expected, yet everything I could never expect to be SO GOOD. I have talked about my version of the ending once, but this was even better, because it kept K's personality on track. Even when the break up scene was heartbreaking, K was still that childish, hilarious character, and I loved that about him. The first part of the break up was predictable, with them parting coolly, kind of reminded me of Tenet. Suyeol did have teary eyes, which was amazing amazing amazing, because men crying wasn't seen as a bad thing on mainstream television anymore, thank God. It brought me a melancholic feeling, seeing K smiling and closing the door. 

And then the MIRACLE HAPPENED. Suyeol ran after K. Like those scenes in rom-coms when the male lead chased down the female lead to confess his feelings and to stop her from leaving by giving her a kiss. It was EXACTLY LIKE THAT, with the same music and the same slow motion and I WAS DYING. The writer knew that was so gay but they just didn't care. And then when Suyeol opened the door, he saw K was ugly crying too? Oh my God. Oh, my, God. I was crying, but then I had to take a moment to laugh. Oh, K. Still the comedic relief that you are. And then Suyeol held out a hand, similar to when K held out a hand to help him up the first time he got lost in this very same corridor, and K wailed and ran into his arms.

Oh, God, I have no words to explain my love for that scene, it was exactly what I have been wishing for all this time and never expected to have it fulfilled, ever. Like, you have no idea how many times I've imagined them giving each other crushing hugs while sobbing. I didn't think that it would ever come true, but then here it was. And it was beautiful. It was heartbreaking, and breathtaking, but somehow relieving, like you know that K had to go, it's inevitable, but unlike Tenet when they parted with so much regrets, there are absolutely no regrets here. They were done pretending to be cool, they were finally vulnerable with each other to the point of crying like babies in each other's arms, and they got the hug that they deserved. No reserved feelings, no 'what-ifs'.

And if you watched the behind the scenes video for episode 12, you'd see that Wi Ha Jun was crying for real, and aside from crying, he said other things while he was sobbing too. He said (loosely translated) "My Suyeol, you have to stay healthy, okay? You must not get sick, you must eat and sleep properly, okay?" Other stuff like that. And Suyeol was nodding and smiling in tears to all that. Oh, Jesus, you're killing me but I'm thanking you for giving me this.

Oh, and the (kinda) fireworks? Please. I don't know about other dramas, but this. The producer gave us too much. It made the scene beautiful and so gorgeous and ugh, the slow motion. The angle. Everything. I'm dying.

10. The scene when Suyeol faced the Reinstatement Committee. The first time we saw Suyeol post-breakup, we saw how he honored and cherished K's memories. He wasn't afraid to tell them that K was with him, because unlike the first part of the series when all he wanted was to get rid of K, now he considered K an important part of himself and he was proud of it. He didn't even think having K was an illness. And when he thought of the time he shared with K, he smiled to himself without caring about keeping a perfect facade in front of his superiors. The pre-K Suyeol would be all bowing and fake smiles and fake laughs at moments like this. And I loved his decision to leave. He almost made it in the middle of the series, but had to go back because of the financial problem, and I was so sad back then, seeing him trying to be a good person but failed. Now K finally gave him one last push to get away from all this to reflect on himself and recover from what Jeong Yun Ho did to him. The last scenes when he came back as the Superintendent with a strong moral compass was so satisfying. It's like finally reaching the top of the mountain that you've been climbing and falling so many times.

11. The scenes when Suyeol thought of K while being on the seesaw by himself was devastating. It was lonely, and cold, and empty, and Lee Dong Wook's face was the saddest thing in the universe. He was a genius actor, really. It hurt, but I loved how it emphasized on Suyeol's feelings towards K. We saw how he missed K in the previous episode, but that was the longing for K to return. This time he knew K wasn't coming back and he was just there to heal himself from the wound of losing K. He was depressed, but he had accepted it, and grew to be better.

12. I love how the show didn't end with a hetero normative scene of Suyeol and Hui Gyeom going on dates, kissing and having sex or anything like that. In fact, the romance had been as little as it could be. We didn't even know if Suyeol and Hui Gyeom got back together or not. I'm glad it decided to focus on character exploration and development, and the lesson of trusting yourself, and the adventure of the characters, rather than the romance because admit it, there has been plenty of romance in K Dramas. If I wanted to watch romance, I would have picked Descendants of the sun or something. I'm here for Lee Dong Wook and Wi Ha Jun's acting, along with some action, some thriller, and I was rewarded. It's pretty surprising to see this in a K Drama, I expected the ending to be half as good as this.

In conclusion, I could not have asked for more from this ending. I predicted it to be so disappointing, but it gave me a pleasant surprise. It was everything I could ever asked for. Respect.

[crimeboyultimate]

Alright I talked about this on another account already but I think it’d be good to summarize my thoughts here too.

The dream smp in the beginning, the first bit of rp that got popular was the L’manburg revolution, and there was a reason for it. It was exciting! It was new! Stakes were high, and everyone was so hopeful and determined and alive!

Even as things got dark in the Manburg era, there was still life. Fundy the spy! George’s marriage to Ninja! Sabotage, madness, the festival! Even in the deepest pits of the characters hopelessness, there’s reason to keep going. It was one of my favorite arcs, personally, considering how close to home Fundy and Schlatt’s almost familial relationship hits for me. How Quackity and Schlatt fall out, how their relationship rots. And how even with everything going wrong, they still keep moving. They don’t give up. As someone who’s mentally ill, that arc really meant, and still does mean a lot to me. Even through everything, there’s some little bit of hope left.

Then, c!Wilbur dies to the hand of his father. It’s a fitting end to his arc, but it’s still so terribly sad to the viewer. Then comes Ghostbur! He’s an amnesiac, he’s unsure and sad and alone, but he’s still kind. He’s disabled, in a way, but almost everyone doesn’t take advantage of that (aside from c!Dream, but he’d sacrifice anyone to get what he wants). He tries to make amends! c!Fundy resents him, but he doesn’t act like c!Fundy doesn’t have the right to.

I think, personally, that the exile was the turning point. c!Tommy, a child, is exiled. He took total blame for the burning of gogy’s gay little mushroom cottage, because c!Ranboo was new and he didn’t deserve to get caught up in c!Dream’s bullshit.

And so, c!Tommy is alone. He has Ghostbur, his almost-brother. Any visitors are scared off by c!Dream. Any progress is destroyed by c!Dream. For fuck’s sake, c!Tommy started building his pillars and staring into the nether’s orange-red sea. Hope is gone. Across the sea, the prison is being built, with its one solitary cell. The egg has surfaced, c!Bad and c!Skeppy are falling apart, the cult grows. That shit with c!Ponk and c!Sam happens. c!Punz is in love with a goddamn robot, apparently. Even so, most people don’t watch Punz’s streams, so for them, there’s no fucking relief. No hope.

Even c!Charlie, who lit up the server for the whole time he was present, dies. Micheal (pig) becomes a source of stress, c!Ranboo and c!Tubbo’s relationship starts to fall apart, c!Ranboo dies. Everything’s dark now, permanently. Every one of the ccs wants to be a part of this lore, so they’re all doing it. And it makes the dsmp heavy, it destroys the stakes. Why hope for characters when it’ll only get worse? Hell, we all know there aren’t stakes anyways, considering that everything’s scripted now, so cs are lead only by their respective ccs, which will certainly only be further down into the pits.

That, I think, is why the dream smp is dying. Everything is heavy, everything is sad, everything is hopeless, and there’s no stakes anymore. That suprise when c!Eret betrayed L’manburg? That was real! The pain when things failed, the rage when pets were killed, the determination to win and to keep going? That was all genuine, and it showed. Some of the ccs are good actors, sure, but we can tell that they’re acting. And besides, if I wanted to watch a child being horribly mentally abused and manipulated, I would simply hang out with my friends at their houses. I’m not here for horrible atrocities and neverending pain and the dull hollowness of a lack of hope, we have enough of that in the real world.

I want the escapism of L’manburg, of building a nation with your friends for your friends, the friendship and love in every block placed. And I think that’s a common wish.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

i never knew how much it would hurt to feel (this building collapse on top of me)

prompt: buried

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi and welcome to my very first psych fic! i finished the show a couple weeks ago and finally get to write it! since this is my first fic there is a high chance the characterization is not the best and i do apologize but as i write more it will improve! i hope you like this anyway! (first part of the title is from some kind of disaster by all time low)

Shawn and Gus are poking their way through a falling-down, long-deserted office building on the outskirts of town, looking for clues about the latest murder case that they’ve gotten themselves assigned to. Gus pokes his head through a doorway and immediately recoils with a yelp, hands scrabbling frantically at his face. 

“Spiders!” he shouts, and Shawn shines the beam of his flashlight on Gus’ face. 

“Spider webs,” he says, reaching out to brush them away. “Ooh wait, what’s this - a giant tarantula on the back of your head?”

Gus slaps his hand away, brushes his own hand across the back of his head to confirm that there isn’t really a giant tarantula lurking there, and frowns at Shawn. “If we don’t find any clues soon -”

“C’mon, man, you know it’s a process. This building has two more floors we haven’t even seen yet.”

“Two more floors that look like they might collapse at any second.”

Shawn can’t argue with that, especially when the next step he takes makes his foot sink a couple inches into a rotting floorboard. He gingerly pulls it out and prepares to concede to Gus about the top two floors of the building. 

“Okay, fine, we don’t have to go up -”

The ending of that sentence is drowned out by a horrific crashing noise, and before Shawn has time to process what’s happening, what feels like several tons of stuff is falling down on top of him in the single most painful event of his entire life. He screams, and dust and pieces of who-knows-what fill his mouth and he coughs and his chest burns and he can’t quite breathe right because something is pushing down on him and everything is dark - 

Ah. That would be because his eyes are closed, Shawn realizes, in a moment of blinding clarity. He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly in the dust, and sees...a whole lot of junk. Chunks of plaster and concrete and wood surround him in a sort of enclave, and if he looks out across his body he can see what’s causing the issue with his breathing - a very large, very heavy piece of concrete, probably some kind of support beam. Excellent, Shawn thinks. Being buried alive in a mountain of old office is exactly how I wanted to spend my day. 

He’s trying to distract himself from the pain with this line of thinking, which is half-working. If he can just not focus on how much it hurts for a few moments, until he can make his hands cooperate and grab his phone, or until he has enough air in his lungs to call out to Gus - 

Gus! Shawn is trapped in his own personal bubble of debris, and Gus isn’t here. Which means he’s somewhere else, maybe hurt even worse than Shawn is, or maybe even dead, but Gus isn’t allowed to die, not like this, not - 

“Shawn!”

Thank god you’re alive, buddy, Shawn thinks at Gus’ voice, and then he thinks, oh man, I actually have to yell back to Gus so he doesn’t think I’m dead. He takes as deep a breath as his constricted lungs will allow, which hurts like absolute hell, and shouts, as loudly as he can, “Gus!” 

“Shawn!” he hears Gus yell again, as he tries to ride out the wave of pain burning through his entire chest. Don’t make me yell again, he thinks, forcing himself not to cough despite the large amount of dust that has gotten into his mouth, because he thinks the pain of that might actually kill him. 

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to yell again - he hears shifting noises and knows that Gus is getting closer. He tries to think of a way to let Gus know exactly where he is without opening his mouth again, and then realizes that one of his arms disappears underneath the rubble currently boxing him in. His hand doesn’t feel like it’s buried, though, so he thinks that it must be on the outside, and maybe Gus can see it. He concentrates very hard and wiggles his fingers, taps them on the ground, and hopes that Gus is as close as he sounds. 

And he is. A few seconds of wiggling and tapping pass, and then Shawn feels Gus’ hand touch his own. “Shawn?”

Shawn curls his fingers into the best approximation of a thumbs-up that he can manage. 

“Okay, um, don’t move,” Gus says. Got it, Shawn thinks. Don’t exactly have anywhere to go. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna get you out of there.”

This seems like a pretty good plan to Shawn, except for one thing. He shuts his eyes and prepares himself to speak again. 

“911,” he whispers, and hopes that Gus can hear him. 

“Oh. Right,” Gus says, and Shawn hears the sounds of him dialing, and then explaining that his best friend is buried under debris in an abandoned office building on the edge of town.

“They say it’ll be about twenty minutes,” Gus informs him. “You’re not buried very deep, so I’m gonna try and get you out before then, okay?”

Shawn gives him another thumbs-up, mildly surprised by Gus’...lack of panicking. Not that he’s complaining, because honestly he’s pretty close to panicking himself, and at least one of them needs to remain sane at all times. 

He lies there and listens to the sounds of rubble moving and Gus making various noises of effort to indicate the very difficult work he is doing. All the while, though, he’s talking to Shawn about, talking how stupid this idea was in the first place, and how he could be at work earning money to pay for the new TV in the Psych office instead, and about a million other little things that Shawn would ordinarily groan at and find some way to change the subject.

Now, though, he’s content to listen to Gus and distract himself from the fact that he feels like he’s been run over by a truck carrying a mobile home and then had the mobile home dropped on top of him for good measure. 

It doesn’t actually take that long for Gus to mostly unbury him. There’s still some rubble surrounding him, but apart from the giant concrete thing lying across his chest, he’s basically free. He gives Gus the best smile he can muster in his current situation and wheezes out, “hey.”

“Hey,” Gus replies, checking his watch. “Help should be here in about seven minutes, if that lady at 911 dispatch was telling the truth.”

Shawn nods as best as he can, then experimentally moves his freed arms to the concrete currently crushing his chest. 

“Don’t do that,” Gus warns. “The 911 lady said it would be too heavy and that trying to move it by ourselves might hurt you worse.”

But it hurts, Shawn thinks, petulantly, and this must show on his face because Gus says, “don’t give me that look, Shawn. She said if that beam was gonna crush you, it would have already, so you just have to wait.”

He really doesn’t want to wait. Maybe this beam isn’t going to crush him to death, but it’s making it very difficult to breathe, which in turn is making it very difficult to stay calm, which is then making it harder to breathe - 

He needs to relax. Maybe if he closes his eyes for a few seconds...yeah. That sounds nice. He lets his eyes slip closed and tries to take a calming breath that does approximately nothing. But not two seconds later, his eyes are snapping back open.

“‘Ow,” Shawn mutters, as loudly as he can, as Gus smacks him across the cheek with a surprisingly strong hand. 

