#after over a month of not being able to reach this file. i can finally post him in all his glory. man

[ruvviks]

hard to believe that the whole story starts because yancey got cheated on by his girlfriend of several years

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners;

@mnwlk

[hedgehog-moss]

The lower rung of the ladder in my kitchen broke last month and I stuck a little Post-it note on the wall to remind myself to step over the missing rung so I wouldn't break my leg every time I go up or downstairs—but then my mum came to visit and she saw me hopping over the gap in the ladder with practised ease and her face was the definition of "you live like this?" And she went to get a screwdriver to unscrew the ladder from the wall so we could carry it outside and repair it.

Some people see a broken ladder and immediately open a toolbox to fix the problem; some people see a broken ladder and stick a Post-it note to the wall to train themselves to step over the problem forever. (I admit my response is inferior.)

I think I felt daunted at the thought of tinkering with this ladder because it's been here in the same place for over a century and I pictured the whole thing crumbling into dust if we tried to move it—but no, it's still solid, except the lower rung. Which wasn't damaged by time, but by Pandolf. (And some insects. But mostly Pandolf.)

When he was a baby, for a week or so after I took him home, he was extremely upset about having to spend the night in his dog bed in the kitchen while I went upstairs to my bedroom, he would cry and cry and one night in a fit of despair and rage he attacked the ladder. The next morning I found the lower rung (the only one he could reach) looking like it had been attacked by a termite colony, but it was Pandolf's pointy little puppy teeth. By the look of it he'd spent half the night furiously gnawing on it until he dropped from exhaustion—his reasoning was clearly that if he destroyed the ladder, I wouldn't be able to go upstairs anymore and would be forced to spend the night on the floor of the kitchen with him.

It's really hard to be mad at baby Pandolf, though. Go on, try.

Eventually he got used to sleeping in his dog bed and he abandoned his ladder destruction project, but the lower rung has been fragile ever since, and it finally broke last month.

My mum is extremely efficient; she sent me to the barn to find some kind of thick board (you can find anything in the barn if you have a torch and aren't afraid of bats or century-old spiderwebs) and when I came back she had prepared all the tools and taken all the measurements.

The worst part was tapering the sides so the rung would fit in the notches, because if one side was a little bit thinner than the other then it was wobbly—

—plus I used a file at first and it took forever (Pandolf was so bored), but then I remembered I own a sanding machine and it went a lot faster. So much so that my mum said I should make a second rung while I was at it—she was motivated to replace all of them, but then it started raining and we decided the rest of the ladder is solid enough and we'll replace the rungs two at a time.

I always forget that it feels satisfying to fix things! There's this little spark of pride from then on when you look at the repaired thing because you helped make it. I tend to procrastinate because I assume it'll take ages or I'm worried I'll do it wrong, until someone who's more confident with their hands than me goes like "no come on, we just need a saw, a file, a hammer, it'll take an hour tops" and we do it and it's never as difficult as I feared. (My mum: "We gave you a toy toolbox when you were little, to smash sexist stereotypes, and you're afraid of fixing things :( ...") (I cheered her up by reminding her that my brother smashes sexist stereotypes by being also afraid of fixing things.)

But yeah I spent half an hour sanding down the sides of these two lower rungs and now I look at my ladder and remember the delightful feeling of getting the tapering just right and inserting them into their slots effortlessly like a VHS tape into a VCR. I have a whole new affection for my kitchen ladder now.

[d0youc0py]

I am ✨obsessed✨ with your page rn and would absolutely devour literally anything you give us.

I’d love to see your take on a kidnap/break in fic though!

Something like they’re coming home from deployment and their girlfriend/wife calls them (or laswell) freaking out about a weird car outside, or someone following them home.

Just damsel in distress x protective husband vibes all the way 💕

“If we’re gonna go after them we’ve got to do it tonight. They’re expecting us to wait till they get further south.”

“What about all the civilians in the city?”

“No explosives. Everyone keep your silencers on. They won’t know till mornin’.”

“Ghost has a point. If we wait till next week our chances of hittin’ ‘em are slim. They aren’t expecting it now.”

“Yeah, they aren’t expecting it because it’s too damn risky. We do it tonight they have home advantage. We wait- all of us are on an even playing field.”

“They outnumber us 10-1. We’ll never be even.”

A knock at the door halted the conversation. A errand boy stuck his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt but this came for Lieutenant Ghost. Labeled urgent.” He held out a yellow package for Ghost.

“Thanks.” Price nodded his head, politely dismissing him.

“Johnny I’ve dealt with groups like this before.” Ghost spoke tearing open the flap of the package. “We need to get ‘em while their sitting pretty.” He blindly reached his hand into the package, his brow furrowing when he touched something soft. He pulled out a clump of hair.

His right leg gave out and he grabbed the table to steady himself.

“Ghost?” Price questioned. He gripped Ghost arms to steady him- and also urge him to give him an answer.

“No.” Ghost mumbled. He ripped open the rest of the package frantically searching for any sign that this was a prank. It couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be. “No.” He growled out. He pushed his way out the door his whole body shaking from anger and distress. The rest of the 141 followed quickly behind him. “Laswell.” She jumped as the door slammed open. “What the fuck is this?” The sight of him was enough to send a spike of fear through her heart. He threw the package with your hair on the table in front of her.

“Oh no.” Her eyes were wide and she wracked her brain for any answer she could give him.

“You said it would be alright.” He was seething at the point. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t be bothered to hide them. The air felt like it was being choked out of the room. Everyone’s skin was crawling. “You said they couldn’t trace her.”

Laswell looked over at Price for some relief, but he had not the slightest clue as to what was going on- or how to fix it. Just that Ghost was more worked up than he’d ever seen. Even Soap was shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“What going on?” Price asked. Ghost growled not answering the question, his eyes still trained on Laswell.

“I didn’t think they could.” She said calmly. “I didn’t enter it into the computer- it’s in your file, but not electronically.”

“Someone clarify what’s going on.” Price snapped.

“Ghost, let’s not jump to conclusions. Are we even sure this is Y/N’s hair?” Laswell tried to soothe.

“You think I don’t know my wife’s hair?” Ghost gritted. Wide eyes and jaws hung open around the room.

“Wife?” Soap whispered.

“Yes, my wife.” Ghost affirmed. “After I had that accident a few months ago I thought it would be a good idea to finally make her my emergency contact. So if I died she wouldn’t be locked up in the house waitin’ for me.” He explained. “You told me it was safe.”

“It is. They had to have gotten her info somewhere else.” Laswell insisted. “I’ll start tracking her down. You need to calm down.”

“Fuck off.” Ghost sneered. Price gave him a warning shoulder shove.

“We’ll go see if we can find anything on our end.” Price sighed.

•••••••••••

It only took an hour to find you. Gaz was able to PinPoint your location- conveniently the sight they were debating on hitting tonight. They could barely keep up as Ghost began to load up. The odds weren’t great for them. They knew they were coming, they were outnumbered and they had a hostage- who they knew at least one of the team members would die for in a heartbeat.

“Ghost you need to keep your cool. Stick to the plan. You can’t help her if you’re dead.” Price was trying to talk him through it. Ghost had completely shut down. He’s had nightmares just like this before. You being tortured- just the way he had been. He swallowed back bile just thinking about it. He paced back and forth on the plane, growling and grumbling like a caged bear.

They were ready for the 141. All waiting patiently in their places ready to take down the infamous task force. Smirks spread across their faces and they could practically taste the celebratory dinner that awaited them. What they weren’t ready for was the absolute hell that was about to be unleashed on them.

They all had just stepped off the plane before Ghost was blowing through people like they were paper. Soap would bet his life on the fact that he saw Ghost go through a wall at one point. He wasn’t sticking to the plan. He was moving at inhuman speed. It was impossible to keep up with him.

“Found her. Back building, fourth floor second door on the left.” Soap’s voice rang through the comms.

“Hey, I’m a friend of Ghost’s.” Johnny spoke softly. You seemed to be relatively unharmed. When Johnny pried open the door he caught a glimpse of you diving under a small cot- your hair peaking out from under it.

“I’ve told you I don’t know who that is.” You murmured. He could hear the fear in your voice. Johnny sat down a few feet away from the bed.

“Oh right.” He whispered. “A friend of Simon’s.” Soap corrected. Your head peaked out from the bed. You had a bruise on your cheek- a slap mark?

“Simon?” You repeated slowly. Soap nodded his head. “Johnny?” You asked. Soap smiled.

“So he does talk about me.” His humor was wasted on you, but it did calm you a bit. Suddenly Ghost practically tumbled through the door. You shrieked not realizing who it was and dove back under the bed.

“Sweetheart.” Ghost quickly ripped off his mask, (not wanting to scare you more) laying on his stomach to get a look at you. You shot out from under the bed wrapping every limb you could around him. His hand gripped the back of your head pressing your forehead against his lips. “I’m sorry.” He pressed a few quick kisses against your head, before pulling away, worried eyes scanning all over you.

“I’m fine.” You assured. You had been lucky- well as lucky as one could be in this situation. Your worst wound was a slap to the cheek and a shitty haircut. The worst part was the fear. Fear of what they would do to you. Now that Simon was here you were at ease. His fingers skimmed over your cheek. “Got that because I bit a chunk out of someone’s hand.” You smirked.

“Good Girl.” He growled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “We’ve got to get out of here, yeah? I’m goin’ put my mask back on and you’re going to stay between me and Johnny, understand?” You nodded your head, while Johnny was still reeling from all the affection Ghost had displayed.

Safe to say the mission was a success.

*ring*

“Sweetheart?”

You thank the stars above that John always picked up on the first ring.

“Not to worry you”-

“You need me to come get you?”

“No, can you meet me somewhere? There’s a red car that’s been following me and I don’t want to lead it to our house.” You explained, checking in your rearview mirror. Sure enough, a bright, red sports car was bearing down on you.

“Go to the coffee shop. Don’t park until you see my car in the parking lot. Don’t hang up either.”

“Affirm.” You snickered. John was in absolutely no mood to joke with you. You could hear the sound of his car starting.

“Hope I don’t have to get in a fight tonight. Only wearing my boxers and a shirt.” He wasn’t trying to be funny, but it still made you laugh.

“Could’ve thrown a pair of pants on.” You commented.

“If the difference between you being worm food and you being alright was me wrestling with a pair of jeans I’d never forgive myself.” He grumbled.

“I’ll be fine John. Captain’s coming to save me.” Normally he would melt at that but he was too focused dodging in and out of cars. You could hear a horn from over the phone. “Please be safe.” You sighed. “I’m here.” He said suddenly. Your eyes glanced to your phone. You had only been on the phone for seven minutes and it took at least fifteen to get to the coffee shop from your house.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said as if he could read your mind.

“It’s still following me John.” You whispered. Your fingers dug nervously into the steering wheel.

“Don’t get scared on me now, Sweetheart. How far away are you?”

“Ten minutes?” You weren’t entirely sure. “I can take a shortcut through the neighborhood.”

“No.” He interjected. “Stay on main roads with traffic. Doesn’t matter how long it takes for you to get here, just make sure you stay with people.” You nodded your head. “You hear me?”

“Yes sorry. I nodded my head but you couldn’t see that.”

“I’m standing outside the car. Pull up next to me, don’t get out, I’ll get your door for you.” He had his Captains voice on. You wondered if this was how team briefings went.

“You always get my door for me.” You smiled.

“Damn right I do.” He scoffed. “But it’s important this time. I don’t just want to leave your car in the lot because who knows what type of things they’ll put on it.”

“Like a tracker?”

He hummed in agreement.

“You’re scaring me John.” You gulped.

“Don’t need to be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you, you know that. Just want you to be aware of what’s gonna happen when you park. Just stay in your car, yes?” His voice was calm. Like he had done this a million times before. You nodded your head again. “Did you nod your head again?” You swore you could hear a chuckle.

“Yes, sorry. I understand.” Time seems to slow as you finally pulled into the cafe parking lot. It hadn’t closed yet people still wandering in and out even as the sun has set. You were surprised no one noticed the large man in a pair of light blue boxers and white t-shirt. A t-shirt so thin you could see his chest hair. You did as he told and pulled up right next to him. The red car pulled in right next to you. Your eyes quickly fled to your left to look at John. He had a look on his face you weren’t familiar with.

The sound of the red car door opening caught your attention. A medium sized man stepped out. He just looked greasy. He shut his door and began walking over to your side of the car, seemingly not noticing John.

John met him in the middle, using one hand to grab him by his shirt and slam him against the hood of his own car. You covered your mouth, your eyes going wide. John’s face hovered over his. You couldn’t hear anything that was said, but when John finally let him go the man scrambled to get back into his severely dented car. John stood at the front of the car as he started it up and ripped out of the parking lot.

John tapped at your window signaling for you to unlock your door.

“You alright?” He checked, crouching down to your level. You eyes were still wide and you slowly nodded.

“What did you say?” You mumbled. John took your shaky hands with his, pressing a kiss against your palms.

“That’s a secret.” He smirked. “Didn’t scare you too bad did I?” He asked softly. His brows furrowed and he ran a hand up and down your arm.

“Honestly?”

His face paled. He hadn’t thought about scaring you. He didn’t think he acted too rash. In fact he was holding back.

“Honestly.” He affirmed.

“That was really hot.” You admitted, a hot blush across your face. His face went blank for a moment before a wide smirk crossed his face.

“Then we better get home.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Safe to drive?”

“Yes!” You said a little too enthusiastic.

You’re so sweet! I absolutely loved this request and probably went a little overboard. I was only able to fit Ghost and Price in this but would gladly do this with the rest of the 141 and other cod characters! Hope you liked it and thank you for making my day!

[emmyrosee]

Sunarin is a new dad. And he’s good at it.

He’s constantly hovering over his little boy, there’s no where in sight that the newborn is, that he isn’t right behind him.

And it’s good, that way. Rin’s always been able to keep his infant calm and from screaming, something he teases he’s also good at when it comes to you (he puts a fake pout on his face when you give him a playful smack on the back of his head), and in turn, you’re able to handle your domestics with minimal hassle. Rintaro loves his son, he’s so good with him and he’s so good at soothing him before he’s able to cry too much.

But then Rintaro goes back to practice. And you’re finally thrusted into your very own seventh circle.

You’re convinced your new little boy hates you. Clean and simple. The way he screams and cries is absolutely nothing short of constant, no matter the circumstance.

You put him down for a nap, he’s screaming, you try to feed him, he’s refusing to nurse, in the rare instance he does stop crying and you sit down on the couch, he wails once more, and you feel your sanity slip.

You’d cry yourself, if you had the time and mental strength. If you had time to think about it, you’d feel hurt at the idea that your infant likes Rin so much more than you, that he’s the only one who can soothe the baby and you’re the one he’s stuck with at home.

Lucky, for the both of you.

After the absolutely grueling day, you finally manage to make him stop crying, just in time for Rintaro to come home to the two of you- both exhausted and in shambles and covered in poop, but to you none the less.

He smiles the minute his eyes lay on your disheveled form, shrugging off his duffel bag making his way towards you. “Hey momma bear,” he hums, reaching out to hug you. “How’s my beautiful, sexy-“

“Back off,” you snap, watching Rin’s hand fly back as if you’ve bit him. “Your son just projectile shat on me, and I’m not in the mood for your flirts.”

You glare at your husband as he fights, with all his might, to not cackle at your tense words. “I-I’m sorry, he what?”

“I was changing him,” you snarl, your whipping the pack of baby wipes at him. “And I thought he had to fart, but instead, he fucking shit himself. Everywhere.”

Sharp eyes follow down the stain at the edge of your shirt, forcing back a snort once again with a grin, “everywhere?”

“Everywhere,” you growl. “And Rin, so help me God if you laugh I’m filing for divorce-“

“Hey hey, come on now,” he says softly, wrapping an arm around you. Despite not wanting to be touched, you can’t deny how good it feels to be back in his arms. “No need to throw around the ‘d-word,’ you know I was going to laugh regardless of what you say.”

“Asshole,” you growl, but any facade of true anger melts into one of tears, and Rin pulls away slightly to look at you in concern. “… he hates me, Rin.”

“No he doesn’t,” he promises, shushing you softly. “He adores you, you know that.”

“He won’t stop crying,” you wail. “And he wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t sleep, I haven’t peed for nine hours, for gods sake he shit on me-“

“And that’s because he’s two months old, baby,” Rin says, kissing your pounding temple. “He’ll do that. For a pretty long time. That’s what babies do. They’re not really picky with that, they kinda hate everyone.”

