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anneapocalypse · 2 years ago

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The Dragon Age II short stories everyone forgot about

Okay, that's not true. I didn't forget about them. I never knew they existed at all until 2020. See, I played Origins not long after it came out, liked it a lot, got about two playthroughs in and then rolled off into something else. When Dragon Age II came out, I initially kind of missed it altogether; I wasn't active in the fandom at the time, and as DAII initially did not get great reception or reviews, it was easy to just kind of push it aside for later, only picking it up some time in 2012 when a friend convinced me to give it a go. So I missed any anticipation and promotion leading up to the game's release.

And it was surprisingly difficult to confirm when these stories were even released. The wiki does not list dates, and the old BioWare Social Network where I believe they were originally posted no longer exists. I was finally able to confirm on Goodreads, of all places, that these seven short stories for the seven Dragon Age II companions were released in 2011—when in that year, before or after the game's release, I'm still not sure. If you were there, I'd love to know!

Fortunately for us, these seven short stories are all archived in full on the fan wiki:

https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Dragon_Age_II_short_stories

So let's read 'em!

"Anders" by Jennifer Hepler.

Or, that time Anders did cannibalism!

Well, this changes a lot.

So the first thing that jumps out to me is that Anders didn't just invite Justice to hop on board as a way to help him out. Justice offered Anders aid, in exchange for giving him a vessel to stay in the mortal world, an offer Anders accepted.

Funny, that sounds a lot like the thing demons do!

So it was always their intent to spark a revolution together, one way or another. Before Justice, Anders had never thought beyond his own freedom, but Justice offered him a chance to change things for more than just himself. I think when Anders tells Hawke at the end of DAII, "I took a spirit into myself and changed myself forever to achieve this," that's one of his most honest statements.

Because there's a lot Anders was never fully honest with Hawke about. Not just the part where he accepted a spirit's offer of help in exchange for literal possession, but especially the part where he fled the Grey Wardens after a templar Warden caught on to the fact he'd become possessed, and Anders/Justice murdered him and a bunch of other Wardens and ate their flesh.

...Sorry, what?

And suddenly I'm alone, standing in a burning forest, with the bodies of templars and wardens at my feet. So many, and I didn't even know they were there. Didn't even know I had killed them, but the evidence is all around me. Not the aftermath of a battle as I've known it, but a bloody abattoir of rent limbs and torn and eaten flesh.

So, that happened!

In DAII, Anders tells Hawke that his own anger has corrupted Justice into a spirit of vengeance, and that's certainly one way of looking at what happens to them. But I wonder, especially in light of some things we learn about spirits in Inquisition, if Justice hadn't already begun to change before he joined with Anders. After all, the Justice we first meet in the Blackmarsh would be happy to return to the Fade, where he belongs. As he says himself, benevolent spirits desire nothing from mortals.

But something changed. Justice decided he desired something from Anders, and made him an offer. By some definitions, that alone would make him a demon. Whether or not he fits that designation, Justice changes first, and then he and Anders change one another.

I'm not really sure of the timeline here, since the story specifically has Justice making Anders the offer while still possessing Kristoff's body, but sometime after the siege on Vigil's Keep, as they've had time to bring in more Wardens. (I mean, I'm assuming there are other Wardens here and we aren't just meant to assume he murdered all the other Awakening companions. I hope, anyway!) But not so long after that Anders can't catch a ship to Kirkwall within a year of Lothering's destruction. It's kinda tight, but it can work.

And incidentally, man, the Fereldan Wardens cannot catch a fuckin' break. First Ostagar, then the first attack on Vigil's Keep, and then Anders goes abomination and slaughters a bunch of them in the woods. At this rate, no one is going to want to serve the Wardens in Ferelden. They might as well be cursed. No wonder the Warden-Commander eventually decides to fuck off and leave the country for a while.

"Aveline" by Lukas Kristjanson

So this is how our girl met Wesley.

Doubt is the repeated theme of this story, doubt as an enemy that reaches for Aveline as she shrugs it aside and forges on. At first this seems merely a figure of speech, until Aveline reaches a templar bearing a wound "from no weapon she knew." Only when the man exclaims, "Maker, woman! You have their blood from head to foot!" does Aveline—and the reader—realize that she has fought a genuine foe, striking it down without realizing what she was doing. A demon, it seems, as this is the templar's quarry, and they continue the hunt together.

I like the thematic associations of doubt and assurance with Aveline. I think doubt is one of the things she fears most. During the quest "Night Terrors" Aveline can be brought into the Fade, and tempted by a desire demon playing on her regrets over Wesley's death. The accompanying quest to speak to her afterward is called "Doubts that Linger."

The story concludes with Aveline speaking to her father about Wesley, already certain that she means to take his name.

"Fenris" by David Gaider

This story offers us a glimpse of Fenris's life on the run before his arrival in Kirkwall. What stands out immediately is his hypervigilance as well as his solitude—every other character in the story is merely a danger to be evaluated and dealt with as necessary.

We also get a strong sense of Fenris's pride, that he would rather stand and fight than blend in with the other city elves enough to go unseen.

There is a very random mention of a woman's cleavage as Fenris flees through her house, reminding me a bit of The Stolen Throne in terms of Gaider’s "this is what straight men like, right" kind of writing (and I say that with affection). Fenris, weirdly, grins at her before stealing a loaf of bread and running. (This bit is included in the fan-made machinima adaptation of this story, and it's just as awkward as you can imagine!)

That aside, this story primes us pretty well for the Fenris we meet in DAII, who would rather squat in a stolen mansion than slum it in Lowtown, and would rather turn and fight than run and hide.

"Isabela" by Sheryl Chee

This story takes place in Kirkwall right after Isabela's shipwreck, and is told in first person from the bartender's point of view, which is neat. It consists mostly of the well-worn trope of the scantily-dressed woman beating up men for harassing her, so that's less interesting, especially since it's not that much different from Isabela's introduction in the game itself. At the very end, Isabela meets Lucky, and mentions having lost something in a shipwreck and wanting it back, setting up her story arc for DAII.

As character pieces go, this one might have been more intriguing as a teaser but it doesn't add a whole lot after the fact.

"Merrill" by Mary Kirby

Merrill's story is from Merrill's own point of view. She and Keeper Marethari climb Sundermount together, called there by the spirit's whispers in their dreams. Marethari seeks only to be certain the demon will not threaten their camp, and finding it bound to the statue in the cave, is content to leave, turning her back on the spirit even as it offers her lost knowledge of Elvhenan. Merrill, too, hears the offer, and though she follows Marethari back down the mountain, we know that she later returned alone.

I like seeing this little gap in Merrill's story filled in, particularly the nature of the demon's initial offer. Notably, the eluvian fragment Merrill took from the ruins in Ferelden isn't mentioned here. The demon makes a general offer of lost knowledge; it might be Merrill, then, who asked for help with the mirror specifically, or the demon may have made that specific offer when she returned.

"Sebastian" by Jennifer Hepler

This story shows us a younger Sebastian Vael, newly given to the Chantry and chafing at the loss of his freedom and his fun-loving life. It's interesting to see how his faith is already at play here even as he is attempting to escape the cloister.

Elthina's unexpected mercy goes pretty far to explain why Sebastian cares for her so much. She gave him freedom, gave him a choice, and that choice brought him back to the Chantry with renewed purpose. Perhaps because he felt cast out by his family and constrained by their name, and Elthina showed him a home where he was welcome but not confined against his will.

This is of course not the end of Sebastian's inner conflict, but it does help to contextualize the relationship he has with the Chantry and with Elthina in particular.

"Varric" by Mary Kirby

Another first-person story, delightfully from Varric's point-of-view and thoroughly in his voice, which Kirby always does so well. A great little introduction not just to the character and the Hanged Man and a few of the game's plot points, but to Varric as a storyteller, his style and showmanship. A really fun story.

Final Thoughts

This is a really neat series of character pieces and I think for the most part they really hold up and bring something unique to the table even when the game has been out for many years and played many times. I'm glad they've been preserved, and that I finally got around to reading them.

Crosspost. Originally posted on Dreamwidth on 12/14/20.

#dragon age 2 #dragon age short stories #anders #fenris #merrill #aveline #sebastian #varric #isabela #anne does dragon age #blunders of thedas

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lazyliars · 4 years ago

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/rp

DreamXD actually slots very nicely into a working theory I've had for about two or so months now, mainly centering around one question:

What happened to Dream?

Namely, why did Dream change, when exactly did it happen, and was it solely an internal change, or was there an external force at play, specifically a preternatural one?

I think with DreamXD, we might finally have an answer.

Or at least some clues to follow. DreamXD presents a shift in every single paradigm the Dream SMP has had. Like, I think most of it is just being so utterly blind-sided by George Lore Real, but part of it is the massive ramifications of an Actual God* being present in the storyline.

((*On the other resident god of the server, Foolish:

DreamXD is different than Foolish, in that his characterization is so dramatically inhuman - Foolish talks and acts like a (somewhat eccentric) person, and his powers are, as far as we know, limited in comparison to the creative-mode godhood that DreamXD occupies. And whether that is because Foolish is not a "full" god (having been referred to as a demigod) or simply because he's spent so much time around humans, we don't know, but we do know that either way, DreamXD is NOT that.

DreamXD's voice is marked by glitches and dramatic shifts in tone, he seems to lack control over the different aspects of his personality, like the more "Dream" part vs. the darker one that threatens to eat peoples souls. The "normal" part even displays confusion when George references things that the "darker" part said, implying that it may not be fully aware of itself.

TLDR: Foolish acts more human than DreamXD, who has a very eldritch personality.))

To get right to the point:

The Dream we knew before November 16th, and the Dream we know now are not the same. Something changed, and it changed for the worse.

Consider: Dream was always antagonistic to the L'manbergians - he was always imperious to them, and he was responsible for starting a number of fights between his faction and theirs, just as many if not more than they were.

But, he was also not... evil. He'd pick fights with Tommy, the disc wars were still a thing, but the gravity of the spats they had weren't dire. They were fun. They were... actually a game. He wasn't like the way he is now. While in hindsight we can look at these events and detect a serious undertone knowing what's to come, at the time they were far from it.

There is an argument to be made that he had the same tendencies as now, just not expressed as loudly, and while I believe it's a valid argument, I disagree that it's proof of Dream always being the way he is now.

Sapnap, Badboyhalo, Sam. They all remember Dream as their friend - they remember someone who was, maybe a little aggressive and a lot competitive, but not cruel. Not needlessly murderous. Not someone who steals sentimental items and lines the walls of a disgusting museum to use against them.

Dream cut them out. Sapnap was totally blindsided. Bad doesn't seem to fully believe it. Sam blamed himself for not realizing and tried to take the weight of that crime on his own shoulders by becoming the Warden.

There's also the competing theory that what happened to Dream was purely psychological - either the circumstances slowly isolating him from his friends driving him to the do things he's done, or a desire for control that started early and continued to fester until it overshadowed everything else, or any combination of both.

And those theories are still valid, they could still be the case, but I haven't been able to shake the idea that there is something deeper at play. I can't overstate how the exile arc and everything after it have been so inhumane, so cruel, and... not exactly out of character in the sense that I could never see Dream doing them, but in the sense that I could never see him doing them for no reason.

And there really doesn't seem to be one. Dream says himself, it's like a game. He sees people as toys, puppets. And there just doesn't seem to be an inciting incident that could explain how he made the leap from semi-authoritarian leader who, despite being a warmonger, does love his friends, to heartless murderer who wants to reduce everyone he knows to dolls.

There's... ways, he could get there, but nothing that we've seen makes sense. There is a missing piece, something that must have happened from his POV that we didn't get to see because he doesn't stream.

And DreamXD could be it. This godly entity that claims that it is "a part of [Dream]" but that it isn't him entirely. That seems to share the lack of understanding of humanity that Dream has been displaying like when he asks if resurrecting Tommy was “cool.” But that still loves George. He still, despite apparently not having the same history as Dream, desperately wants to be George's friend.

If I had to pinpoint the moment Dream changed, it would be the day that he revealed that he switched sides, and was going to be fighting against Pogtopia. He was paid for this betrayal in the Revive Book.

I mark this as the turning point in my theory because it is the first time Dream mentions his affinity for chaos in the context of hurting others. However, we also know that this likely wasn't the day he actually made the decision to betray - as he revealed that there was a traitor among the Pogtopians, a fact that he likely would have learned before this.

Now, I mark George's lore stream as the introduction of DreamXD proper, and I want that on the record because it isn't technically his first appearance on the server.

Most people will remember him from Techno's stream, where he logged on to break the End Portal in a panic. I doubt the character was properly written into the lore at that time, but it fits neatly with the rest of what we know about him - a guardian of the server, and the keeper of it's rules. No contradictions.

What less people might know, is that DreamXD has made an even earlier appearance, and it's this one where things begin to get... interesting.

Around roughly October of 2020, Tubbo and Fundy did some improv'd streams centering around Demon Hunting, or rather, "Dreamon" Hunting, and it's during the first of these two streams that DreamXD makes an appearance.