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, Shawn.”

“Won’t,” he promises, reluctantly keeping his eyes open. How much longer do I have to keep my eyes open for, exactly? he wonders. 

“When’s...help?”

Gus anxiously checks the time, as though he hadn’t just anxiously checked the time like two seconds ago. “The lady said twenty minutes. It’s been fifteen.”

Five minutes...he can make it five more minutes. Right?

“Talk...to me.”

“I was talking to you, Shawn. Until you decided to almost pass out on me!”

Shawn slowly shakes his head. “Wasn’t gonna.”

Gus shakes his head in return, like he doesn’t believe it, which is fair. But he keeps talking anyway. Shawn wonders whether it’s even possible for Gus to run out of boring things to say to keep people awake. 

True to the 911 lady’s word, exactly five minutes later, help arrives in the form of a firetruck and ambulance. The paramedics immediately get to work on Shawn. In other circumstances, he’d maybe try and fight them on the whole precautionary c-collar situation, but they also give him drugs and an oxygen mask, and both of those things feel absolutely wonderful, so he decides to shut up and let them do what they need to do - namely, free him from his concrete prison. 

Even with the drugs in his system, it hurts, which is surprising considering they’re removing the thing that’s hurting him. But it hurts almost as bad as the initial collapse of the building on top of him had, and it hurts more than actually being pinned under it had. He screams for all of two seconds of intense pain, and then the weight is completely gone and the pain stops and he falls silent with an “oh” of pleased surprise. 

The move onto a backboard and into the back of the ambulance hurts, too, but far less in comparison. Shawn makes it through both of those events with only minor wincing and whimpering, and soon enough they’re on the way to the hospital, and Gus is talking to Jules on the phone, and the only source of pain at all is the iron grip that Gus is keeping on his hand.

aaa thanks sm for reading! hope the characterization wasn’t too abysmal and i hope you enjoyed :) i plan to write plenty more psych whump in the future so if thats what you enjoy you’re in luck!!!

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.

[therenlover]

heyy jac I first wanted to say you are amazing, thank you for going out of your way to give us tfatws content. it brightens up my day whenever I see you post. I was just listening to your zemo playlist and I’m one of those people who when I listen to a song I love to make scenarios in my head. I was wondering if you could walk us through some of your favourite songs on the playlist and tell us how you associate them with zemo. I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the songs. (if that isn’t too much hassle sorry if I’m being annoying lol).

 Anon, you are currently my favorite person in the whole wide world. I absolutely want to give you my favorite songs on the playlist and tell you exactly what I see when I hear them, and you have given me an excuse to do so. This post will probably be long as hell, so I’m putting it under the cut. 

Foolish To Think from A Gentleman’s Guide To Love and Murder

We all know Zemo is a baron, but like... we don’t know how powerful baron’s are in Sokovia. We also don’t know pretty much anything about his childhood or rise to power. I am a firm believer that he’s been ever so slightly unhinged even when he was still just a normal dude, so this is him deciding “you know what, I’m about to climb my way up the Zemo family ladder however I need to,” This, in my mind, is the epitome of fresh faced, 18 year old, canon Zemo ready to go fuck some people up for power. 

If Music Be The Food Of Love arranged by David Dickau

During his rise to power, still just a normal dude, Zemo falls in love with his wife. I’m a big believer in the fact that, because Zemo was raised as royalty, he knows a whole lot of pretentious shit like Shakespeare and recites it to his partner to be romantic. The line “Though yet, the treat is only sound, sure I must perish by your charms unless you save me in your arms,” is what he used to woo her early in the relationship. So cute, it would be terrible if something bad happened to her...

Bogoroditse Djevo arranged by Arvo Pärt

This one is more of a scene I get in my head. It’s a Christmas tune, and I can see him, his wife, and their infant going to their first Christmas market as a family in Novi Grad. Just... walking from stall to stall, giggling at the performers, eating the food, buying little gifts for the baby to remember the occasion. It’s a calm before the storm.

The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns

This song, in the playlist, marks the death of Zemo’s family. In the past, dancers have interpretted the melody as a badly injured swan, slowly struggling as they die but still being graceful and elegant as they do. As he searches through the rubble, his hope slowly dies, and in the end his hope dies where his family did. Thus begins his descent into madness in...

Daemon Irrepit Callidus arranged by György Orbán

Daemon Irrepit Callidus is Zemo’s descent into madness. From this point on, he slowly loses his softness. The tone of the songs is often much more modern, pulling away from his roots as a baron and man of high status and leaning into something more gritty for much of the Civil War era in the playlist. He has descended into hell and he believes there is no turning back from here. 

Songe d’Automne performed by The White Star Orchestra

Reportedly (by Harold Bride, surviving Jr Telegrapher who was washed off the deck as the ship sank) this was the last song the orchestra played as the Titanic sank. Zemo is going nuts. ‘Nough said.

If I Believed from Twisted

This song, along with a few more, is an outlier in the Civil War era. It represents his reasoning for what he’s doing. I imagine this song is the feeling he has after he listens to his wife’s last voicemail. He’s doing everything for her, burning a whole superhero organization to the ground so that he can assure nobody else has to live through what he did, but he can’t deny that a part of him wishes he could just bring her back no matter how illogical that is.

How Does A Moment Last Forever (Music Box) from Beauty and the Beast

This is, again, a softer moment. He looks back on the time he spent with his family and tries to keep it safe in his mind. It anchors him to reality and keeps him focused on his goals. The end is coming soon in his mind, so he clings as hard as he can to those remaining memories of peace.

Dies Irae arranged by Giuseppe Verdi

He sets the Winter Soldier loose murders all the remaining soldiers in the Hydra base on his day of reckoning. Yeah, that’s basically it, it’s just hype music as he has his big moment.

As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese

His plan has been carried out and now Zemo is simply watching as the world caves in around him. He’s succeeded in all of his plans, the avengers are crumbling, he’s listened to his wife’s voicemail one last time and now he’s ready to be dead. He thinks this is it. Well, until he’s taken into custody and locked up forever. 

Leonardo Dreams Of His Flying Machine arranged by Eric Whitacre

My man Eric is coming in clutch once again. This is Zemo, brilliant mind and all, stuck rotting in jail. He has nothing but his dreams of grandeur to tide him over So, he dreams. He dreams of escape, of his family, of what waits for him once he dies. 8 years of dreaming pass before Bucky finally approaches as Lacrimosa plays.

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Fuck you, Mozart. You’re only here because you played in the show. Moving on. 

The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani 

You cannot tell me that this isn’t what was playing in Zemo’s head as he escaped from maximum security prison and rolled up to that warehouse looking all hot and mysterious. 

Sibella from A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder

Look who’s back! This time, though, I included this because I am adamant that Zemo fucks someone he used to know while he’s escaped and they have a big dramatic love affair. Like, he just does. I don’t make the rules. 

WAP by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion 

Zemo would just love WAP. He says all that woke shit, so like, he vibes with female empowerment and the idea of them taking back their sexuality. He also loves the annoyed look on Bucky’s face when he plays it, so it stays on the playlist. 

The Man I Used To Be from The Count of Monte Cristo

Now, this one is more speculative, but I feel like Zemo will have a minor change of heart. he won't suddenly be a morally straight good guy to the bone, but I think he’s seriously rethinking his ideology and at some point, he might find a way to let go of a lot of the pain and remorse he’s been carrying around. 

No More from Into The Woods

This song, in my mind, takes place at the Sokovian memorial. Zemo is there and he’s so tired of running and fighting and grieving. He just wants to be okay again but he doesn’t know how to. He has this mental moment where he’s asking his deceased father for help and yet the memory (ghost?) of his father, who he resented for most of his life, isn’t helping him straightforwardly. He has to figure it out for himself in the end. This line speaks to me most. “No more giants waging wars. Can’t we just pursue our lives, with our children and our wives? Till that happy day arrives, how do you ignore...” 

and finally...

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep arranged by Laura Farnell

Of all the songs on this list, this one was the only one I was absolutely certain of including and I knew it had to be the last song no matter what else I included. Its contents, a famous poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, could refer to either Zemo or his family. In the case that he visits the monument, it could be the feeling he gets there. Finally, he knows that his family is somewhere better, not buried under the rubble of his home. He’s finally free. 

If he dies at the end of the series though, it takes on a whole new meaning. It’s about him, how he isn’t trapped by his mortal body anymore. He’s now everywhere, both a constant reminder to the world of the atrocities committed in Sokovia and a testament to how powerful a father’s love for his family can be. Once again, he’s finally free to reunite with those he loves, but this time it’s he who isn’t truly dead so long as people heed his life as a warning. 

Wow, this was longer than I thought it would be even when I cut a few songs... I hope you enjoyed!

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter thirteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: prison arc, blood, implications of being drugged, self harm under implications of being drugged, physical violence, mentions of abuse (lmk if i missed anyting)

word count: 8.2k

summary: spencer’s post-mexico hardships continue on, and get much worse, while amelia has a concerning experience in her own apartment

i hope u all like this chapter! enjoy!! like, comment, and reblog!! reblogging helps so much❤️

SPENCER

The feeling of abandonment is one that I'm far too familiar with. I hadn't expected to be completely abandoned by the FBI and to not have their support in this battle. I know that I have the support of my team and of Amelia, but when the FBI says that they won't support me and help me stay out of jail or prison, it's disheartening. It’s crushing. It leaves me feeling cold as I sit against a cinderblock wall. 

Sitting in jail is boring. It is, by far, the most boring thing I've ever done in my life. I sit and stare at the wall all day while I regret my decisions and listen to the detainees around me scream and shout. The team individually comes by the visit but it's only for a short amount of time because they're working so hard. They're working on my case at the same time they're working on other cases that they would normally take and I know that they can't come to entertain me. I fully understand why, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could be home.

But Amelia never comes. I told her not to come. She doesn't need to see me like this. She has seen enough. I'm a completely broken mess, rotting away in a jail cell and I don't need her crying over me or providing more content for her nightmares. I asked Emily to relay this message to her and I was told she cried and didn't speak to anyone for a few hours. She's been staying in a BAU interview room and will only go home for a few hours every few days, and I don't blame her. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't want to go home. But it breaks my heart to know how much Amelia is hurting without me and that I can't help her. I choose to pretend like she doesn’t exist so I won’t think about her. I pretend like I’m living the way I was before I met her. Alone, work-obsessed, with nobody but myself to confide in. It’s easy to forget her during the day when there’s a stream of sunlight flooding in from the tiny window to my right. But then I lay down at night and reach for her waist, or wait to feel her hand on my cheek, or crane my neck to kiss her, I crash back down to earth and remember that I can’t be with the woman I love because of my idiotic decisions.

Emily manages to get me in touch with an old friend hers who is willing to be my lawyer, a wonderful woman named Fiona. She's blunt and she knows what she's talking about and I appreciate that. And now that I have representation, we can move onto the trial and maybe I can go home. I try to absorb some of Amelia’s optimism and stay hopeful that I’ll be released on bail, but my own nasty pessimism rears its ugly head and pulverizes any sign of hope. 

Fiona wants me to plead guilty to a crime I didn't commit. I'll only get two to five years as opposed to twenty-five to life, but how could I plead guilty? My memories may be blurry for the first time ever but I know I would never kill that woman. That medicine she was providing me with helping my mom. Why would I kill her? There was another person in that motel room and if my brain would just cooperate and just confirm that it was Scratch, this could all be over.

If I plead guilty then Fiona says I can be released on bail pending trial. Rossi said he would be willing to post my bail, no matter the cost. I'm grateful for him and his generosity but as I spend my time sitting and staring at the wall and the ceiling and the concrete and the mold, the more I don't want to plead guilty. I want to fight this. I have complete faith in my team and their abilities to find Scratch. We found him once and we'll find him again.

"I'm gonna fight it."

That's what I tell Fiona. Being the supportive lawyer she is, she nods and goes on her way, but she comes back far too soon. She doesn't return with a suit for my trial or a date for my trial or handcuffs so I can be transported to my trial. She comes back with Emily.

"Spencer," Fiona sighs, "the Mexican authorities found the murder weapon in the desert. The theory is that you threw it out the window in the car chase. The previous offer you didn't want is off the table. The new offer is to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter and get five to ten years."

"Gosh," Emily breathes, hanging her head. "There's nothing you can do?"

"Your DNA is on it and the blade matches the blade that cut your hand," Fiona explains. "Spencer, if you don't take this offer, there will be no more offers. And if you lose your trial, you're going to prison. I need to know what you're going to do."

"I'm-"

"Spencer," Emily cuts me off. "Can we talk privately?"

Fiona nods and collects her things, leaving the room and Emily takes her spot. As soon as the door is closed, I shake my head at Emily. "I can't plead guilty to something I didn't do."

"You could do life in prison," she whispers, and I can see her eyes start to tear up. I ignore them.

"You guys will find Scratch. I know you will." I nod stubbornly, falsely confident.

"Yes, we will. We will never stop looking for him. But what if we can do that this month? Or this year? Or this-" she shutters, "decade? Because we sure as hell can't do it before your trial."

I look down at my hands, observing the bandages over my hand. It stings and burns constantly and I wish it would go away. "How's Amelia? Is she still staying at the BAU?"

"Mostly," Emily responds. "Her friend- Jenna, I think- has come by a bunch to take her home and back. She's stayed at Jenna's a few times but she stays mostly in the interview rooms and in Garcia's room. She's, um, well, she's mad at you, Reid."

I scoff out a laugh, rolling my eyes. "Because I won't let her come here?"

"Exactly," there's no humor in her voice. "She just wants to see you. She wants to see that you're okay and it might help you feel better to see her and talk to her a bit. You can talk out decisions like this with her. She's your girlfriend and you were planning on moving in with her and JJ told us you were supposed to go buy an engagement ring for her. She deserves to be involved in this and not at the BAU, suffering and crying and having panic attacks-"

"She's having panic attacks?" My eyes widen, my back straightening up as the red flags start popping up in my head. Is she okay? Have her attacks been so bad that they have warranted a hospital trip? How is her breathing? Has she gone nonverbal? "Wha- is she-"

"Yeah, she’s had some. She obviously had that one with JJ and Garcia and she had one on Monday and she couldn’t speak for an hour.” 