“He doesn’t do that with you-“

Rin chuckles, “you just don’t happen to see it. You’re out and about being super mom, all I can do is hold the fort until you get home. And you don’t see the chaos he can cause, yeah?” When you say nothing, Rin nudges his nose against you. “He loves you, babe. He just doesn’t know it yet. And that’s okay.”

He plants a kiss to your head, his warm hand settling on your belly to rub soothing circles in- carefully avoiding the poop stain- and when he finally feels you melt against him, he smiles encouragingly and guides you back into the bedroom where your son lays on his back in the middle of the bed.

“Hey, lil’ dude,” he hums, laying on his side next to the baby, while you blink in exhaustion. “You makin’ mommy crazy?”

“Yes,” you whine, laying on the other side of the baby boy, who grunts and smacks his lips up at his father. Your eyes close in a feeble attempt to ward off the migraine that’s forming, but when you hear a soft “I’ve taught you well,” followed soon by a “pound it,” you scowl up at your husband, whose fist is balled and ready for a fist bump. But even you can’t fight the chuckle that breathes through your nose when a tiny, mitten clad hand knocks against Rintaro’s, an excited “yesss,” easing past your husband’s lips.

Green, sharpened eyes flick over to you, and he offers you a loving smile before re-lifting his fist to you and mouthing another “pound it,” directed at you this time. Your smile falls to a frown, and you whine an exasperated “no,” before pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers. Instantly, a noise of distress comes from your son, and Suna clicks his tongue, “babe you’re making him upset, we need to pound it!”

Reluctantly, you lift your fist to bump against Rin’s, and he sighs happily as he looks down at your son, “and that’s how you were made, little man.”

You scowl and smack his hand, a playful “ow,” falling out of Rin’s mouth. You watch the hand you’d smacked rub soothing circles on your baby’s belly, his lips pressing small kisses against his chubby cheeks.

“Well, I’m proud that you are making mommy crazy,” he begins, resting his head against the bed to lay his forehead against his son, almost as if he’s recharging.

“But make sure to leave some chaos for me, okay?”

“I swear to God, Rintaro.”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Somewhere to Belong | 3/3 | S.R

Part three of my Family Challenge fic.

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - I am almost positive this is not how the adoption system works but hey, it’s fanfiction, I make my own rules.

Summary - You reveal your master plan to Spencer and the two of you begin on your journey together. Will you be able to help Spencer bring Wren home where she belongs? And when the time comes, will you have what it takes to walk away?

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - confessed feelings, tears, mostly just domestic fluff, making out, allusions to sex but still SFW, crying child, swearing, happy ending.

WC - 9.4k

Part 3

The wheels of your plan had been slow turning, painfully so. You’d started to think you may never reach the end of this goddamn road. 

But finally after months, all the pieces had fallen into place. 

When you received the phone call you were already halfway out of the door before the person on the other end had even finished their sentence. It was the phone call you’d been waiting for, holding your breath every time the device rang. 

And now it had happened, it was time to go and see him. 

You drove out into the suburbs, a manilla folder full of paperwork in the passenger's seat. You parked next to the curb by the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door. 

Before you could exit the car you saw the door open and Spencer let someone out the house. The women had a briefcase and wore a smart pants suit. Definitely a social worker. 

You watched the woman head to her own car and once she was inside the vehicle and starting the engine you stepped out onto the street, bringing your folder with you.

As you headed for the yellow gate your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slowing your strides you retrieved it and read the text message on the screen. 

📱 Spencer Reid: I think it’s over. There’s another couple who have shown interest in adopting Wren and I don’t think I can compete with that. I’m ok, I’m not craving or anything. I just wanted you to know. 

You stuffed the device back in your pocket and looked up at the house, a single light coming from the downstairs window. 

Since you’d accompanied him to Beltway, the two of you had been in touch more regularly. Spencer texted you nearly every day and you spoke on the phone fairly often. 

You’d seen him a handful of times for coffee but you’d never been out to his home in Woodbridge. It was a really nice house, a family home just like the team had described to you. It was a complete one eighty from his old DC apartment. 

You unhooked the gate and slid past it, hugging the folder to your chest as you made your way along the front path and up the steps. 

Before you could talk yourself out of this, you knocked on the green front door. 

Soon you heard it being unlocked and then it tentatively opened. Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion when he saw you. 

“Y/N hi,” he opened the door slightly wider. “I just texted you.”

“I know, I was…in the neighbourhood?” You shrugged. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to allow you entrance to his home. 

You walked inside while he shut the door behind you and you glanced around the living room. 

You recognised his leather couch and armchair from his old apartment as well as his record player and chess set. The coffee table was the same but other than that this was not the home you pictured Spencer Reid living in. 

He waited for you to take it in and only spoke again once you looked back at him. 

“Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m good.” You nodded, feeling oddly nervous. 

He motioned for the couch and the two of you crossed the room together and sat side by side. You laid the manilla folder in your lap and ran your fingers over it. 

“Whatcha you got there?” He asked, nodding at the file. 

“Uh, well you see…” you trailed off, unable to find the words to communicate what you wanted to say. “How about you have a look.” 

You handed him the file. For a moment he just stared at it with a frown before he cautiously took it from your hand. 

He opened it and started one by one going through the pieces of paper inside. 

The first was an application with a large red stamp proclaiming APPROVED in the bottom right corner. There were several sheaths that documented personal information about you, health checks, financial records, questions and answers relating to your childhood. 

There was a rental agreement renewal for the address in which you lived which had gone unsigned as though you were hesitant in continuing your lease. 

Multiple pages he’d seen before, floor plans of his own home, summaries of home visits at this address. 

One sheet was a letter signed off by BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss agreeing to a cut in field hours. Two more sighed letters followed, both dictating what an upstanding human being you were, one signed by SSA Luke Alvez and the other Doctor Tara Lewis. 

He read through them quickly as you knew he would but it still somehow felt like a lifetime before he was neatly tucking the pages away and closing the file. He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed heavily. 

“I don’t…” he swallowed, his hands starting to shake. “I don’t understand.” 

“Yes, you do.” You nodded. “You’re a genius aren’t you?”

“I…is this a joke?” His eyes flooded with unshed tears as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It would be a pretty cruel thing to joke about.” You shrugged.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to push away his tears before they could fall. 

“Just to confirm,” he swallowed thickly, his eyebrows still knitted together in his confusion. “Because I don’t want to misunderstand what’s happening here…”

“Spencer,” you placed your hand on his knee and he noticed you were shaking too. “I would do anything for you. Anything. If this can help you bring that little girl home, then I’ll do it.” 

“You…you’ve gotten approval from the adoption agency.” He croaked. 

“Yes.”

“You’ve done the interviews, cut down your hours at the BAU, not renewed your lease and had Alvez and Lewis write you character references.” 

“Yes.” You nodded. “I still don’t think I’m ready for a family, Spencer. But I can sign on as Wren’s adoptive mother on paper, just so you can get her home. Once she’s home and the paperwork is finalised they can’t take her away from you. We can figure out all the rest once you’ve got her home, I can terminate my rights or whatever. But by then it won’t matter.” 

“W-why would you…” he trailed off again, swallowing. “Why would you do that for me? That’s…crazy. Why would you want to go through all this trouble just so I can have a better chance of adopting Wren?” 

You inhaled really deeply, your chest heaving as you did so. Spencer blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the new batch of tears from his eyes. 

“I should have said it back.” You mumbled with a shake of your head. “Months ago, you told me you loved me and I should have said it back. But instead I walked away and let you believe I didn’t feel that way about you. But I do. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t make that any less true. And if I can help you bring Wren home I will. Because I love you.” 

The room fell silent while Spencer worked to comprehend everything that was happening. His head spun as though he was drunk, making it harder for him to understand all of this.

This couldn’t have been some idea you’d just come up with, weeks if not months of work had gone into this. You were willing, on paper at least, to be Wren’s adoptive mother when you weren’t ready to have kids. 

You’d told Emily, Luke and Tara at the minimum of your plans. You were willing to give up your apartment, cut back your hours at a job you adored to help him. Because you loved him. You loved him so much you were willing to put his happiness before your own. 

“It’s too much.” He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do all of this.” 

“Good job you never once asked then.” You smiled at him. “It’s all temporary. Once Wren is home I can pick back up my regular case load, I spoke to my landlord about subletting my apartment for a few months so I can move back in once everything is settled.”

“You plan to live here?” He suddenly made the connection. 

“Well I’ve got to live somewhere. And you know, us living in the same house gives the impression of a happy couple who want to adopt a child, don’t you think? It won’t be forever.” 

“What am I supposed to say to my social worker? I forgot to tell her that I had a partner?” Of course he’d try and pick holes in this, it was what Spencer Reid did best. 

“We say we were together but I didn’t think I was ready for a family. But now I am. We tell them I met Wren and fell in love with her and now we want to adopt her together. It’s pretty much what I wrote in my application.” You’d considered every outcome, every bump in the road.

“But you haven’t met Wren.” He shook his head. 

“So I will.” You chuckled. “Spence, stop trying to put blockers in the way when there aren’t any. Let me do this for you, please? Let me help you bring your little girl home.” 

Spencer stared at you silently, blinking frantically as he tried to understand what was happening. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed again but you seemed sincere. 

He still didn’t understand how you would be willing to go to such lengths for him but he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was you were willing to and he could use all the help he could get. 

Suddenly he threw himself forward, arms flying up to wrap around you. He pulled you close, holding you tightly as he started to loudly sob.

“T-thank you.” He cried into your shoulder as you returned his hug.

“You’re welcome, Spence. You’re so very welcome.” 

You continued to hold him while he sobbed, stroking his back in an attempt to calm him. It was over a half hour later when he finally shed all of his tears, sniffed heavily and sat back to look at you. 

“You really are my most favourite person.” He smiled shakily at you. 

If you didn’t love him so much there was no way you would have even considered helping him adopt a child even if it was only on paper. 

But love makes us do crazy things. And this might just be the craziest.

***

Two days later you anxiously sat in the passenger's seat of Spencer’s Volvo while he drove the two of you to Wren’s halfway home. 

You played with your hands in your lap, barely speaking as you tried to comprehend meeting this little girl who had become Spencer’s whole world. 

You’d agreed to tell Wren you were Spencer’s friend it was the truth and much less complicated than explaining everything to her. You would test the waters with her first, see how she felt about it before broaching it with the social worker. 

Your legs wobbled a little as you got out of the car and Spencer was regarding you curiously. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing across your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “She means so much to you, I’m just worried she won’t like me.” 

“She’s going to love you. Trust me.” 

The look he was giving you made your stomach coil into knots. Your knees buckled and your heart yearned for him. 

It was such a cruel world that you could be so in love with someone yet not be destined to each other. 

As you started towards the building he slipped his hand in yours and it was so easy to pretend this wasn’t all for show. 

He led you inside, saying his hellos to some of the people working in the halfway home, clearly he’d been here a lot. He carried on through to a larger room filled with kids of all ages, your heart bled for them all. 

As your eyes cast around the room, you were quickly snapped back around when you heard someone calling Spencer’s name. 

“Spencer! Spencer!” 

You looked back just in time to see a head of dark curls you remembered from when you’d seen her sleeping on Spencer’s lap at the BAU running right towards the two of you. 

He let go of your hand so he could outstretch his arms for the girl who happily fell into them. 

“Missed you.” She tucked herself in his arms. 

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He sighed in content as he hugged her. 

You watched the way he seemed to light up the moment Wren was nearby, how all the weight he carried on his shoulders slipped away. As he cuddled the five year old, he seemed at peace. 

And you knew you were doing the right thing. 

Wren stepped back from his embrace and looked up at you, head tilted to the side in a curious fashion and little dark eyebrows furrowed. 

“Who are you?” She asked, pouting a little. 

“This is my friend, Y/N.” Spencer spoke for you. “Y/N, this is Wren.” 

“Why is she here?” Wren looked back at Spencer in concern. 

“I thought you’d like to meet her.” Spencer’s tone completely changed when he spoke to her, you’d never heard him like it before. 

It was soft and sweet, obviously it relaxed the young girl. Usually. But it was clear by the concerned expression in her face it wasn’t working today. 

“But I like spending time with you.” Her lip jutted out. 

“I’m still here aren’t I?” Spencer chuckled, tucking a rogue strand of her hair back off of her rosy face. 

“Hey Wren,” you crouched down so you were the same height as her, garnering her attention. “I heard you love Halloween?” 

She looked between Spencer who was still standing at his full height and back to you before looking back at him again. 

“It’s ok,” he encouraged her with a smile. 

She looked back at you once more, a hint of scepticism in her bright eyes. 

“Yes.” She nodded feverishly. 

“And you love books too, right?” 

“Yes.” She nodded again. 

“Well that’s perfect because I just so happen to have a book all about Halloween!” You grinned at her whilst reaching into your purse.

Spencer frowned a little, you hadn’t mentioned this on the drive over. He watched as you pulled a book out of your bag, a brightly coloured hardback depicting cartoon pictures of ghosts, witches and monsters getting ready for a spooky party. 

The title read The Night Before Halloween. 

Neither of you could tell what Wren was thinking, for a five year old she was amazing at masking her expression even though she probably didn’t realise she was doing it. 

She looked from the book to your eyes then to Spencer and around in the same loop a few times before settling on Spencer. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” He asked her, trying to prompt her to speak. 

“No.” Wren shook her head and turned back to you.

You tried to hide your disappointment. This was your only play, your only way in with her and you’d blown it. 

But then the little girl smiled at you. 

“I want Y/N to read it to me.” She reached out her little hand for you and you pushed yourself back up to your full height and took it. 

She led you over to the couch with Spencer following close behind. You glanced at him over your shoulder and he was smiling at you as he mouthed the words, good job.

***

Two more visits with Wren and she had warmed up to you the same way he had with Spencer. By the third visit she even hugged you. 

And you saw exactly why Spencer loved her. 

By the time September rolled around you’d moved into Spencer’s suburban home - in the spare room - and had multiple visits with Jenny who struggled to grasp what was happening at first. 

Understandably she was sceptical about your sudden involvement but after more rigorous interviews she started to warm up the same way Wren had. 

As you weren’t travelling with the team so much anymore and mostly working cases out of Quantico, you and Spencer spent a lot of time together. 

He was always home before you, his classes at Marlborough never running past four pm. And as much as you hated to admit it, having someone to come home to everyday was delightful in its domesticity.

When you did travel with the team, usually around every one in four cases, Spencer would call you everyday and send you photographs of him and Wren when he visited her. 

Spencer was learning to cook for Wren so the poor girl didn’t have to live off of cereal, coffee and ice cream, or as you always referred to it: The Doctor Reid Diet. 

He tried out his new recipes on you and at least eighty percent of them were edible. 

You’d been allowed to take Wren out on more day trips, with Jenny in tow of course. The two of you took her to museums and book stores and ice cream parlours; to the park, once to a carnival and anywhere else her little imagination could think to go.

It was midway into October when you arrived back from a case in Florida in which you’d been gone for six days. You knew Spencer had waited up for you as he’d called you to tell you he would. 

When you let yourself in the green front door of the house that was feeling more like a home by the day, it wasn’t the messy haired genius who met you. 

What did meet you certainly had messy hair, but its dopey expression told you it was no genius. 

The creature trotted over to you, tongue hanging out of its slightly lopsided mouth and offered you a single bark whilst nuzzling against your shin. 

You stared at the scruffy dog using your leg as a scratching post with wide eyes. Somewhere in the house you heard footsteps and you glanced up to see Spencer appearing from the kitchen. 

“Hey, how was your day?” He smiled at you, completely ignoring the confusion on your face. 

“Uh, it was perfectly normal until I came home and was greeted by this.” You pointed down at the mutt who was staring expectantly at you. 

“He. Not this.” Spencer padded over and quickly scooped up the small, messy animal in his arms. “This is Rover.” 

Rover licked Spencer’s cheek and much to your confusion, the germaphobe didn’t even bat an eyelid. 

“Last I checked Rover was a stuffed animal. This creature seems to be very much alive.” 

“Wren decided she wanted a dog. I said we could go to the pound and look, just look. But, uh, she kinda fell in love with this little guy and I can’t say no to her.” He shrugged, scratching Rover behind his ear. 

“So you now have a dog.” You hung your bag up by the door.

“We have a dog.” 

“Oh no.” You shook your head, walking past him towards the kitchen. “I’m outta here once Wren’s home. The dog is your problem.” 