The bare bones of it was - Tubbo is an experienced "Dreamon Hunter" and teaches Fundy his ways. They find Dream, and realize that he has a Dreamon inside of him, which is basically an evil version of him. They attempt to exorcise the Dreamon from Dream via various shenanigans, and eventually, they do a ceremony to free Dream. However, they apparently botch it, and unleash the Dreamon within. After more shenanigans, one attempt to fix it utilizing Fundy and Dream's wedding appears to work, but then DreamXD logs on, flys around at Tubbo and Fundy threateningly, and they end stream on the idea that there are probably more Dreamons to hunt.

Now. There's a lot to unpack here. I'm not gonna go into the nitty gritty details in this post, but I do recommend watching the Dreamon streams, as they have A LOT of details that, if this is getting incorporated into the main story line, could be important - especially the focus on duality, having TWO versions of Dream, which end up being potentially separated from each other.

(Also, they're just really funny streams. Tubbo and Fundy are at PEAK chaos and Dream plays along with their inane bit perfectly, it's just good content.)

At the time of the Dreamon streams airing, they were explicitly non-canon. IIRC Tubbo and Fundy referred to them as taking place In an “alternate universe,” which makes sense considering they would have been on opposite sides at the time (Manburg and Pogtopia.)

However.

And this is where I show you my wall of red string and newspaper clippings.

My singular piece of evidence for this comes from one line DreamXD drops. He simply says: “At least you're not hunting me.”

The Dreamon streams take place around early October. Dream reveals his betrayal of Pogtopia around November 6th-7th. The timeline of the Dreamon streams would line up perfectly with the idea that there was a catalyzing event that put Dream on the proverbial path to hell.

I do not believe that they intended the Dreamon arc to be anything other than a side story at the time, but considering that DreamXD himself was barely canon until now, I don't think it's out of the question that they took a look back at a fan-favorite minor arc, saw an opportunity to co-opt it into the current story line, and potentially fill in some holes regarding Dream's characterization all in one move.

On the question of whether this would be a GOOD storytelling move?

The Dreamon theories were prevalent during the exile arc, and I've got to say, I was never a huge fan. The detachment of Dream's actions from his intentions, and by extension his morality, never sat right with me. It feels cheap to make him a victim and say “a Dreamon did it!�� in regards to all of the horrible things that he's done. It strips his agency and makes everything that happened less impactful in my opinion, and I stand by that reading.

BUT. With DreamXD introduced, I feel like it's necessary to look at this from all angles. And with the way DreamXD was characterized in George's stream, I don't think it necessarily ruins Dream's character to say that an external force was involved with his descent into evil.

Namely, the idea that whatever happened to Dream was not really a “possession” so much as a gradual loss of humanity, could be an interesting way to look at this. It implies that Dream was always capable of his actions, but grants us understanding as to why he would actually perform them, and why he might have become isolated enough from his friends that they would let this happen.

The Dream we know now could be an expression of his “worst self” brought to the surface by a Dreamon/DreamXD/other. It also begs the question of what would happen if that force were to leave him, and how it might cause yet another shift in character, especially if it were to be portrayed as less of a switch being flipped, and more of a withdrawal, with a gradual process of realizing how far gone he was.

To close this out, I've been stewing on the idea that Dream hasn't entirely been himself since the climax of the Exile Arc.

I think this theory holds water, but it's also not waterproof... there are plenty of holes, and a lot of that comes from the fact that Dream doesn't stream. We're left in the dark when deciphering his character, and what might appear to be the key, could just as easily be revealed as a red herring, or even nothing at all.

Regardless of the validity of the Dreamon theory, I think that DreamXD is one of the most interesting developments we've had on the SMP in a long time, if simply because his arrival coincides with fucking George Lore Real. God. I still don't know how to deal with that.

I always appreciate people adding to the discussion by the way! Feel free to reblog with additions if you like or leave them in the replies.

And if a single one of you comes to my blog on THIS. THE DAY OF MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING. And calls ME a c!Dream Apologist to MY FACE..... I will be v sad.

#Dream SMP #DreamXD #Dreamwastaken #c!Dream #georgenotfound #dream smp analysis #dream smp theory #lazytext

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darkeninganon · 3 years ago

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Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

#Gream #Ghost Dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Gream is trying to remember things #but he doesn't see himself/Dream/Who Dream Became as the same #So if he were to ever make a ''pre-wilbur'' version of himself #he'd call it Dream as opposed to Nightmare #I was super creative with names wasn't I? XD #He also references the incident with George #angst

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gothicdreamon · 3 years ago

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FINALLY SAPNAP'S LORE!

I am so excited for Sapnap's lore.

The production seemed to be formal (more like Quackity's lore streams) however I hope that it's just a "first step" so he can do more casual lore/semi-lore streams in the future if he wants, a little like how the Las Nevadas group are doing right now (this is me being WAY too hopeful).

But let's talk about all the possibilities Sapnap's character in the Dream SMP has, because without doing much, c!Sapnap is in the middle of so much complex relationship's all around the server.

First off, the trailer is Sapnap watching the community house and remembering the time it was blown up with a sword in his hand, this obviously alludes to Dream, their past and the promise Sapnap made when he went to visit him in prison. (Side note: does anyone remember the cognitive dissonance of that stream? They were just fooling around and then Sapnap just turned around and started doing super heavy lore. The whiplash I felt, geez). Sapnap clearly still has some unresolved feelings about Dream, he sees his former friend as a traitor, someone who should have cared about him and have his back but instead left him, opposed to his projects, hurt his friends and destroyed items and building of significance to them, to their history. Dream hurt him and Sapnap resents him for it (even if he says he doesn't) to the point where Sapnap made the promise, the oath, that if Dream was to escape prison, he was going to be the one to take his last canon life. From time to time, Sapnap can have a strong sense of justice (this doesn't include pets) and will act depending in what he thinks it's right so putting Dream's life to an end in order to prevent him from escaping his well-deserved punishment it's something he's willing to do because he believes that's the correct thing to do, however the interesting part is that he doesn't just want him dead, he wants to be the one who kills him. Not Tommy, even though Dream very intentionally abused him. Not Sam, even though it is in his job as the Warden to go through that kind of extent. Not anyone else, but Sapnap. He only sees himself worthy of doing such a thing, why? Maybe because Sapnap actually knew him, they were best friends, brothers almost. They built and fought and laughed, all side by side. They were family and Sapnap remembers that, maybe part of him still believes it and that's why it disturbs him so much. We can see that in the way he talks about Dream with lingering nostalgia, the doubtfulness in his voice when he went to visit him in prison, asking him about how he feels, wanting to communicate, hoping his old friend still remains somehow. He still wanted to be friends. Sapnap even was open to forgiveness with the condition that everyone that Dream hurt was too. He wants to be the one who puts the sword through Dream's heart not because he hates him but because he loved him. If Dream were to die, it shouldn't be by the hands of someone who only saw him as a villain, but instead someone who met the good in him, making the oath of killing him somewhat merciful and somewhat more disdainful. Sapnap believes is in his right to end that life because, in his eyes, the treason committed by turning his back to him and George just to become something akin to a power-hungry monster was Dream's biggest crime. ("You hurt a lot of people but you hurt specifically me".)

It's worth mentioning too that Sapnap is the only person to know that Ranboo used to consistently visit Dream in prison (aside from Ranboo, Sam and Dream, obviously).

Now, in the trailer he also pictures Kinoko Kingdom and the title is "Memories Gone". This could be an indicator that Sapnap is battling with mixed emotions and trying to sever the ties he still has to the past. The title also connects with Karl, who's memories are literally fading away, and Quackity, who is completely confirmed to want to move away from the past. It looks like the lore most likely be a series of flashbacks so I'm curious how back in the past we'll be shown and how close to the present we're going to get.

The conflict with Quackity and Karl. They were supposed to be fiancees and as I was literally writing this Karl tweeted, so Kinoko Kingdom lore is basically confirmed. Kinoko Kingdom lore, huh? In the nation there is Karl, Sapnap and George. We could finally see what tensions are between them and Quackity after he went on to create Las Nevadas and they kind of ditched him. We could also finally see what roles each individual is supposed to play in the administration of the nation as well as how Karl's constant mysterious leaves and George's curse of sleep affect it. The place was supposed to be a fresh start where they could be happy and safe, but it has basically turned into a ghost town. The beautiful buildings and scenery hasn't been touched. I don't think they even have properly installed houses in the place. I feel it is the time for some conflict to happen. Will the engagement be called off? There is definitely some resentment from Quackity's part, so how do Sapnap and Karl feel? If a fight arises, will Kinoko Kingdom become rival to Las Nevadas? Sapnap has a quite amicable relationship with Tommy (they'll fight in a heartbeat, but they also don't hate each other) so I wonder if there could be an alliance of some sort. There are so many open questions about the place, so hopefully some of them get answered. My bar for Kinoko isn't exactly high so my only wish right now is that the place gets used somehow and that's it. Now, I now this most likely won't happened, but I kind of wish there's some lore with Niki, as she is an anarchist and wasn't to happy about a nation installing itself right above her city.

Lastly, this is more of a personal wish, but Sapnap is BadBoyHalo's canonically son, so if we got some reaction or thoughts about his canonically father being brainwashed and controlled by a foreign mysterious somewhat deity, I'd be over the moon. Unfortunately, cc!Sapnap doesn't seem too interested in the Egg Lore. Oh well, one can dream.

I wan't going anywhere with this, I just wanted to ramble because it's MOTHERFUCKING SAPNAP LORE!!!!

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 years ago

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Riding the Lightning: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

There are only two hours left, so if you’re going to do something, then you need to do it now. Penelope has been working overtime to see if she can’t track down Riley without the help of Sarah, but she really made sure he wouldn’t be found. She really doesn’t want Riley to surface.

“Check all police and hospital records dating back to September 1990,” Gideon asks of Penelope, and she gets straight to work.

“You know, you should check local newspapers to see if anyone reported any abandoned babies,” Spencer suggests.

“Yeah, I don't give a damn where the governor is, we may have found proof that Sarah Jean is innocent,” Sam Shapiro says over the phone.

“She really only had a maximum of three hours between police visits. It was four p.m. so traffic was pretty heavy. Whatever she did with Riley had to be local,” Spencer theorized.

“In 1990, there were three babies that were abandoned in Septemeber,” Penelope reveals.

“Three-year-old boys?” you ask.

“None.

“Why doesn't she just tell us where Riley is?” Spencer says in frustration.

“She is protecting him against Jacob. She refuses to let him be Jacob’s last victim. If he knows who his real parents are, then he’s haunted for life, and that’s exactly what Sarah doesn’t want.”

“Look, they are being executed within an hour of each other. What hope do we even have to finding him in time?” JJ asks.

“You know, it's quite possible, she doesn't even know where he is anyway.”

“No. she knows. We’ve got to get into her cell. Y/N, come with me.”

You follow Gideon to find the warden since he is the only one who can grant her access outside of her cell. He’s right outside of Jacob’s cell, and as much as you despise being around him, it’s for Sarah. Once he sees you, he smiles evilly, but you ignore him as best as you can.

“You've come to see the show?” Jacob asks.

He’s in the process of being shaved for the electric chair, but you ignore him.

“We need to get into Sarah Jean's cell. I believe the proof--”

“I can't do that!” Charles Diehl hisses and takes you two off to the side. “All official lines of communication are now over.”

“We just need five minutes,” you beg.

“Agents! They want the memory of these two individuals erased.”

“Five minutes. Please. That’s all we need,” you plead.

Charles sees the desperation in your eyes, and he just sighs with a gentle roll of his eyes.

“Five minutes.”

“Thank you. Come on,” Gideon urges.

He takes you to Sarah’s cell once it’s clear to go inside and look through everything she has. It isn’t much, but you don’t have a lot of time. Gideon goes straight to work in rifling through the books and mattress for something, but you’re drawn to the painting of her son in the field. He’s running happily, and you realize there is something pulling you to that specific painting. Gideon notices you just staring at it, but he doesn’t yell at you to keep looking. He knows you have something.

“What is it?”

You reach for the painting and take it off the wall, turning it over to reveal a newspaper clipping of a teenage boy. It’s about an award that he won, but there is no mention of what the award is, where he got it, or his name. However, you take one look at this picture and know it’s Riley.

“This is Riley. He’s alive,” you say and show him the picture.

“Let’s go.”

Gideon puts everything back the way it was before leaving the cell. You can’t be here when Sarah Jean comes back, and luckily, Penelope isn’t that far from her cell. As soon as the technical analysis sees the picture, she freaks just a little.

“That's Riley. It's her son, isn't it? Someone tell me it's him, please,” she begs.

“Yes, it is,” you nod.

“JJ, circulate this photo to the press. See if anybody recognizes this boy,” Hotch orders.

“Do I say who we think he is?”

“No just put him out as the missing persons.”

Before she can leave, a loud noise goes off that signals something. It’s not a good noise, you know that for sure.

“Okay, what does that mean?” JJ asks.