"She usually goes nonverbal," I murmur, bringing my hands to my face and trying to avoid biting my nails out of nervousness. "Okay, okay, don't ever touch her until she can speak again. Keep a really calm and low voice and don't freak out because that makes it worse. Get her head between her knees and keep her sitting and get her water and-"

"Spencer, I know how to help a panic attack. We need to be talking about your trial," Emily protests.

"And after her attacks, she usually needs physical attention and she needs comfort and sometimes-"

"You're gonna go to prison, Reid!" Emily shouts, effectively shutting me up. "It's scary to accept but we have to talk about it! You could go to prison for a very long time if you don't accept this deal! Stop talking about your girlfriend’s panic attacks and talk about the situation at hand."

My face hardens and I drop my hands again, sighing. "I can't plead guilty. I just can't."

It's the answer she should have expected, and I'm sure she knew it was coming. Before I even finished, she was out of her seat and banging on the door for a guard to take her away. And yet again I'm left to myself and my thoughts, playing the blurry images over and over again, trying to make out faces and events and names. But there's nothing and I'm left to wonder if I'm going to die in a prison cell.

///

AMELIA

///

My dress has bunched up around my thighs but I can't find it in me to pull it down, even in a courthouse. My legs are full of goosebumps from the air conditioning and my denim jacket isn't doing much to help. I stare down at my lap, my hands resting there with Spencer's medallion between my fingers. The empty space on my hand between my pointer finger and thumb looks too empty and it makes my heart beat faster. I look from the medallion to my hand and back, and I suddenly want to rush out of this goddamn courthouse.

"Amelia," I hear Penelope's voice coming closer, and when I look up, the whole team is approaching.

"Hi," I smile weakly, standing and finally adjusting the hem of my dress. "You guys made it. How was the case?"

"Did they call Reid's case yet?" Luke asks, ignoring my formality question about the case.

"No, but they're about to," I shake my head, gesturing to an open door a few feet away.

They all start walking that way, but I don't follow. I make the decision to choose the horrible wooden bench over the even worse pew-like benches in the court. I had been so upset about not seeing Spencer, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Now that I'm faced with the idea of seeing him, I don't want to. I don't want to see him in handcuffs again, or sleep-deprived, or being told off by a judge or prosecutor. I know the BAU has virtually no evidence to support Spencer and that the judge isn't going to rule in his favor. I know that, the pessimist in me knows that. I don't need to see that.

"Amelia?" Dave is standing in front of me and I know it's him from his expensive looking shoes. "You're not coming in?"

"No, I don't need to-" I choke on my words, clutching the medallion in my hand, "to see this happen. I don't want to hear it."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you're not on Spencer's approved visitor’s list?"

"Maybe," It's taken me two years to learn not to lie to a profiler. "I don't know. But I don't want to see him, Dave. Please go. I'll be here."

I don't even need to ask. The look on their faces tells me everything. The way everyone holds themselves when they walk out and the way they glance around tells me what I need to know. Nobody looks up at me and nobody is running to me for a hug. Spencer isn’t at my side. 

I chew on my cheeks and choke down my tears as I stand, meeting them in the middle of the hallway when they walk toward me. "So how bad was it?"

Stephen is the first fearless one to speak up. "The judge decided he was a flight risk,"

I furrow my eyebrows. "A flight risk? Seriously? My Spencer?"

Tara nods shamefully. "He didn't use his FBI passport, he didn't inform the bureau, the prosecutor claimed he had connections all over the world and could get a fake passport and go on the run if he was released on bail. The judge agreed."

"So what now? What happens to him?" Penelope moves towards me and grabs onto my hand, enlacing our fingers. If she didn’t do that, I might have fallen to the floor in a puddle of tears.

"He's gonna go back to the federal jail," Luke answers. "His trial is in three months and that'll determine if he goes to prison or not."

"Penelope?" I whisper and she just hums in response. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course. Whatever you need," Penelope nods, giving everyone a soft, slightly concerned smile before I lead her away.

///

"Um, seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"You or me?"

"Me. Why, do you want one? I'll draw whatever you want."

"No thanks."

I pull open the door and let Penelope walk in first, even though she seems incredibly hesitant, practically tiptoeing through the threshold. She manages to get me to crack a tiny smile, but that's the most she gets before I just revert to my sadness.

"Zav!" I call, noticing the front desk is empty. Nonetheless, I walk up and grab a post-it and a pen, starting to scribble little drawings.

Zav comes wandering from the back of the tattoo parlor at the sound of my voice, smiling. "Oh, hey there! Been a while since I've seen you. Here for some new ink? It's about time you added to your sleeves."

"Just something really quick," I tell him, picking up the post-it with the sixth design I'd drawn. "Not on my arm. On my hand, right here," I gesture to the empty space between my thumb and pointer finger.

"Sounds easy enough," Zav nods, then smiles at Penelope. "Hi, friend. Do I get the pleasure of inking you today?"

Penelope's eyes widen and she hastily shakes her head. "No, no, I'm just here with-- with-"

"No tattoos for her, just me." I save her from more stuttering and Zav puts his hands up in surrender. He winks at Penelope before sitting me in a chair and starting on the stencil.

“So,” Garcia asks over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, “what does this one mean? You've said that all your tattoos mean something. What's this one? And why is it so important that we do it now, after the trial?"

Careful not to disturb Zav's work, I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion. I hold it up and show Penelope the compass, and she nods in a confused understanding. "When Spencer was in recovery, he was always told that north is the right way to go and obviously, going the right way is the road to recovery and being clean. Well, he told me that ever since he met me, he considered me to be his north or his reason to go north. I've been wanting this tattoo for a long time. Just never got around to getting it."

"That's really sweet," Penelope whispers, smiling at me. "How much pain are you in?"

"A lot," I answer through gritted teeth. "This one is right on my bone and those are the worst, but it's small so it's fine. It'll be done soon."

As anticipated, the tattoo is done within another few minutes. A compass rose with north labeled. Simple. But it’s beautiful and it’s the perfect reminder of Spencer while he’s gone. Temporarily gone. He’s going to come home. Soon.

He's going to jail. He's going to be sitting in jail for three months and I won't be able to see him, and then after that, he still might go to prison. No matter how much he reminds himself that I'm his north, and no matter how much time I spend at the BAU, no matter how many of his shirts I wear, no matter how many times I visit Diana and Cassie, it means absolutely nothing. The justice system is horrible and I know they have a job to do but why can't they see that my Spencer is innocent? Sure, he broke some protocol but all he was doing was trying to help his mom. It's not his fault that a serial killer was targeting the team and decided to sabotage his trip. He should be at home on bail and he should be searching for Scratch so his name can be cleared.

"Amelia?" Penelope's voice breaks me out of my trance and I notice that Zav has already walked away, probably to the front desk to ring me up. She rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me that same pitiful smile that everyone keeps giving me. "We're gonna get him out. We know he didn't do this."

"I miss him," I admit shakily, eyes locked on my new ink. "I know that I spend all my time at the BAU but everything reminds me of him. When I go home with Jenna, we pass by the cafe that me and him went to almost every day. Whenever I see someone carrying a revolver on tv or in the building, it makes me think of his gun. God, P, whenever I braid my hair, it makes me think of him. I functioned before I met him but with him, I was living and actually enjoying my life for the first time. But now that he's gone again," I look up at her, my lips quivering, "how am I supposed to live?"

Penelope opens her mouth to answer but then closes it again. She drags me into a hug, tighter than any hug we’ve had before. I let her squeeze the life out of me because it’s the only thing that feels similar to the way Spencer scoops me up and hugs me after being away on a case. "I wish I had a good answer. We're all hurting and we're all trying to get through this. As long as we lean on each other and you leave the crime fighting up to us, we'll get through this."

///

I stir awake, bundled up beneath a scratchy, knitted blanket and my head resting on a flat pillow. A yawn escapes my mouth before I even open my eyes, my body begging me to go back to sleep. I blatantly ignore it though, swinging my legs over the side of the couch and yawning again.

"Good morning, sunshine," Jenna comes wandering into her living room, holding out a cup of tea for me, "sleep well?"

I shake my head, sipping the not-well-made tea. "No,” I keep myself from scrunching up my nose at the odd taste, “I didn’t.” 

Jenna gives me a tiny smile as she sits on the couch beside me. "Maybe you should try melatonin. I heard you watching tv at three in the morning." When I don't respond to her really smart and helpful suggestion, she moves on. "How's the tattoo?"

"Itchy," I glance at the covering of my tattoo, then shrug. "It's whatever. I'm used to it. What are you doing today?"

"Well, me and Frankie were gonna go do a shoot today. You should come. You haven't done any shoots in a while. I'm sure Frankie would love your help," Jenna encourages softly.

I shake my head yet again and take the last drink of my tea, then put the mug on the floor. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna go to the BAU today. But I'm gonna shower first. I'll let you know what I'm doing tonight. Thanks for letting me stay here." And without another word, I stand and walk off to the too-bright bathroom.

Going into the BAU used to always be a fun experience. I looked forward to seeing Penelope and lounging around in her lair, and I looked forward to leaving little gifts for Spencer on his desk, and I looked forward to greeting the team when they arrived home from cases. The BAU quickly became like a second home to me when I started dating Spencer and I went there at every chance I could. But now the BAU is a reminder of the situation at hand, and despite the fact that I'm spending so much time here, I wish I didn't have to. The constant reminder is painful. Seeing Spencer’s desk and all of his belongings arranged in the perfect way he needs them to be is maybe the hardest part. Every time I look through the glass doors, my heart breaks a little more.

I've come to learn that seeing the team huddled up and speaking in hushed tones is never a good thing. But it's the first thing I see when the elevator doors open. My eyes are locked on them before I even open the glass doors to the bullpen. Penelope's eyes are wide and she's clinging to Luke's side and everyone is just looking concerned. That's never a good sign. They are federal agents and have seen the worst of the worst. They should be able to have some kind of poker face, no matter the situation. 

JJ is the first to notice me, and when she looks up, she almost grimaces. "Amelia."

Okay. They didn't get a case. This is about Spencer. Something happened with Spencer. Did he get beat up in jail? Did they find more evidence? If they found more evidence, then it's surely not in Spencer's favor. What did they find? What are they hesitant to tell me? Why does everyone look like they’ll burst into tears if I say one wrong word? What the hell happened?

I keep a few feet between me and them, clutching the straps of my backpack, my breath caught in my throat. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice quieter than I expected it to be. "Is Spencer okay?"

The team shares glances and Penelope bows her head, and all the horrible thoughts in my head intensify. Emily clears her throat and my eyes dart over to her. "Spencer," she speaks strongly and confidently, "was transferred to prison this morning."

Spencer likes to put a mountain of sugar in his coffee. Spencer can only fall asleep if he’s read at least two books while lying in bed. And, of course, only after he has received what he deems as a sufficient amount of kisses from me. Spencer prefers to take the train to work instead of driving. Spencer likes to hold my hand when we walk the street. Spencer orders swirled soft serve at every ice cream parlor. Spencer wears purple whenever he gets the chance.

Spencer doesn't fight. Spencer isn't violent. Spencer isn't a criminal. Spencer hates shooting his gun and he wouldn’t even walk around with it on his hip until I told him it didn't bother me. Spencer doesn't resort to violence to solve his problems. He’s the one who puts the violent people where they deserve. Those killers and rapists deserve to be in prison. Not the man who thinks it’s bad luck to wear matching socks. Definitely not the man who mumbles my name in his sleep and whines if he reaches over and I’m not sleeping beside him.

My Spencer doesn't belong in prison.

I'm stunned into silence for a moment and it's almost like I'm waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke. Spencer's not in prison with the worst of the worst. That he's not with the people that he has spent his life hunting and putting away. He isn’t locked inside with people who could be sentenced to life in prison, or in a cell people who will kill him just to have a new pair of shoes, or people who have nothing left to lose.

"He's-" I gulp but my saliva tastes sour and it burns my throat, "he's in prison?"

"There was overcrowding in the jail," Tara explains softly. "I know it's not ideal but-"

"He's-" I cut her off, my voice sharp, "he's in prison? He's in prison with the same people that you guys put away and he's-" my hands fall from my backpack and tears start to fall down cheeks, my eyes darting around until they land on Rossi. "He's with people like my-"

"Why don't you come with me?" Dave cuts me off, stepping forward, holding his arm out for me.

As I break down into sobs, he leads me into his office, sitting me down on a couch as he closes the door. I curl up into myself and cry, and cry, and cry for my boyfriend who is suffering immensely for a crime he didn't commit. He's locked inside a cage with horrible people like my father and he can't escape.

"Amelia, we're gonna get him out," Dave pulls up a chair in front of me, letting out a sigh that doesn't do much to convince me. "We're spending every second we can on his case and searching for evidence that will-"

"He's gonna be in a fucking prison," I sneer, lifting my head, revealing my smudging makeup and tear-stained cheeks, "with people like my father!" Dave sighs again, ducking his head. He doesn't say anything and I don't know what to make of that. "He's gonna be with killers and rapists and abusers and men who kill their wife and son and leave their orphaned daughter to be abused in foster homes!"

"Amelia, I don't know if this will help you at all but, just so you know, serial killers are not held in general population. Serial killers have their own specific wings and they don't get mixed up with the other inmates."

I scoff, staring down at my lap, watching as my tears drip onto my clothes. "Inmates. I guess that's all he is now, right? An inmate?"

"No, Amelia, he's not just another inmate," Dave shakes his head and leans forward, trying to offer me comfort by proximity, but it just makes me feel cramped and overwhelmed. "We're going to get him out of there. I promise."

His promise only makes me cry more. I'd do anything to hear Spencer make another promise to me. I'd do anything just to see him again, but Spencer didn't want me in a jail and I can't imagine he'd want me in a prison. I won't be able to see him, or hear him, or feel him until he gets exonerated. That's going to take days, weeks, months. It could take years.  Could go years without seeing his smile and feeling his touch and listening to him ramble on and on about whatever random factoid surfaces in his brain.

"You should go back to work," I whisper, wiping my cheeks. "Sitting here and watching me cry doesn't help anyone. I'll go somewhere else and worry by myself."

I stand and adjust my backpack, but the whole world just seems wrong. It seems like it's spinning and it feels like I just don't belong here. It feels like I've slipped into a different dimension that I don't belong in. It feels like I should just be able to take a nap and wake up and Spencer will be right next to me, kissing my neck and telling me he has to go to work. I'm waiting for the day that I can experience that again.