Spencer placed the creature, which you thought more resembled a gremlin than a dog, on the floor and followed you. 

“He’ll grow on you.” 

“He most certainly won’t. I’m a cat person. And last I checked you weren’t all that keen on dogs either.” 

“But Wren is. So I guess I’m a dog person now.” He leant against the counter in the kitchen while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

You turned back to look at him as you uncapped it. You had a curious smile on your lips.

“What? What’s that look for?” He frowned a little.

“It’s just funny,” you took a sip. “Six months ago I would never have imagined either of us to be here.” 

“Me either.” He agreed with a smile. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” He started towards you. “You’re a big part of that, you know? I know this is all for show and we’re just doing this until Wren is home, but, uh…I like having you here.” 

“It’s not all for show.” You placed the bottle on the counter behind you as you felt a little dizzy with the way Spencer was looking at you. 

“No?” He reached you, stopping a few feet in front of you. 

“I like being here too.” You confessed, your legs shaking a little due to the look he was currently giving you. 

“I’m glad.” He swallowed and your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed deliciously beneath his flesh. “I’m, uh, I’m on the verge of doing something very dumb.”

“How do you know it’s dumb until you do it?” You had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about. 

“Because I’m a genius and my brain is screaming how dumb it would be.” He chuckled, stepping even closer to you. 

“Maybe for once, don’t listen to your brain, Spence.” 

To encourage him, you reached for him, placing your hand on his shoulder. He swallowed again as he stepped nearer to you still. 

Cautiously he raised his own hands and placed them on the sides of your face, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. 

“Don’t listen to my brain?” He whispered, wanting confirmation.

“Just this one time.” You offered him a smile and it was all he needed to close the space between you. 

When his lips gently brushed against your own, your hand quickly moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck to keep him close.

You parted your lips and he replied in kind by deepening the kiss. 

He pushed his body flush against you, pressing you into the counter. He held your face delicately but soon the kiss was growing frantic. 

It wasn’t at all long before he was manoeuvring you away from the counter and towards the kitchen door, never tearing his lips from yours. Not at least until his back collided with the door.

He broke the kiss and started to laugh, you did the same. He reached behind him and opened the door, taking your hand pulling you along with him.

The two of you were giggling like a couple of teenagers as you ascended the stairs, neither of you paying much mind to the dog asleep in his bed. 

He led you to his room and once inside he pushed you back against the wall and kissed you ardently again.  

He rolled his hips against yours so you could feel the bulge in his slacks and you moaned into his mouth. 

And then he was leading you to his bed as he helped you out of your clothes. 

It was only then as you lay beneath you realised how much you’d missed him. And you knew when or if the time came for Wren to come home and this little domestic bubble popped, it was going to be hard to drag yourself away. 

***

You fell asleep wrapped in Spencer’s arm after several hours and multiple orgasms. When you woke in the morning he was already awake, staring at you with a smile on his face. 

“Hey,” he stroked your messy hair behind your ear.

“Hey yourself.” You smiled back, inching closer and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Last night was…” he trailed off searching for the right word but finding none that did it justice. 

“Amazing?” You laughed lightly.

“That’s certainly one word for it.” He agreed, hand cupping your cheek. “So I don’t wanna be the kind of person that asks this but, uh…did that mean something? Was it just sex or did it mean something? Because I would…uh…I’d really like it to have meant something.” 

His nerves were tangled in his words and you could see in his eyes that he hated asking you this. You smiled and ran your fingertips lightly over his bicep. 

“Well I guess that…” you were stopped by the sound of Spencer’s phone ringing and he pulled a face of frustration. 

“Shoot,” he let go of your face. “To be continued?” 

You nodded and watched him roll over, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand and putting it to his ear while sitting up on the edge of the mattress. 

“Doctor Reid,” he spoke and then was silent for a moment or two and his back straightened. “Seriously? You…I…seriously? Uh, yeah of course. Today? Gosh…yes. Ok. Ok. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

His hand holding the phone fell to his lap limply but other than that he didn’t move. You rolled closer to him with a frown, wrapping an arm around his waist when you were close enough.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and you couldn’t read his expression.

“Spence?” You croaked. “Is everything ok?” 

He exhaled through parted lips, his eyes widening a little before he slowly started to nod. 

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracked. “Yeah everything’s great. That was Jenny. Apparently we’ve been approved for placement under supervision for Wren. It might not be permanent and Jenny will visit every week. But they wouldn’t let us bring her home if there wasn’t a strong possibility of us being able to adopt her. She’s coming home, Y/N. Our little girl is coming home.”

His tears overflowed when he reached the end of his speech and the smile that adorned his lips was brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky combined. 

You jumped up and threw yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around him. 

“Oh gosh Spence, that’s great!” You felt your own tears well in your eyes as he held you. 

And for some reason when he called her our little girl, it didn’t freak you out in the slightest, 

***

Wren was an excitable blur of hand gestures and bounces in her seat as Spencer drove the three of you home later that afternoon. 

She’d only ever seen photographs of the room Spencer had put together for her and she was buzzing to see it with her own eyes. 

It was only once he got close to home driving through the neighbourhood she had lived with her parents whom she watched die, that she clammed up.

You sat in the back of the car with her and watched the way her eyes turned down at the corners as she looked out the window at the familiar houses. 

You reached out to her, held her hand.

“It’s ok if you miss them, Wren.” You whispered and her head whipped around to face you.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip, perhaps trying to stop from pouting. 

“But I don’t want to make you and Spencer sad.” She spoke in equally hushed tones. 

“Hey now silly girl,” Spencer’s right hand appeared between the front seats, blindly reaching for her knee. “You could never make us sad. You have no idea how happy you make us, pumpkin.” 

“But you will miss your mommy and daddy and we want you to be able to tell us when you do, ok?” You added, squeezing her hand. 

“O-ok.” She nodded, turning back out of the window. 

Soon enough Spencer pulled the car to a stop outside of the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door. 

He exited the car and rushed around to open Wren’s door while you unbuckled her seatbelt. He lifted her in his arms, spun her around twice, and planted her on her feet on the sidewalk. 

She instantly reached for you both, gripping Spencer’s hand in her left and yours in her right. 

You and Spencer shared a smile over her head as you led her up to the front door. 

The second the door was open a messy haired small mutt ran at full pelt towards the three of you, practically crashing straight into Wren. 

She giggled and threw her arms around the dog. 

“Rover!” She screeched, burying her face into his matted fur. 

Spencer took her bag from her and unzipped it, pulling out the toy Rover and holding him out towards the girl and her dog. 

“Rover meet Rover.” He spoke and Wren beamed brightly as she took the toy from him. 

She held it in front of the real dog's face and he licked the toy feverishly, making Wren giggle again. 

“I think they’re going to be friends!” She cheered happily. 

“That’s a relief.” Spencer chuckled, hand naturally slipping in yours. 

“Would the Rover’s like to see your new room, honey?” You asked Wren, entwining your fingers with Spencer’s.

“I think so!” She jumped up and down. “Come on big Rover, come on little Rover.”

You and Spencer shared another smile as you led the way, hand in hand, up the stairs and towards the room at the end of the hall. 

One of the Rover’s was held by Wren around his neck while the other followed of his own accord. You both stepped aside and motioned for Wren to open the door. 

She looked positively giddy with excitement as she reached for the handle. She pushed open the door and Spencer reached inside to flick the lights on. 

Her eyes widened as a dozen strings of pumpkin fairy lights cast their glow across the warm autumnal walls, thick cream carpet and everything in between. 

She took a few steps inside the room and the two of you watched her eyes flicker between the My Little Pony bed sheets, her name placard above the bed, the bookshelf stuffed full of books, another shelf packed with stuffed animals. 

They moved between the dog bed meant for little Rover which big Rover was now already making his way to, to the dresser under the window with a little mirror and her very own chess set. 

They made their way to the wardrobe which Spencer had stencilled with falling leaves and little brown birds of her namesake. 

Her eyes danced from here to there, there to here and back again. When they finally came to a stop on you and Spencer, they were full of tears. 

“This is…for me?” Her bottom lip pouted. 

“I don’t know any other little girls called Wren.” Spencer smiled at her. 

She suddenly dove at the two of you, one arm wrapping around each of you and nuzzling between you. You felt her small frame racking with sobs and it made your heart melt. 

“T-thank you.” She cried, squeezing you both as tightly as she could. “I love you.” 

You looked at Spencer, you both had tears welling in your own eyes. 

And god dammit if you didn’t love her too. 

***

The three of you ate ice cream for dinner on the floor of her bedroom at Wren’s insistence. 

You and Spencer played with her and her new collection of stuffed toys, as well as the real life Rover before you took turns reading to her until she finally fell asleep. 

Rover was already curled up in the dog bed at the foot of Wren’s bed so you left him there and the two of you quietly crept from the room. 

With the day's events you hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened last night and now you were in the corridor, you weren’t sure what room to go to. 

Clearly Spencer didn’t either. 

He awkwardly scuffed the toe of his candy corn print sock on the carpet whilst rolling his lip between his teeth. 

“Should we, uh…talk?” He shrugged. 

“Most likely, yes.” You nodded and silently he led the two of you back downstairs to the living room. 

You were both quiet, not meeting the others' gaze as you sat in the armchair and him on the couch. The air was thick with tension, and you didn’t even know where to begin with this conversation.

“I know you don’t want to be Wren’s mom.” He suddenly blurted out. “And I’d never ask you to. But I love you and last night was…it was perfect. I don’t want to choose between having you and Wren in my life. I know it wouldn’t be easy because if everything goes to plan I will have a child at the end of it. You think there’s any chance you’d want to date a single dad?” 

He was talking so fast all of his words merged into one and it took you a few moments to ascertain what he was saying. But before you could really catch up, he was talking again.

“We get Wren home permanently, you can give up your rights just like you planned. You move out and you go back to your normal case load but maybe…maybe we can work things out? I know it won’t be easy but I don’t care. 

You clearly mean a lot to Wren and I know she would love it if you were still a part of her life after all this, even if it’s not as her adoptive mother. And I hope that you can still be part of my life. As my partner, my one true love. 

Wren will be my reasonability, I won’t expect anything from you in regards to her. But I don’t want to be without you, even if it means our life is separate from my life with Wren. I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility to think we could make it work. I just think-”

“Spencer,” you had to cut him off or he would spend the next hour rambling. “I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility either.” 

“You…you don’t?” He inhaled sharply.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you pushed yourself up and moved slowly closer to him. When you reached him you lowered yourself so you were sitting in his lap. “It’s going to be hard in fact, really hard. But dating a single dad doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. Especially when that single dad is you.” 

His hands glided across your back, settling on your shoulder blades and holding you firmly in place, 

“We’ll make it work.” He smiled at you, inching closer.

“We’ll make it work.” You repeated just as his lips pressed against yours. 

***

The day after Wren was placed with you and Spencer, he and the little girl started excitedly decorating the house for Halloween which was two weeks away. 

The house was a menagerie of fake cobwebs which you kept walking into, strings of little ghosts hanging in every doorway. A newly carved pumpkin appeared on the porch every single day you returned home from work. 

By the time Halloween rolled around the three of you had fallen into somewhat of a routine. 

You had tried to distance yourself from parental activities, as soon as the paperwork was finalised you would be moving out and you didn’t want Wren to get too used to you being around. 

The last thing you wanted to do was confuse a child who had already lost her biological parents. 

Spencer dropped her at school on the way to Marlborough everyday and picked her up on his way home. 

He cooked dinner which the two of them ate together and he saved leftovers for when you arrived home. 

Nine times out of ten Wren was already in bed by the time you got home from Quantico which helped. It also gave you alone time with Spencer. 

Usually you wouldn’t even be in the door more than ten minutes before he was leading you to the bedroom. You’d been sleeping in his room since Wren had come home, although there was usually little sleeping happening. 

You’d both quickly learnt how to be quiet, not wanting to further traumatise the girl by having her hear the two of you having sex. 

The routine seemed to work for the three of you, it allowed Spencer and Wren to grow closer whilst allowing you and Spencer to grow closer. 

On Halloween night you got out of work slightly earlier but still expected Spencer and Wren to be out trick or treating. 

He’d promised the little girl months ago to take her and she’d been so excited for tonight, talking about it non stop since she’d come home with you. 

He wanted to make her a costume and you tried to teach Spencer how to sew but when that didn’t work you showed him how YouTube worked so he could learn that way. 

He’d slaved over creating her a pumpkin costume which was a little lopsided and probably could have been neater but he was so proud of his creation. 

Wren had insisted he dress up too so you arrived home to find Dracula in your living room. 

“What happened to trick or treating?” You asked as you stepped in the door and hung your jacket up.

“Oh hey,” he smiled brightly as soon as he saw you, moving closer to you. He went to kiss you but then remembered the fake blood on his mouth and refrained. “We’re about to leave, Wren is just getting dressed.” 

“Did she love her costume?” 

“You have no idea. I’ve never heard a five year old scream before and I’m not sure it’s something I want to relive in a hurry.” He chuckled, straightening up his cape. “Now you’re home you can join us.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. 

“Oh come on, she’d love it if you came.” Spencer gave you his puppy dog eyes which you tried to ignore. 

“You’re the parent.” You reminded him. “And besides, someone should stay home with Rover.”

“Rover is ten years old and sleeps all day.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. I just-” 

You were cut off by the sound of Wren running down the stairs. When she appeared in her pumpkin costume, complete with orange painted face, she was smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “I’m a pumpkin!” 

“Oh wow, you look great!” You cheered. 

She beamed, happily showing off her costume like a proud parent. 

“Are you coming trick or treating with us?” She asked with expectant green eyes. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Please! You have to come!” She jiggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

“Yeah Y/N,” Spencer smirked at you. “You have to.” 

“I don’t have a costume.” You shrugged. 

“Leave that to me.” Spencer stepped closer to you and took hold of your hand. “Wren give us five minutes and we’ll head out, ok?” 

“Ok!” She nodded, moving aside so Spencer could lead you upstairs. 

You let him lead you to the bedroom, which he’d done countless times before but you knew this wasn’t for the reasons you would like. 

“I took the liberty of picking something up for you at the costume store when I was getting mine.” He let go of your hand so he could open the closet. 

“Of course you did.” You sighed. 

He pulled out an outfit in a costume bag and turned it to face you. Inside was sheathed all the makings of a witches costume. 

A long, flowy purple crushed velvet dress with long, billowy sleeves. A black wig. A pointy hat. 

You rolled your eyes as you took it from him, trying to ignore the stupid look on his face. 

“Fine, I will wear it. But you are not painting my face.” 

“Deal.” He grinned, in a smug way knowing he’d won.

***

Ten minutes later the three of you were out the door. Dracula, the witch and the pumpkin. 

Wren was full of excitement as she skipped on just ahead of you, swinging her little bucket she hoped to fill with candy. 

“She’s your problem when she won’t sleep tonight because she’s hopped up on sugar.” You spoke as Spencer slipped his hand in yours. 

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, eyes never leaving the back of the curly haired pumpkin. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did I have a choice?” You joked. 

Spencer briefly glanced at the side of your face before focusing back on Wren who was now making her way up a front porch of one of your neighbours houses. The two of you hung back by the gate. 

“You don’t like spending time with her.” He looked back at you while Wren was busy getting her candy. 

“That’s not true. I love spending time with her, she’s an amazing kid. But I don’t want her to get used to me being around all the time. She lost her mom and dad, I don’t want her to see me as a parental figure only to lose me too.” 

Spencer’s hand slipped from yours and he quickly pocketed both of his hands. You frowned at him as he turned away from you. 

“Right. Of course.” He watched Wren smile and thank Mrs Taylor for the candy. 

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” You glared at him.

“Nothing. I just forget sometimes what a hardship this is for you.” 

“Spencer, I never said-”

“What did you get, pumpkin?” He cut you off as Wren came running back over, his tone lightening as he regarded her. 

Wren showed off her haul and soon you were continuing on. Spencer walked with Wren now, holding her free hand while you hung back. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that this would get complicated. But why did it? 

***

The night ended worse than it started. When your rounds of the neighbourhood took you past the old Briar house, the home where Wren watched her parents die, it came to an abrupt end with tears. 

Spencer carried her home while she sobbed in his arms. He put her to bed and spent a long time coddling her while she cried for her parents. 

He found you in the living room, your wig and hat on the coffee table. You stood from the couch when he entered the room. 