“It means Jacob is being moved to the execution chamber,” Spencer says.

You grab the photo of Riley and inspect it. There is nothing on here that suggests where he is because Sarah cut out the words. All she wanted was a picture of him, and that was enough for her.

“She cut around the photo so no one can read the text. He was two when he disappeared. This boy is sixteen or seventeen. If he's Riley, it would mean it's a recent photo.”

“Once Jacob's dead, do you think Sarah Jean would tell us if this is Riley?” JJ wonders.

“No, she won’t,” you shake your head.

“Gideon, she has to know we know.”

Gideon gives one single nod as the two of you head over to Sarah’s cell where she is finished being prepped for the execution chamber. She knows you took her photo which means she knows you know Riley is alive and well. It doesn’t take long for Jacob to be killed, and as soon as he is, you hope Sarah will tell you where Riley is.

“Jacob is gone. He's no longer any threat to Riley. Tell me where he is. We can stop this madness,” Gideon says when he sees her.

“There is no greater gift in life than that of being a parent. Yet so many of us abuse and squander that gift. You can deny being a parent all you want, but I know you are one,” she says to you. “I made my decision fifteen years ago. This has never been about Jacob. It's always been about Riley.”

“That's why we can't let you do this,” you beg.

“This isn't about you and me.”

“I know it isn't. That's why I'm not going to let Riley lose the greatest gift he knew he had,” Gideon declares.

“But that is my gift to him, and I'll not let you destroy that.”

You two leave her cell, and Gideon looks at you with a curious gaze.

“Are you a parent?”

“No. She’s lying,” you shake your head. You refuse to open the locked parts of your mind. There are a lot of secrets back there, and they are locked away for a reason. “We have to find Riley. Come on.”

You two head back to where Penelope and the rest of the gang are.

“Only people Jacob allowed Sarah Jean to know were the family she cleaned for,” Gideon thinks out loud.

“Sarah Jean worked for wealthy families all over Hampton. Let's go over all the families in the state of Florida who were looking to adopt in 1990, and let's see how many lived in Hampton,” Hotch orders, and Penelope goes to work.

“Families looking to adopt... hundreds.”

“How many from Hampton?”

“Uh, three families. The James', the Coulfied's, and the Sheffield's.”

“Looks like the Sheffield's removed themselves from the list in October 1990, and then moved out of Hampton,” you note when you read what’s on her screen.

“That's one month after Riley vanished where did they go?” Gideon asks.

“Uh, Keystone Heights. We got a match on the photo. It was in a piece of local daily news.”

“Call Morgan and Elle and tell them to get to the Sheffield's house.”

You take out your phone and dial Derek’s number with waited breath.

“You got something?” Derek answers.

“Get to the Sheffield’s house. We found her son. Keystone Heights,” you say and give him the address.

“That’s not far from here. We’re on our way.”

“Thanks. Call when you get there,” you say to him and look at Gideon. “He’s going there now.”

“Byran Sheffield,” Spencer reads from the real article the picture came from. “Local cello prodigy, seventeen-year-old Byran Sheffield won a scholarship to play the cello.”

“Let’s go,” Gideon motions for you to follow him.

You rush over to where Charles Diehl is taking Sarah to the execution chamber. They haven’t gone in yet, and you arrive just in time.

“We found him. We found her son,” Gideon reveals to the warden.

“Unless I receive an official stay of execution from the governor, I'm duty-bound to see this through,” he sighs.

“My son is dead, agent Gideon,” Sarah tries.

“I have agents on the way to his house as we speak, and the governor is standing by.”

“Why can you not accept the truth?”

“We can't. This isn't it,” you say emotionally.

“Agents are with in minutes of finding her son, alive,” Gideon says to Charles.

“I am truly sorry,” he sighs and pauses right outside the door. “Hold here.”

“What wouldn't you do for your son to give him a life you could never hope to dream of? I am at peace in the knowledge that my son is free to be whatever he chooses to be.”

“If he knew who you were, do you think he'd choose to allow you to walk in there?” you ask.

“If he knew who his parents were, can you imagine the damage my legacy would leave him?”

“Can you imagine what he would feel? Knowing his mother spent fifteen years on death row, innocent of all charges, just so he can be free of her?” Gideon argues.

“Not me, Jacob. It isn't just my life you have in your hands. It's Riley's life, too. You have the chance to save my son's life.”

“We choose to save yours, too,” you sniffle tearfully.

“My life ended the day I met Jacob,” she repeats herself.

“Gideon, I've got Elle. She says they're at the Sheffield's house,” Penelope says over the earpiece.

“It’s time,” Charles sighs and reaches for Sarah Jean.

“Take your hands off her,” Gideon snaps and speaks into the earpiece next. “Tell Morgan to kick the door and get in the house… whatever it takes. I said take your hands off her.”

“Agent Gideon!”

“A few moments, please,” you beg.

“Gideon, they've got him. What do are we doing here?” Hotch says from next to you two.

“I'm standing here because of choices I've made. Don't let my son be Jacob's last victim. Let me go. Let us both go,” Sarah begs with tears in her eyes.

You can’t help but cry at this because she is an innocent woman being killed for something she never did. Gideon sees this, but he knows he can’t do that to her. It’s all up to Gideon right now, and he makes the right choice.

“Tell Morgan... it's not her son. That we've made a mistake,” he sighs sadly.

“Let him go it's not the boy,” Hotch says into his earpiece.

“Would it be too much to ask if you two are the last faces I see?” she asks of you and Gideon.

“No, it wouldn't,” you whisper.

She gets taken inside the room, and you and Gideon make your way to the gallery where there are other people. You can’t believe they are here to watch a monster die, but you know she is completely innocent. You’re full-on crying right now, but Gideon is keeping it together better than you are.

Sarah Jean sees you two, and she just smiles at the thought of going in peace. You hold eye contact until the black cloth is placed over her head, and you just continue to let the tears fall for the woman who did what she thought was right.

“What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world, remains and is immortal." - Albert Pine

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @paulaern @inkstainedwritergirl @estrela-rogers @abitchforjay @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric @spencerreid-mgg @sixpencespencee @boygenius-reid @reidemandweep @prophecyflame @happynekochan1 @babydee17

#riding the lightning #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfiction #season 1 episode 14 #s1e14

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willowbird · 4 years ago

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Twinyards - Hello ( Daemons AU)

Okay so here is going to be my one and only entry for @twinyardsappreciationweek -- not because I didn't want to!! I just.. life happened and so I only actually got the first one done and then I went back and forth about posting it for several days because my anxiety is off the charts this week (huh I wonder why??)

So ANYWAY! This is my "Hellos", a first meeting between Aaron and Andrew in an AU that takes what I like about His Dark Materials and ignores what I've forgotten about it because I honestly haven't read the books in 15 years. Please forgive me for making up the rules as I go along. You do not need to be familiar with The Golden Compass/Northern Lights/His Dark Materials in order to understand or enjoy this AU because.. well, like I just said, I kinda kept the "soul animal" bit and decided to make up the rules for the rest as I went along. Feel free to ping me in messages or send me an ask if you have any questions.

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“You’re biting your nails all the way down again.” Stella’s voice was quiet in Aaron’s ear. She was currently balanced on his shoulder where she could see the whole room while also being well out of trampling-range of larger daemons and their people.

“No I’m not,” he grumbled, but snatched his fingers away from his mouth because yes - he was. “And don’t hedgehogs have terrible eyesight? How would you even know?”

Stella huffed, and the small snap of her breath tickled his ear, making him twitch. “I don’t know where you heard that, but I can see just fine, thank you very much.”

“If you say so,” Aaron relented -- not because he actually believed her but because he was too distracted to engage in their usual bickering. There was nothing interesting about the room they were sitting in. It was empty of anyone besides him and his uncle and their daemons, neither of which were very large, and was painted a pale blue offset by a dark gray shallow carpet that made Aaron feel like he was sitting in the waiting room of a dentist’s office rather than a juvenile detention center. Still, despite the general blandness of their surroundings, Aaron’s mind was busy.

After all, today he was going to be meeting his brother. His long-lost brother. His long-lost twin brother.

Yeah, mindfuck right?

Twice already his uncle had shot him a look for the way his knee kept bouncing with jittery nerves, but it’s not like he could help it. It just wasn’t every day that you found out that you had a long-lost twin. That you got to meet that long-lost twin, especially after they’d initially told you to piss off.

Well, more or less.

Andrew’s letter back to him had been more like, Aaron, back the fuck off. Stay far the fuck away until you hear from me. I’m fucking serious. -- A.

No, really. That’s exactly what it said. Aaron had read it so many times that he’d memorized it, first because he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a letter back, then because he couldn’t believe his brother was such an unrepentant asshole, and then because he couldn’t help but notice that they both wrote their lower-case ‘a’s the exact same way.

That was almost two months ago. Mom had absolutely freaked out and moved them across the damn country within a couple of weeks of the whole ‘Andrew Situation’ coming to light, and if it had been up to her Aaron definitely wouldn’t be here now. Except Uncle Luther, for all that he was a gigantic flaming dickhead, wasn’t quite as willing to let it go. Then, last week, he’d gotten a letter back from Andrew. All it had was an address to a juvenile detention center.

And so here he was, ready to meet his twin brother, and he felt so many things about it that he didn’t even know how he was really feeling.

“Luther Hemmick and Aaron Minyard?”

Aaron jumped at the voice and looked over at the stout man who had just entered the room. He wore a white coat like some kind of doctor and looked weirdly buff for also being old and balding.

Beside him, his uncle stood up, his pomeranian daemon trotting out from where she’d been curled under his chair. Aaron scooped Stella off his shoulder and returned her to her preferred nest inside the pocket of his hoodie as he joined his uncle. He tried to mimic his uncle’s superior sort of calm as he trailed after the two men, passing through the security door and down the narrow tiled hallway into what looked like some kind of common room.

Aaron had expected it to look like the rooms inmates talked to their families on tv, with two-way glass and phones so that you could talk to the person on the other side. He’d expected a lot of cold steel and white stone walls, with all the kids in matching gray jumpsuits or something.

Instead, they were in what looked like a giant living room. There were several couches and tables, a television with a few different video game systems, and a tall shelving unit filled with board games. There were teenagers lounging on the couches or at the tables, one or two of them apparently also visiting with family. Aaron didn’t spend all that much time scoping out the other kids, though, because on his first scan of the room his gaze settled on a blond boy sitting in the bay window with a fucking lion stretched out on the floor beside him, a living, breathing, tooth-filled barrier between him and the rest of the room.

Andrew.

Their little party had stopped just inside the door and Aaron was distantly aware of the warden or the principal or the doctor or whatever the fuck he was telling Uncle Luther about the facility. He couldn’t focus on them enough to actually retain the specifics though, not when he saw Andrew.

It was so… so fucking weird. He was there. Right fucking there. His brother, and they were identical. Okay, so, not completely identical. Andrew’s hair was longer than his own, and since the kids here were apparently allowed to wear street clothes he was wearing black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt (which was neither a gray jumpsuit nor anything that Aaron would typically wear -- he preferred normal jeans and band t-shirts, thanks). There was also something… colder about him that Aaron didn’t know how to feel about but definitely seemed to match the two brief letters he’d gotten from him.

The lion lifted her head and looked right at him, fixing him with an eerie amber stare he felt both trapped and analyzed by. It was not comfortable and it took all of his willpower not to squirm. As it were, he ended up fully flinching when their guide called out a bit too loudly from a bit too close to him.

"Andrew! Come say hello, your family is here to see you."

Andrew, who up until this point had been reading a book like he hadn't known they were there at all, just… continued to read. He didn't look up, didn't even seem like he'd heard him at all.

The man sighed and gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's, well. He's a bit antisocial."

"Hm." The disapproving sound from Uncle Luther had Aaron glancing over at him and he didn't really like the calculating look on his face. It would be utter bullshit if he finally got a brother only for his uncle to make it so he ended up getting shipped off to military school or something.

Rather than wait around for the adults to come up with some stupid way to attempt to make Andrew bow to their will, Aaron rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Stella's head where she was huddled in his pocket and strode forward with far more confidence than he actually felt. He stopped several feet in front of the lioness and tried not to be intimidated by her. Logically he knew that she wasn't a fully grown lion yet, that she was an adolescent to match her human's age, but Aaron had always been uneasy around daemons who had settled into big predators. Maybe it was because his own daemon was so small and he was protective of her -- or maybe it was some deeper instinct he wasn't ready or able to interpret yet. Either way, he ended up having to keep both hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He couldn't steady both them and his voice at the same time, and he needed his voice to be steady.

"Hey,” he said -- and yes, his voice for that whole one word was very steady. Maybe even casual. Fuck yeah.

The lion, who had watched him throughout his entire approach, flicked her ears -- but he had no idea what emotion that was supposed to be.