///

SPENCER

///

I never thought I'd be in prison. Maybe that's a dumb statement, but it's true. I thought my closest relation to prison would be sending criminals there, occasionally going in to interview inmates, and seldom breaking up riots and breaks. I never thought I'd be forced into blues and shower shoes and thrown into my own cell. I never thought this would become my life. I never thought I'd be sitting out on the prison yard, surveying my fellow inmates and wondering who I should avoid and who I could trust enough to keep me alive long enough for me to return home.

"Sup?" A group of three men I recognize from previously stroll up to me, their hands tucked in their pockets, and that alone makes me more nervous than their confident aura. I rise to my feet when they approach me, not out of obedience, but just because I don't want them to hold too much power over me in height. "Got any bats?"

I furrow my eyebrows in the slightest. "Bats?" Maybe I should've listened to Amelia when she rattled off her slang. Amelia.

"Cigarettes," the same guy clarifies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, glancing towards his buddy next to him. I fight the urge to jump as the redhead slings his arm over my shoulder, standing uncomfortably close to me. If I wasn't in a prison, I'd rattle off how many germs he passed on to me just by doing that, but I know I'd get beat up for doing so. I keep my mouth shut.

"No, sorry, I don't smoke," it's my honest answer, but I almost instantly regret it. Will they kill me just because I don't have any cigarettes to give them? Is that how it works in here?

"Yeah," that same inmate keeps speaking, "I think I'm gonna quit." But then he narrows his eyes at me and takes a step closer. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," I answer, but I know my unsure sounding voice has completely betrayed me, "I'm o-okay, thanks."

The third man chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. "Does he look okay to you?"

The redhead leans in closer to me and it takes all my self control not to cringe. "Looks like he's gonna cry."

"Or wet his pants," the first man laughs, and the other two join in with their own chuckles. "Hey, we're just messing- out of respect, you know? It's all over the yard that you stole from Milos."

I quickly shake my head, finally gaining the confidence to shake the redhead’s arm off of me. Well, if they said they respect me, I might as well. He doesn't put up a fight when I do so. "But I didn't steal from Milos. That was my stuff."

"No," Redhead interrupts, "that was a tribute. Everyone has to pay when they join the group."

I glance between the three of them and they're all stony-faced, but I'm confused. I don't get it. What are they talking about? It's clear to them, but not to me. "What group?" I dare to ask the question.

The third man scoffs yet again. "You're kidding, right? Take a look around. They outnumber us.”

"So we gotta stick together," Redhead goes on, and it all starts to make sense. A gang. They want me to join their gang. Am I gang material? Is this a compliment? Is this some weird, sick, twisted, prison-style compliment? "In here, we're the minority."

They're serious, and it's obvious. There are no chuckles. There are no side eye glances. My profiler skills aren't going off and telling me that they're lying. They're serious. They want me to join a gang.

What would happen if I accept? Does that make me a target by the majority? Will that make the majority look at me and want to take me out? I have to survive three months, at most, in here and that's it. I have to do whatever I need to stay alive for three months, and that's it. But what if I reject them? Will that make me an even bigger target if I say no? Will they take that rejection lightly? I can't imagine they would. Which is the lesser of the two evils? Do I really want to join a gang during my three month prison stay? Would I want to join a gang at all?

"I'm not interested," I say quickly, and attempt to make a quick exit. "Thanks anyway."

Before I can even leave, they catch me. "No, no, no," the first guy shakes his head, his arm now around my shoulders, his jaw clenched, "that's not the way this is gonna go."

"Hey," the third guy interrupts, "Tony-O is over there and he's waiting for us,"

The first guy pats my chest and, thankfully, lets me go. "Okay, my man, we gotta go. But," the three start to back away with devious smiles that I've seen far too many times on psychopaths, "no worries, we'll catch you tonight."

They'll catch me tonight. That can't be good. My eyes follow them as they approach someone else, but when they start chatting like friends, I look away. But then my eyes land on someone I can't look away from because he looks familiar. I know for a fact I didn't see him in the room of cots, but I know I've seen him before.

Ever since the situation in Mexico, my brain has been a little bit slow to react and recall faces and facts, but suddenly, it comes to me. I squint my eyes as a name flashes in my head. Calvin Shaw. He was an FBI agent who killed a criminal agent who was working for a Russian mob. He turned himself in and he's been here ever since, but I studied his case in school and he's become an example at the bureau of what not to do.

He's here? At this prison? And why is he staring at me like that? Does he know who I am? Do I radiate federal agent energy? Amelia talks about people's energy's all the time. Maybe I should've listened to her. I'm realizing that maybe I should have appreciated her more than I did. If I get out of here, I need to lay down all my love for that girl as soon as possible.

The guards blow their whistles and shout for us to line up so they start the process of corralling us back inside. Some inmates are brought back to their cells while others, like me, are brought to rooms with a bunch of cots lined up.

Time takes forever to pass by in prison. There's nothing to do and there's no type of stimulation. I just sit on my bed and try to tune out the chatter surrounding me. I try my hardest not to let my mind wander off to my friends or my girlfriend or my mother because I'll go crazy if I start worrying about them. They're fine without me, I bet.

I sit on my bed with my knees to my chest and guard the box of things I'd fought to get back from another inmate, making sure they don't get stolen yet again. That decision to reclaim my things almost got me killed once and I don't feel like getting in that situation again.

It's nearly impossible to tell what time it is because there are no windows but eventually, a few guards come by to scream at us to shut up. Wilkins looks around as the room falls silent and then informs us that it’s lights out.

My heart starts to pound when the lights go dark and the guards walk away because, despite the darkness, I see three familiar men rise from their cots and stalk over to me. Like on the yard, I rise to my feet just so they don't get too much power over me. I know that I've made the right decision to do so when one man pulls out a makeshift knife he's clearly made from a bed frame or something he smuggled in. The panic and unfiltered fear settle in. My instincts tell me to run, but there is nowhere to go. I don’t have a gun to defend myself, there is no way to talk these men down like I’ve done to others in the past, there’s nothing I can do. I’m all on my own.

One guy smirks, stepping up to me. "It's party time."

The two other men quickly grab my arms and tie my wrists behind my back, then shove a sock in my mouth to keep me quiet and muffle the sounds of me screaming, just so a guard doesn't come in and interrupt. Is that good? Does that mean they're not planning on killing me? They're just going to beat me up?

They start dragging me off, into the connected bathroom and my screams echo even louder off the wall. I'm doing what I can to get out of the grasps of the men but I've never been physically strong. Maybe I should've taken the fit tests more seriously. Maybe I should've gone training when Morgan asked me to go. Maybe I should've taken my life more seriously.

"So," there's another man with a thick accent standing there already, his arms crossed over his chest, "you're too good to be with us? We offer you friendship and what do you do? Spit in our faces."

The redhead tightens his grip on my arm. "Thinks he can survive in here without our help."

"You," the man with the accent grabs the knife, "you need to show some respect," he brings the knife up to my face and traces the blade across my skin. I'm not sure what they're planning on doing to my face but I know it won't feel good.

"Do it," one guy encourages, smirking.

"Back off," there's another voice now, and the four men holding me stop in their tracks, "now." I turn my head to see who my savior is, and it's none other than Calvin Shaw. "Untie him," he says, and the guys behind me quickly do so, and take the sock out of my mouth. "Now get out of here," he tells me and gestures back into the main room. I hesitate, but Calvin gives me a pointed look. "Go on. Go."

I high tail it out of there, my heart pounding harder than it ever has before. I think it could positively burst out of my chest as I return to my cot. It dawns on me now how many people are in this room, and not a single one of them stepped up to help me. Nobody yelled for a guard or helped me fend off the gang or did anything at all.

So I sit down on my cot and I don't even lay down. I don't dare to go to sleep and I barely even blink. I'm even paranoid that, due to the position of my cot, there are people behind me that I can't see. I'm too freaked out. I'm too scared that those men will come back and kill me for real.

I've faced the scariest men and women in the world. I've witnessed things that I never should have and I've talked myself out of horrible situations. I can't escape this. I can't flash my identification or shoot a few bullets and then go home to Amelia. I can't do that. I have to spend every second of my life with my guard up, watching my back at the same time I'm watching my front and my sides just to make sure no one is coming for me. It's day one and I'm already panicked and I'm already lost. I just want to go home.

///

The next two days are like walking on eggshells. I'm constantly watching my back, front, and sides and I'm making sure to keep everyone in front of me at all times. I can't move my cot without risking a fight so I'm barely sleeping at night. I force myself to stay awake to guard myself and protect myself from any possible attacks.

I get to have a talk with Calvin at a time when the cell blocks are open, and he shows nothing but compassion for me. He believes my innocence, shares the story of his sentence, and gives me a book I've never read before. It feels good to have someone I can trust. I can tell he's powerful in this prison, judging by the way he told those gang guys to stop beating me up and they immediately complied. Sitting in his cell is the only time I allowed myself to relax in the slightest.

But that relaxation is short lived because soon the guards are telling us to get back to where we belong. We get cuffed and shoved along to our cells or wherever else, and I get back to my cot. I sit with my knees to my chest and prop my eyes wide open, despite how utterly exhausted I am. I've barely slept in the three days I've been here and I don't know how much longer I can stand this.

"Reid," my name is called by a guard along with a few other names, and we all quickly rise to our feet. "Grab your things and let’s go."

I quickly grab my little bucket of belongings that I've been guarding with my life and hold it close to my chest as I approach the guards. I'm thankful that they don't cuff us as they take us one by one into different blocks.

Wilkins, of course, is gripping my arm harder than he needs to be as he shoves me along a corridor. I keep my eyes forward and no matter how badly I want to see what prisoners I'm walking past, I don't let my eyes wander. I've already seen a guy beat someone else up on the yard just for looking at him and I'm not wanting that to be my future.

"Hold," Wilkins snaps, and I force my feet to freeze in their spot. Then I feel him shoving me inside with, again, more force than needed. "Now get in there." Once I wiggle my way through, not really fitting with the tray I'm holding, Wilkins shouts for the door to close. He gives me another look before stomping away, leaving me all alone in my new home.

I set my tray down on the little table beside me and immediately notice the book on the bed. It's the one that Calvin had told me about yesterday, and I guess he arranged for it to be in my cell.

"Hey," I suddenly hear Calvin's voice from the cell beside mine, "welcome to the neighborhood!"

///

AMELIA

///

I throw my backpack onto the floor of my apartment, locking the door behind me, groaning in pain with every step I take. I dread when I'll eventually have to walk up to my room, but I plan on avoiding it as long as possible.

I start on my walk to the kitchen for a drink, probably a huge glass of wine, but then I stop in my tracks when there's a small, cold breeze against my legs. I shake it off and drag myself into the kitchen. The window is closed and the plants on the windowsill are half dead. Of course, they are. I haven't been home enough to water them.

I grab a wine glass from a cabinet that's far too high for me, definitely placed there by Spencer, and fill it almost to the brim. I toss the entire drink back in seconds and then pour another drink. Once I have my second glass in my hand, I fill a new glass with water and start to feed my dead plants that are probably past the point of return. Once I've quenched the kitchen plants, I move to the bigger one beside the balcony door.

As I approach it, I roll my eyes. I've located the source of the breeze and it's coming from the cracked open balcony door. I’ve left the door open for two days straight. I shake my head at myself and pour the rest of the water into the plant before closing and clicking the lock on the balcony door.

I barely even realize that my hand starts to shake while I pour the water into the plant. I'm blinded by tears that I don't feel coming and something in my mind tells me that the more wine I drink, the less I'll cry. Drink more wine. Drink more wine. So I gulp down the rest of my wine glass and ignore it as my head starts to get fuzzy.

I throw both glasses into the sink and then grab the cracked open wine bottle, taking a long sip. Drink more wine. Drink more wine.

It smells sweet in the kitchen. Did I light a candle? What in the kitchen smells like bubblegum?

My body is moving around the kitchen and through the living room, but my brain is so fuzzy and everything is so blurry that it doesn’t even feel like I’m moving. I feel like I’m floating with my lids drooping closed, hands moving like they’re being told to. I nearly collapse against the couch, but it feels like I’m pulled back up and pushed back to my feet. Drink more wine. You want to drink more wine. 

I grab the bottle and chug down the rest of the contents, my trembling hand dropping it to the ground. I barely even jolt when it shatters at my feet.

The glass, it feels like I have a voice whispering instructions in my ear. Pick up the glass. I fall to my knees and grip a piece of jagged glass in my hand, watching blood come to the surface and stain the clear surface. Tighter. I oblige, watching a drop of blood fall to the floor. A drop stains my jeans. Go to the stairs. 

I toss the glass aside and crawl to the stairs, collapsing at the bottom and dropping my head onto a stair. I bring my knees to my chest, my cries fill the apartment as I slump down, my whole body shaking as I sob. I'm not sure how long it takes me to fall asleep on the staircase, but I do, and the alcohol keeps me asleep the whole night, something I haven't been able to do in a while.

///

"Amelia? Hey, are you here? I hope you are, the door's unlocked."

I whine as I'm roused from my sleep, and as I start to move, I'm expected to be comforted by my duvet. But instead, I go sliding down two steps of my staircase, groaning as I hit my hip. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as I process the intense pounding in my head.

"Are you-" Penelope comes and stands in front of me, freezing when she sees me, "whoa, you look awful."

I let out a humorless laugh, rolling my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

She observes my surroundings- bloody hand, smudged makeup, messy hair, wrinkled clothes, tear-stained cheeks, sleeping on the stairs. It's not hard to tell what's going on, especially for someone who has been hanging around profilers for over a decade. I'm sure everyone on the team can see that I'm spiraling, and it's obvious to Penelope too.

"How'd you get in?" I ask, shakily pushing myself to my feet and grabbing onto the railing to steady myself.

"Well, I knocked and you didn't answer but the door was unlocked. I came to check up on you because I know you were really upset yesterday. I, well,” she pauses, wringing her hands together, “I'm not really sure what I say but I'm really sorry if I-"

"No," I cut her off, shaking my head, hugging the railing and trying to hide my bloody hand from her view. She looks utterly heartbroken, but I'm not sure what the cause is. If it's because of Spencer or because I lost my cool at the BAU, I'm not sure. "I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault. I overreacted. Um," my eyes wander down to the ground and I ignore the few pieces of random broken glass that have trailed towards the stairs, "I was just kinda upset. Then when Dave was talking to me, he promised that you guys would get him out of prison. Promising was kind of mine and Spencer's thing. Him saying that just made it so much worse."