“I don’t really feel like company tonight so maybe you should just stay in the guest room.” His jaw was clenched tightly as he spoke. 

“Right, sure.” You nodded. 

He turned away from you, started towards the stairs before quickly turned back around.

“You know what actually, maybe you should look into moving back into your apartment. This place is kinda crowded. You only need to be here when Jenny visits anyway, there’s no point in you being here all the time. And that way Wren won’t get attached to you and it’ll make it easier all round.” He turned again but before he could get too far you grabbed him by the wrist. 

“Spencer, please don’t say that. We talked about this, we had a plan, we-”

“Stop it, please.” He cut you off. “I can’t do this right now, ok? I have a little girl upstairs who I had to rock to sleep because she couldn’t stop crying about her dead parents. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with all this right now.” 

“Fine.” You clenched your jaw to stop the tears falling. “But let me just say it isn’t fair for you to act this way when we had an agreement. You knew what my involvement was going to be in all of this and the plan was never for me to be her mother!” 

“The plan?” He suddenly spat. “The goddamn plan? You make it sound so clinical!”

“I thought it was.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you expect that I was going to wake up one day and change my mind? Was that what you hoped for here? That I’d play happy families and realise this is what I wanted?”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Yes, that's exactly what I hoped would happen. Excuse me for believing that two people who are as in love as I thought we were could raise a child together.” 

“Maybe I should move out.” 

“Good.”

“Great.” 

“I’ll help you pack.” With that he turned again and this time you let him go. 

You watched as he ascended the staircase, clearly wanting to make more noise about it but not wanting to wake Wren. 

Once you heard his bedroom door shut you fell back to the couch and your tears unleashed. 

What had possessed you into thinking this would be a good idea? You’d wanted to help Spencer and never once stopped to think of the ramifications. 

Like it or not you and Wren had grown close, despite your best efforts. Your leaving would be hard on her. And it would be hard on you too.

You’d come to care for that little girl even though you’d tried so hard not to. You weren’t ready to be a mom, or so you thought, but Wren had wormed her way into your heart. 

And now you were going to lose her and Spencer through your own stubbornness. 

Well done, Y/N, you thought to yourself as you cried. You’ve really gone and fucked this up. 

***

The following day Spencer dropped Wren off at school, thankfully in a much brighter mood than she had been the previous night. 

You both had the day off work for Jenny’s weekly visit and if she noticed the awkwardness between the two of you she didn’t mention it. 

Spencer was amazing at keeping his emotions in check when he needed to and even you believed he was happy. 

You sat amicably and drank tea while Spencer filled the social worker in on your Halloween night, glossing over all the bad parts. 

It struck you that Jenny wasn’t taking notes like usual, didn’t even have her notebook out. You weren’t sure if Spencer noticed or not or if he was too busy pretending he had the perfect family to notice. 

When the tea dried up along with the conversation, Jenny pulled a manilla envelope out of her briefcase and proffered it forward. 

Spencer took it with a frown, in the corner in black ink it read simply: Re: Wren Briar - Reid Y/L/N.

“Uh,” he ran his fingers over the envelope and looked up at Jenny with a frown. “What is this?” 

Jenny smiled softly, a smile that reached all the way to her eyes. 

“Congratulations,” she spoke sincerely. “That is your official adoption papers. Wren is now formally in the care of the two of you.” 

You felt a flurry of emotions all at once and you didn’t know which one to focus on. But you were distracted from that when Spencer, out of nowhere, started sobbing. 

“S-seriously?” He stuttered, tears streaming from his eyes. 

“Seriously, Doctor Reid.” Jenny smiled. “I know it’s been a long and difficult process, but it’s over now.”

“Oh my god.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh my god.” 

Seeing the happiness on Spencer’s face made your own tears fall and you gripped him tightly. 

“We did it, Spence. We did it.” You cried. 

Jenny saw herself out as the two of you continued to cry. At some point Spencer wrapped you in his arms and sobbed into your shoulder while you did the same into his chest. 

Eventually both your tears started letting up and he sat back and wiped the stains on your cheek. He was smiling shakily at you and you returned the gesture. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want to do this without you. I know this wasn’t part of the plan but-”

“Screw the plan.” You cut him off. “Plans change. I can’t ignore the feeling of elation and relief I felt when Jenny told us. Goddamnit I love Wren, I love her so much. And I want to be her mother, Spencer, I really want that.” 

“You…” he choked. “You do?”

“Yes. This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself but life isn’t straightforward. Things happen, plans change. I found my family. And it’s you and Wren.” You smiled as your tears started up again.

Spencer was quick to tug you back into his arms and hold you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He nuzzled against your neck and placed soft kisses on your flesh. 

“I love you so much.” He cried. “And I love our little found family.” 

You stayed like this for some time, until you needed to pick Wren up from school. For the first time you and Spencer went together. 

When you told her the news she jumped up and down and squeezed you both as tightly as her little arms would allow and it filled your heart to the brim. 

There was no doubt in your mind that this was where you were supposed to be. 

As she planted big sloppy kisses on yours and Spencer’s cheeks, you heard him whisper, welcome to the family little pumpkin. 

***

Four Months Later

The noise from the backyard filtered in through the open door, little voices chattering, the occasional screech of excitement, giggle from tiny lungs and small feet pitter pattering in the grass. 

You poured yourself a glass of water and sipped from it while you observed the chaos. 

It was Wren’s sixth birthday and damn near every child in her school had descended on your home. The BAU team members and their kids were all in attendance and you wondered if your garden would ever be the same again. 

There was a bounce house in one corner, a magician in the other - for which Spencer had begrudged paying for when he could have done it himself. 

You’d insisted he wanted to be more present for the event, really enjoy the memories made today on her first birthday as your daughter. 

Rover had long ago distanced himself from children pulling his matted fur and retired to his bed in Wren’s room. You couldn’t blame him, you’d half contemplated joining him. 

You were exhausted from all the planning, from the demands of motherhood and still trying to hold down your job at the BAU, albeit only part time now. 

You hadn’t even stopped to consider how tiring the party would actually be. 

You felt a presence behind you and spun on your heels to find Spencer smiling at you as he sidled up to you. He moved in close and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Are you as tired as I am?” He chuckled. 

“I don’t think anyone is as tired as you, you’re the life and soul of this party.” You teased him. “I saw Wren dragging you on to the bounce house.” 

“It’s been a long time since my old knee injury hurt this bad.” He grumbled a little. “But it’s worth it to see her happy.” 

“I can’t believe she’s six already. The months are flying by.” You sighed wistfully. 

“She’ll be eighteen and going off to college any day now.” He laughed.

“Bringing boys home.”

“Don’t you dare!” He gasped. “Do not put that idea in my head.”

“Sorry,” you smiled sweetly. “It’s a long way off.” 

“It better be.” He shook his head. 

“So, uh…I got you something.” You reached behind you and grabbed the small, neatly wrapped gift off of the kitchen counter. 

Spencer frowned at it as he took it somewhat cautiously. 

“You got me a gift? For our daughter's birthday?” He ran his fingertips over the wrapping paper curiously. 

“Just open it and be grateful.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

Still with a frown on his face, Spencer tore the gift wrap, the same kind as you used to wrap the obscene amount of gifts you’d brought Wren. 

You held your breath and waited, your nerves getting the better of you and you leaned back against the counter top as your legs shook a little. 

Spencer’s deft fingers made quick work of the paper, tossing it aside like the excited six year old had with her own gifts. 

Once opened he stared at the item in his hand. Approximately five inches long. Thin. Hard plastic. 

You watched him stare at it as if it was a completely foreign object, patiently waiting for him to look up, to say something. 

His hands started to tremble and when he finally did look up at you, tears swam in his eyes. 

“Is this…for real?” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke. 

“It’s like the fifth one I took so I’m fairly certain.” You nodded, feeling your own eyes fill with tears. “Wren’s going to be a big sister.” 

Pregnancy test still in hand, he suddenly threw his arms around you and squeezed you so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs. 

“We’re having another child?” He whispered against your neck.

“This family just keeps growing.” You laughed as you wrapped him in your arms. 

You wiped away your tears, not wanting to be seen crying at Wren’s birthday party. But soon your moment was over, and you were being forced away from each other. 

“Mommy, daddy, is it time for cake?” Wren’s voice carried in from the garden.

You sprung apart and stared at each other, a new batch of tears in both of your eyes for completely different reasons. 

“Did she just…” you breathed, voice slightly horse.

“I think so.” Spencer sniffed, a delighted smile on his face. 

Thus far Wren had always called you both by your names which was entirely understandable. Spencer had always told her she could call you mom and dad if and when she felt it was right. 

“As if this day wasn’t perfect enough.” He wiped his eyes, pocketing the pregnancy test after giving it one last look. 

“We better go, daddy.” You winked at him and went to pass him but he grabbed you by the waist. 

“Oh jeez, why is that so hot when you say it?” He growled, bowing his head and placing kisses on your neck, making you giggle. 

“Really?” You smirked. 

“Really.” He hissed, stepping back and nodding to his crotch where you can instantly see the bulge forming in his slacks. 

“Hmm, I’ll bear that in mind daddy.” You chuckled and he let out a soft low moan.

But before he could reply, you were summoned again. 

“Mommy, daddy!” Wren hollered from the yard. 

“Ok, not so sexy anymore.” He shook his head, stepping further back. “I’ll get the cake.”

“I’ll get my phone so I can film you and your horrible singing.” You gently kissed his cheek before he walked away. 

Spencer lit the six candles on the pumpkin shaped birthday cake and cautiously carried it through to the yard while he began singing happy birthday. 

All the kids and adults joined in as Wren beamed from ear to ear as all eyes were on her. You held your cellphone steady, hovering by the back door where you filmed the chorus.

When the song was over everybody cheered and Wren sucked in a huge breath before blowing out the candles. 

You watched on as Spencer placed a kiss in her messy dark hair and she smiled brightly at her dad in return. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off the two of them, Wren bouncing excitedly in her chair while Spencer went about cutting the cake into slices for all the children. 

Spencer handed her the first slice and she gorged on it, stuffing the cake in her mouth and leaving icing smudged around her lips.

It was crazy how much things had changed in such a short space of time. Six months ago you never would have pictured yourself here, a mother to a six year old and growing another child inside of you. 

Life has a funny way of giving us exactly what we want at exactly the wrong time. But for you and Spencer and Wren, the world had worked its magic and done you all the biggest favour. 

It had given the three of you the kind of love you all so sorely needed, it had offered a home to three people who were out in the cold. It had created a family, who in eight months time would have a new addition to it. 

Ultimately all we really strive for in life is to find somewhere to belong, and although it may have been unexpected, it was safe to say that you, Spencer and Wren had found that somewhere with each other. 

@ultragirrl @wittlewowa @bxtchopolis @coldheartedmar

[fallenangelicss]

Can I Get A Kiss?

PAIRING | Rengoku Kyoujurou/Uzui Tengen

WORD COUNT | 1097

SUMMARY | Rengoku is on his way to teach a class when he is suddenly yanked to the side by his husband and fellow teacher. What could Tengen want so urgently that he must manhandle Rengoku out of the hallway? A kiss.

RATING | General Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | This is my first time partaking in a month-long prompt list so I'm going to do my best to keep up with it can get as many done as I can. It'll hopefully give me a reason to write more which I desperately need. Also, if you'd like to support me then you should consider downloading the Kinder World app with this link. My referral code is WV9K4X but if you need a new referral code then feel free to reach out!

EVENTS | @aug-kissed | Indirect Kiss

AO3 LINK | Read Here

“Tengen, you know you can’t do this while we’re teaching,” Rengoku whisper-shouted at the taller man who was currently caging him against a wall. With one of Tengen’s large hands placed next to his head, the other cupping his cheek as his head was tilted back to allow Tengen easier access to his lips, Rengoku was essentially stuck with nowhere else to go after Tengen had randomly grabbed and yanked him down a random hallway as students made their way to their next class. “What if a student sees us?”

“Screw the students,” Tengen groaned with a roll of his eyes, making Rengoku let out a shocked gasp and deliver a slap to his shoulder. A soft scoff tumbled from Tengen’s lips at Rengoku’s action, the frown that had morphed onto his face at the mention of the annoying twerps slowly lifting into a smile the longer he stared at Rengoku’s face. “Besides, what harm will a little kiss do them?”

“Have you ever heard of public indecency?” Rengoku accused him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the wall and stared up at Tengen, their proximity making it so that they were already almost locking lips. It was already a struggle for Rengoku to go a day at school without spending every free moment with Tengen, wanting nothing more than to slip his hand into Tengen’s while they walked through the hall or were on lunch break. Being cornered by the taller man didn’t help. “We also don’t need another complaint filed against us by the staff or a student spreading rumours.”

“No one’s going to report us or start a rumour that we haven’t already heard before,” Tengen reminded Rengoku, the two of them having to deal with numerous amounts of rumours in the past, some directly linked to the other while some were completely unrelated. Unlike Tengen, Rengoku would be drained by them, too interested in what others were saying while Tengen used it for nothing but a source of amusement, only shooting them down when Rengoku was involved. Switching on a flashy smile, Tengen’s voice dropped as he said, “Come on, Kyōjurō, just one kiss.”

“Not at school,” Rengoku said, narrowed eyes as he smiled up at his husband, a hand coming up to separate his lips from Tengen’s and act as a barrier so he couldn’t try again. Rengoku could tell his smile was beginning to strain, the tips of his ears burning red from how Tengen had said his name. “You know the rules. Once we’re off school grounds we’re free to do whatever we like. There’s only one more hour until lunch and then the day will fly after that. Now get out of my way, you’re going to make me late for my class.”

“Ugh, you act so unflashy when we’re at school,” Tengen groaned, dropping his head so it rested on Rengoku’s shoulder, a position that surely wasn’t comfortable due to their height difference. Rengoku set a hand on Tengen’s waist and gave it a quick reassuring squeeze as if not being able to kiss truly pained him. The gentle touch finally spurred Tengen to get up and move on to his next class. “I’ll be waiting for you at our desks in the staffroom, make sure you’re not late for lunch.” 

“When have I ever been late?” Rengoku asked, a large grin pulling at his cheeks as he stared up at Tengen. Tengen wondered how the man was able to always smile no matter the situation. Even while he was asleep, Tengen had caught Rengoku with a soft smile on his face, making him look ethereal in the soft mornings they spent together.

“Is that a serious question?” Tengen deadpanned, eyes squinting down at Rengoku. Giving a small shake of his head, Rengoku pushed off the wall and began making his way to the History corridor, its direction the complete opposite of the Art. Despite this, Tengen chased after him, not quite done with the conversation yet. “Every time one of those little twerps comes up to you, you spend an extra ten minutes with them.”

“I promise this time I won’t get distracted,” Rengoku barked out, his loud voice echoing down the hallway and getting the attention of any stragglers who hadn’t yet made it to class. At the sound of Rengoku’s voice, they turned with large smiles to greet him but when their eyes landed on Tengen they quickly turned back around and hurried off. What had one of Rengoku’s students called it? Scary dog privilege?

“I’ll make sure to walk extra slowly and wait a couple of minutes to warm our lunch up,” Tengen clarified, coming to a stop at a staircase where Rengoku would have to go up. On any other occasion, Tengen wouldn’t mind walking Rengoku to his class but they had already wasted a good portion of the period messing around together so he would need to get back soon.

“I said I’d be there on time,” Rengoku rebutted, a bit of a whine filling his voice as he walked up two of the steps before turning around so he could face Tengen again, their height a bit more evenly matched now. Rengoku never tried to be late to lunch, just sometimes some of his students would ask him a few questions and he’d get a bit too invested in answering them. 

“And I know you’ll try your hardest,” Tengen teased, attempting to lean in to give Rengoku a parting kiss just for Rengoku’s hand to come up at the last second and take up the space in between them, blocking him off once again. Yelling into Rengoku’s hand, Tengen screamed, “Oh, come on!”

“I’ll see you during our lunch break,” Rengoku said, giving a soft smile before he turned around and made his way up the stairs, some haste behind his steps as he rushed to his class. Not looking back, Rengoku didn’t know if Tengen stood there for a few moments, still fuming at his missed opportunity to kiss Rengoku or had done the responsible thing and slunk off to class. Something told Rengoku that he went with the former, watching with a pouty glare as Rengoku made his way to the classroom of kids who were waiting for him. 

What Tengen didn’t see though once Rengoku rounded the corner, was Rengoku lifting his hand to his lips and placing a kiss on the palm of his hand after checking no one else was in the hallway, touching exactly where Tengen’s lips had previously been. 