For a moment, Aaron thought that was all he was going to get. Then he saw Andrew sigh and resolutely dog-ear the page he was on before closing the book and setting it down on the windowsill. He looked over at him, just with a flick of his eyes at first and then by turning his head. Aaron kept perfectly still and had the distinct impression he was being judged or evaluated somehow. It was really uncomfortable and also kind of annoying, but the hard stare of the other boy matched that of the lioness a bit too closely for Aaron to be willing to call him out on it just yet.

Instead, he waited, and he used the opportunity to look at his brother too. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, he just wanted to know him. He wanted to know what his life had been like and his favorite music. He wanted to know if he and his daemon had played the same sort of ‘what if’ games that he and Stella had growing up. He wanted to know if Andrew had always wished for a brother too, and if he’d grown up feeling like something was missing only to feel all the pieces click into place the second he found out that he had a twin. None of these were things he’d be able to learn just by looking at him, but looking was a start -- and it could tell him other things.

For one thing, he could tell that Andrew liked to read, right? There was the book he’d been reading -- it had been a thick one and he’d seemed really into reading it. He clearly didn’t like adults, since he’d ignored the big guy when he’d called out to him (though really, Aaron figured anyone in juvie probably didn’t like adults). He liked the color black..?

Look, it was a start.

Somehow, Aaron got the feeling that Andrew was able to read more on him than he was able to read on Andrew; or maybe that was just his own frustration at being able to pick out so little. Either way, it was irritating when Andrew nodded a few moments later like he’d made some sort of decision or something. Andrew looked past him then to where Uncle Luther was still speaking with the guy in charge and the casual coolness hardened into something icy with disdain.

Aaron frowned and looked over his shoulder to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything weird. He looked back at Andrew and said, “So, I’m Aaron…”

Andrew looked at him again, his expression a blank mask. “Clearly.”

Aaron’s temper arrived unannounced and uninvited, but that wasn’t altogether that strange. “I thought you wanted me to come. Isn’t that why you sent the address? If you’re just going to be a big dick about it you could have saved us both the trouble.” He snapped the words out without repent, lifting his chin and glaring down at his brother before he remembered there was a lion between them with sharp teeth and man-shredding claws.

Neither Andrew nor his lioness daemon seemed offended by his little outburst, though. If anything, Andrew looked amused. His mouth quirked a little on the side, almost like a smile -- or like, maybe he had an itch or something.

“Where’s your daemon?” he asked then, familiar-but-not hazel eyes scanning the immediate area then glancing backward toward the window. Most buildings were designed for the ease of use for both humans and their daemons, but some larger daemons preferred to stay outside but close-by rather than squeezing into tighter quarters. Larger daemons also tended to have a larger range away from their person, as well. Aaron wasn’t sure how far he could get from Stella. He honestly didn’t like the idea of her not being physically on him most of the time, so he was glad she was small enough to do so.

Aaron cupped his hand in his pocket and she cuddled into it so he could pull her out.

Andrew looked at her, then to him. “She’s cute.”

From most people, that would probably be some kind of an insult, but Aaron got the very weird sense that Andrew was being genuine. It threw him off enough that he just blinked stupidly for a moment before saying, “Uh… thanks. Yeah, she is.”

Instead of responding, Andrew stood up and strode past him. Aaron quickly stepped out of the way as the lioness rose fluidly to move with him.

“And where do you think you’re going, Andrew?” the big guy who’d showed them in said with a false lightness.

“Outside.” He looked over his shoulder then, and Aaron realized a half a second before Andrew continued speaking that he was being invited along. “My brother and I have about fourteen years of catching up to do.”

Aaron’s heart did a traitorous little leap in his chest. He looked down at where he was still holding Stella up in an open palm. She gave him an encouraging nuzzle and Aaron hid a grin as he hurried to follow his brother. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here on out -- but he was suddenly sure that no matter what, he and Stella wouldn’t be alone anymore.

#aftg #aftg fanfic #my writing #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #his dark materials au #daemon au #twinyards #wholesome twinyards #hellos #look its an au where things turn out very different and i have a lot of feelings about it ok??#twinyardsappreciationweek

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tabriscadash · 3 years ago

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I was asked this on my old blog right as I set about transitioning to this one, so...

The first character I ever fell in love with: for DA:O, dare I say Daveth? What can I say -- I irrationally got incredibly attached to him. otherwise, DEFINITELY Morrigan, and I have crystal clear memories of my first run through Lothering and looking at Morrigan like 😍 the whole time. For DA:2/E, Carver -- unless you count Anders & Justice since I knew of them from Awakening beforehand, in which case probably Justice. For DA:I, it’s a toss-up between Vivienne or Cole -- I technically liked Cole first but SPECIFICALLY in the supporting material (Asunder), and didn’t vibe with him anywhere near as much in the game, AND I got him as a companion after I got Vivienne, so probably Vivienne.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I guess Oghren? I never loved him, but I liked the idea of him because I really liked the dwarves/Orzammar side of DA’s worldbuilding -- but he’s such an unlikeable character that I just.. don’t vibe with him at all. I debate recruiting him every single time now, and I don’t think I ever do his personal quest (in the base game OR Awakening). for DA:2/E, I don’t really have anyone that fits -- but I REALLY wanted to like Merrill and Aveline more than I did, and especially in Aveline’s case, I can’t stand her and genuinely think she’s the unintended, secret Big Bad of the whole game. for DA:I, probably Cole, bc I was really into the idea of a little walking-corpse serial killer animated by a spirit as per the book, but that’s not really the vibe in DA:I, and combined with the somewhat patronising/ableist language and how significantly he is infantilised (including by the fandom) I just got put off him. I do still like him, but not as much.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I don’t really have one? I guess see my DA:I answer, lol... for DA:2/E, has to be Anders - I don’t think he’s OOC in 2, but I think his writing does so little with him and he feels v. reductive. Where his relationship could be SO interesting and angsty, it instead is written in a really dull and/or cringey way. It would have been nice to see Anders more like the Anders of Awakening near the beginning of the game (rather than random, infrequent and questionably rare snippets), and then see the progression of his relationship with Justice as the game went on -- I want more interesting abominations, PLEASE. for DA:I, listen I cannot express to you HOW EXCITED I was for my planned Lavellan to romance Sera… also I used to be way more tolerant of Cullen x Amell/Surana ships because, like, hey dark ships are fun, right? But since Cullen’s ~wholesome whitewash~ in DA:I, and his fandom clamouring to absolve him of any wrongdoing ever.. it’s boring to me.

My ultimate favourite character™: for DA:O, probably Sten? or Morrigan. They’re both fantastic, and also are significant comfort chars for me. for DA:2/3, honestly, probably my own Hawke -- I feel so hugely proud of her, and can’t imagine I’d enjoy the game anywhere near as much had I not played it as my Hawke. If not her, maybe Sebastian or Carver? for DA:I, I really love Vivienne, as well as Blackwall, and Solas is a great character even if I probably would not say I liked him.

Prettiest character: for DA:O, we all know it’s Zevran. for DA:2/E, I think Aveline -- although her aggressively bland colour-scheme lets her down in a major way (although I respect her dedication to all orange all day every day). There’s just something about her arms -- very Abby from TLOU:2. for DA:I, maybe Josephine? Ser Barris is very pretty, too...

My most hated character: for DA:O, I really didn’t like Alistair, Wynne and Oghren, and of my companions - Oghren is probably my least favourite. He’s vulgar and also profoundly uninteresting. for DA:2/E, it has to be Aveline. There’s just something about ineptitude and a complete, wilful refusal to take accountability for your actions that I can’t stand. It would be okay if it was an intentional character flaw, but the game/narrative treats her like she’s lawful good and it really annoys me. for DA:I, maybe Iron Bull? He was a huge disappointment for me. I also really dislike Sera, Cassandra, and Varric. I’m so sick of Varric - I never want to see him again.

My OTP: for DA:O, I really loved Zevran’s romance -- but I am also very amused by the fact that Leliana got to ‘love’ status with Kallian accidentally, AND I got the ‘love’ glitch for Justice (👀) and Velanna. I do sometimes wonder about an AU where Kallian is forced to make a politically expedient marriage with Nathaniel Howe for diplomatic reasons in order to consolidate her position as Arlessa, and it being an entirely platonic arrangement (it’s not like anyone expects an heir from an infertile Grey Warden) -- and maybe Zev and Nate kiss sometimes, who knows? I also LOVE my Darkspawn Chronicles AU where Kallian and Nelaros are a happy, married couple each hiding their skills with weapons from each other like dumb, cute sweethearts. They shelter Zevran when he fails to kill Alistair and a poly couple evolves. for DA:2/E, I love the IDEA of a Seb romance that isn’t so strictly conditional around the structures that abused him -- he should be allowed to love, chastely or otherwise, but free from the Chantry OR his position as prince/heir. I’d LOVE to actually have a romance with him where you can actually challenge the abuse he’s experienced. for DA:I, Malika doesn’t have a canon romance (although I think when I replay, I’m going to romance Josephine!) but I think Blackwall has an amazing romance. Solas’ is also iconic, it must be said.

My NOTP: for DA:O, I really dislike Alistair in a shipping capacity; he’s immature and says a lot of misogynistic shit and I don’t think he’s the worst for it, but I don’t really vibe with shipping him, having played the game as a female city elf. for DA:2/E, I wouldn’t say I have one, particularly? although I really dislike Aveline’s relationship with her husband simply because it seems incredibly inappropriate, given that they work together and she has power over him -- and because I dislike her, generally, I don’t feel inclined to do something nice for her. for DA:I, I suppose Sera/Lavellan -- although I’m not AGAINST it, it just really isn’t for me, having attempted it. I also don’t really vibe with Dorian x Iron Bull. Something abt the way the game handled BDSM and their relationship banter specifically I don’t really like.

Favourite episode quest: for DA:O, probs Orzammar/the Deep Roads. I really love the dwarven lore! and, of course, Fort Drakon is really funny, even though it’s not canon in my game iirc. for DA:2/E, maybe the murder mystery with the serial killer, where ultimately Leandra dies? I also really enjoyed all the companion quests. for DA:I, The Descent (just, all of it, lmao) and everything to do with the Avvar. Crestwood also BANGED.

Saddest death: for DA:O, it’s frankly a fucking INJUSTICE that Shianni gets murdered if you make her Bann of the Alienage -- the idea of that happening whilst Kallian is in Amaranthine and unable to protect her :( genuinely very upsetting. I go back and forth on who is made Bann, tbf, so idk how canonical it is: I think maybe Cyrion would get it, but I’m also endeared to Soris holding the position, with Shianni as Hahren. for DA:2/E, Bethany. I wish both twins had had the chance to reach Kirkwall :(. Let Leandra die instead. for DA:I, maybe not the saddest death, but the most memorable for me was that one sleeping dragon in the Hissing Wastes.. leave her alone. Stay out of a womans’ business.

Favourite season game: DA:O!

Least favourite season game: DA:I.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but I hate: for DA:O, Alistair. I cannot deal with his complacency and hypocrisy. for DA:2, I really disliked Merrill but I honestly cannot remember why. DEFINITELY Varric -- I hated how the game forces you to be his best friend, and if you’re low approval, you have to endure these pointless pissy little comments with this little anti-dwarf centrist pissant. After the expedition, I literally have no reason to put up with him, and I NEVER take him out. I hate that he plays the same role in DA:I, too. for DA:I, the Iron Bull was hugely disappointing, and I also really don’t vibe with Cassandra. She just seems very wishy-washy and complacent and hypocritical, and many of her comments about other cultures seem snide for literally no reason other than bigotry.

My ‘you’re a piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: for DA:O, lbr probably Sten. Mans is gonna launch a HORRIFYING invasion in the next game iirc and frankly, I’m ok with it. Just wanna see that big bastard again ❤🥵. for DA:2/E, I LOVE Gamlen, ok? for DA:I, I am not sure if I have one.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: for DA:O, if any of you so much as LOOK at Velanna wrong, it’s hands. That includes Bioware. I also feel incredibly protective of and sad for Morrigan. for DA:2/E, probably Sebastian -- I feel so sad for him, and so frustrated by the limitations with the game. for DA:I, I’m honestly not sure.. maybe Josephine? I don’t really feel this way about Sera, but I do think she deserves better from the game and its writing, and also from fandom: there are valid criticisms of her, but the hate she gets is not proportional to any valid issues with her -- and gee, I wonder why that is.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: for DA:O, I did use to find Cullen x Surana/Amell intriguing as a dark ship -- I actually hc that Neria Surana is actually Nelaros’ sister, and have dabbled with it as a dark ship. I also am interested in Loghain/Alistair - which each pretends the other is someone else. Alistair is wooby, hate ships are, in general, fun -- so long as we acknowledge that they are, indeed, unhealthy ships. for DA:2/E, I kind of feel like Sebastian romances are, invariably, kind of dark... and, similarly, Anders romances -- especially with certain red Hawkes, The way it ends is, invariably, bordering on fucked up. ALSO Hawkecest is weird and wonderful: GET WITH IT.