"O-Oh," Penelope's eyebrows pop up, "I had no idea."

I nod and fall back onto the stairs. "When we first met and he told me he didn't shake hands, I went home and I just thought about how we could do something similar to shaking hands but not actually shaking hands. One of the options I presented to him the next time we saw each other was pinky promising. He liked it and it just stuck. Promising just became our thing." Penelope stares at me, her lips turned downward and her hands laced in front of her, head bowed. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. Thanks for checking up on me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Penelope just slightly perks up now, lifting her head and giving me an attempt at a smile. “If you need anything, let me know. And make sure to double check that your door is locked.”

“I will, thanks,” I turn on my heel and start stumbling up the stairs, clinging to the railing for support. My brain is pounding against my skull and I can’t keep a thought in my head for more than a second. My hand is throbbing.

“Hey,” Penelope pauses at the door, looking up at me, “did you light a candle?” I shake my head. “Hmm. It smells like bubblegum in here.” 

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[stefciastark]

Captured ~Webpril Day 17

A/N: Sorry for the late update and a shorter chapter! Last night was a long long night with assessment, and this upcoming week will be interesting. This one I found super difficult to write but I enjoyed the challenge. One day I'd love to expand on a storyline like this :) This is a combined prompt fill for Charlotte_Stars on AO3 who wanted to see Peter getting saved by Tony from the Raft. Hope you guys enjoy xx

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“You might want to hurry up, Tony, I’ve got two - no three bogeys coming in on the radar.”

“Hold tight, Happy, I gotta get the kid out.”

All Tony heard over the radio was a sigh and then the firing of jet engines as Happy began to manoeuvre the aircraft away from the immediate radar range of the Raft, and to likely deal with whatever threat was going to burst through the cloudline.

He had never been more furious yet more afraid for Peter. The level of sheer stupidity to act out of bounds in strict violation of the Sokovia Accords had landed him in superhero prison, all in the name of doing some ‘underground information gathering’. It was out of character for Peter, and once he had the kid back safe, they were going to have a tête-à-tête about what the hell had been going through his head. Tony was even more furious, however, at the prison’s lack of leniency, especially considering Peter was fifteen years old. The Raft was keeping a minor prisoner, and Tony wasn’t of a mind to tolerate that level of bullshit.

The rain pattered harshly over the suit, and he was glad when F.R.I.D.A.Y’s systems filtered out the white noise. The only sounds he needed to hear were voices and footsteps.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, get me inside.” The large circular landing platform at the centre of the facility’s exterior had not opened to greet him. He hadn’t really expected it to.

“On it, Boss.”

Ironically, breaking into the Raft would most likely land him in the Raft if he wasn’t careful. Then again, ‘careful’ wasn’t really on the cards for Tony.

The landing pad unfurled in response to F.R.I.D.A.Y’s disarmament of the frontline security systems, its large metal jaws opening to reveal about two-hundred metres of darkness that would eventually culminate in a high-security, architecturally hideous - yet somewhat effective - prison.

If they didn’t know he was here before - but with Happy circling around the prison, that scenario was unlikely - they did now.

Standing at the edge of the abyss, Tony did not hesitate in the slightest before diving in, slowing his descent moments before his landing with a few well-timed micro-blasts of the repulsors.

Eyes locked on the first of many security doors, he began Phase 2 of the rescue operation.

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

Peter traced circles mindlessly on the white sheets, the mattress feeling like stone beneath him. He may as well be sitting on the floor. The fabric of the blue uniform was stiff and sharp against his skin, the facility obviously needing to be introduced to the concept of fabric softener. The shade of blue was his marking as a prisoner. His marking as an ‘incarcerated enhanced individual’. He missed the days when he was just an ‘enhanced individual’.

A metal tray laden with an ambiguous mystery concoction of ‘food’ lay untouched in the opposite corner of the small room. The only thing Peter had taken from the tray was the small plastic cup of water, which did nothing to quench the burning in his throat. When he got out of here he was absolutely going to leave a bad review. ‘Room service and hospitality leaving something to be desired.”

Although it had only been a matter of days since his imprisonment - a reality he had yet to come to terms with - it had felt like at least a month. The once a day serving of whatever nutrient-poor food they did provide tasted like cardboard and mothballs, a flavour Peter didn’t particularly want to re-experience, and he wasn’t sure in the first place how a flavour like that even happened.

One guard stood on the opposite end of the circular room by the heavy security door, gun in hand. Peter, being the only one held in the facility, didn’t exactly need half of the Raft’s personnel to supervise him.

The guard frowned in response to a voice that crackled over the radio. Readjusting his one-handed grip on his weapon, he placed his finger on his earpiece. Peter heard his uneasy reply. “There’s been a breach in Section 2A? Copy that, I’ll-”

Peter heard the static cut in over the guard’s communications, the bearer of the news having suddenly lost connection with the radios.

“Hello? H-hello?” No response from the other side.

He could faintly hear the sounds of gunfire and the clangs of metal coming from...fairly nearby? Peter could only guess, seeing as the reinforced walls and specially made superhero-proof architecture of the place made it almost impossible for him to tell. Standing up from his prison cot, he approached the bars of his cell.

His heart pumped faster, fingers trembling with the adrenaline already flowing through his veins. He had no web shooters, no suit. He felt profoundly useless. It was only a matter of time before whatever threat was coming through those doors found Peter, and he had no way to defend himself.

The guard was now trying in vain to leave the room; swiping his access card, scanning his fingerprints, or entering his pin number did nothing to release the latch on the door. Whoever was coming in was smart; keep the guards separated, and assume almost complete control of the computer systems. The technological infrastructure was theirs to manipulate.

With a pitiful whimper, the guard jumped back from the door as three gunshots went off before being followed by a loud bang.

The door slid open.

Before the guard could raise his gun with quivering hands, a blur of red and gold grabbed the firearm’s muzzle and bent it upwards, rendering it completely useless. Tearing the weapon away from his hands, Peter’s rescuer introduced the butt of the soft machine gun to the side of the man’s head. Falling unconscious - but still alive - to the ground, all went silent.

“Back away kid, it’s going to get hot in here.” Tony had made his way over to Peter’s cell, and what looked like highly concentrated flames of a welding torch emerged from his palm.

Scrambling back from the barred door, he shielded his eyes away from the sparks that flew from the metal before becoming a molten lump on the ground. Peter thought it was kind of ironic how a prison cell meant to keep people with special abilities in wasn’t in the slightest fireproof. He thought wryly that that would probably be a top-priority upgrade to the facility after today.

There was now a gap in the bars wide enough for Peter to walk through without bending over or contorting his body in any way. He was free.

Leaving the room behind without a single glance back, he wrapped his arms around Tony’s suit, the cold metal feeling warmer than anything else he’d felt in days. Tony’s armour-clad hand rested gently on the back of his head, a comforting weight that grounded him in reality.

“You came for me.” Peter stated, not really certain why he felt surprised.

“What did you think I was going to do, let you rot in jail?” The helmet had receded, worry lines prominent on Tony’s brow. This kid was going to be the end of him.

The comfortable silence was broken by Happy’s agitated voice breaking over Tony’s comms. “If you guys could leave the sweet reunion for later, we need to go. Now.”

[yikes-strikes-again]

rating: gen word count: 2271 tags: angst, hurt/comfort, light on the comfort part, canon compliant, the slaughter, the corruption, season 5 spoilers, episode: e163, spoilers for episode: e163, spooky eye powers             summary: Martin learns exactly what happens if Jon doesn't give his statements. Inspired by a line from episode 177. Takes place between episodes 163 and 164.

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Buried in the wreckage of the blasted wasteland, a typewriter began clicking rapidly.

With soles caked in mud, they crunched through what must have been leagues of the trenches - though, obviously, there was no way to tell. No way to tell how far they had traveled or how far they had yet to go. The Panopticon-Institute remained on the horizon, ever-distant and always looming.

The sounds of war were not far away. Once in a while, artillery fire would tear the silence apart, ripping through the walls of bunkers and causing a throbbing, painful ringing in the ears. Jon and Martin would hold onto each other for support, though often they would still fall into the wet and sloshing ground, caking their clothing in another layer of grime. But here, the danger was less immediate than it was miles ago. Slower, in wounds rather than weapons.

Countless soldiers nursed the bandaged stumps of lost limbs, ones either amputated or blown off. In the case of the former, the procedure rarely prevented infection from spreading through the victim’s veins with each beat of their heart, or cleanly excised the deepest strains of necrotized tissue. They knew this, of course. They knew that they would only get sicker, and the knowledge terrorized them even more than the certain death that lay not a meter above.

Clouds of flies thicker than pudding swarmed around the dead. Well, one hoped they were dead. It was hard to tell when everyone seemed to be on the verge of permanent collapse, either from mortal injury, illness, or an overdose of grief. It didn’t matter why - when someone laid down in this place, they never got up again.

It was calmer on this side of the trenches. Quieter. But in the quelling of the chaos, it gave Martin a chance to process how awful it all was, and that was worse.

He looked at Jon. If he had to guess, he’d say that Jon was faring worse than Martin was. There was a hard set to his shoulders, and he spoke little save to warn Martin of danger or obstacles. When he did speak, his voice was terse and irritable. Martin rarely got a glimpse of his eyes, but when he did, he saw that Jon’s pupils were erratic and searching.

Both of them had been quiet for days, weeks perhaps, ever since Jon had ranted like a madman in that bunker, surrounded by all those catatonic people. Martin didn’t understand  why  he had to do that, why he was compelled to speak of all the awful things that were already upon them, only that something bad would happen if he didn’t. He had made it clear that Jon would find no audience for his ramblings in Martin, and Jon had accommodated that thus far.

Martin stopped at the turn of the trench, finding a more gentle slope of the wall to rest his shoulder upon, though the soil was damp and rancid-smelling. He didn't feel fatigue, but his shoes were not meant for hiking, and they were uncomfortable. He was soaked to the bone, filthy, and freezing cold, and he really wanted to know when he could stop being that way.

Jon stopped so suddenly that his boots skidded on the mud and he had to sway to keep his balance.

“What is it now, Martin?”

There was no resignation to his voice, no apathy or even frustration, unlike before. Just pure, stifled anger, and the cryptic storm brewing from behind his eyes.

Martin looked at him pleadingly. “Can’t you tell me anything about how long we’ve still got to walk? At least until we get out of… this place.”

Jon sighed the sigh of a parent who had been asked “Are we there yet?” by their impatient child one too many times. “Like I said the first two thousand times, time and space  do not exist in the way they once did. When the world was whole and there existed minds who knew not of terror.” He cringed almost imperceptibly, and scrubbed at his temples with his palms. “As much as I hate to hear the phrase myself, we will get there when we  get  there.”

It felt silly to complain about someone’s bad attitude when they were in a literal hellscape, but Martin didn’t like the way he’d started speaking through gritted teeth. He wanted respite from this particular nightmare, yes, but he also wanted to know why Jon was so angry.

Martin didn’t get the sense that it would do any good to ask him, though.

He sighed. “It’s been so long.  What if we never get there? Just wandering in circles in a never-ending trench.”

“Well, Martin, we  will never get there if we keep stopping to burrow a nightmare and ceaseless frenzy.”

He paused to consider that. He figured he’d heard wrong - his hearing was still a bit muted from the gunfire. “What?”

“I said, we’ll never get there if gangrene blisters or sanguine bagpipes.”

“What?  What the hell does that mean?”

Jon made an irritated noise, then spoke slowly as if talking to someone who was very stupid. “Agony bore a bloody sickle for crushing the sleepless.”

Martin stared at him, and narrowed his eyes, gripped by a dawning horror that had nothing to do with the disease and death that surrounded him. “Jon, you’re not making any sense.”

Some of the anger faded from Jon’s expression. Then, suddenly, he clutched at his head with both hands as if in pain. His eyes widened, focusing briefly on Martin before returning to the million things that only he could see.

“Sever,” he said pointedly. And, as if spurred on by something, he continued, both voice and body shaking with intensity. “Limbs metallic see bloated warhead and vicious gas spitting cauterize through. Spleen pale cannon warhead bile where tetanus sinews. And gore and ring and soldier visceral from bodies brother teeth for rancid crimson darkness.” He spoke with such terrible certainty, as if he fully expected Martin to comprehend the meaning of every word.

The corners of Martin’s mouth became taut, but since smiling requires the pretense of happiness, he did not smile. “Listen, Jon, I know we’re both under a lot of stress, but this is a really bad way to try and lighten the mood, okay? It’s not funny. You’re scaring me.” He drew a sharp and shaking breath and released it in a hollow imitation of laughter. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? Are you just taking something out on m—”

“Chaotic laughter and screeching god.” Jon’s eyes were on him, but they weren’t looking at him. They were wild, desperate. Something awful was happening to him, something that caused him to forget how to stand, that ceaselessly filled his mind with secondhand terrors, that stole his voice and gave it to the neverending flood of words that rose like bile from his throat. “Iron hands, jettison liver, with heroic terror bullets and mottled rage buzzing, burning and lungs gone. Necrotized gurney which hell hath nuclear rot aching, whose shivering eye orders and despairs, immobile river filth screaming for prison and tear—”

“Jon, stop!” Martin pushed off the wall and stumbled over to where Jon had slipped onto the filthy earth. He shook him. “Snap out of it!”

“— off running, smoke and cloth the bacteria acrid, with hungry singing comrade forever hidden. Writhing from crater, sobbing but the fever moans flaking to clinging, melting daggers. Helpless pathway churning through exploding infinity—”

Martin was nearing his wits’ end. He dragged Jon, who went limp, into a nearby dugout, so tiny that sunlight still shone across most of its floor. He tried to block out the onslaught of babbled nonsense that somehow evoked a thousand nightmarish images as clear as day, but Jon’s voice had taken on that quality that made it impossible not to listen. He continued to shake him with repetitive, mechanical regularity, but as the words bore into his brain Martin’s movements grew weak and yielding.