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 17/05/2024

Athletic Doctor

Season 1 Featured on: GilvaSunner's Highest Quality Video Game Rips: Volume 1 Also on: SiIvaGunner: Starter Kit & Essentials

Ripped by Psynwav

ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL!!

I haven't slept in so long...I forgot what dreams were like.

Honestly - what better way could there be for me to celebrate the 365th main post on the blog, than to be fashionably late by a whole weekend? It's unfortunate, but...oddly befitting, really. Back when I was first starting out with the blog, I actually forgot about posting daily for a solid two weeks - and so, some old-ass posts like Chillin’ Like A Villain and (YTPMV) Bob​-​Omb Battlesources were made in quite a hurry retroactively. Nevertheless, it was on May 17th 2023, over on my main blog @melblur, that I suddenly decided that I wanted to write about one SiIvaGunner rip a day just for fun. After File Select Fusion Collab, I realized that it made more sense just to put these on their own blog, and with Snowball Park - Super Mario 3D World I moved everything onto here. It's all been a bit of a bumpy ride, is my point. But today, I've reached the big milestone that I was originally aiming for all the way back with Running Through Cookie Country - a year's worth of almost-always-daily posts on the weird and wonderful world of SiIvaGunner. And what better rip to discuss alongside this milestone than the channel's biggest hit, the milestone rip to stand above all others: Season 1's Athletic Doctor.

Now, I've been following SiIvaGunner since some of the earliest moments of Season 1, following along with the initial GiIvaSunner termination, the entire Reboot saga discussed in I Saw a Brainwasher Today, the Mashup Crusaders arc of Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options, the channel ending of Epic Flintstones... Basically, I was there for just about the entire initial 9-month run, and have with but one Season's worth of an exception (Season 5) been following the channel damn near obsessively since. The point is that, through this, I have been able to follow the channel's most popular videos chart up and down with each passing month: I recall, for instance, how Nintendo GameCube Startup - Console/BIOS Music soared past all other rips back in the day and stayed on top for five month's time. That was, of course, before finally being surpassed by we are number one but with outdated memes over it and subsequently helping kickstart the entire We Are Number One meme trend (funny enough - you can actually find a youtube comment left by me on the rip in late December 2016/early 2017 expressing mild annoyance over the rip's popularity...). Athletic Doctor in comparison was of course always popular, but it took a while to truly climb its way up there - it was in the top ten, then top five, always rising, bubbling in the background. Eventually, starting with Season 3's premiere, the team decided to just make the rip the trailer for the channel for new viewers - where it still sits today, now as the far-and-away most popular rip on the channel.

I feel like the reason the rip became used as the defacto channel trailer, the reason it keeps being referenced in videos demonstrating what SiIvaGunner is all about, is pretty obvious. I've talked a lot in posts like Live and Ooooooooooooooh about how outright *effective* many of Season 1's rips were, and Athletic Doctor is the most prime example of that imaginable - it is a damn near pitch perfect joke executed shockingly well for the time of its upload in the channel's history. EVERYONE knows the music to Super Mario World, either through its usage in the game itself in the 90s, its appearances in games like Super Smash Bros. Melee in the 2000s and Super Mario Galaxy 2 in the 2010s - or just through sheer overexposure to it in just about any era of gaming YouTube. The game's soundtrack is the perfect blend of being immediately recognizable and incredibly easy to hum along to given the entire game basically only has three or so melodies, relying on its central leitmotif to a degree bordering on parody. Likewise as well, EVERYBODY knows Witch Doctor, either through excessive radio play, being a big hit with Alvin & the Chipmunks...or the 2007 Live Action Alvin & the Chipmunks movie that I myself grew up with, it's the kind of vaguely obnoxious (also arguably quite racist) nonsense novelty music that's incredibly appealing to young kids, the same way something like Crazy Frog or its ilk was in the 2000s as well.

Put simply, Athletic Doctor was a match made in heaven - and the joke is pulled off so expertly that it feels redundant to put into words. The Athletic Theme intro is iconic enough to where you're led into a false sense of security right off the bat, the melody swap is subtle enough as to not immediately be noticeable, making the moment you notice it even more noteworthy - only for the track's second loop to become a full-on mashup with the Witch Doctor track. Absolutely perfect escalation, just the right amount of buildup - but most importantly, it ends up actually sounding really good! The joke's great to be sure, very much like Live and Ooooooooooooooh - but I feel like the core reason why Athletic Doctor has continued to endure for so long on the channel, why it keeps getting remixed and referenced and paid tribute to on so many instances, is because it's just a genuinely good listen once the joke sets in. In other words, it is the purest distillation of SiIvaGunner's appeal - a joke so simple, yet pulled off with a magical appeal that remains even all these years later.

Through running this blog, it's that very specific appeal that I've wanted to try and encapsulate with the rips I cover, with what I write about them, to uncover that elusive magic of this dumb shitpost channel. Joel's big Grand Dad reaction that kicked the channel off is a good bit, to be sure, but its not a bit that could've lasted eight years and counting: In its earliest days, its easy to see how the channel could've just become naught but a novelty and fallen off the face off the earth once interest in it died. Yet through each year of the channel's life, with every Season that passes, it's evolved and adapted. Be it the spontaneous chaos of Season 1, the building storyline of Season 2, the mystery and nostalgia of Season 3, the sheer talent on display in the King for Another Day Tournament in Season 4 Episode 1 and the sheer joy of celebration found in Season 4 Episode 2, the whimsical experimentation of Season 5, the sudden introspection and moodiness of Season 6, the pure adoration and love for everything the channel stands for in Season 7, and the ongoing pure silliness of Season 8 - each period of this channel feels as if it's growing in a new direction, never content sitting in one place for too long - and yet the appeal of a rip like Athletic Doctor remains oh so core to the entire SiIvaGunner experience. The experience of which I've made my best effort to cover across all 365 posts on this blog. To show everyone the layers in which this channel goes in.

That's what I've been wanting to show you... but now, before I end this post, I want to briefly talk about what you've shown *me*. I know its a cliché thing to say, but really - it warms my heart EVERY time I receive messages about the blog. This all began as just a way for me to practice my writing ability, but suddenly I was having the actual rippers - the names that I'd admire from my MP3 player but hardly ever considered able to actually interact with - messaging me in private to express how happy my posts made them...not to mention the people in SiIvaCord discussing rips with me, digging into my writing, sharing anecdotes I'd never heard of, and everyone who requested rips genuinely eager to see what I had to write about them...like, again, its the biggest cliché on the planet, and I know this blog really isn't all *that* big in the grand scheme of things - but I never expected to even get more than five people actually engaging with what I post? To everyone, and ESPECIALLY to the silent majority reading my posts without a Tumblr account, the ones engaging from a distance - thank you SO much for validating all that I've done on here.

Now, there's still plenty of posts I have left in me, plenty of ones already in the drafts and unfulfilled requests well in the dozens. But like...tons has happened since when this all started 12 months ago. I got a summer job! I'm wrapping up what's hopefully my final three school courses! I've started listening to so much new music, expanding my music tastes, in huge part thanks to all the digging this blog has made me do! And, of course, getting to be this open about what's likely my absolute weirdest special interest has honestly made me feel more confident in myself as a person, made me a more outgoing individual in general. And so, to get all of my ducks in a row, to help straighten things out for a bit...I'm going to take a break from regular posting on here. I'm aiming for it to be no longer than a month's time - again, I have much I still wish to write about!! - but you'll of course still see me reblogging fanart and other such things on here just from using Tumblr casually. And hey - if you haven't already, I recommend you take the time to go scavenging through The Archive for daily posts that you might have missed! Having a blog with so much writing on it, so many posts, so much to discover for readers old and new...In a way, I've basically made it so that navigating the blog feels just like navigating the vast seas of the SiIvaGunner channel itself. And isn't that just the most fitting way to leave it all on - an ocean of posts, waiting for you to uncover them?

THAT SIIVAGUNNER TUMBLR BLOG WILL RETURN IN SEASON 2

[celestialspecial]

In Cold Blood (Pt. 2)

Warnings: Dub con, knife play, blood, smut/p in v-do i even need to say its 18+ (also dont do it with serial killers irl....you know this)

The pounding relentless beat of the club echoed out onto the pavement. The sidewalk under your feet seemed to shake with each new bass drop, lights from the floor to ceiling windows washed along the crowd waiting in line.

You stood single file, all asses and elbows waiting to get to the front velvet ropes. Your nerves were frayed, the last few weeks had been leading you up to this moment. 

Once you had a photo of the killer with his mask it was easier than before to find snippets of him on local cctv camera footage. His steps were more traceable but you still didn’t know his motive. 

The more you learned the less it made sense. 

You'd tracked his wanderings for over a month now, the trail had gone cold but you had it on good authority he'd be here tonight. The Killer, looking for his next victim.

With some intense persuasion your team had allowed you to go under cover and act as bait to draw out the madman. Your skimpy dress and overall look blended you into the background of the crowd waiting in line.

You looked like you deserved to be there. Were meant to be there.

After god knows how long of waiting in line you finally were able to escape the chilly outdoors and feel the intense heat of the ravenous club before you.

Bright lights pooled the dance floor and if you had thought the outside was crowded this was even worse. How anyone managed to dance was beyond you but that wasn't why you were here.

Making your way to the bar in hopes of escaping the intense smells and rhythmic dancing to clear your head. A buzz from your phone got your attention.

One of your colleagues.

"He's there." Your heart beat increased its pace. Eyes darting around the mass of gyrating people but you couldn't see shit. Everyone was moving so erratically, it would be impossible to find him.

After a moments pause you wondered if maybe this was a wash and to call for backup and corner the bastard wherever he was here instead of coercing him to follow you somewhere private where an arrest could be made.

At that your phone buzzed again. What the fuck did they want?

Only this time it was a call. From an unknown number. He was here.

"Hello?"

"Detective. You look mouthwatering tonight." You gulped in response suddenly realizing this might be a bad idea but taking a shot from the bartender strengthened your resolve.

"Do I?"

"Oh yes. Have you come here to arrest me, Detective? Looking like that?"

"Maybe I came here for other things."

A long pause on the other end had you believing he had hung up until you heard a brief inhale on the end of the line.

"Is that so?"

"Will you turn me down?"

This was very dangerous. You were being reckless with your safety but if it drew him out and you had a chance to throw this sucker away for life you'd take it.

"Never."

"Then come get me."

"No... I think you need to find me first. Hasn't that always been your goal? To find me."

You cursed under your breath. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy for you. Why had you been so stupid.

"I don't know if you know this but you picked the most crowded club in the city tonight."

"Don't worry. I'll give you hints. But I can tell you right now you're very cold."

You stepped away from the bar and turned left.

"Warmer."

You considered that when you caught him you'd just kill him and say it had been an accident. And yet a sick and twisted part of you felt a thrill you couldn't explain.

And honestly were afraid to examine further.

Another few twists and turns to the tune of, "Warmer" and "you're getting colder." Lead you to a bustling staircase that took you up to the balcony overlooking the entire club.

Masses of people swarmed around you and at some points it was hard to even hear the phone if he had said anything at all.

You reached a hallway that was suspiciously empty. Lines of velvet padded doors with brass buttons on their exterior beckoned you forward.

“You’re getting warmer, Detective.”

Your hand twitched, trying not to rest on your concealed weapon.

“Warmer.

You'd made it halfway down the hall when you decided this was enough and it was time for backup. Your left heel stuck in place before you were about to turn tail and run.

“You’re burning up.” 

 A large hand snaked around your waist pulling you away from the door you had been looking at wearily. Then it all went black.

You came to, eyes blearily blinking in the low light. A deep red hue filled the room, curtains of lush fabric draped the ceiling, hanging askew and clinging to matching red sofas.

A black crystal chandelier hung above your head. The pounding of the music from the club could still be heard, the bass vibrating the surface you were on. 

Stuck on. No, strapped to.

You wiggled your wrists realizing they were handcuffed to the table beneath your body. Your senses started to come to you faster as your breathing increased with each panicked heartbeat.

Your ankles were tied down as well, a chain clanging against the surface. The sound blunted by the space. 

“Help!” You shouted, screaming as loud as you could. “Somebody?! Anybody!”

“They can’t hear you.” That voice. You’d heard it before. So many times before, but this time it wasn’t distorted by a device. No scrambling or altered sound. Deep, even more attractive than you’d thought.

If you didn’t know better you’d say it was almost warm, inviting. Like a lamb to slaughter, that’s how you felt. A wolf in sheep’s clothing and you were falling for it.

It was nearly impossible to lift your head fully to look upon your captor. Out of the shadows in the corner stood a man, tall, lean, leather jacket scuffed and torn and the mask. You recognized that.

He toyed with a large silver knife, pressing the point into the pad of his thumb, mask downturned as he examined the large weapon before you.

Turning back to look at you he traced the knife along the padded velvet walls. Cocking his head towards them as he approached where you lay.

“These walls are solid thick. The padding also helps block out the noise.” You couldn’t see his face but his eyes…they were black and they caught the red light just right and they almost-glimmered. 

When he spoke next you could hear the smirk on his lips. 

“Perfect place for screaming…of all kinds.” Your eyes closed, brows drawn together, a shaky rasp escaping your lips.

“You’re going to kill me.”

His head tilted to the side, taking you in, probably in more ways than you realized. Moving closer to you, the glimmering buck knife scraping against the wood of the table. You could feel your pulse racing in your neck, knees wobbling.

Once he’d approached your side, cracked white mask looking over you he lifted the glinting blade. You watched with wide eyes as the edge came down as he drew lines over your exposed flesh.

“Now why would I do that?” Cool metal bit into the side of your thigh, not enough to draw blood but enough to have you gasp at the pressure. His bottomless eyes darted to your face at the sound.

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. Captivated by you writhing on the table before him. Setting the knife down to rest on the center of your torso the man before you removed one of his gloves.

Flesh met flesh as he placed his large hand on your inner thigh, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your heated skin. His skin felt warm against your leg, you’d waited for it to feel cold, clammy but it was neither of those things.

“I’ve watched you for so long, Detective. Been wanting to feel how soft your skin is for far too long.” 

You wanted to fight it but you couldn’t help your poor body giving in to his caresses. Each stroke against your knee, shin, then moving back up to rest so close to your center. 

You tasted blood from how hard you’d bit your lower lip. Dying to not moan, to not let him know you were enjoying this. But he knew. Dammit he knew. 

“You knew I’d take the bait. And I did. Because you KNOW me. And I know you.” 

“You don’t know me.” You spit out, you tugged against your constraints to drive home your point. 

“I know you’re enjoying this.” 

“And how do you figure that?” 

“Because I am.” Fuck him. That’s all you could think. All you wanted but didn’t dare admit. He was a psycho…and maybe you were too for wanting him this badly. 

He retrieved his knife, this time letting it settle between your thighs, the tip catching on the string of your underwear. You could feel the blade against your skin and you did your best to breathe in shallow gulps.

His wrist flicked and what little pathetic swatch of fabric you’d had on under your dress was done for. An elastic snapping noise, a sting as it smacked against your skin and then he moved back a foot.

Pulling with him the knife and your underwear torn and tattered stuck to the tip of the blade. He held up the weapon and its new bundle of fabric to examine it, fingering the underwear with his free hand.

“Detective. These appear to be wet.” 

If you’d had your gun you would’ve shot him. Or you’d like to think you would in this moment. Anything to get out of this situation. Scorching heat seared across your face, you could feel it beading up on the back of your neck as well.

He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the table, fingers brushing against your sides in the process. 

“Care to explain?” His head gestured to the sad excuse for underwear left. 

“Fuck you!”

“Soon, but not yet.” His gloveless hand resumed its place on your inner thigh but this time his fingers dared higher. You could feel him part you and drag a long finger up your center, dipping in before pulling his hand back to inspect.

You wanted to cross your legs, anything to prevent you from wanting more. The noises that had scratched at the back of your throat  as you felt him briefly inside you, were scrambling to escape. 

His fingers were coated in your wetness, masked face exploring your own, gauging your reaction. Then he slipped those same fingers under his mask, a sucking noise could be heard and his eyes rolled back.

“You taste just as I imagined.” Your eyes met his, instead of looking away you kept your focus. Challenging him. He wanted to play games, so could you. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you two did have some connection because as your eyes remained locked with his you could feel the static energy in the room shift around you. 

“What else have you imagined?” 