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them, but I’m not too invested’ ship: for DA:O, I joked about Velanna x Leliana once and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it ever since… Velanna x Sigrun is also something that can be so personal. Ariane x Finn is adorable and are paid DUST by Bioware AND fandom. I actually am really into Anora x Nathaniel & NO I will NOT explain myself; it’s a crackship but it’s MY crackship. for DA:2/E, Isabela x Fenris is super cute, but I don’t pay enough attention to them to really have super committed thoughts & feelings on them. for DA:I, Blackwall x Josephine is cute as a background ship; I also think Maryden x Cole is sweet.

#meta #mun

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Amity’s ‘role’ in Luz’s fantasy

So recently I had an epiphany thanks to @lost-gatesofhell, about Luz and her initial interest in Amity. I have to wonder if at first, Luz was partially interested in befriending Amity because it’d be like Azura befriending HER rival... In the sense that she’s trying to live out her fantasies, without considering that Amity is her own person and not a ‘prize’ to be won. I hate to compare Luz like this... but it could’ve been like how Warden Wrath was drawn to the ‘allure’, the IDEA of Eda as someone who was ‘hard to get’, a prize to be won... Of course in Luz’s case, she’s a lot less patronizing and objectifying of Amity, as seen when she respects the girl’s boundaries as soon as they’re set.

Still, there’s this idea that while Luz is working on it, she hasn’t totally overcome her penchant for applying fantasy to real life and projecting her little adventures over what’s actually happening, for the sake of living them out... Obviously she learned her lesson in Episode 2, but like anyone else she’s not perfect and still liable to making the same mistakes from time to time, even if they’re a lot less frequent. Particularly, Luz learned not to expect the Boiling Isles to specifically cater to her fantasies, and to recognize situations for what they actually were. If Luz wanted a ‘magical destiny’ or adventure or anything like that, she’d have to work for it to happen, as Eda suggested.

Of course, while Luz learned not to be entitled nor to expect life to just hand over her fantasies to her, there’s still this expectation and willingness to use Amity to fulfill that enemies to lovers friends trope, under the idea that at least Luz is ‘working’ for it. Luz knew then that things wouldn’t automatically be how she wanted them to be, and that she had to recognize this; But she’s still willing to make them fit her idealized fantasy regardless... Again tying back to what Eda said about having to ‘make your own destiny’, but there’s also the issue of boundaries and limits to be set, especially when actual people are involved.

Sometimes, you just can’t live out your fantasy, period… Nor can you expect reality to change into it, even if you DO put in the work to alter it accordingly. Even if it is possible, is it ethical and worth the effort to steamroll over the autonomy of others, and see them only as tropes and roles to fulfill in your story? Not as people with their own stories? Maybe it’s pointless to try to make up for this by occasionally ‘fulfilling your part’ in another person’s story, because nobody should have to deal with that sort of expectation at all, period! Even if it’s consensual on behalf of both parties, it’s still pretty sus... And it ties into the ideas of the Coven System, of Witches having to fulfill a certain role, be it as the Bard, or the Oracle, or the Illusionist... That you have to stick to a particular trope, that there’s no mixing parts or being creative with this!

Everybody has to be quickly and readily defined by a specific role they can neatly fit into, as ordained by Belos; There’s no room for growing beyond that, save for special people like those who fit into the Emperor’s Coven, the kind who are worthy of being ‘main characters’ in a sense, and thus allowed to be fleshed-out and ‘unique’! Everybody else, though- They’re a side-character, an NPC. It’s like those jokes of friend groups consisting of ‘the smart one’, the ‘funny one’, ‘the jock’, etc., but taken to a dark and far too literal extreme. There’s no room for someone to be the funny one AND a jock, that guy’s already a jock, don’t encroach on other people’s roles, you’ll get distracted from the specific function you have to fulfill!

(There isn’t anything wrong with doing this in writing of course, especially since one is handling fictional characters and not real people; But from an in-universe perspective, these characters ARE actual people to one another. After all, in real life one wouldn’t define someone as JUST a chef, they also have other aspects and interests to their life that aren’t solely related to food! It’s like the revelation that teachers have lives outside of school, or how that person you know on the internet probably has a job unrelated to whatever interest they’re talking about. People aren’t JUST the jobs they do, and it’s unreasonable to expect them to dedicate their entire existence to fulfilling that role. People should have breaks and be allowed to pursue different interests, maybe even leave their ‘job’ if it’s no longer for them. So YES Karen, this person’s job IS to help customers, but that doesn’t mean their entire worth and meaning as a person solely revolves around this, nor should this person be expected to help customers 24/7 when their shift has already ended anyway.)

But back to the subject... Luckily, Luz’s issue with molding reality into her fantasy is confronted and further resolved by Wing it like Witches. And even if Luz was projecting her stories onto Amity a bit in order to live out a ‘rivals to friends’ fantasy... It’s worth noting that Luz was also legit interested in Amity as a friend, too! Not to mention Luz is VERY concerned about earning Amity’s approval in Adventures in the Elements... Maybe part of Luz’s motive is not wanting to mess up with an ‘elusive’ friendship, or that’s what Luz tells herself... But more than likely, it’s indicative of a crush that Luz isn’t aware of. Sadly, this girl hasn’t had enough social interaction to differentiate between plantonic friendship desires and being romantically attracted to an actual peer VS a fictional character!

Which is yet another reason why I love Lost in Language, it’s that Luz was interested in the idea of befriending Amity, of a rival turned friend, rather than just Amity herself... And maybe Amity overheard this when Luz mentioned “First I befriend the siblings, then Amity!” and that contributed to her tomato face of anger- Having the painful barriers she’d erected as a trauma response and the loneliness that came from that being trivialized isn’t great. Amity didn’t appreciate being objectified like that, solely for the emotional barriers she’d set up for a reason. It’s one thing to want to be Amity’s friend the way Boscha and others did- But is Luz really interested in Amity, or just in the idea of her? Is this love conditional on Amity’s social status, which Amity is told is both inherent to her as a Blight, and yet something she has to constantly earn and maintain? Especially the idea of ‘winning’ Amity, that’d be particularly patronizing… But very quickly, Luz remembers that Amity is her own separate individual, who doesn’t exist to fulfill her fantasies.

Luz appreciates Amity as she really is (perhaps not coincidentally after getting insight into the girl’s true personality through her diary entries), which leads to Luz working to protect Amity’s boundaries by keeping her diary from Emira and Edric! There’s the idea of getting to know and appreciate Amity for who she really is, and Luz working to let the girl embrace that part of herself both internally and externally as well... Which again ties back into the idea of projecting the idea/image of fantasies onto someone/something, VS accepting what/who they actually are, and thus appreciating them even more as a result!

Amity, of course, realizes that Luz is genuine and actually wants to know about the person she really is... And she’s baffled. While she was no doubt offended by Luz possibly seeing her more as a trope to fulfill than an actual person, it probably wouldn’t have been anything new to Amity; The idea of others seeing her as a means to an end, given how her own parents and Lilith did the same! Disappointing, but not surprising...

But now it IS surprising, because Luz wants to know about Amity- And she’s not used to good things in life, alas? And how to respond? She’s well familiar with the process of rejecting people, but when it comes to accepting someone- What does she do then? And this plays into Amity’s insecurities and confusion about Luz and how she feels, not wanting to lose a friend, not wanting to hurt them, not wanting to ruin things if Luz wants her only as a friend... Not sure if Luz really means it or not because she’s still insecure, and OF COURSE the idea of a crush, and wondering what Luz could see in someone like her?!

Amity at least better understood Luz’s motives back when she assumed it was just to fulfill her Azura fantasies, because Amity was familiar with those and her own desire for them. But now that Luz has given up on that... Why does she continue to be so interested in Amity, of all people? And even if Luz was still living out her fantasies, what more could Amity accomplish anyway, now that she’s a friend to Luz; Why does Luz continue to express interest in Amity, and be willing to do so much for the girl? Luz already got her Rivals-to-Friends trope in Amity, but she continues to hang out with the girl of her own volition and unconditionally help her; And Amity is possibly freaking out on what Luz’s motives are, even though she at least knows the girl isn’t a bully and means well!

Mostly, I think Amity KNOWS that Luz is interested in being a genuine friend... But she’s still overwhelmed by the idea of someone being romantically interested in her, or at least more interested in Amity as a friend compared to others; Because the girl underestimates her own worth too much, she doesn’t see herself as worth getting to know if she doesn’t specifically accomplish a purpose! Odalia and Alador conditioned Amity to evaluate others based on their usefulness, or else be useful to others... So Amity is wondering what about her is so specifically appealing to Luz, especially when Luz has disregarded all of Amity’s other traits that make her ‘worthwhile’, such as her intelligence, social status, knowledge on magic, etc. The only thing left about Amity, to appreciate... Are the things that define her as individual, not as a Blight or a Top Student! And it’s unimaginable, or at least surreal to the girl, for Luz to be interested in that...

Amity only knows friendship in terms of being ‘useful’ to someone else... Emira and Edric were genuinely interested in Amity as a person, but she’s probably dismissed this as a given since they’re family members, not to mention Ed and Em have admittedly done their part in making Amity doubt how much she means to them. So what does Amity do, when Luz expects nothing of her? No doubt Amity feels like she’s a ‘parasite’, that she’s leeching off of Luz’s good nature and not giving back enough... Maybe she’ll feel like she has compensate for their friendship and justify it, only for Luz to make it clear to Amity that just being with the girl, and seeing her be happy, is all she’ll ever need! And it’ll amaze Amity, and mean so much to her, to realize that she’s inherently worthwhile, and that she doesn’t need to ‘prove’ herself to others in order to be lovable...

TL;DR Luz was initially trying to live out a ‘rivals to friends’ story, but learned not to objectify Amity like this... And when confronted with a growing crush on the Blight girl, Luz possibly assumed she was just relapsing into old habits. But inevitably, Luz is becoming more and more aware of how much she just genuinely likes Amity as a person, no strings attached, that the girl is irreplaceable to her. And when Amity recognizes that there’s no big secret to why she means so much to Luz, other than just being herself, that Luz’s love isn’t dependent on superficial traits that could easily be replicated by someone else, that Amity is irreplaceable to Luz... It’ll do wonders for her crippled self-esteem, as she learns that she doesn’t need to impress people in order to be loved. Amity, as she already is, without having to make any efforts to improve herself, is already worth loving both in the platonic and romantic sense!

As for Luz, well- She didn’t get the fantasy she expected... But she still got to live out a different one. Amity really IS this girl’s fantasy, and this time, I mean it in the best way possible!

#the owl house #owl house #lumity #the owl house luz #luz noceda #the owl house amity #amity blight #speculation

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hanatsuki89 · 3 years ago

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Since you gave me no indications, I am going with my Warden Tabris! ❤️ What inspired you to make this OC? How long have you had them? How have they changed in the time you’ve been developing them?🧡 What traits of your own do you see in this OC? Are they a little bit self-inserty? Don’t be shy, we all put parts of ourselves into the creations we love!

Okay, right from the start I knew I wanted to play an elf for my first DAO run. I picked city elf and as usual I picked a name as soon as my brain suggested it to me. Later on, I had a good laugh at the fact that while Amelia isn’t really an elfy name, it does somehow rhyme with her mom’s name, so it ended up being perfect. I have hed Amelia since November 2019 and in all this time the only things that have changed are the amount of freckles I draw her with and how much of her story overlaps with that of other characters/beyond what is shown in the games.

💛 What is your personal opinion of this OC? Do you love them or are they your trash child? Are they your baby?

She is a self-insert, yes. Not a copy-paste version of myself, but each one of my OCs get a specific side of my personality and physical features. Amelia gets the short haircut, her built and her stubborness. I also gave her the happiest ending among all of my DA OCs, because that’s what I would want for myself, lol. I adore her to pieces and I think the amount of art I created since 2019 is prrof of it. I always get very emotional whenever people see my art of her and go “oooh, i missed her!”

💚 Are you writing anything with this OC or planning on writing anything for them? Do you rp with them or are they just for fun to mess around with?

I am both preparing new comics and trying to write fanfics with her (although the latter is an attempt that’s going poorly bevause I struggle with words and I write in my second language)! I don’t think I will ever get tired of drawing her. I am coming up with AUs as well, in order to draw more of her story!

💙 How important is this OC to you? Are they a character that’s helped you through some pretty tough times or could you scrap them without feeling a thing?

I don’t think I could scarp any of my OCs without suffering like crazy. My creations are like... pieces of myself in which I pour my time and creativity, imagining their personalities, their interactions, their adventures. Amelia and my rogue Trevelyan in particular are the OCs that have gotten me through some bad times during 2020.

💜 Do you enjoy working on your OC or are they a bit of a chore? We all have that one character who is hard to develop!

I wouldn’t call it a chore, but I do struggle with writing her more than drawing her because I fear I suffer from the writer’s version of “same face syndrome”. As much as some of her personality aligns with my own, she is her own person and because of that it’s tough to write her at times.

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

I mean... I think I have rambled plenty already, but let’s see... One of the things I love the most about Tabris is that I can’t simply draw a simple illustration and call it a day. No, all of my ideas come in the form of multipage comics. And she usually has this serious-like attitude that makes you think “ah, she is boring”. Then she surprises you with some dry wit cause she’s got jokes (which I have lots of fun writing).