Jon lay on Martin’s lap, staring far beyond the dirt ceiling. “Gorging jaws of metal death surround your blood-borne reach towards distant jargon, but surreal enemy adrenaline has harrowed pathological exaltations. Barbed manslaughter. Feeding warfare. Stinging trigger…”

His eyes fell to him for a split second. “Martin,” he said, and Martin remembered to breathe. But the moment was gone as quick as it had come, and Jon was launched into another disjointed tirade.

If the hands of his watch spun as reliably as they once had, Martin might have found that he sat crouched in that dugout for exactly six hours and thirty-four minutes, keeping Jon’s back out of the mud. But, for what it was worth, it felt like years. Jon continued his nonsensical ranting, scarcely stopping to breathe, and from the way he desperately spat the words one got the feeling that he wished he didn’t have to. His voice rose and fell at random, reaching sudden and unpredictable climaxes of raving and shouting before settling back into a listless murmur. Trying to ignore him was an exercise in futility. Every few words a new, terrible image would implant itself into Martin’s mind, and then another, and another, together weaving a tapestry of terror from the thread of Jon’s omnipotent train of thought. He couldn’t stop listening, and Jon couldn’t stop talking, so whenever Martin’s thoughts weren’t drowned out by the bile of the Beholding they were filled with despair.

Would this never end? Were they doomed to rot in this place, their minds slowly unraveled by the power of the Eye filtered only by Jon’s droning voice? Would they never move again, like all the rest in this awful place, locked in a stony embrace like some warped parody of The  Pietà?

Martin couldn’t know. But in between terrors, it was all he could imagine as tears ran down his face.

It was a small mercy that this particular fear of Martin’s wasn't due to come about just yet. The first clue was that the flood of words had slowed to a trickle. The second was that when Jon paused for breath, it was deeper and less hurried than before. His voice had lost its former vigor, and it was all Martin could hope that he had finally started to exhaust himself.

“... never respite from wretched hope… singe a coagulated daylight swarm… justice not for careening wails… farewell… slaughter,” he paused, panting. “Finished” was too hopeful a word, and his voice carried no note of finality.

But there was a blessed silence. Martin expected it to end at any moment, but it stretched on as the seconds passed. There were distant cries of war, and the sound of Jon trying to make up for the breath he’d lost, but it all faded into nothing in the presence of the euphoric silence.

Several minutes passed this way, and it was only then that Martin dared to speak with the expectation that he’d get a response.

“Jon,” he began, finally daring to make eye contact - his otherworldly gaze had been far too intense to meet, before - and found that Jon was seeing him again. “What… happened?”

He blinked at Martin. There was another silence, shorter and more deliberate than the last, but less comfortable. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I think… I just…” He grabbed his temples with both hands and winced, and Martin pulled them both out of the light.

A moment’s migraine, and Jon collected himself. “There’s just… so much. Fear. Everywhere we go, from everyone in the world. I see it all. I  feel  it all.” Martin listened passively, despair replaced by a deep frustration. He knew this, and Jon knew how he felt about being his… receptacle for it all. But he didn’t interrupt.

“We have been through a domain of The Slaughter, and are now passing into one of The Corruption. I’ve been… accumulating more and more of The Slaughter’s fear all this time, and now that we’re leaving it… I suppose it wanted me to let it out. Now or never.” He paused. “And... I  have  to let it out, willingly, or else…”

“This happens.”

Jon sighed. “Apparently.”

Martin considered this, wondering if Jon could see the tear tracks that had left clean paths down his otherwise dirty face.

“Why didn’t you just give a statement? You know…  before  it was forced out of you?”

Jon looked at his hands for a long time. Then, in a small, guilty voice, he said, “I was trying to keep it inside.”

“Keep it inside?  Why?  ”

“I thought…” He covered his mouth in the gesture of one whose face burned with shame. “I thought I could control it, if I just willed it hard enough. These trenches… too long. Too narrow. There was nowhere for you to go. I didn’t want to stop, and I didn’t want to leave you.”

Martin stopped, and he softened. “Jon.” He sighed through his nose, and placed his hand on the back of Jon’s head. Then he brought him up into an embrace. “This was worse.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmured into Martin’s neck.

“... I’m just glad you’re okay.”

They stayed like that for an undefinable amount of time, relishing the only avenue of comfort available to them anymore. Then, with Jon clinging to Martin for support, they climbed to their feet, and set out under the sky again, which had at some point shifted from violent red to a sickly yellow. A new understanding dawned on them both, mostly Martin, who resolved to allow Jon his space when he needed to… vent.

He only wished the knowledge hadn’t had to come from personal experience.

Something lurking in the ruins ripped the page off the typewriter, and its keys never made a noise again.

[kbstories]

Hegemony

he·ge·mo·ny (n.) A dominant influence or authority over others.

One cell, two captains and an uncertain future.

(Or: Kidd and Luffy in prison. Let’s talk about it.)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, Blood and Injury, Enemies to Friends

Set in Wano. Spoiler warning for Act Two of Wano. Content warning for... Kidd (= bad language). Read Chapter 2 here.

***

It so happens that, one day, Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd finds himself in a prison cell.

It’s not terribly big, perhaps ten by twenty steps and bland as all hell to boot. Stone floors, metal bars, a corner to sleep in and a bucket to shit in, nothing fancy about it. Standard fare, not that Kidd would have much experience with that.

There’s no brig on the Victoria Punk. The Kidd Pirates don’t take prisoners.

Of course, the reasons why Kidd’s in the cell aren’t that simple. None of it has been, this whole sordid tale of alliances and betrayal and a war botched before it could even begin. It’s too late for regret, far too late yet Kidd can’t quite rid himself of it, this cloying sensation that writhes just under the surface. Like peeling back his skin is all it would take to expose the maggots and rotting flesh beneath–

Don’t be dramatic, Killer would tell him right about now and he would be right.

And yeah, perhaps Kidd is throwing himself a fucking pity party. It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this shithole, every night spent with his thumb up his ass or dreaming about things he can’t change. His wounds sting as they heal; Kidd scratches at the newly-formed scabs out of sheer boredom, watches blood well up and dry in interesting patterns.

The ones he can reach that is, chained to the wall like a mutt by his remaining hand.

Ain’t anybody here to stop him, anyways – certainly not Killer, wherever he ended up, nor Heat nor Wire or any other member of his crew. They’re lucky if they even have a ship to return to, as things stand.

Kidd laughs, loud and a little unhinged. They couldn’t have fucked themselves over any worse if they tried.

Night turns to day, the morning sun a bright smudge beyond the bars of his cell as it struggles against the smoke gathering above like hazy storm clouds. The guards return for another day of work, same as the last and the one before that.

Kidd gets to his feet. His stomach growls.

He’s long stopped laughing.

*

By the end of that day, things change.

It’s black as pitch outside, the movements of Kaido’s goons vague in the shadows. There’s no mistaking the sound of a body hitting the floor, though. The clinking of shackles dragging across stone, forceful steps – Kidd closes his eyes and thinks, too slow, as the door slams shut and the bars rattle with the weight of something, someone crashing against them.

Panted breaths, wet. The scent of blood, heavy in the air. Finally:

“Bastards! Come back and fight me!”

Kidd’s eyes snap open.

Ah, fuck.

*

“Hey.”

Twenty steps up, twenty steps down.

“Shithead. I’m talking to you.”

The silhouette moves, up and down, in constant motion. A beast, caged, heaving with rage.

“Strawhat.”

A growl, “What?”, the word cut short by gnashing teeth. Unflinching, Kidd meets the glare glinting amidst swathes of bandages. They’re spotted black with blood.

“Sit the fuck down. They’re not coming back.”

A minute ticks by, then two. Monkey D. Luffy relents, the dejected frown on his lips perhaps real, perhaps something Kidd imagines. It’s hard to see shit in the dead of night, especially long-lost rivals who by some unholy coincidence decided to show up in the most unlikely of places.

“Screw them.” Strawhat throws himself against the wall with all the grace of a soggy towel, close enough that Kidd hears the strained hiss he exhales under his breath. Chains rattle with every motion.

“Screw this. I would’ve sent them all flying without the Sea Stone.”

Looks like they fucked him up good – sounds like it too, Strawhat’s voice raspy like he screamed his vocal cords to shreds. Kidd watches him settle down, knees pulled up and cuffed hands hanging in-between, limp.

A pretty tragic sight, all in all, not that Kidd particularly cares.

“Think I’m sitting here for shits and giggles?” He scoffs. “Get in line, brat. I’m killing them first”, and it’s not as satisfying a thing to say without Strawhat rising to the challenge.

In fact, the guy doesn’t reply at all. Back against the wall, Strawhat’s eyes search the bit of sky they can glimpse from their spot. There’s nothing to see, Kidd knows: Udon’s nights are devoid of stars, even the moon’s gaze turned elsewhere.

Kidd doesn’t care but it’s been just himself and his thoughts down here for a week now.

Killer would probably shrug it off, if their places were reversed: All this extra time would go into thinking up a plan to get out of here – perhaps get in that nap he’s been complaining about not-getting for weeks now – and… Kidd’s not one for scheming, never had to be. Brawling and killing and fucking, that’s what he’s good at and he’s always done it with Killer by his side.

The thought makes Kidd shift in place. The chains pull taut, the raw skin of his wrist burning with it. How pathetic.

“The hell are you doing here, anyways?”

Smooth is another thing Kidd is not, and it’s good Strawhat is as dumb as the day is long. Which is very, locked in a box made of bare, uncaring rock.

“I’m not supposed to tell”, says the brat, quietly, like he’s trying to contradict every single thing Kidd remembers about him. (Which isn’t much but it’s enough. No one who has the nerve to deck a World Noble and rail against the powers that be at every turn sounds like that.)

Kidd spits, “Fuck that”, and Strawhat just… shrugs. “So you’re still sailing with Law. Didn’t think the prissy bastard would stick around that long. You aiming for Kaido or what?”

Blinking at him, Strawhat’s surprise is apparent despite the bandages. “You know?”

“Are you stupid?” (Kidd doesn’t pause, the question more than rhetorical.) “Some people read the damn paper.”

Some people being Killer, so: Yes, Kidd knows.

“Ah. Traffy won’t like that.” Strawhat rubs his chin, realizes he can’t, pulls with some measure of frustration at the gauze around his jaw. It comes loose, badly done in the first place. Unraveling in the matter of seconds. “He didn’t get caught, though. That’s good.”

There’s genuine relief there, and Kidd laughs. “You mean he turned tail and left you behind. There’s a difference, dipshit.”

Bloody bandages are thrown aside. Strawhat gives him a look, ticked off.

“Traffy’s not like that.”

“Everyone’s like that”, Kidd bites back, a little faster than he means to, and the grin drops off his painted lips. “Whatever. See if I care.”

Silence falls, then, more than tense in this limited space, and while the previous monotony was bad having Strawhat here is worse: Somehow this Strawhat is even more annoying than the bubbly fool with the devil-may-care smile he met that day at Sabaody, all sulky and seething anger yet too drained to do anything about it.

A wildly familiar feeling and isn’t that a shitty realization to have, an hour into their captivity?

It grinds Kidd’s gears enough that he turns his back to him, tugging his fur coat tighter around the bare stump of his left arm. Sleep is going to be a challenge with Strawhat’s gaze etching a sense of danger across his neck; the drag of Sea Stone will get Kidd there eventually and so he focuses on that instead.

Of course, Strawhat pipes up before he can even get close to testing that theory.

“You fought him, too. Right, Spikey? You fought Kaido.”

Spikey? Kidd’s lips press together, a tight red line Strawhat can’t see. What am I, a dog?

“Spikey.”

“I have a fucking name, Strawhat.”

Kidd might as well have said jack shit with how little Strawhat is listening. “I did. Traffy said it's a bad idea and he tried to stop me but–”

Strawhat isn’t known to hesitate like this and really, it doesn’t matter. The haunted edge to his voice tells Kidd the gist of how that hopeless endeavor went, and his memories fill out the rest.

He stares into the dark and waits all the same.

“Spikey.” A strained breath, shivering on the exhale. “Did he get your crew, too?”

The tears are silent yet Kidd knows they’re there. Knows because that was him, a week ago, beaten bloody and furious and suddenly, shockingly alone.

It shouldn’t matter, none of it should.

Crying about it won’t change the fact they’re in here and their crews are out there, dead or alive – and even after a week in this hell Kidd still hopes it’s the latter. That, wherever they are, they’re laying low and still breathing when he finds his way back to them.

Luffy sniffs, loud and disgusting. Kidd closes his eyes and sighs.

“… Go to sleep, Strawhat. You’ll need it.”

>>Chapter 2.

[bathunterofdevon]

Art/Animation/Video Update:

Good day everyone. 

You may or may not notice how quiet and inactive I've been lately - when I promised I would give regular updates about my renewed determination to practise art and learn to animate successfully. In the beginning, when I first started this new challenge, I was pumped up, and full of energy to start it. I made a promise that I would never give up no matter what, and always focus on getting better. And in the first 5-6 days, I did keep a level head and kept on going, with a clear goal at the end of it. But, over a relatively short time, -by day 5 I think- I became exhausted and couldn't carry on anymore. My own brain kept feeding and replaying bad memories over and over again, which left me feeling weak and spiritually broken. Eventually, I just burned out and collapsed. That was weeks ago now. Something I didn't expect to see again has returned suddenly, and with a vengeance. 

The past two weeks have been nothing short of hell for me. Realistically speaking, there is nothing wrong with me. I didn't have a rough or traumatic childhood. I haven't lost anyone close to me. I didn't break up with a long term girlfriend (never even had one to begin with). And yet, for some reasons which I feel are too complicated and awkward for me to discuss here, I've been feeling overwhelmingly cynical and bleak, like there is absolutely no point to me being alive. I feel like I have no future. And my brain is stuck in the past and I can't pull it out of there. 

 I remember feeling like this back when I was in Canada, and 3 years before that. It is strange. I don't think I have any legitimate reason to be depressed. There are so many people around the world who have really suffered terrible losses and come from real, hard and trying life circumstances. I know people who were sexually abused when they were children. I know someone who suffers from Schizophrenia, and regularly experiences headaches after being involved in an incident that gave them serious injuries in their childhood. I don't have either of those. I'm living with my family again - my Mum and Dad, and my family all love me and think the world of me. I recently started a new joj as a host and food busser for this new fancy restaurant in the town near where I live. And when people ask me what I'm feeling, I always tell them I'm fine. So everything should be okay. I'm doing all the things I ought to. I'm not old. I'm not ill. But for some reason, I'm just so sick and tired. Of virtually everything. 