The hand of his that held the knife lifted again, the lip of the blade coaxing under the hem of your dress. The tip poking through the satin fabric, slicing as it moved upwards. 

Cool air rushed over your heated skin, the fabric falling away. You carefully watched the knife as it made its way across your stomach, towards your chest and finally reaching your neckline.

The stitches popping as the dress shredded away, two useless swath's of fabric toppling to the floor. Exposing your remaining lingerie that you had carefully selected for the night, something that would fit nicely under your dress.

He let out a low whistle from under his mask. Taking the knife and quirking it underneath a loose bow on your black lace bustier. Untying the ribbon as he twisted the knife expertly.

“Detective. Is this all for me?” 

“Untie me and find out.” At that he chuckled, plucking another seam with the blades tip.

“You’re very clever, but not that clever.” 

He tapped your cheek with the flat side of his knife, wiggling his finger in a childlike admonishment as he moved to the end of the table. Standing between your legs that were still strapped down.

You watched as he slipped the knife into his back pocket, removing his other glove somewhere in the process. 

The way he watched you as he moved. Those depthless eyes examining every inch of your body. How they shone a little brighter as his gaze landed on your exposed lower half.

He lowered himself onto his elbows but not before clutching your hips and tugging you further down the table towards him. You grunted at the tightness overwhelming your bound wrists, scraping against the metal handcuffs.

Then you felt his mouth against you. Crying out at the feel of his lips sucking against you. Lapping up your juices and teasing the sensitive flesh there. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, panting, then moaning. His evil mouth coaxing every new noise from your body. Trying to look down and see him but the mask sat on top of his head still blocking your view.

That tightness and aching sensation started to gather in your center, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. Your moans grew louder, sparks flared behind your eyes and then with an extra savory sucking sensation you were tumbling over the edge.

You screamed, pulling against your handcuffs, hips lifting off the table to meet his mouth more readily and from the way the floor and walls pulsed and pounded around you, you knew he was right.

No one could hear you.

The ecstasy washed through you, draining your remaining fight down to nothing. You didn’t even notice that he had stood up and knelt by where your head rested.

“Next time scream my name.” 

“That’s a little hard since I don’t know it.” You managed through gasps of air.

You could feel him moving beside you before you turned to come face to face with that taunting white mask. You instead focused on his eyes beneath the plastic exterior.

Every nerve ending came alive as you watched his large hands coming up and unclasping the fasten behind his mask. The cold façade fell away and you felt pin pricks of both dread and wonder overtake you.

The masked killer-unmasked.

And remarkably, if not tragically, handsome beyond your comprehension.

Those same dark eyes that gobbled up any light in the room, curtained by long strands of dark hair. Mussed from the mask, and his previous explorations of your body.

A small mole rested under one eye, well shaped nose and perfectly carved smile adorned by pink lips. His jaw was severe but softened by the rest of his features when he smiled.

It set your whole being on edge. Looking at him, the man you'd been talking to for months. Who'd been taunting you at every turn.

Who'd killed people.

"Do you prefer the mask, Detective?"

You swallowed thickly at the insinuated repercussions of having seen his face. Knowing you could pick him out of a lineup easily. You'd never be able to forget that face.

Terminally Handsome.

He smirked at you, as if reading your thoughts. Grip tightening on the knife and drawing it in lazy circles and arcs over your skin once more.

Pressing deeply just under your ribcage, a rivulet of blood being drawn to the surface as you sucked in a ragged gasp.

The pain mixed with excitement as you felt yourself dampen again just watching him.

"Let's remove this, shall we?" He nodded to your bustier that was beginning to feel very tight and hot against your body.

You felt the blade slip under the center point where it laced up corset style and watched as each ribbon gave way to the sharpened metal slicing its way upwards.

You felt like your chest could finally expand and take in oxygen once he reached forward tearing the offending fabric away from you. It even took your hazy brain to register that now you lay completely exposed to the monster before you.

Monster...or man. You couldn't decide at the moment.

The blade tip circled one nipple then the other, your body betrayed you in every sense of the word as you groaned at the cool sensation. The tight bud responding eagerly to his ministrations.

There was no mask hiding his expressions now. Amusement and darkening shadows of lust.

"I can tell you're enjoying this as much as me." He leaned in close and whispered, licking the shell of your ear. Then placing a heated kiss to your neck before working his way downard.

Taking your nipple into his hot mouth and sucking enough for your eyes to roll back and hips rise up in need. He then turned his attention to the other breast. Tongue stroking you as you felt the knife pressed to the other side keeping you in place.

"Please." You wanted to cringe away from how helpless you felt as the word escaped your lips. Not helpless asking to be let go, but helpless-begging for more.

At that the gorgeous man above you's eyes rose to catch your powerless gaze. You knew this entire time, for months, you'd never been the one in charge. It had always been him. And you fell for it- hook, line and sinker.

"Billy."

"How do I know that's not a fake name?" You ventured, crying out when his mouth tortured you again.

"Does it matter?" No. Nothing mattered at this moment. Your world had shrunk and it was just you and him. You and Billy.

"No. It doesn't." He seemed to like that. Continuing his assault on your body until you couldn't tell where your body ended and his began.

Dizzy from pleasure and wanting, no, needing more. You could feel his arousal pressed into your thigh as he hovered over you kissing and marking up your shoulder.

"Billy I-"

"Shhhhh." The cool press of the blade against your lips. "I know."

And damn him, he did. You couldn't control how your body reacted as you watched him slowly unbuckle his belt, black pants dropping to the floor around his ankles.

His pupils blown wide, moving towards you, no longer a man. A killer stalking his prey. He moved in near silence until he was hovering over you.

His lips were on yours again, demanding, controlling, guiding every movement and you followed him like a lost puppy. Biting his bottom lip before he could pull away, drawing a drop of blood to fall between you two.

He pulled back, fingers tentatively touching the small wound. The look he gave you next was feral. No humanity left in it. Only terrible delight and amusement.

You felt him pressing at your entrance, hot and hard. Your knees fell apart further and you heard him chuckle into your chest as he drove home.

It was truly criminal how good it felt, how right it felt. You were turned on and disgusted by yourself all at once, but soon that little voice telling you to hold back was drowned out by each push of his hips against yours.

You wanted to hold onto him, to run your fingers through his hair to claw at his back but all your wrists could do was press against the metal holding you back. Bruises rubbing into your skin.

He struck something deep inside you and you muffled a cry into his shoulder. Building higher and higher, soaring above you body with each movement.

You could feel him getting closer too, a shift of his hips catching just the right angle and your toes curled.

"Scream for me, Detective. Like you've been wanting to all these months."

His pace picked up, Billy groaning and the sounds of your bodies coming together again and again and again.

Your body couldn't take it anymore, fucked into oblivion. Your body clenched then released, fireworks filling your vision and spikes of pleasure drove through ever cell of your body.

"Billy!" You screamed as loud as you could, the clanging of your wrists and feet fighting their confines as your back arched into him.

At the sound of you coming again he drove in deeper than he had before and followed you over the precipice. Groaning loud as his fingers dug into your hips.

He whispered your name into your ear as he came, punctuating it with a final crush of hip hips against yours. The sound of your full name on his lips made your head hazy.

You felt a sharp prick on your side and the room around you began to swim. You could feel his fingers caressing the side of your face.

"This has been very nice Detective. I look forward to doing it again sometime." He placed a passionate kiss to your lips before giving you a soft almost tender kiss to your forehead. "Sweet Dreams." Then the room went dark.

You didn't know how long it'd been but you blinked eyes squinting at the bright light overhead. You were in a hospital, sounds of people milling about made you turn your head to the side.

"Detective!" On of your colleagues exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. " You're awake!"

"What happened?"

"We found you in the club...Tied to a table. But wearing different clothing than you'd been wearing before going inside." she gulped. "We saw the torn fragments of dress though."

So he'd been a gentleman and dressed you before leaving.

"Have you found him?" Her eyes fell to her clasped hands before shaking her head.

"No not yet but we will." Her phone beeped and she gave a baleful smile before pausing to walk out and take the call.

When you turned over onto your other side on the side table you noticed a large bouquet of flowers. A note placed in the center with a heart drawn on it.

You scrambled to open the card.

"Thank you for the amazing night, Detective. Until next time."

[dw19791967]

That Feeling Part 3

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual), OFC Tyler

Y/N POV and Dean POV

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, unwanted kissing, depression, anxiety, and feelings.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains discussions of depression and anxiety and feelings that go along with those. If that could be triggering for you I would skip out on this one. It is based on some experiences I have had in real life.

*All mistakes are my own!

I'm back (kinda) here's part 3. I'm thinking possibly two more parts. Let me know what you think!

-Layla

*I do not own this gif

Y/N’s POV:

It has been 5 months since one of the worst nights of my life. I started therapy and have been doing a lot better. It was kinda weird at first talking to someone about my life issues and past traumas, I spent a lot of time just sitting there trying to figure out what to say, especially since I can’t mention anything about hunting. But overall it’s been good. I’ve been taking better care of myself, spending more time with the boys, mostly Sam. Dean has been distant lately but I figured it was because he has spent so much one on one time with me the last few months. Sam has helped me start exercising daily (even though I hate it with every fiber of my being). I’ve lost around 10 pounds which is great considering I still eat a ton of take out. I’m starting to feel like my old self again. I took a break from hunting and started writing, that lasted a hot minute before I was tired of staying home. 

Being back in a routine was good, I feel good.

We are on the road currently Sam caught a case about missing bodies. One of my favorite things. They think I’m weird for enjoying the quiet of cemeteries, but I know it’s because the dead are easier to deal with than the living some days.

“Ok, we got four missing corpses. Gladis Bramford was the first, mid 80’s when she passed. They found her head a few counties over, still missing the rest.” Sam was typing away on his computer.

“Who the hell takes a head only?” Dean had a grossed out look on his face.

I laughed.

“Evidently someone had big plans, poor Gladis.” I poked Dean in the shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes. “The strangest part was her eyes were replaced with red glass, they haven’t been able to figure out which funeral home she was housed at before entering her final resting place.” 

“So what do we think, grave robbers, ghouls, demons?” I asked Sam.

“Not sure, we will have to see after we check the head out.” 

_________________________________________________

Sam went to check out the head while Dean and I looked over the case files.

“You doing ok sweetheart? I know I haven’t really checked in on you lately.” Dean looked at me.

“For the most part yeah, I feel a lot better than I did. I think taking time to get my head on straight helped a lot, plus therapy.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Dean smiled at me.

I missed spending time with Dean. But I hadn’t pushed him, I figured he needed a break from me and I understood that. I can be a lot sometimes and he has his own stuff to deal with. It’s not easy being my friend. Plus after everything I realized I probably will never be comfortable enough with myself to be with someone. I’m in love with him and probably will always be. Knowing he’s here but I can’t have him is a hard pill to swallow but I’m working everyday to move past it. I know he deserves better and I know I’m not it. 

“You haven’t heard anything from that douchebag right?” he continued reading over the files. 

“He actually messaged me a few weeks ago from his facebook account. Asked how I was and hoped I was doing better. I ignored it and he kept sending messages, saying he was sorry and he was a dick, blah, blah, blah. I blocked him.” 

“What an asshat, he must have balls the size of Texas to reach out to you after the stunt he pulled.” 

“I guess so, I was upset by it but I’m moving on.” I smiled at him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, you didn’t deserve that, any of it.”

“It’s ok Dean, I’ve accepted what has happened and I’m moving on. Choosing between a man and a bear, I’d choose the bear.”

“You don’t mean that, you just haven't found the right man yet.”

I scoffed. “Dean… I’m an overweight, loud mouthed, cursing, strong willed woman, who has extreme trust issues. I doubt I will ever find a man who is ok with that, plus I don’t think I want to put myself out there again, who knows what will happen.”

“Just have me greet them with my glock, I’m sure it will go great after that.”

I laughed.

“In all seriousness I hope you do find someone someday Y/N, you deserve the world whether you believe you do or not.”

My heart sank. The only man I want is right in front of me and he will never want me.

“Thanks De.” I got up to pat him on the shoulder.

“Where are you going?” 

“I just need some air.” 

“Y/N I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, I just have a lot on my mind and need a break.”

He frowned.

“It’s ok Dean, really.” I gave him a small smile.

Once I was outside and had the door closed I broke down, I can’t keep doing this to myself.

_________________________________________________

Dean’s POV:

I didn’t mean to upset her. I was trying to give her hope. 

It has been five months since I saw Y/N break. I’ve never been so scared in my life seeing her crumble under the weight of the world. I had to step back, let her get her head on straight without me. I don’t want to get used to relying on her to make me feel better. She needs to take care of herself, not me. I missed spending time with her but I knew it was for the best. Plus I know Sam is a better influence. I’m no good for her.

My phone was buzzing.

Sam.

“Hey man.”

“Dean hey, is Y/N with you?”

“Nah, she’s taking a break.”

“Oh, ok. I was going to let you guys know the cops think it’s a serial grave robber, evidently this has happened before. From everything I’ve checked out, I don’t see a relation to a monster. Maybe we should just let the cops handle it?”

I sighed. “Yeah that’s fine, we can stick around for a few days to see if anything happens.” 

“You ok dude?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just worry about her.”

“I know you do, but she’s doing better.”

“I know man, I just feel like I’m losing her. I know I stopped hanging with her but I wanted her to be able to heal without me looming over her.”

“Dean, she probably thinks you need a break from her, you know how she thinks.”

“You’re right Sam, I didn’t think about that. God, I messed up.”

“She’ll be back man and you can talk to her, I’ll go grab us some food before I head back.” 

As Dean was finishing his call with Sam, she sneaked back in.

“She’s here now, talk to you soon.”

“Everything ok?” she asked.

Her eyes were red, she had been crying.

Shit, I’m an asshole.

“Uh yeah, Sam said cops think it’s a serial grave robber, it’s happened before. Told him we could stick around for a few days and see if anything happens. He’s grabbing food, and should be back soon.”

She nodded.

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I got up to go towards her.

She backed away.

“It’s ok Dean, I’m just being over sensitive right now.” 

“No you’re not, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“Dean it’s fine really, let’s just drop it.”

“I don’t want to drop it Y/N, I’ve been awful to you these last few months. I was trying to give you space to heal and it backfired. You think I hate you or can’t stand you. Neither is the case.”

“I understand Dean, I know I can be a lot. It’s ok.”

I raised my voice “But it’s not, I feel like I’m losing you!”

She began to cry. 

“Dean, I was doing fine, great even. Until I realized the biggest part of me was missing you. Sam was great at helping me, sure, but you told me you would stick by my side and you didn’t. I really get it. I’m annoying as hell. Everyone deserves a break. But you know I would do anything for you, hell I have and I know you have done a lot for me. And the fact is, I’m not yours to lose. So stop apologizing, put your big boy pants on, and move on. I’m not going to keep doing this!”

_________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV:

Dean took a step back and sighed.

He can’t keep doing this to me and I can’t keep doing this to myself.

I could tell I upset him.

I rubbed my head and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just don’t need to keep hearing your apologies alright, I get it Dean. You forget I know you better than you know yourself. I’ll be ok, please don’t beat yourself up.”

I moved to hug him. 

He held me in his arms.

Then spoke, “You know I can’t do that sweetheart, beating myself up is my number one hobby.” He laughed.

“Well you need to stop, especially when it comes to me.” I moved back.

“I just need to know it’s going to be ok Y/N, I know I messed up but I will be better. Promise.”

“I know Dean, I know.”

Taglist:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

@pandasrdbest2341

[hobeemin]

fool’s gold

💰 genre: angst, smut, drama, established relationship au, lovers to enemies

💰 pairing(s): ceo!kim namjoon x doctor!poc (f)reader x lawyer!kim seokjin

💰 summary: "the cause of broken marriages is selfishness in one form or another" - vance havner

vows were never meant to be broken yet here they were. the problem is how can you quit the very person you know is your soulmate?

💰 rating: 18+

💰 warning(s): divorce, infidelity, depression, anxiety, gossip, drinking, swearing, pregnancy, gossip, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, teasing, angry sex

💰 word count: 4.5k

💰 credits: a huge shoutout to @daimyosjeon​ and @sugakookitty​ for beta reading this fic. i hadn’t written anything in awhile so i appreciate the feedback you both gave cause i was so unsure of this fic 💜💜

banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

💰 a/n: for the heartbroken society collab hosted by @shina913​ @playmetheclassics​ & @jeonlius​

The horns outside roused the two occupants awake. The man blinked, trying to remove the sleep from his eyes. His lover didn’t take long to rise from the bed and search for her clothing strewn around the room. He watched with interest as she dressed, only sitting back down on the edge of the bed to put her shoes back on.