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

Not easily. Sexual topics don’t make her blush. The only event I can think of off the top of my head is when during Awakening someone ends up reading her correspondence with Zevran (who’s already gone back to Antiva) and when during Inquisition she travels to Skyhold and finds out that Kadan is actually a term of endearment (she in the same worldstate as my Bullmancer Lavellan) and proceeds to yell affectionately at Sten via letter (I made a comic about this, lol).

💧 What is something from your OC’s past they’re the most ashamed of and why? What is something they’re really proud of? And lastly what is something in their past that could make them shake with dread? She is the Warden-Commander, lol. She has a list of things to be proud of XD And more than shaking with dread... she still shakes with guilt and anger a year after getting conscripted because of what happened at the Alienage. Nelaros, you know?

Thanks for asking ^^

#ticktocktigers #viewfromthevault #hlflores #oc ask #amelia tabris

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

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Fifteen (part 6)

A/N: this part contains season 7 spoilers!!

tw: cursing, regular criminal minds stuff

wordcount: 3.3k

masterlist:

He squatted down to look inside of the box, deciding not to worry about the surprise being ruined. He knows the ending, it’s already spoiled, so why not see what he has in store?

He took a mental note of each item, cataloging them in the extensive library that is his brain. For some of the items he immediately knew what they meant, for others he would have to read. He realized the bottom of the box was dirty, dusty even. When he picked up the debris, he realized they were pieces of dried flower petals that had been crushed to smithereens when he knocked the box over. He held the delicate pieces in his hands, barely even breathing, so he wouldn’t destroy them more than he already had. He sighed and tried to put the petals back together like a puzzle, but it was missing far too many pieces. Pieces that he was responsible for losing. Tears welled up in his eyes and he put the pieces on his bedside table.

He was angry now. In all his grieving since the breakup, he hadn’t been angry yet. He did the rest of the five stages, just in the wrong order. He started out with denial, telling himself it was all a dream. If he could just wake up then you would be right there, arms open, ready to accept him, comfort him, love him. Then came the bargaining, countless nights on your doorstep banging on the door begging you to let him in and just talk. You never answered. Then the depression, which lasted longer than he expected. He was still a shell of a person on most days, just moving through the motions, not feeling much of anything at all. In the few weeks prior he had grown to accept defeat, accept that this was over and done. Acceptance is always the hardest bit, especially for him. Spencer Reid doesn’t lose. But he always seemed to forget that love isn’t a game to be played; you were not a prize to be won. Love is hard work and sweat and tears and yelling and kissing and laughing and comfort. Love isn’t a game.

But then your stupid box came, causing him lose all the progress he had made.

Now, he was finally angry. He was angry at himself more than you, but he was still so angry with you. He knew he had mentally checked out of your relationship before the end, but that was because he just needed a break. Everything had changed so much so fast that he just needed to go sort himself out before jumping back into you. But you wouldn’t give him the time. You didn’t need space, you needed him; and he wouldn’t give himself to you. Neither of you would give the other what they desperately needed, so you ended it. He may have blamed himself for your relationship’s demise but he blamed you for leaving. He hated that you could just walk away from him, just like everyone else did. He hated that you could walk away from your family like that. How could you leave Derek behind? Rossi? Hotch? JJ? Garcia? How could you be so selfish?

“How could you!?” He wailed, as if you were there to hear him. Hot, angry tears ran down his face.

Spencer was seething, pacing wildly up and down in his room, pulling at his hair in a desperate attempt to feel any release. Eventually he talked himself down, but immediately following anger is depression. That damn Kubler-Ross Change curve. That familiar hollow feeling filled up his chest. He was numb again, and immediately regretted all the thoughts he had about you.

He was just hurt, in so many different ways at once and he had no idea what to do with it. Handling his emotions isn’t exactly his strong suit.

More than anything he missed you. The letters only brought back up all the feelings he had worked so hard to repress. He needed you, more than he ever did, so he turned to the one place he could find you.

“Congratulations Spence! You have made it �� of the way through the letters. ⅓ of the way through our relationship. So it only makes sense that this is about our one year anniversary.

We take a time jump on this one. So direct your attention to the green velvet jewelry box and the dried flower. I kept a few flowers from every bouquet you ever got me and dried them, so I could have them forever. Remember how I had so many flowers tied up with string hanging in our bedroom? They were all from you. Throwing flowers away always made me sad, especially when you bought them because you always took such care in choosing them. Every bouquet had a meaning. I never knew about flower symbolism until I met you. This magnolia is from my favorite bouquet you ever got me, the ones for our first anniversary,”

His heart sank. The flower was your favorite, and there it was in shreds on his nightstand. He destroyed it, not on purpose, but he still destroyed it. He ran his hands through his brown hair, cursing himself for ruining yet another thing. Lately, he always seemed to be doing that.

“So let’s start with some context. Everything was going perfectly. The universe was finally on our side. Emily came back from the dead, which was a shocking but very welcome surprise. I needed her, needed my best friend. And she came at just the right time. She was different, but still our Em. JJ was back as a profiler now, which made us all very happy, you in particular. The gang was finally back together and we felt unstoppable, invincible. Hell, we even got questioned by a Senate Committee and still kept our jobs. Things got back to normal, or whatever can be considered ‘normal’ for us. It’s a very loose definition of the word. We had officially been together a year and it was without a doubt the happiest year of my life. We never fought, all our days were filled with work and loving each other. We spent all our time together, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best thing. We got a little codependent. But it worked. We worked.

I’m still sorry for how that day went. You planned it to be perfect, and I messed it up.

The flowers and necklace were the gifts that you planned to give me at your place after we got dinner at that fancy Italian restaurant downtown that I had been dying to eat at. You told me it took a lot to get the reservations, but you managed to snag a table for us, because you called three months in advance. It was the sweetest gesture. I mean that. No guy ever put that much effort into something for me. I was so excited; I went out and bought a dress for the occasion and everything. It was going to be the best night. We were going to hit the first milestone of many. There were only 3. I thought there would be infinite anniversaries for us, Spence, but we only had 3. And I’m sorry I ruined the first one.

Work happened. More specifically, Hotch sent me and Rossi to interview a prisoner at North Branch in Maryland. I originally refused, telling them all about our date. Hotch and Rossi both assured me we would be back in time for the reservations.

“Why me? Why can’t you bring Emily? Or Derek? This is the ONE night I need!” I had complained.

“Your skills are what we need for this one. It’ll be quick Y/N, I promise,” Hotch said. I rolled my eyes, not to be disrespectful but so he knew I wasn’t happy.

“Fine, but if you make me stand up Spencer Reid on our anniversary you’ll be a very sorry man.”

They both just laughed and I was whisked away on the jet to Maryland. The whole way there I was nervous and fidgeting. I barely spoke to Rossi on the flight, and I’m have the biggest mouth of anyone! I just didn’t want to ruin that night. You were so excited. I hate disappointing you. You were so nice about my having to work though. When I told you I had to go, you texted me and told me it was okay, a flight from DC to Baltimore is 34 minutes. We’d barely hit altitude before we had to come down, and that you were so excited to see me. I promised you that I’d make it, I’d even be early.

I think that’s the only promise to you I ever broke.

The guy we interviewed was a real weirdo, like a little weirder than the usual unsubs. He was on Death Row, scheduled to be executed in a week. His thing was killing women and then scalping them to make wigs.

Real nasty.

We got there earlier than expected, around noon. We interviewed him for a while, taking a lot of breaks to breathe. He even gave Rossi the heebie-jeebies and Rossi invented interviewing serial killers. Just as we were about done, around four, something happened. A riot in the courtyard. Of course. They locked down the prison. Thankfully we were not stuck in the room with the psycho, like you were with Hotch that time. They still wouldn’t let us leave. It’s not like we didn’t ask. We did. We did the whole “we’re FBI agents. Don’t make me call the director” thing. The warden just said sorry, no can do, tough shit. So Rossi and I were trapped in a hyper-max that was rioting, and the clock was ticking and ticking and my chances of making this date were fading away.

To say I was pissed was an understatement. Rossi knew I was furious. He was there when Hotch said ‘It’ll be quick Y/N, promise,” and he knows how I bite heads off when I’m mad. He’s a smart man, so he did the smart thing and didn’t talk. I tried to call you, text you, everything, but my stupid phone had no reception in that stupid concrete box.

They let us out at 5, combine the 34 minute flight with commuting to and from the air strips and taking into account 5 pm rush hour traffic? I know you can tell me exactly how long it would’ve taken me to get to the restaurant. But even I knew it was too damn long.

And the traffic really outdid itself that day! I didn’t think a ten minute drive could ever be a half hour long, but it was. As we sat I got more and more antsy and tried calling you. Straight to voicemail. I did that probably 15 times, but nothing. Your phone died. Most people would assume that you charge your phone all the time, but it’s the opposite. The thing rarely is above 30% and I used to remind you to charge it all the time. It was always sort of endearing, just another thing to love about your quirky self. That night it was just infuriating.

When we landed it was already past 6:30. I changed in the bathroom at Quantico and drove as fast as I could to the restaurant. I definitely broke some laws that day.

When I got there I didn’t see you, so I asked the hostess about the reservation. She gave me a sad look and told me you waited forty-five minutes for me. You even ordered my favorite wine for the table. And I missed it.”

Spencer recalled sitting there at the table, fidgeting with his thumbs and barely sitting still. Every time the door swung open and it wasn’t you he lost more and more hope. His phone had died because he was bad at charging it. You were the one to always remind him to plug it in before bed. He couldn’t even call you to see if you were okay, or call Rossi, or Hotch. He couldn’t do anything except sit there and eat the free bread and oil that were on the table. He knew there would be a good reason why you missed the date, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. At 6:45 he gave up and paid for the wine he barely even drank and left, everyone sending him sympathetic looks as he walked out. It was no longer perfect, and that’s all he wanted. One perfect night with you, and you couldn’t even give him that.

“So I drove to your place and knocked on the door. I was so nervous, feeling equal amounts of excitement and dread. I knocked on the door and you opened it. I smiled and went in for the hug and you blocked it. Cue our first fight.

“I’m so sorry love, at the prison they locked us in and we couldn’t leave and then there was traffic and I’m so so sorry,” I said. You just wouldn’t look at me. You just stared at the gift bag on your couch.

“Spencer? Hello? I’m so sorry. I know how much effort you put into today and I–“

“Do you know how embarrassing that is?” You said. You looked upset, brows furrowed and hands waving wildly.

“I sat there for almost an hour alone, the waitress even offered me dessert on the house because I got stood up. I kept telling them you’d be there, but I had to give up. You stood me up on our anniversary Y/N.”

I felt like a kid getting scolded by their favorite teacher.

“I tried to call you,” I mumbled, “There was no service in the prison so when we were on our way back to the jet I tried, but it went straight to voicemail.”

You just groaned and ran your hands through your hair. You had taken off your suit jacket and tie and they were thrown on the couch.

“You shouldn’t have gone! You knew what today meant to me and still went!”

“I tried! I asked Hotch if someone else could do it and he said no! And YOU said it was okay!”

Our voices were loud now, I half expected your neighbor to bang on the door and tell us off.

“Of course I did! I couldn’t tell you not to do your job. The job always comes first! I just wish you told me so I didn’t look like an idiot!”

“‘Job always comes first’” I mocked, you looked at me in a way you never looked at me. It was the look you only used on unsubs. Jaw clenched, eyes fiery, more pissed than I had ever seen you. “I TRIED to tell you! Maybe if you ever charged your damn phone you would’ve gotten my texts! My fourteen phone calls! Maybe you would’ve gotten the texts and calls I had Rossi send because I thought it was my phone that was broken!”

You moved to sit on the couch, me standing in front of you. Tears were stinging my eyes, I’ve always been an angry crier. I softened before talking next.

“Spence, Love, look at me.”

And you did. Your brown eyes looked sad, all the rage and fire behind them was gone.

“I’m sorry, what can I do?”

I sat next to you and put my head on your shoulder. You leaned your head on top of mine. Such a small gesture, but so romantic at the same time.

“I just wanted today to be special,” you croaked.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve called the restaurant or something. I could’ve found a better plan.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry too, Y/N.”

You wrapped me up in a much needed hug and kissed my cheek. We sat like that for a while.

“Well this isn’t how I wanted tonight to go but,” You said and reached behind you.

I sighed, “I didn’t get you anything, we said no gifts.”

You smirked and handed me a bouquet of flowers and a bag, “They’re magnolias.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, and I shoved my face in them to smell.

“Magnolias are considered one of the first flowering plants. Fossil remains show they have been around for 100 million years. They symbolize longevity and perseverance. Men historically gifted women magnolias as an appreciation of their beauty, essentially saying ‘you are worthy of a beautiful magnolia.’ But more recently the idea of a steel magnolia, a strong southern wom—“

I cut you off with a kiss, “I love them. Stop rambling.”