I'm beginning to feel increasingly distant from my own life situation, like I'm on some kind of autopilot. Everything feels almost illusory and surreal. In a way, I wish I had some kind of real illness, like Coronavirus, or Cancer, with visible, manifest symptoms that everyone would notice. At least then there would be some kind of treatment for it. The past few days, my bedroom has slowly turned into a prison. I've become so lethargic, I haven't had breakfast in weeks. I've spent virtually entire days in my bed, and my dressing gown. I haven't even had the energy to take my dog for a walk. He is always sitting outside my bedroom door wagging his tail waiting for me to take care of him. I haven't spoken with my old school friends, or my extended family in ages, and I fear I'll never have the courage to break the mould and talk to them. And my bedroom is increasingly full of useless things that used to amuse me many years ago, but are now collecting dust. My piano is basically an ornament now - I haven't touched it in a very long time. My guitar's strings have long rusted and I haven't changed them in 7 years. I retrieved an old TV from the attic and hooked it to this laptop so I could use it as a second monitor to help with studying references while attempting digital art. But I've never even switched it on in months. My studio mic and audio interface - I suspect one or maybe both of them may be broken, but I can't even be bothered to investigate which - it just doesn't matter anymore. There are old songs from years ago that are half-finished that I wanted to finish and put on Soundcloud/maybe even Youtube, but music doesn't bring me enough joy anymore. Nothing does. 

You know–it's funny. My Gundham Tanaka video I released a year ago is becoming far more popular than I ever anticipated it would. I keep receiving new messages from newcomers telling me: 'My depression is cured' or 'this just made me feel so much better', etc etc. It's gratifying for me to hear people say things like that. But it's beginning to get a little tiring, all the same. It's a message that's just so out of tune with what I'm feeling.I just feel like a walking, rotting corpse. Even Kaede isn't making me feel happy anymore. Instead, I just feel lonely, and miss her. Speaking of which, a few weeks ago, I watched a video by Weebynewz about her execution, and I've discovered new information about it that I didn't notice before, which has made me feel a hundred times more uncomfortable. Now I feel quite sick, and even seeing the thumbnail for her execution video is enough to ruin my mood and break any focus and concentration I once had. 

I am lucky that I have online freerfs who I converse with regularly and who are always asking me if I'm okay. I'm grateful that they are there to make my daily experience marginally less shit. But these days, I rarely ever talk to them. I only respond now. I haven't got the energy to make small talk, or follow up on new developments or catch up with new memes. I know they're always looking out for me, but they are never going to get me out of this. The best they can do is stand well away from the event horizon and wait for me to force myself out of it.  

Fortunately though, for those of you who are worried about me, it's not completely bad. I have started taking medication again. You see, for a long time, I mistakenly believed you weren't supposed to take antidepressants while driving/learning to drive because they make you experience tiredness as a side-effect. Recently though, I learned that that's not technically true. You can take meds while you are driving, but the idea is that you are not supposed to drive if you feel tired, or your senses are impaired. In addition, I am looking to see if I can visit a counsellor and start having sessions. I'm kind of desperate for good news and a hope of recovery at the moment, but I guess it's still better than nothing. 

No matter what happens, I know this isn't really me. It's certainly a large part of me, but it's not all there is to my character. And frankly, I'm sick and tired of this, and I want it to stop. I want to keep entertaining all of you with silly videos. And maybe one day, I'd like to do a Q+A video/face+voice reveal, unprivate my old videos I made a decade ago, and introduce all of you to my real self. Then when that happens, I can finally move on, transcend my love of the Danganronpa franchise, and try something new. I'm not sure what that would entail. But it might be something that incorporates my love of music, anime, visual novels, and possibly writing/voice acting. 

Until that day finally comes, I'm going to remain stuck in this rut for who-knows-how-long. I won't know when the day will come, but I like to think I'll be fully aware when it has, since I'll feel totally different and refreshed. The only way I can come to terms with this long, dreary spell of melancholy is if it exists to serve some kind of purpose. And if this experience is to mean anything, then ultimately, my purpose is finally one day break free from it and discover a secret 'purpose' or 'why', or perhaps unlock a hidden potential I never knew I had all along. When that happens, then I can make my return and move on. Then my story could pick up from where I last left it. Or perhaps I can rewrite it altogether. 

I wish you all very well and sincerely hope NOBODY else in the world feels like this, 

 - Bat

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 27)

Daryl places three soft knocks on the passenger door’s window of the old Chevy pickup. The lock clicks and Mila opens the door, letting out the faint sound of Bob Dylan singing: 

“-Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood, when blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud. I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form. Come in, she said, I’ll give ya shelter from the storm-”

“Hi.” Mila greets him, halfway through a bottle of Stolichnaya. Juri’s lying in the passenger seat, resting his head in her lap.  

”Having a party?” Daryl leans up against the car and looks at the tired, blood stained woman in the driver’s seat, looking back at him.  

”Celebrating another day of being alive, I guess.” Mila replies. ”Hop in.” 

She scoots over and Daryl gets in, shuts the passenger door behind him. The worn buttons and wheels of the radio shine faintly in the darkness. 

“You missed me?” 

“Yeah.” Daryl adjusts in the seat, as Mila lifts his arm and puts it around her neck, rests her head at his shoulder. Juri continues to sleep, breathes calmly in her lap. A heavy odor of vodka surrounds Mila and the half full, half empty, bottle tattles that she’s not sloshed, but seems like planning to be. 

As the fire spread over the pond in the middle of the community, like a bonfire on the 4th of July, and the walkers started to drag their feets towards it, Daryl climbed down from the truck’s roof. He’d seen Mila in the middle of the sea of rotting limbs and melting scalps, covered in blood and seemingly dead tired, with her arms hanging along the sides. A demeanor he had not seen before in her. Despite the distance between them, he saw that something was wrong. Mila seemed distracted. Deranged. When he landed on his feet on the ground,  he stabbed his way through the crowd, struggling to reach her. 

Was she injured? It was hard to see at a distance and her being spattered with blood, that could just as well be the blood of the walkers. When he finally reached her, she had awoken from her trance-like state, returning to slaughtering, but her mind was still stuck in another galaxy it seemed. She was there, just not present, like if she had to empty her system a bit, by killing off the remaining walkers. She walked around the grounds, managed to find twelve bastards hiding out in nooks and crannies, until the last of ‘em was annihilated. Daryl walked up close to her and said, as soft as he could, that it was over now. 

“They’re dead. All of ’em.” 

If he believed his words would pull her back to the present, to make her feel better- damn, he was wrong. Instead he managed to lose sight of her as soon as the others gathered up around him, Abe, Sasha, Glenn, Maggie and Enid. It was Carol who pointed out where she, and Juri went, when things had calmed down. 

Mila holds up the bottle for him. He takes it. 

“Ya’ fought well, back there.” Daryl unscrews the lid. “Like goddamn’ Rambo.” He says and hopes it will make her smile.

“Yeah, I had to let off some steam.” Mila says in a husky, ‘half a bottle of vodka’-voice. “It was a bit much… all of it.”

“Ya’ okay?” Softly, yet steady, Daryl turns her face towards his, with his hand on her chin. “Ey, Jersey-”

The big blue eyes, not even slightly hazy from the vast amount of alcohol Mila’s devoured herself in, looks back at him. They’re gleaming like a sky full of stars, like she has been crying recently. He hasn’t seen her like this before, something between sad and almost afraid of her own feelings, exhausted with the strong combination of emotions. 

“I froze.” She manages to utter, raspy. “I- he could’ve died. Carl.” Mila sighs. “If I- I was scared. For the first time in-” her voice cracks. “Since I killed him.”

“Ey, Ya’ didn’t kill him. He’ll be alright.” Daryl says, in an attempt to cheer her up. “Carl’s a strong kid.”

“That’s not-” She pauses. “The flashbacks- It was like I was back at that motel in fucking, shitty Missouri. Killing Jim all over again. I- I panicked.”

Daryl’s astonished to see her like this; vulnerable, afraid even. She must’ve drowned her sorrows pretty good, while being on her own with the kid, after killing that guy. Jim. 

His throat burns as he sweeps the last drops of the clear colored beverage in the bottle. Mila reaches for a new bottle, cracks it open and pours a mouthful sip onto her system, without making a face. She then hands him the bottle. Daryl, in the mood to unwind, takes it and drinks. 

“Ya’ had to do what you had to do.” Daryl says husky, as soon as he has swallowed. “I- I killed my brother.” He lets the bottle rest on his leg. “Merle.”

The memory of Merle looking at him with that dead gaze, has haunted him ever since. Not everyday thank fuckin’ god for that, but sometimes he can see the face in his dreams. He wasn’t there, yet he moved around, his body moved around, tried to attack him. But it wasn’t Merle anymore. The sight of him made Daryl feel it all; grief, anxiety, anger, and boy it hurt. And he didn’t know how to handle it, except with unhealthy amounts of booze, like Mila.  

“Sorry.” Mila says.

”Nobody liked him anyway.” 

What a lousy fucking excuse. 

”How so?” Mila asks. 

“He was a jerk. An ass.” Daryl huffs. “Saved us back at the prison though, the last thing he did before- yeah.” Mila leans her head on his shoulder, intertwines her fingers with his, to the raspy tunes of another Dylan folk-song. ”He saved me-” Daryl continues, fixating his gaze on the dashboard. ”-more than once. Treated me like fuckin’ shit sometimes but- I owed him a lot. Guess he didn’t know better.”

Yeah, Merle always kept an eye on him, ever since when they were younger, in one way or another; well, except when he was sent away to juvenile prison. Despite being the teasing big brother he sometimes stepped up and helped him fend off their old man, beating him, doing things- They never talked about what they’d been through, not back then or later for that matter, instead they kept it to themselves. The secrets, the shame- everything oppressed to the point of no return, Daryl thought for a very long time, until he couldn’t carry it inside anymore. So he began to act out. Drink, fight and steal. Let off steam. What difference would it make? He was damaged. He only had Merle, who, despite the arguing and the fights, was the only person he relied on. Not that it was uncomplicated, hell no! Merle could be cruel, which made Daryl’s feelings against him ambivalent if anything. His brother was a huge reason why Daryl more than often found himself in fucked up situations and couldn’t establish contact with anyone, least of all women. Merle taunted him for it and Daryl went deeper into shame and insecurity, closing more and more, until he created an invisible, but armor thick shell where no one could reach him.

“Ya’ ever been with a chick, little brother?” Merle once laughed at him, badly sloshed, so the whole bar they hung out at heard it. “Ya’ boned any of ‘em ladies, huh? Or ‘ya a damn virgin, ya’ pussy?” 

And he laughed even louder, followed by a bad attempt to apologize for his so called ‘joke’. Well, it wasn’t funny and the damage was already done. Daryl felt humiliated down to his core. No fuckin’ wonder he’d never tried to find himself a girlfriend. Not that he’d ever wanted to or tried. Who would want to have him? As far as he was concerned back then, he was trash. A nobody.

Daryl looks down at Mila, whose blue eyes are locked at the steering wheel. Well, until now, he thinks. 

“I killed him.” Daryl continues, still focusing on the dashboard panel. “I killed Merle. He’d already turned and I killed him. We’ve all killed someone that just... felt more- worse.” He can’t find the right word. “Ya’ know ‘bout Beth?”

“Maggie told me.” Mila replies and nods slightly, while continuing to look at the steering wheel.

“She was my friend, and I couldn’t save her. Failed her, failed Maggie.” Daryl says and throws a glance out of the window. “Ya’ didn’t fail Carl. He’s alive.” 

The tips of Mila’s fingers run gently up and down his arm. Her touch is the most tender he has ever felt. He felt it the same moment he took her hand the first time they met. The fact her touch didn’t make the hair on his body stand upright in discomfort as if he was a frightened deer, was proof enough Mila was special. 

“Come on, gotta get ya’ to bed.” Daryl nods towards Juri. “Can’t sleep in the front seat of a goddamn pickup when there’s plenty of beds.” 

Daryl gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side, where he lifts the sleeping boy from the long seat, placing the blonde head carefully on his shoulder. Mila stumbles out of the car and shuts the door after her with a thud, holding on to her trusted rifle and the vodka bottle. She walks around the car, over to him. 

“That... zhopa, the wolf-guy’s dead.” Mila says while caressing Juri’s limp leg. “Wish I’d killed him when I had the chance.” She lets out a dry chuckle and steers the big vodka bottle to her mouth. “That’d cheered me up. Is that fucked up?” 

“Nah. Can’t blame ya’.” Daryl lets his hand find its way around her waist, placing itself towards the soft leather in her jacket, to steer her in the direction of the houses and to prevent her from tripping over some walker’s bodies. “Let’s go Jersey- Ain’t carrying both of ya’.”  

“Don’t have to.” Mila says doughty and frowns a little. “ I’m not even half drunk.”

Talk about strong Russian genes, Daryl thinks to himself. And the stubbornness, is that part of the genes as well? He inhales the cool night air deeply into his lungs as they walk to the house. It’s calm, quiet and the air is different. Even though the threat isn’t eliminated, not by far, everything feels somewhat at ease for now. They have posted guards at the breached wall and will start to fix it first thing in the morning. Daryl hands the sleeping toddler over to Mila at the stairs to the porch, looking after her as she announces that she’ll be back as soon as she has tucked Juri in. He sits down at the stairs and leans up against the pole holding the roof up. When Mila returns, she has changed her t-shirt to one without blood and guts all over it. She sits down next to him and looks out over the empty street, sprinkled with bodies. 

“Ya cold?” 

Mila meets his gaze and shakes her head, making the long hair sway around her face. 

“Got all I need here.” She nods at the bottle of vodka placed next to her boots, meaning that sooner or later she’ll be intoxicated to the point where she doesn't feel the cool breeze. “I’m Russian- used to much worse.” 

Ain’t a good enough answer. Daryl gets up, walks into the calm and quiet house, and grabs the worn, but warm, Navajo poncho he’s managed to hold on to for quite a while now. 

“Here-” Daryl says and places the warm garment over her shoulders. “-Ya’ ain’t that drunk yet, Jersey.”

Mila smiles a little at him as he sits down again, moves closer and wraps the poncho around her shoulders.

“Started to think you bailed before.” She says and meets his eyes through the dark, giving him a cheeky smile. “You took your time, Dixon.”