“Leaving so soon?”

She sighed as she felt his hand touch her lower back. She almost recoiled from it.

“We go through this every time, Namjoon. You know I can’t stay.”

He frowned, rolling onto his back as he looked at the ceiling. “You can; you just never do.”

She stood, walking over to the mirror at the dresser. “I’m not going to get into this with you right now, and I need coffee before my meeting this morning.”

He rolled his eyes. “Always a pleasure Y/N.”

“Likewise.”

---

Y/N sat at the table, fiddling with a pen in her hand. Her eyes kept glancing at the clock.

Late as usual.

“Are you sure he knew when the settlement started?”

She huffed, turning to the man beside her. “Jin, I’m sure of it, and it was scheduled months ago.”

Jin sat back and adjusted his tie. “Being late will only make the judge hate him more.”

The door opened as the judge walked in. She nodded to the three people sitting and sat down. “I see he’s late again,” she murmured, opening her files. 

The second man finally spoke up, his features slightly annoyed. “Your honor, I’ve called my client but haven’t been able to reach him–”

The door to the conference room burst open as Namjoon entered, looking disheveled. He planted himself in the seat next to his lawyer and gave the judge a small smile.

“My apologies, Judge Park. Traffic.”

Judge Park scowled. “Traffic didn’t stop everyone else from being here on time. Mr. Kim, I’d suggest you get your priorities straight. After all, this is your divorce settlement.”

The judge continued to drone on, summarizing what had been said in the last few sessions. 

Y/N glared at Namjoon. After seven years of marriage, they called it quits. They didn’t try to hold on to their marriage. How she felt about him and made her think they weren’t aligned. The bills from their marriage counselor were proof enough. 

After a particularly nasty scandal involving a secretary, Y/N called it quits. She was tired of the whispers and the looks she received working at the hospital, which added even more stress to her already fast-paced life.

And yet. 

She looked across the table at her soon-to-be ex-husband. Why couldn’t she stay away? The guilt of that morning still lingered, and the thought made her face heat up if they had any idea what she and Namjoon did the night before.

Feeling eyes on her, she looked up from her papers to see Namjoon glancing at her. She looked over at her lawyer. Jin was preoccupied with the judge, reading over his notes and paying attention, as was Namjoon’s lawyer. She rolled her eyes as a smirk spread across his face. The sudden urge to wipe it off his face with her fist grew each moment. When he sent a wink her way, Y/N let out an audible groan making both lawyers stop talking. 

They turned, looking at her curiously. Jin raised an eyebrow at her in concern as he reached for his glass. “Everything alright, Dr. Kim?”

Y/N flashed him a smile. 

Judge Park pressed her hands together with a nod to each person.

“It seems these are the terms from both parties. If we’ve reached an agreement, these can be drawn up, and in our next meeting, we’ll only need signatures. How do we–”

“Your Honor?”

Y/N huffed out a breath as Namjoon spoke up. Adjusting his tie, he shot her a look with a grin. “I’d like to go over the logistics of the assets once more.”

Jin frowned. “I’m sorry, but what wasn’t clear before?”

Namjoon murmured as he leafed through the sheets. Once he reached the section, he chuckled, flipping it around and placing his finger near it. 

“The vacation property. What do you plan to do with it?”

Was he for real?

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be serious. Why do you care what I do with it?”

“Humor me, please.”

A frown crossed her face. “Sell it.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wha–B-But why?! We built it together, Y/N!”

A snarl erupted from between her lips. “It lost all value when you decided to bring multiple women into our bedroom, Namjoon.”

“I will have to step in and cease this conversation. This session is adjourned.”

As the judge stood, the group did as well until she left the room. Y/N sighed heavily as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Namjoon observed the action. Yep. She was stressed, and it was her way of coping with it. He remembered when he first saw her do it as a university student, and they were studying in his dorm during finals week.

“Helps me calm down,” she once said.

He realized he’d been staring once her eyes fell on him. He looked away in haste. She rolled her eyes until she felt a hand on her arm. Y/N turned to see Jin standing next to her. He removed his hand once he realized they were still around other people. He dropped his voice enough for her to hear.

“Call me later?”

She nodded, giving him a small smile. Relief passed his features as he gathered his papers and put them into his suitcase. The group headed to the elevators waiting for it to stop at their floor.

“Where’s Haneul?”

Y/N scoffed at the question, keeping her eyes facing the elevator. “So now you care about your daughter?”

Namjoon sighed, feeling the sudden headache grow. “She’s just as much my daughter as she is yours.”

She rounded on him, and her temper began to flare. “I wish you wouldn’t try to test me. Keep it up, Joon. I’m trying to be fair, but if you keep antagonizing me, I will ensure you only get limited visits with her.”

“You wouldn’t do that, Y/N,” he accused quietly. Namjoon narrowed his eyes at his wife, and she was playing hardball now. He was a lousy husband but prided himself on being a great father.

Jin glanced between the two of them. “This isn’t the proper place for this discussion.”

“I’m aware, Seokjin,” she snapped before returning to Namjoon. “She’s staying with my parents; they flew in a few days ago. Happy?”

“Very. Thanks,” he mumbled. “I’ll pick her up on Friday and take her to school on Monday morning.”

She nodded, pressing the button that led to the parking garage. At least she could be civil when it came to their daughter.

“Fine with me. Just call before you arrive.”

Namjoon hummed in agreement, and the elevator ride fell into silence. As he leaned against the wall, deep in thought, he noticed something. Seokjin stood too close to his wife– he refused to call her his ex until the papers were signed. They were merely separated. But Y/N didn’t move away from Seokjin; she quickly smiled at him. Namjoon’s knuckles paled as he gripped his suitcase tighter. Clenching his jaw, he cleared his throat.

“Are you going back to work now?”

Y/N stepped away from Seokjin and turned to Namjoon. “No, I took a leave of absence.” Seeing his facial expression, she sighed. “It’s fine, and I have enough residents to help until I’m back.”

The last thing she wanted to do was have him pry about why she took time off work, and all it would do was lead to another argument. She was relieved when the elevator finally reached the parking level she was on. As the door opened, Seokjin held the button. She turned toward Namjoon with a curt nod. 

“I’ll see you soon, Namjoon. I’ll let Haneul know you’ll pick her up.”

“Thank you. See you Friday.”

As she walked out, Seokjin followed, tipping his imaginary hat to him just as the doors shut. Namjoon frowned as he got off at the next level. Why did seeing her with Jin rustle his feathers so much? Not only would that be inappropriate, but it would also be an extreme conflict of interest. He was her lawyer, for crying out loud. 

Would that stop you?

He shook off the thoughts, frowning as he walked to his car. Yes, things had gotten bad between them, but they always ended up in bed together for the most part. Regardless of their thoughts of each other, no matter how toxic it was, Namjoon and Y/N still had some physical attraction to each other.

---

“Oh shit!”

Y/N whipped her head back, biting down hard on her lip. One hand gripped the counter's edge, and the other tangled into dark hair from the scalp for dear life. She willed herself to open her eyes and look down at the head between her legs. 

She bit back a scream as she rutted against his mouth. He massaged her inner thighs, placing soft kisses along her skin, making his way up to her pussy lips. His finger stroked her slit, gauging her reaction. His fingers dug into her thighs as his lips laid an assault on her swollen clit. Y/N’s hips bucked, making him chuckle as he pulled away.

At the sudden loss of contact, a frown formed on her face. Mischievous eyes met hers as his tongue licked a thick strip along her seam, causing her to jolt. 

“Frustrated?”

Y/N eyed him with scrutiny.

Giving in would only make things rough. He knew what he was doing to her. A smirk spread on his face, watching her come undone.

“I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn. Just say my name, and I’ll let you come, darling.”

Making a point, he spread her lips, zeroing in on her clit. He flicked it gently, followed by a smack. With a muffled moan, Y/N’s hips bucked. Collecting her arousal on his tongue with kitten licks, he let out a hungry moan before covering her clit with his mouth, causing her to cry. He let go of her clit, letting his tongue travel down to her entrance. He hummed as he feasted, enjoying how close she was to unraveling. Gasping, she gripped his hair more, making a hiss slip past his pillowy lips as she anchored herself. 

“Let go, Y/N. I know you want to, darling. It’s alright,” he coaxed silkily.

The tight coils in her belly released so suddenly that she almost scooted off the counter. He held down her thighs to keep her from falling as she cried out. The aftershocks were so intense she kept shivering as he stood from his spot. He picked her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest.

“Anything to say, Y/N?”

Finally catching her breath, she looked at him with a chuckle.

“Fuck you, Kim Seokjin.”

---

Y/N emerged wrapped in a towel, shower bonnet on her head as the steam billowed from the shower in the bathroom shower. The smells wafting throughout the apartment made her mouth water as she removed the bonnet shaking her faux locs from their confines. Slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, she padded back into the living room, going toward the kitchen. A man stood around, turned by the stove, stirring something in a pot. Smiling, she walked behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Something smells delicious.”

Jin laughed as he paused his stirring. Turning, he bent down to kiss her before focusing on the pot. “It’s almost done. Wanna taste?”

“Do you have to ask me?”

He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and scooped some of the sauce onto the spoon. He blew it gently before bringing it to her lips. Y/N tasted the sauce, humming at how delicious it was. 

“Not bad, Mr. Kim.”

He laughed, putting the lid on the pot. “Not bad, my ass. It’s the best kimchi tofu soup ever.”

She scoffed, removing her hands from his torso, and grabbed bowls from the cabinets. “And feed your already bloated ego? You think so little of me.”

Jin smirked as he swatted her ass playfully and kissed her cheek. “I think of you just fine. You ready to eat?”

She nodded as she helped set the table. Jin brought out the side dishes, scooping the rice into two small bowls. They sat down moments later, and Jin opened a bottle of wine, pouring each a glass. Sitting there in silence felt calming. No yelling or arguments...just peace.

She spoke too soon.

Jin took a sip of his wine before digging into his soup. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N’s brow arched in curiosity. “In what way?”

His smile reached the corner of his mouth. “You’re being coy, but I meant the settlement and Namjoon.”

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“But as your lawyer–”

“Correction...yes, you are my lawyer, Jin; however, we are off the clock. I don’t want to talk about that right now, please.”

“Fine. But I do have one more question.”

Y/N gave a lackluster smile but urged him to continue.

“When am I going to meet Haneul?”

She blinked once. Then twice. Where was this all coming from? As she remained silent, Jin began to feel agitated.

“It’s not a difficult question, Y/N. I mean, we’ve been seeing each other for almost a year. Don’t you think it’s time?”

"No. No, I don't," she answered. 

He stared at her in disbelief, frown lines forming on his face. "No?"

"No."

"Why?"

All she wanted was a quiet dinner with him. Was that so hard to ask? The last thing she wanted was to think about custody hearings and the divorce. It was hard enough taking a leave of absence was hard enough, and work helped her be distracted. 

Y/N rubbed her nose bridge again to alleviate the pain between her eyes.

Why was he ruining this?

Standing, she met his gaze as her lips drooped into a frown.

“I think I should leave.”

Jin swore under his breath, rising from his seat. “Why are you being so dramatic? It’s just a question.”

Rolling her eyes upward, she stormed off, grabbing her belongings and shoving them into a bag. “I don’t have time for this, Jin.”

He followed her into the bedroom, watching her dress. “Then make time.”

Her posture straightened as she let out a hiss, eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

He walked up to her crossing his arms over his expansive chest. “We knew what we were doing, starting something. You’re so caught up in what everyone will think; you can’t see that someone cares about you.”

His voice lowered, reaching out to grab her hand. “Y/N, please stay. It’s late, and I don’t want to upset you.”

She shook her head as Jin’s thumbs circled the top of her hands. The gesture calmed her nerves as she thought about what he had said. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right in some aspects. Sighing, she looked up at Jin and nodded.

“I get what you’re saying, but can we slow things down for a while? I want to be able to do things right this time.”

Jin leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. “Yes. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for you.”

---

Namjoon stared out at the skyline, drink in hand. The condensation coated his fingers. Brows furrowed as his insecurities began to eat away at him. Why was he feeling like this? He hadn’t been able to shake the suspicious feeling since seeing Y/N in the elevator. Something was up, and he did like the unknown. Lost in his thoughts, he barely felt the hands encircling his waist. Lips pressing against his earlobe caused him to shudder. A smirk ghosted her face.

“Come back to bed.”

“Can’t sleep,” he muttered.

She frowned, reaching out to take the glass from his hands. “You’re drinking again.”

“Helps me get to sleep.”

“No, it doesn’t. Just makes the bad things go away temporarily.”

Namjoon let out a heavy sigh as he fought to roll his eyes. “You gonna lecture all night and ruin my buzz?”

She scoffed with a frown. “Not unless you come back to bed.”

“Soon.”

She sucked in her teeth, glaring at the back of his head. “Namjoon, you’re making this easy for me to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“To leave you completely.”

He turned to look at her with a stare of disbelief. “Tiffany, you can’t be serious.”

She crossed her hands over her chest. “Very. It was fun while it lasted, but you’re a mess.”

“I wasn’t messed up when you came here today,” he taunted. “It wasn’t messed up when you and I started this. Admit it, you didn’t care you were fucking a married man, and you sure didn’t care that it was the husband of your colleague.”

“You’re a bastard,” she hissed.

Smirking, he gripped her by the hair, tugging her toward him. “I know. Now kiss me.”

Her lips smashed against his as he laid claim once again. The glass slipped from his hands, falling to the floor in an earth-shattering crash, making her pull away momentarily.

“Leave it,” he murmured against her lips.

Picking her up by the waist, her legs wrapped around him instinctively. Namjoon pushed her against the glass, pushing her panties to the side; she moaned as she felt him enter without warning, gripping him by the hair as their grunts and pants filled the air. 

There was no tenderness in the sex, just two people seeking their selfishness. And it worked for them. Namjoon’s head fell back, lost in lust as his thrust quickened.

“Fuck, Baby, you feel so good around my cock.”

She could only moan back in response.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

Her eyes popped open as her hands dropped to his shoulders. “What the fuck did you say?”

The look on his face was of utter shock. “I–”

“Get the fuck off me,” she snapped. 

Shoving him away after he placed her back on the ground, she avoided stepping on the glass as she gathered her things.

“Babe, let's talk about this.”

“There is nothing to discuss with you anymore. I’m done. You get your priorities together, Namjoon, or so help me.”

She placed her coat over her shoulders, slipped her heels on, and walked away without a word. All he could do was drop to the couch in disbelief.

What was he doing?

---

Y/N watched as Haneul ran around the playground with a smile spread across her face. It made her happy to see her daughter having so much fun. She sometimes regretted not giving her a sibling, especially since she came from a large family. But that time had passed in her mind. Would she want to go through it again? Would Jin even want to?

She shook the thoughts away as Haneul ran up to her, breathing hard.

“Eomma, did you see me in the jungle gym?”

“I did! You’ve gotten faster!”

“Appa helped last time,” she said with a smile.

Y/N strained a smile back as Haneul sat next to her. “Oh, he did.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I see.”

Haneul looked out at the scenery for a moment before speaking up again. “Is Appa going to come back to live with us?”

It was only a matter of time before Haneul questioned what was happening. She was far too observant of a child not to. Y/N dreaded the day it would come, but keeping her daughter in the dark wasn't fair.

“Next time Appa is with us, we’ll sit down and talk to you about it, okay?”

It seemed to satisfy her, and she got up again to play on the swings now that they were unoccupied. 

“Mind if I sit here?”

She saw Namjoon standing beside her, holding three drinks in a carrier. She gestured for him to sit as she focused on Haneul.

“How are you doing, Y/N?”

“All things considered, I’m alright. Yourself?”

“More or less fine.”

“Good,” she answered.

He held out a cup to her with a small smile. “I got your favorite–a vanilla matcha latte, right?”

She took it from his hands with a tiny nod. “Yes. Thanks.”

After a minute of silence, Y/N spoke up. “We’ll have to explain things to Haneul at some point, and she’s asking many questions.”

He sipped his drink, taking in what she was asking. “When should we?”

“Sooner than later. I’m returning to work this week– maybe in a week or two. You can come over for dinner.”

He tried not to show too much emotion on his face. He hadn’t returned to their place in ages, and maybe this was the way back into their lives.