You blushed and motioned for me to open the bag. It held a small, green velvet jewelry box. Inside was a vintage locket, gold with little blue stones and beautiful etching. I gasped when I saw it. I opened it up and it was empty.

“I wanted you to pick what goes in it, Y/N.”

I held it delicately in my hands; the chain was so thin, “It’s perfect.”

You grinned practically ear to ear, those dimples coming out full force. I asked you to clasp it for me and it hung just below the base of my neck.

I wore the locket daily. The gold started to tarnish and chip, but I still wore it. I only took it off to shower and sleep. On one side of the oval I put a picture of you, the one from the fourth of July when I painted the kids’ faces at Rossi’s party. I painted a flag on your cheek. You laughed as the brush tickled your skin. You smiled wide in that picture. I love that picture. It’s still in there. It hurts to look at.

I can’t wear it anymore. I thought long and hard about keeping it. It was a part of me for two years. It kept you close to my heart always, no matter where we were. I thought maybe I could change the picture out, or just leave it in a box to collect dust. Both options feel wrong, so instead I’m giving it back to you, along with the magnolia that has long since dried up. Much like our feelings for each other.

I don’t care what you do with any of these things. I don’t even know what to do with them, with any of this. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings, Spence. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know how to do this without you. You always know. So do with these what you see fit. I trust you.”

Spencer put the paper down and held the box in his hands and opened it. He remembered picking it out and thinking how wonderfully the blue and gold would contrast your skin tone. He remembered clasping it around your neck a thousand times because your fingers just couldn’t seem to do it. He remembered how you used to play with it when you got nervous. He remembered the rows of flowers you would hang on the wall. It just inspired him to keep buying you more and more. He loved those little things about you.

As you promised the picture of him was still inside. He stared at himself with a huge grin and a red, white, and blue cheek. He was so happy. He looked nothing like the man in that picture anymore. His hair was longer and shaggier now and he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled like that. Smiles like that were reserved for you.

He held the locket in his hands and stared out the window, admiring how the snow blanketed the street.

Then he heard something, a knock at his door.

He jumped up, part of him thought it would be you. Could it be? Has rainy Seattle already been too much for you?

A familiar voice from behind the door spoke, “Hey, it’s me.”

Part 7!

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings

@ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer #reid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #mgg #matthew gray gubler #reid x you

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prettyboyreid · 5 years ago

Text

tell me about the stars

Request: For the prompt list could you do number 1 from the angst/sad section and can it be reid speaking to cat? Maybe at her execution or him visiting her in prison or something? Thanks!

Cat Adams had one last request of Dr. Reid before her execution.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, mentions of death

Word Count: 6,014

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

He looked over the letter he had just received from the Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility one more time, both at the official announcement he had requested after his last meeting with her, along with a handwritten letter with the name “Spencie” written in wide, neat letters, signed at the bottom by none other than Cat Adams.

He leaned forward on the round table as he looked it over again, glancing up at the door at the sound of a light knock. He gave Jennifer a small, obviously forced smile, looking down at the flimsy notebook paper once again.

“Everything okay, Spence?” she asked him in her motherly voice, knowing it was more of an impulse whenever she noticed him under duress. His hands grasped onto the edges of the table until the bones in his knuckles pressed against the skin, burning them white. He simply shook his head, some of his light brown curls falling down into his eyes.

“Her execution is next Thursday. She requested the lethal injection,” he told her, his hazel eyes scanning over her writing again to make sure he actually understood what she had asked of him. Knowing her, however, made the entire letter feel more like a demand. He slid the paper across the table to his friend, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he let out a groan. The blonde woman picked up the paper, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read what had been written to him.

“Spencie,

I hope you haven’t missed me too much since our last date. I know I left you probably missing me like crazy, but I’m sure you managed to control yourself without me around.

They gave me the execution date, two weeks from today - two days before your birthday, if my math is correct. Of course, by lethal injection. I might as well shoot up once before I die, right?

I managed to get my lawyer to work out a deal with the warden. I didn’t want any special last meal - I’ll end up looking too bloated in my best dress when you bury me, and I can’t have you having that as your last image of me.

I want one last date with the good doctor - you, of course.

I figured you’d be at the execution anyway, but I wanted to make sure you got to say your last goodbyes to me before you lost me forever. Now, whether you decide to bring me a Happy Meal or not is entirely up to you. Whatever you need to set the mood. Personally, I’d prefer something more classy for our last meeting, but it is up to the gentleman to bring it all together. It’s just my job to look pretty.

I can’t wait to see you again, Spencie. I know you can’t wait to see me either. Tell Maxine and Mommy Dearest I said hi!

-Cat Adams xoxo”

She even went so far as to draw a little heart at the bottom of the page, with “S+C” written on the inside of it.

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t Spence,” she quickly assured him, folding the letter up before making her way around the table to talk to him. She leaned herself against the edge of the table as she spoke to him, her hands folding together in her lap as she looked over at him. He kept his focus on the execution notice in front of him.

“She’s just trying to get into your head one last time. It’s what she does. If you go, she wins,” she tried to convince him. He looked over at her after a few moments, pushing out a breath of air through his nose.

“What if she’s planning something else? What if she’s trying to hurt someone again and I’m the only one who has the ability to stop it?” He asked, knowing that every time she wanted to speak to him someone was getting hurt. He didn’t want to talk to her, he told himself, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt at the hands of Cat Adams. JJ sighed out heavily as she listened to his concerns, knowing where he was coming from, but still not liking the idea of him being in the same room as her again.

“I know it’s frustrating, but she doesn’t have a taunt about anything specific this time, besides you mom and Max, but we know that they’re both safe and will be. I really just think she’s trying to get in your head.”

He tugged at the tightly knotted tie that clung to the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling as though he was being suffocated by his choice. He paced around the room as he thought through all of the possible situations and outcomes of what she could possibly do, but it was no use. She was the one person that was always able to stump him. She was by no means as smart as him, but she was by far one of the most clever people he’d ever come in contact with. It was one of the handful of things he hated about her.

“I don’t think I can take that chance, Jennifer,” he said softly, his feet finally coming to a stop in front of the large window overlooking the bullpen. He watched as Tara and Luke talked at his desk, and Emily and Matt having their first cup of coffee in their little kitchen. Emily had a stack of files under her arms, probably looking into a replacement for Rossi. Kevin Lynch was currently covering for Garcia while they searched for her replacement, but he knew that a lot of the team would rather keep him on since they at least knew him. He looked back to his best friend, her hands still laced together in her lap as she watched him, letting him make the decision for himself.

He couldn’t risk any of them getting hurt because he was too prideful to go face a woman that they had outsmarted three times before.

JJ already knew that.

After work on Thursday, he had called in a takeout order for an Italian restaurant that was on the way to the prison. He figured he could at least play into her fantasy if she did have something planned. It was probably the best way to protect everyone.

He picked up the order and drove to the prison. It was a silent drive, but his mind raced a mile a minute. For the past week and a half, she had been stuck under his skin like a splinter, and he couldn’t wait to put it all behind him. For five years now, she had followed him and his team, trying to break them down and beat them. Today was the last time they’d ever need to think about her.

He decided on going alone, mostly to minimize any possible damage she could try to inflict, and because he didn’t know what really was going to happen. He had a habit of losing his temper around her, and he didn’t want to give her the benefit of the doubt by letting his team see the way she could affect him.

Once he had parked his car in one of the available spots near the entrance, he turned off the car and sitting at the wheel, his eyes fixated on the sign in front of him, reminding him where he was. He didn’t want to be here. It was the absolute last place he wanted to be in the entire world. But, of course, he worried what she would do if he didn’t show up.

As the watch that clung onto his wrist showed the time of 7:45 PM, he gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and let out a heavy breath. He thought for a brief moment, he should just turn around and go back home. He should forget about all of this, forget about her, and let her execution play out the way it was supposed to.

He pushed the car door open and grabbed the bag of food, locking the doors before he made his way to the front doors of the prison. Upon entering, he flashed one of the guards his FBI badge, letting them know why he was there silently. The guard nodded towards another in the little booth by the entrance, and the door pushed itself open.

He led Spencer back through a dark hall of the building, the only sounds he could hear being his heavy steps and the heartbeat in his ear. The hall seemed to drag on for miles, as if she was trying to make him walk as far as he possibly could to see how far he would go to see him. He checked his watch as the guard unlocked the door he presumed she was behind, watching it barely hit 8:00 before he walked in.

“Spencie!”

Her voice was much too cheerful for what she was about to endure in four hours. He half expected her to be wallowing, feeling bad for herself, or to try and start a riot to put it off even more.

He realized she was really ready to die.

She could tell, simply by his demeanor, he was ready as well.

“Hello, Cat,” he said, walking further into the room as the guard pulled the door shut and locked it behind him. He set the bag of food down on the table in front of her, though she paid no mind to it. Her focus was primarily on him. It made his stomach wrench.

“Italian, my favorite!” she exclaimed, her gaze still on him as she pulled the plastic apart, grabbing the two to-go boxes before setting them on the metal table, each in front of one of the rusting metal chairs.

“Have a seat. You look like you’ve had a long day,” she coaxed with her infamous mischievous smile, opening her box before grabbing one of the small packages of silverware the restaurant had added in.

He sat across from her, his hands folded neatly in his lap as she began to dig into the food, keeping up an act as if she was trying to be on her best behavior. It didn’t last long.

“Come on! Eat! You couldn’t have gotten all of this food just for me,” she said with a grin, twirling a bit of spaghetti around her fork as she spoke to him. He silently opened his food and did the same, taking a bite of his dinner while keeping his eyes on her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why you’re here?” she pressed. He imagined her waiting a little longer before beginning to taunt him. He couldn’t blame her, though - she did only have four hours left to torture him as much as she could.

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” he said simply and emotionlessly, twisting the spaghetti around his fork. He wanted to do his best to give her as little attention as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for that long.

She hummed a little bit at his answer, almost unsatisfied with it. She almost didn’t respond to him, wanting him to actually ask her, but she knew she didn’t have that kind of time. They both knew she didn’t.

“I wanted you to make up for our last date. It wasn’t exactly a girl’s dream evening, you know,” she quipped, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to break his little charade and try to humor her. She was going to be dead in three and a half hours, and then he could forget about her for the rest of his life. He could be happy and not even remember her name. But all she wanted was tonight.

He held back from rolling his eyes at her answer, crossing his ankles under his seat as he continued to eat his meal quietly. He wanted to hear everything she said, and he knew the only way was to lure it out of her with his silence. The one thing she could hardly bear. Of course, it worked. A few quiet minutes passed as she ate, her eyes shifting over every inch of her date’s face, trying to profile him the way he had done to her since the first time they spoke.

“Although, you really did surprise me with that kiss. Did you ever kiss Maxine like that?” she questioned, grinning as she noticed his grip tightening on the plastic utensil. It was the most she’d gotten out of him all evening.

“Do you really care about how I am with her? I thought tonight was all about you?” he asked, taking another bite of his food as he watched, waited for her next move.

Talking with Cat Adams was like a game of chess - strategic, long, and a big waiting game. It was her move, yet he was already four moves ahead, thinking of what he could do next to stay ahead of her.

“Yes… no,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit as she slumped back in her seat. She folded her arms across her chest, pushing the food away as she looked at him. “At least you have the right idea. It is all about me, so why don’t you act like it is? You can make up for last time and then drop me off at home at the execution table.”

He watched her body language, relaxing in the small room they had to themselves. She noticed, leaning forward again so her elbows rested on the table. “Come on, Spencie. Just act like you’re on a date with her.”

He paused for a moment, doing his best to remain stoic as he watched her move. Almost too slowly, like she was drawing each and every second out as if it would give her more time with him.

He cleared his throat before closing his box and tossing it in the flimsy bag he had brought it in. “How are you, Cat?” She found the question rather humorous, considering she knew he’d probably been keeping tabs on her and her behavior since she had told him she was going to be put to death.

“You can do better than that, Spencer,” she pressed on, her dark gaze flicking from his lips back up to his hazel eyes. Once she realized he wasn’t moving on without her answer, she let out a soft huff. “I’m doing great. I’m dying in…” she grabbed his wrist and slipped his watch off, checking the time before looking back up at him. “Three hours. You wasted one hour trying to profile me, when you could’ve made it worth my while,” she reminded him, wrapping the watch around her much smaller wrist.

“What did you want me to talk about?” he asked, leaning back in his chair again, his hands laced together in his lap as he waited for her response.

“Me, of course!” she said, throwing her hands up to bring more attention to herself, like the bright orange jumpsuit didn’t already have her sticking out like a sore thumb. “Ask me about the baby, ask me why I wanted to have the lethal injection, talk about me. I know you haven’t been able to get me out of that pretty little brain of yours.”

“I don’t think about you. Quite honestly, I haven’t thought about you since our last date,” he lied to her, knowing she wouldn’t pick up on it as easily as he would be able to.