Daryl grunts a little, smiles faintly.

“Ya’ seemed to have everything under control.”

“I always do.” Mila leans against his arm and the amazing scent of her hair surrounds him, wraps him in a sense of security, drowns all other scents around them; sweat, blood. Daryl inhales her hair deep into his nose, it makes him all warm inside. It’s a complex composition of flowers; he can smell magnolia, he thinks, and something woody, like cedar or sandal. It’s a soulful mixture, it embodies her. He could recognize the scent of her from miles away, he’s sure of it. “But I’m glad you're back.” She sighs and cuddles up even closer against him, turns her head and looks up at him. 

“Well, I ain’t going anywhere now.” Daryl says, almost in a whisper, leans his forehead down against Milas. “I promise.”

Her breath smells like a solid 40%, but it’s of no importance, he wants her anyway, more than anything. He clenches to the soft leather in the worn biker jacket she wears, not wanting to let go. From not wanting any human contact at all for decades it seems, it feels like he can’t be an inch away from her; she’s the final piece of the ship after a shipwreck. Daryl has to cling to it, or else he drowns.

”I can’t lose ya’-” he says quietly, knows that he’s more vulnerable than ever when he does so. ”I can’t-”

”You won’t.” Mila whispers softly. ”You won’t.”

”I won’t let anything happen to ya’.” Daryl mumbles, his voice hoarse from vodka. He needs to be closer to her, in the haze of the initiated jagg he feels an urge to pour his heart out to her, this magnificent woman. ”I care for ya’, so much-” He met her eyes. ”I like this. Just, being with you. And the kid.”

Vodka really does wonders, Daryl thinks to himself as he draws in the young woman by his side. Or is he this goddamn’ talkative and honest because he’s so sure, more sure than he’s ever been about something in his life, that this is what he wants, more than anything? 

As if she could read his mind, answering all of his questions, Mila says: 

“You remember what I said about choice in life? How I said that I made some stupid ones?” She takes his hand, hugs it. “This is not one of them. I want you too, Daryl.”

[cdt12345]

Ian and Mickey are Husbands!

I took a while to even talk about this episode because I was so overwhelmed. I needed time to process everything!

To start off, I have no complaints! The only thing is, it would’ve been great if Mandy, Iggy and Fiona were there. But that’s something we already knew wasn’t gonna happen, so I chose not to let that make me mad. I already had time to be angry about it before this episode.

Please excuse the ramblings of a mad women but I’m sure you understand, as I know you’re freaking out just as much as I am! Looking at you @luckyshazmrsmonaghansblog! I want this episode playing on a loop wherever I go forever! Even at my grave! For once I didn’t need to fast forward to get to their scenes! I usually try not to during the first watch, but I won’t have to even when I watch it again, which I already have.

Immediately starting off with how I love that everyone was worried about Ian taking his meds because it’s going to be a stressful day for him. It wasn’t overbearing or accusatory, it was genuine care and concern for Ian’s well being on his and Mickey’s big day. This is the love and attention Ian has always deserved from his family!

Carl asked the question we’ve all been asking! Where is Mickey getting the money for this wedding? Liam killed me with his response to Ian. “Hmph. Savings?” Like, yeah right. Oh Mickey you adorable man. He’s fucking stealing money on his own to pay for his wedding. I fucking love him so much!

I know people will hate that he was doing this and probably complain about it, but as long as he didn’t get caught, I’m fine. These characters have grown and changed, but they haven’t changed that much. Let’s just be happy Mickey didn’t get shot or go to prison and he was able to afford to throw himself and Ian a beautiful wedding.

It did not get passed me that Mickey came out of the restroom from his shower after Ian did. I’m pretty sure sexy time already started that day in the shower!!! No one will convince me otherwise.

Liam knowing as soon as Mickey walked in what was about to happen and walked the hell out of there. Hilarious! Smart kid! Carl just sitting there until Mickey had to tell him to get the fuck out was also fucking hilarious! Especially when thinking back to the time Mickey was staying there in season 4. They couldn’t even share a bed in front of Ian’s family. I love that this is gonna be their life from now on. This family is so much better with Mickey in it and because of it we have a happy and in love Ian. Nothing could be better!

Our first glance at Mickey’s butt was a plus! We fucking needed that! We needed more of that, but beggers can’t be choosers.

Carl getting them edible boxers! Liam wanting to get them something special even though he had no money! He’s so precious! He got them a honeymoon car!

So Debbie and Sandy slept together the night before for the first time (still not supportive of this relationship) meaning Ian and Mickey were planning their wedding the day before they had the wedding. Even when they still needed to get invitations and send them out!

This doesn’t count as a complaint because the shows lack of proper timelines and not being realistic is nothing new for them. But I’m going to believe some time had to have passed. They can’t send out invitations, get RSVP’s and book a venue in one fucking day. Another fuck up was Mickey bit Ian’s right arm and when we see the bite mark it’s on Ian’s left arm. How can they be this incompetent?

I know people weren’t thrilled about Mickey biting Ian and Ian having to punch Mickey twice, but I can live with it. Of course I don’t love or even like to see them hit each other. I hate it too! I was more sad that they had to go through this on their wedding day and I wish they didn’t have to go through that. Especially because of that asshole Terry.

But Mickey was so angry he couldn’t think straight. And Ian had no other choice but to punch him in order to save him from getting killed by Terry or Mickey getting sent back to prison. They didn’t do it because they were fighting with each other, which probably makes it easier for me to deal with it.

Poor Ian had to run all the way to the venue and back, up the front steps, up the stairs, then down the stairs and then down the back stairs to chase after Mickey and then gets bit by him. All with his broken leg! He needs a rest!

Ian’s face when he’s watching the smoke from the fire was sad. It made me so sad for him. I know he wasn’t into the wedding planning like Mickey, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as sad or upset over the fact their venue was burning down.

I was liking Tommy in the previous episode, but he done fucking pissed me off with his stupid opinions that no one asked for. I do love that Vee defended them, but if it were me, I would’ve told him he could find another fucking bar if he said anything like that ever again in this bar. But that’s just me!

I’m happy that Lip’s story line got attention because it deserved it. I’m also happy that it didn’t overshadow Ian and Mickey’s big day. Everything felt evenly spread out for once. Except for Frank but he’s had enough episodes centered around him, for him to sit on the back burner for once. Even though the episode was named after Gallavich and it was their wedding day, I expected John Wells to somehow make this all about Frank. It must’ve killed John Wells! It must be tough not getting it your way for one episode! Poor thing, old rich white men can’t seem to catch a break. I’m totally being sarcastic, but I’m sure you caught that.

I was so impressed with Liam playing Frank the way he did. That kid is a genius! I also love that he wanted Frank at Ian’s wedding and guilted him to be there. I’m not Franks biggest fan and Ian can say he could care less all he wants, but it was good for him to have a parent there and I love Liam for making it happen.

I love that everyone did everything they could to find a place to have the wedding and set everything up for them. This is what this season has been lacking. The whole family together getting shit done! And for once it was for Ian and Mickey.

Mickey talking about how Terry fucking won again and him listing all of the horrible shit he ever did was gut wrenching! He didn’t even mention the worst of it that no one else knows about, except he and Ian and Lip. Terry’s a piece of shit monster that needs to rot in hell.

I know they said in season 3 that Mickey’s mom died. But I’m going with what was last said, and what was last said was she took off. I’m glad we even got this bit of info about her. It’s confusing because we have different stories, but I’m going with what Mickey said. Besides why would he lie in this moment? Ian and Mandy talking about her being dead could’ve been Mandy saying she’s dead to them since she left them behind with Terry.

Mickey told Ian he loves him twice in front of everyone!!! I was crying from that alone. This was a big moment. Anytime Mickey can profess his love for Ian in front of everyone is always a big deal. Considering he was afraid to even act like friends with Ian in front of other people in the beginning.

I love that Lip was still thinking about where to have the wedding and Mickey’s like “Ey, asshole, were you not listening? We’re doing a murder thing here.” Went from sad to funny in a split second.

I thought if we ever got Ian and Mickey talking about having kids, it would be next season. That was if they would even talk about it in the first place. This episode gave me everything I wanted and more. This was one of those more moments.

I couldn’t believe they talked about kids in this episode. I love the fact that Mickey didn’t want them until Ian said he did. Of course Mickey would be happy either way as long as Ian’s happy. If Ian wants kids, he wants kids too. I don’t want this for them now, but maybe in a few years. Really whenever they’re ready. I want what they want!

I also hoped, but didn’t think we’d get, a moment alone with them before the wedding and we did! I squealed and cried so much during this scene! Ian tying Mickey’s bow tie! Both of them teasing each other about how ugly and how pale the other is! That was so them!

Ian charming that polish lady when Mickey was starting to say something bad, was again so them. I also freaked over the polish lady because she came out in Edward Scissorhands and damn she’s aged! But I digress.

Ian and Mickey standing in the venue when the Gallagher’s and Balls were setting everything up was another beautiful moment to me. They could just stand back and watch their family and loved ones set everything up for them.

Ian complementing Mickey’s chairs was so sweet. The cake topper killed me! But the fact that everyone knows Mickey is a bottom, at least for Ian, makes me even more proud of him!

I was not excited about the gay Jesus groupies, especially Geneva, being at the wedding. There was speculation that she might marry Ian and Mickey. I did not like that idea, thank God it didn’t happen. She wanted Ian to fight the charges and possibly go to jail longer and none of them showed up for Ian when he went to prison.

But if it wasn’t for them Ian wouldn’t have ended up in jail with Mickey. I believe that Ian and Mickey are soulmates, so they would’ve ended up together eventually, but it happened sooner because of the shit they got Ian into. In a weird way they made this happen sooner.

I never fully forgive anyone for mistreating Ian or Mickey, but they are somewhat forgiven for keeping Terry from ruining the wedding. They kept Terry from hurting Mickey and/or Ian and for that I will always be grateful. They were good for something in the end. When it really mattered for Ian.

Really, I’m just so happy that everyone came through for Ian and Mickey on their wedding day. Ian and Mickey deserved this more than anyone and I can’t believe they finally got it.

I was also hoping for a moment between Ian and Lip alone before the ceremony. It was touching and enough to make me happy and for me to start crying again. Ian’s choice of song for the ceremony was fucking perfect! I was already a mess at this point!

I thought neither of them were going to walk down the aisle, but my God did I love that Mickey did. I loved Kevin standing there with the bat. He’s basically me when anyone tries to mess with Gallavich. He’s basically all of us!

GOD THE VOWS!!! The fact that I didn’t drop dead in that moment is a fucking miracle! Mickey saying he will cherish Ian really hit me! Ian deserves to be cherished and we all know Mickey is the man for the job. Ian saying it back to Mickey! I was balling!

Frank crying and being happy for them was such a weird emotional moment for me. I know he cares about his kids. I really do not like Frank. When watching season 8, I talked with @luckyshazmrsmonaghansblog about the episode Frank helped them out with that drug dealer. We agreed Frank has his moments and comes through for his kids sometimes.

But this was just for Ian. He never tells Ian he loves him. That time Frank went around telling all his kids he loved them one by one in season 6. I noticed he never told Ian he loved him. He told all his kids he loved them but never said that to Ian. Not once!

They never really had a moment together like Frank has with his other kids. So this was a very emotional moment. It was just him showing up and being supportive and not ruining the wedding. But for Ian that’s a big deal. Especially when Mickey’s father is doing the exact opposite of that.

When Ian asks “Now?” to kiss Mickey, I literally yelled at the TV “YES!” This is such a triumphant moment for them. I’m still in disbelieve it happened. I never would’ve believed it years ago. I’m having a hard time believing it now.

All the music that was played at the wedding was perfect! They hired a good DJ. Mickey dancing!!!!! He’s such a bad dancer and I love it! I love that he did that without being asked. He just wanted to dance at his wedding because he was so happy! Another thing I hoped for but didn’t think we’d get was a slow dance between Ian and Mickey. But we fucking got it!!!!!!

Tami telling Ian and Mickey she loved them? Again, I said out loud to the TV “Since when?” Tami kept calling them ex cons and has barley interacted with them. Looking closely she doesn’t even say it. I think they added that in post production. She wasn’t even originally scripted to say that.

I love that when Kev and Vee were the center of attention for a minute, we still see Mickey dancing and doing air guitar to Whitney Houston in the background! Fucking love it!!!!

Ian sitting down and watching the love of his life, his husband dancing with his family at their wedding was beautiful! A moment Ian will never forget, I’m sure.

It was so Ian to bring up missing his mom at his wedding. Out of all the kids, I will always believe Ian was her favorite. She wasn’t the best mom in the world, but she really loved Ian. I’m sure she would’ve been so happy and proud of him.

And out of all the kids, Ian was the one who connected the most with her and grieved her death the most. I wish he could’ve had her there and I cried when he teared up talking about her. For once Debbie said something right. Monica would’ve loved it. I’m glad the comment was supportive and Ian wasn’t teased for missing his own mother.

If I wasn’t already a mess Ian called Mickey his husband!! I started crying even harder at that! Again the song for the slow dance was fucking perfect for them. Once the slow song came on Mickey started looking around for Ian and that is so sweet!

I was so overwhelmed by this that I didn’t even notice that Lip was drinking right away. It took a few seconds to realize and when I did I was like “No Lip!” I’m glad he got help right away though. Shows how far he’s come as well.

Ian and Mickey driving off together was something I thought would be the last we would see of them this season. I loved it and that Liam got them a beautiful car to use for their honeymoon. I saw this months ago when the spoilers came out and I figured that would be it.

But then we get them at their honeymoon!!!!! I never even dreamed we’d see this. I didn’t even hope for this because I didn’t think it would actually happen! They had the cheesy honeymoon suite with a heart shaped bed and everything!!!

I never knew I wanted this for them until it happened. I fucking loved that they had the cheesiest honeymoon suite experience. For real, this makes me so happy! I don’t know how Terry could’ve found out where they were but okay.

Another bonus! We got another shot of Mickey’s butt!!! We got two butt shots! This was the best episode of the whole fucking series! I know I’m biased because of my love for Gallavich, but it really was the fucking best!

I’m guessing this is a set up for more Terry next season. I hope it doesn’t last long. Only long enough to get rid of him somehow. Without Ian or Mickey getting in trouble with the law for it.