He thought about her at least once a week. He thought about her whenever he called his mother to talk about how she was doing. He thought about her whenever Max kissed him last month when he got back from a case. He thought about her when he bought a new watch, not wanting to wear something so plagued with her touch around every day. He hated that she had become so prominent in his life, wanting nothing more to forget about her. He pushed her to the back of his mind, but her maniacal grin always found his way back into his thoughts. He would never say it aloud, but he couldn’t have been more relieved when he found out she was going to be executed. He hoped it would bring him peace, finally getting some sort of justice for himself after all she had put him through.

She gave him a playful frown. She knew it wasn’t true, but she’d rather not waste her last hours arguing with him over what he would never admit. She knew he would stand by that statement until midnight, as they plunged the lethal needle into her veins.

“Why did you really want to see me, Cat?” he asked her just as she had opened his mouth. Her lips broke into a smile, standing up from her seat before walking over to him, standing beside him and hoisting herself onto the metal table.

“Do you really want to know the truth?”

“Did you hurt anyone this time?”

She smiled down at him, flattered he would think that of her. She wanted to lie to him, make his blood pulse against every inch of his veins out of anger, but she knew it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I knew since you’d be here anyway to watch me die, I figured you could try to make me feel better about not ever being able to see you again,” she told him. She truthfully didn’t have some big elaborate scheme planned out. She thought about it, of course. She even planned out a few ideas. But somewhere deep in her gut, she wanted to have a good memory with him. One where all of his focus was on her, not someone else he cared far more about.

His eyes watched her check the time again, and she let out a hum. 9:17. She’d been counting down the minutes all day. She probably didn’t need to check the watch. She did it for him. She did it to remind him how little time she had left. She hoped it would make him feel bad for putting her here, for having her next up on the execution block. And it almost worked.

“How do you expect me to make you feel better? What do you want me to do?” he asked. His mouth was pressed into a flat line, his eyebrows raised as he waited for a response. She pretended to think for a moment as if she hadn’t planned out how the evening would go down to the last move she would make on him before he sat in an audience for her final performance.

“Take me out on a walk. In the yard. The stars will be out, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He nodded at her question, looking back to the window where a guard was more than likely watching over their every move. The door unlocked and was pushed open, and Spencer stood up, holding out a hand for her. He would play into every last move she set up for him at this point, mentally picturing his girlfriend to make everything easier.

She laced her hand with his quickly, following behind him like a little school girl following her crush around the playground. He only looked ahead as the guard led him down the hall again, two big red doors awaiting them at the end. He felt her eyes burning into him, the bright flash of her white teeth catching on the light out of the corner of his eye. She was enjoying herself, much more than she was supposed to be.

“Did you really never think about me?” she asked as the guard pushed the door open, a gust of cold air washing over the two of them. He looked around for a moment, looking up at the clear sky before his gaze landed down on her. She looked at him, silently pleading for an answer.

“Not until you sent me your letter,” he answered coldly, walking towards the benches that were scattered around the spacious area. He sat down in the center, and she sat beside him. Her eyes never left him, even when he was barely a shadow before the motion sensored lights kicked in and lit the area up like Times Square.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice carrying the same tone as a pouting child. He realized long ago that she might as well be a child, considering she always wanted it to be about her and she would do anything to keep it on her. Which was why he was out in the cold 53° weather, with the last person he wanted to be with on October 26th.

“Why, Spencer?” she pressed agitatedly, just wanting an answer out of him. She knew it would be an answer she wouldn’t want, one that she’d be better off if she never heard what he had to say. He didn’t have to worry about her feelings anymore, since she wouldn’t remember anything he ever said to her in two and a half hours.

“Honestly? I can’t stand the thought of you. I can’t help but think about every bad thing you’ve done, every victim you took, every person you put through hell just to get back at a man whose face you probably wouldn’t be able to pick out in a lineup. You hurt people close to me just to see me, so pardon me for not exactly being thrilled about the idea of you.”

And, for the first time in her shortened life, Catherine Adams didn’t know what to say.

His words stung in her chest, like he reached into her and squeezed her heart until it couldn’t beat anymore. But, she wasn’t capable of being hurt. His words rang in her head that he always told her - “You’re incapable of having the same emotions as me.” She never believed him when he said that to her, but that didn’t keep them out of her head. It was one of the many things she could never stop thinking about, along with the way he looked when he met her for the first time and the way he kissed her outside his apartment a year ago.

She stared up at him blankly, hiding any emotions she allegedly didn’t have as she watched him. He never looked down at her when he spoke. He stared straight ahead at the brick wall in front of him, and she figured he was counting each and every brick so he could ignore her.

She laid her head on his shoulder as he stayed silent, not knowing what to say to him. Nothing she could say would change the way he felt about her, and she figured it would be a waste of breath to try and convince him otherwise.

She sat with him for an hour in silence, a single tear falling from her eyes, but she wiped it away before he could notice. She was a psychopath. She couldn’t have emotions. He’d accuse her of faking it for sympathy, and the last thing she really wanted right now was to be lectured by Dr. Spencer Reid.

He had noticed it, his focus turning to her the moment he noticed she was no longer paying attention to him. He noted the way her breathing would speed up every few moments, and he couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were running through her mind. He wanted to know if she actually was ready for her fate, if she wanted everything to finally be over for her. He wanted to know if she felt like she had done everything she wanted to, if she had a bucket list she was or wasn’t able to complete.

He couldn’t find the words to ever ask her.

“Spencer?”

“What?”

“Tell me about the stars.”

He looked down at her, not noticing he had become lost in his own thoughts. She was looking up at the sky now, her arm looped around his as she remained as close to him as he possibly could. Her body was pressed to his, as if she was trying to stay behind with him. He thought it was the least he could do, before looking up the clear night sky once again.

For about half an hour, as the air chilled around them minute by minute, he told her about the constellations that they could see. He talked about how the Zodiacs came to be pillars of Astrology and where superstitions about each star sign came from. He told her anything he could remember about everything above them, until the guard came up to them.

“They need her back inside, Dr. Reid,” he informed him. Spencer looked down at Cat again, her gaze dropping from the spheres of gas millions of miles away to the man beside her. She took in his features for the last time, committing every freckle, every eyelash, every wispy curl to memory before she stood up. The guard placed the handcuffs around her wrists and tightened them, leading the two back into the prison and towards the back of the building, towards the execution chamber.

The walk was long and silent. Cat’s gaze focused on the end of the long hallway, staring straight ahead. Spencer’s eyes locked on the three pairs of shoes that shuffled down the quiet hall, chewing on his tongue as he thought of the last thing he would say to her. He thought about why he cared so much about it. He wondered if she’d care if he even said anything to her.

They had reached the chamber in a matter of minutes, stopping outside the door as Cat looked up at him. The guard took off her handcuffs, letting her have a few more minutes of freedom before everything was taken from her. Spencer could tell from the look in his eyes that this night wouldn’t leave his memory for a while.

Cat slid the watch off of her wrist, taking his hand in hers before sliding it back to its rightful place. Both of them stared down at the time. 11:52. She had eight minutes left. Eight minutes left of breath, eight minutes left of life.

Eight minutes left of him.

She looked up at him after watching the small arms on the watch tick around the circle, and his eyes followed her. She gave him a soft smile. It was genuine. It physically hurt him to see it.

“Did you mean it?” She asked him in a quiet voice. She didn’t sound like herself. If he thought she was capable, he would think she was scared. He never answered her question. He hated to lie, but he didn’t want to make her last moments any worse than they already were. She simply nodded, looking down at her feet before back up at him.

“Thank you. For today,” she admitted to him. He treated her with the same amount of respect as he would have given a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but it had been the best memory she held with him. She leaned up on the tips of her toes and swayed closer to him, pressing her lips to his scruffed cheek before returning to her normal height. She stared at him for another moment before the door opened, and they were faced with the warden.

“They’re ready for you, Miss Adams.”

The guard ushered her into the room slowly, and she stole one last glance before the heavy metal door closed behind her. He let out a heavy breath he had held since he walked into the first room, looking up into the fluorescent lights for a moment. This was the moment he’d been waiting for for five years, one he practically prayed to come quicker.

He made his way around to the viewing area, noticing some of the family members of her victims - wives, parents, children. People who have waited for justice longer than he had. People who he helped grieve. He weaved his way around the seats and towards the front, taking a seat at the center.

He watched as they strapped her to a chair in the center of the room just on the other side of the glass, holding her in her place. She almost looked as if she was at peace as they inserted the needle into the vein of her right arm, her head resting against the back of the chair as her eyes searched for something in the room across from her. Once she had found what she was looking for, she let out a sigh, her eyes locking with Spencer’s for the last time.

“Do you have any last words?” the warden asked, making his way to the large set up that displayed the chemicals that were soon to find home inside the girl strapped to the chair. She simply swallowed and nodded, her hand gripping on the edge of the chairs arm as she watched Spencer.

“I’m sorry,” she managed out after a moment. He watched as her eyes welled with tears and she unapologetically let them fall on her round cheeks. Right before the warden pressed the button that would send her to her final fate, she blurted out one last thing.

“I really did love you, Spencie.”

His eyes didn’t leave her once she admitted her deathbed confession, but he could tell that her fate had officially been sealed. He watched as her face slowly relaxed, her body slumped into the chair as any life she had drained from her eyes. The recorder announced her time of death to be 12:02 AM, October 27th. He let out a shaky breath as the blinds lowered, separating him and the families from her. He heard quiet sobs let out around him, the families finally having a storm cloud that had been hovering them for years clear away. One person, a father of one of her victims, he presumed, slowly clapped. Everyone began filtering out of his room, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

He was escorted out by the warden at 12:15. They walked quietly down the barren halls to the front of the building, Spencer’s hands digging into his pockets. He thanked the warden for making a few exceptions, promising that he owed him before he made his way to his car. He unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, but didn’t put the key in the ignition.

He tugged on his tie roughly until the loop was wide enough to pull it over his head, throwing it into the passenger's seat with his leather messenger bag and his gun holster. He held onto the steering wheel tightly as he rested his head against the steering wheel, taking long, deep breaths as he ran through the events of the evening once again.

But her last words rang in his ears like a gunshot.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Emily’s number after a few minutes, hoping she would still be awake as the phone rang twice.

“Spencer? Is everything alright?” she asked, her tone laced with worry. Her voice instantly helped release the tension that had built up over the past few hours, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his large hand before leaning back in his seat.

“I think I need to take a sick day.” He swallowed thickly again as he looked at the prison sign, his head falling back against the headrest as he waited for her to respond. She was silent for a minute, trying to pick up on his breathing and assess what was going through his head. Of course she knew what this evening was, but she never got to talk to him about it before he left. She didn’t really know what he was like going into the situation, which didn’t help her figure out how he was leaving it.

“Of course, whatever you need,” she reassured him. He let out a quiet sigh, nodding as he let his eyes close for a moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He let his eyes slowly open, looking to the center console between the two front seats, where her letter was opened and on display for him to reread quickly.

“Her last words were that she loved me, Emily.”

It was dead silent on the other line. He couldn’t even hear her breathing. He pulled the phone from his ear for a moment just to make sure he hadn’t lost their connection before pressing it back to the spot it was before.

“She was trying to get under your skin, Spencer. You know that she was-”

“Incapable of emotions. I know,” he cut her off, the heel of his hand digging into his eye as if it would clear everything up for him, explain why she said what she said, why she did what she did.

“Go home. Get some sleep. We’ll all come visit you after work tomorrow. Saturday, we’re all going to Rossi’s. He wanted to host your birthday this year,” Emily told him. He nodded again, practically forgetting what this weekend had even held for him and his friends.

“Alright.”

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“It’s all over. You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” she reminded him. Her voice of reason comforted him, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his button-up once he felt hot tears falling over his cheeks.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Emily.” He hung up the phone as soon as he pulled it away from his cheek, putting the keys in the ignition finally. He listened to the engine roar to life before putting the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking lot before turning the car to the road, and finally heading home for the night.

He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He couldn’t be bothered to show her at least a little more kindness on her last living day. He treated her the way he wished he could have after she took his mother, after she took Max’s family. He didn’t even treat her as poorly as she had treated everyone else, yet he felt bad. He felt bad because he wasn’t the same as her, he tried to tell himself. He repeated it to himself on the long, quiet ride back to his apartment.

I’m not like her.

When he had pulled up to his apartment complex at 1:23 AM, parking the car in the spot he always parked in, turning off the ignition before gathering his things and heading into the towering building. His feet trudged up the stairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb any of his neighbors at the ungodly hour.

He unlocked this door before walking inside, hanging the keys on the hook once he closed the door. He dropped everything down on his large leather couch, his body carrying him over to his bedroom. He was too drained to even take off his tight slacks and the button-up that hugged his chest, crawling underneath the heavy duvet and resting his head against the feather pillows.

He slowly let his eyes close in the comfortable darkness, falling into a deep sleep he felt he earned after the day he had. But for at least a few more moments, before his body finally had been drained of every last drop of energy left in him, one thought kept his brain turning over and over.

If he hated the thought of her so much, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

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