“Sounds good. I’ll call you to discuss details.”

Haneul noticed Namjoon as her eyes lit up. She jumped off the swings, much to Y/N’s protest, running up to her father and hugging him.

“Appa!”

“BunBun!”

She chatted animatedly with him as Y/N watched on. It almost felt like old times, and it was practically the calm before an even more significant storm— one they weren’t prepared for. 

---

Y/N washed her hands as she turned to her patient with a warm smile. “I’ll send my nurse in to administer your shot. I’ll have your new prescription ready at the reception desk, and you can schedule a follow-up with me in six weeks.”

Walking out, she almost collided with one of the Nurse Practitioners. 

“Oh, Dr. Kim!”

Y/N’s lips pressed thin as she stared at her unmoving. The woman felt uneasy under her gaze. 

“You should be more aware of your surroundings, Tiffany,” she murmured with a slight edge.

Tiffany muttered an apology as she cast her eyes down at the ground. “Apologies, I haven't been in the right  headspace today.”

Y/N shook her head, still lacking her normal empathy. “Maybe you should have taken the day off–”

Suddenly Tiffany hunched over, vomiting right in front of Y/N all over the floor. Nurses looked up from their computers and rushed over, fussing at Tiffany. A few bowed to Y/N as they ushered her away. Something felt off to Y/N. Her stomach twisted in knots. Giving the front desk her instructions, she rushed off in the direction they walked off with Tiffany. She found her in the physician's lounge in one of the beds. With a cold compress on her head, she brushed off the nurses standing around her. Once they noticed Y/N standing there, they hurried away, avoiding her gaze. 

As Tiffany began to sit up, Y/N shook her head.

“No need to do that. Rest.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring hard at the lines in the hardwood.

“Dr. Kim–”

“How long?”

Tiffany’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

The sound that left Y/N's mouth was equal parts exhaustion and exasperation. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she met her gaze.

“You can stop playing innocent, Tiffany. Admit it. You’re pregnant.”

Silent tears fell as she covered her face away from Y/N. “How did you know?”

“Doesn’t matter. How far along are you?”

“I have an appointment tomorrow to find out.”

“Does he know?”

“No. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she exited the room. “But you need to tell him. I mean it.”

As Y/N closed the door behind her, she felt the air deflating from her lungs. The lump in her throat grew as she nearly ran back to her office. 

Once the door shut, she slid to the floor and sobbed quietly. 

Things were always going to be different now.

---

If looks could kill.

Y/N and Jin sat across from Namjoon and Tiffany in the restaurant, and her ex looked as pissed as she felt. When Y/N suggested dinner, the last thing he expected was to see Jin sitting across from him.

So they were together. His temper rose by the minute, but he had to keep it in check. Otherwise, Y/N would have more arsenal to use against them in their case.

He sipped his whiskey, trying to seem interested in the small talk, but he couldn’t help but notice Y/N's body language with Jin. Nothing like his, and that didn’t sit well with him.

“I’m curious as to why you called this dinner, Y/N,” he said, interrupting the conversation.

Y/N set her fork down to glance at Namjoon. “Well, it only seemed fair to get everything out in the open. You and Tiffany are starting a family, and I have been seeing Seokjin for some time now.”

“Isn't this a bit extreme?”

“No. I don’t think so. Let’s look at the facts; Tiffany is...what, three months pregnant. If you look at the time frame–”

Jin put his hand over Y/N’s. “Honey, maybe this isn’t the place.”

She snatched her hand away. “No, I’m going to finish my thought,” her eyes flashed in anger and hurt at her soon-to-be ex-husband, “The timeframe shows that she got pregnant while we were still together before the separation. Legally, this breaks our clause, so you better sign the papers, Namjoon, or I will make your life hell. I mean it.”

Namjoon slammed his glass down, scowling at Y/N. “You think I wanted this to happen?!”

“Don’t play the victim here. You both are guilty and knew what the fuck you were doing. I’m tired of all this. Just let our marriage go, Namjoon. I’ve moved on, and you need to do the same.”

She was throwing it away like that. Tiffany tried to console him, but he moved away from her as he pouted. Jin cleared his throat, looking at him.

“I care about Y/N. Can you see what this is doing to her? It’s better this way.”

The last thing she wanted was to shed more tears for this man, but she stood so fast the chair fell back from her seat.

“I loved you unconditionally, Namjoon. Did any of it mean anything? I wanted this marriage to work and I poured my life into it. We wanted our family to grow, and you ruined it for selfish reasons. I’m done. Officially. Goodbye, Namjoon.”

She got up and ran out of the restaurant. Jin nodded to the remaining couple, grabbed his and Y/N’s things, and walked outside. From his position, he could see Jin wrapping Y/N in his arms. She leaned into his touch, letting him take care of her. He kissed the top of her head, making a smile appear on her face. He took her hand, kissed her knuckles, and led her away.

Tiffany turned to stare at Namjoon, questioning the last few minutes.

“What are you going to do about this?”

Namjoon called for the waiter to refill his glass. He watched the amber liquid pour into his drink and nodded once it was filled. Raising his glass to Tiffany, he brought the glass to his lips.

“Cheers.”

[anti-psycomics]

I can't believe I missed it! Yesterday marked 1 full year since I really started dedicating myself to digital art, after I drew this image because I wanted to play bomb rush cyberfunk. Pretty sure I started drawing it because I saw Twistcmyk made her own custom decals for that game and I wanted to make something like that too. So uh. Thanks for that Twist. Still haven't played bomb rush cyberfunk tho

not a bad starting place I'd say. Although maybe that's because it's not really the starting place and I've been drawing off and on again pretty much since I was born

I think this drawing really helped get my feet off the ground when it came to finding a style that works for me, and learning how to make other styles out of it. See, I've always had shaky hands so I've tended to gravitate towards a more scratchy style since smooth lines are often a challenge for me. And in a lot of cases I'd just leave a drawing as a sketch because finalizing it was very difficult.

being able to draw fast and loose like this is really a boon to get the creative juices flowing. It's the easiest way to draw for me, and I still like to leave it at that if I have a day where I want to draw but I don't want to dedicate more than one night to it

But nowadays I'm usually making art that's a lot smoother and takes a few more nights to finish. But that's still using the rough style. Usually I'll get a vague idea in my head and throw it on the screen with minimal care, and I'll zero in on how it's supposed to look draft by draft. Sometimes it takes 3 drafts, sometimes it takes, like 10

shown here a swordsmachine drawing I made a month or so ago, I still have the krita file on hand (because it's not technically finished yet, needs a final draft with color) so here's the drafts leading up to it

This process often involves a lot of cutting and pasting, resizing and the perspective tool to get a thing exactly where it needs to be. As for making lines as smooth as possible, I just have to take it really slow and sometimes go back, erase, draw it back, erase again. I won't lie it can still be a really tedious process

Like that swordsmachine, I've been making a lot of character portraits lately. Which has been a great exercise in posing, perspective and shading. Shading especially was something I've been needing practice with. I used to draw only with pencil of paper so using color in drawings is still somewhat a new thing for me. Having to figure out the lighting for each shot and which surfaces are whatever is very difficult but doing shading right can make a drawing look that much better

This is the thing I've been working on most recently, I think the shading looks pretty good, especially on the scarf. But I'm not really too sure about it.

Ok I've lost the pacing for this longpost. I wish I had a special drawing for the one year but I forgot until today. Maybe I'll make Anti in a birthday hat sometime later. For now here's some of my favorites over the past year

THING IN THE CLOSET

was a pretty early drawing, but I still really like it because of the unique perspective of peeking into a closet. Also the first time I drew Anti with a body!

ENDNE, GOD OF ENTROPY

I remember when I drew this design in my sketchbook and I knew I had a banger design right away, she barely changed from paper to digital. Unlike Solos, who had quite a few changes, and honestly I might still want to change a few things. Still pretty astounded that I managed to render it so well. Might be my overall favorite of the past year

PSYCHADOLIA

I still think it would make a great album name and cover. Hire me psychedelic music artists

MALAZIROT, GOD OF ROT

This one was made because I told my friends I'd make myself a fursona if a poll about me being a furry reached 15 votes. Love stealing valor. This might be the highest layer count piece to date, I think it clocked in at over 60 with so many small details that you have to super zoom in to see. Regardless, I'm really proud with how I got the rotting flesh to look in this one

MASH ME UP

Also a massive undertaking and probably the only one that can rival the layers on malazirot. Idk if I have much to say on it other than, I think it looka pretty neat

SELF-PORTAIT

A real recent one, Probably my most grotesque one to date too. I really think I nailed how disgusting the skin on it is, my only regret is I didn't make any hair follicles poking out of the skin. Oh well, missed opportunities

here's to the next year of art!

[catdotjpeg]

On February 19, I am going to turn 23. I’m anxious that the day will come and the war will still be ongoing, but then again, I’m not entirely sure I will live long enough to see it. Before the Israeli war on Gaza, I lived a peaceful life, going every day to Al-Aqsa University in pursuit of my studies. My school has now been bombed by the Israeli military even though it was full of displaced Palestinians from northern Gaza. The bombing campaign killed a number of the displaced, turning the place I used to study, laugh, and feel joy into a horror movie. My friend and classmate, Nadia Abd El-Latif, was killed during the Israeli onslaught due to a direct Israeli airstrike on her house. The same thing happened to other friends and colleagues — Mahmoud Al-Naouq, Yousef Dawwas, and Muhammad Hammo. 

My teacher, Refaat Alareer, was killed in the same way, as was my cousin’s husband, along with her seven-year-old son. All of these deaths have left me drained. After over a hundred days, Israel’s war is still ongoing, and my soul feels worn.  These 115 days make up 2,760 hours spent living with acute fear and anxiety, with no idea whether we’ll be among the survivors or not. But since the bombing began in October, I have been trying — in vain — to think of a way out of Gaza. 

[...]

During the beginning of the war, a friend of mine helped me to file a visa application to Qatar. She was hoping that Qatar would grant me a visa, which would make leaving Gaza a bit easier. She promised to host me in her house until the end of the war. Hesitantly, I agreed, reluctant to leave my family in such dire conditions, but the point was moot, as Qatar rejected my visa. I was very disappointed, expecting Qatar to agree since it is an Arab country with strong relations with Palestine.  After the rejection, I started to look for another way to escape Gaza, especially when the Israeli army launched its ground invasion of Gaza. I witnessed the unbearably cruel treatment of Palestinian civilians by Israeli soldiers, and I saw the outside world’s cold reaction.

[...]

Egypt has closed its borders with Gaza many times during the war and has made the price of leaving Gaza unbelievably high. Since my mother is half-Egyptian and half-Palestinian, this was incredibly heartbreaking to me. Egypt is an Arab country neighboring Palestine, with which we share a common history and culture. How can they do this to us? There are many Palestinians in Gaza who have Egyptian blood and hold Egyptian nationality. Yet even those Egyptian citizens residing in Gaza are being asked to pay at least $1,500 to be let through the Rafah crossing to escape death. Over 80% of people in Gaza live below the poverty line, and many wouldn’t be able to pay even $100. What is even worse is that if you do not have an Egyptian passport, the current going rate to pass through is $10,000 — and even then, if you somehow manage to find the money, you’ll still have to wait for days or even months to leave. Recently, the Egyptians claim to have decreased the amount to $5,000 per person, yet the struggle remains the same.  A small number of wealthy, influential people in Gaza can, in fact, pay such amounts to leave. Others are resorting to seeking donations through crowdfunding platforms like GoFundMe and LaunchGood, and I do not blame them. They have no other way to avoid the bombing and save their lives. 

Many displaced families have sought shelter in my grandparents’ house during the war, as we reside in Rafah, where many displaced Palestinians are now living in tents. Three of these families were able to legally coordinate with Egyptian authorities to leave Gaza.  Hala Ihsan Abu Ramadan, 32, was displaced from the very north of Gaza along with her family four separate times until they finally reached Rafah. After collecting money through GoFundMe, Hala reached out to the Egyptian “coordinator,” who was a friend of her sister Heba’s manager. The coordinator asked for $5,000 per person, for a total of six people — Hala, Heba, Heba’s husband Hassan, their brother Abed, and their parents. Their father is a cancer patient and has not been able to receive any medical check-ups or chemotherapy sessions since the beginning of the war due to the overcrowding of Gaza’s hospitals.  “My father has to leave Gaza,” Hala told me. “His life is on the line. If my father does not get treatment, cancer will spread throughout his entire body. He will die very soon if the situation remains the same. We contacted the Egyptian coordinator, and he confirmed that my father’s case was designated urgent.” 

Hala added that, as recently as today, her father’s name has not shown up on any of Egypt’s lists of people allowed to evacuate Gaza. “I mean, if my father’s case is urgent, and he has been waiting since December 30, how much time do urgent cases take?” Hala asks me. The Egyptian coordinators ended up raising the price required of Hala and her family several times, first to $6,000, then to $7,000, $8,000, and finally, to $10,000 per person. Appallingly, as of the time of writing, none of her family members have been allowed out of Gaza.  Hala’s cousin, Saleem Abu Hamdah, whose mother is Egyptian, has not been allowed into Egypt even though he paid $1,200. His wife and three children were allowed into Egypt, however, after paying those same so-called “coordination expenses,” along with his parents — leaving him alone in Gaza.  Another woman I spoke to, Samar, requested that her surname be withheld for her own safety. She has an Egyptian mother-in-law, and was asked to pay $4,000, whereas Samar was asked to pay $2,000. As of the time of writing, neither of them has been let out of Gaza, even though they have been in communication with coordinators since the start of the war. Only Samar’s Egyptian mother-in-law has been given permission to leave Gaza, but she refuses to leave behind her two sons, their wives and children, and her daughter, along with her daughter’s children. 

[...]

As for myself, I cannot leave Gaza. My family’s financial situation cannot cover such high “coordination” expenses. I am reluctant to launch a GoFundMe campaign due to all the stories I’ve heard — none of the people I know who paid coordination fees to travel to Egypt have truly been able to leave Gaza. Maybe if one of the families sheltering with us were given actual permission to leave, I would consider launching my own fundraising campaign. Until then, I don’t believe there is a real way out, and I don’t see the outside world pressuring Israel for a ceasefire.

-- From "Egyptian officials are charging Palestinians a massive ransom to escape the Gaza genocide" by Shahd Safi for Mondoweiss, 29 Jan 2024

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children: Redux | XI. The Crucible

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

← Previous Chapter // MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

◆◆◆

Two Years Ago…

At the crack of dawn, Danny was woken up and told to prepare himself. He was shuffled into a room along with the rank and file of the League. Many, he realized, were members of his own cohort from before Ra’s pulled him aside for private training. They all stood at attention, uniforms crisp and clean, postures in an impeccable League salute the second Ra’s al Ghul appeared on the mezzanine above them. 

Ra’s peered over the railing to survey them. Finding them satisfactory, he smiled and flung his arms wide. 

“Congratulations to the first and second cohort for passing the second phase of your training,” his voice boomed across the room. “And welcome, recruits, to your final test.”

No one spoke. Danny doubted anyone even breathed . 

But there was a sudden shift in the air. Everything suddenly felt sharper. Tenser. The back of his neck prickled as if the point of a blade was pressed against his skin. 

Ra’s al Ghul continued, hands settling behind his back as he prowled above them. “Your test will consist of three trials, each you will complete with a partner of your choosing, that will challenge the knowledge and skills that the League has painstakingly imparted upon you.”

At the mention of “partner”, Danny quickly scanned the room to find Henri. He caught Henri doing the same, and as their eyes met, they gave each other an imperceptible nod.

“Time and time again, your mentors have broken you down and shaped you into something better. Now it is time to test your mettle, to prove yourself by walking into the flames. Those who fail will be burned. And to those of you to succeed—” Ra’s bared his teeth into a sharp grin, gleaming eyes seeming to stare straight into Danny’s soul. “Those who survive this crucible will be welcomed with open arms into the shadows.”

◆◆◆

Sharp rock dug harshly into Danny’s gloved hand as he braced himself against the cliff face. His chin tucked behind the crook of his elbow to shield his face from the shrieking winds blowing past. When it subsided, he pushed himself up off the thin ledge he stood on in order to grab a higher handhold. 

From fifteen feet above, Henri called down: “A little bit more to go, Danyal! I think I saw a cave a few meters ahead where we can make camp.”

Danny hauled himself up further, his right foot scraping to find that natural foothold he saw literally five seconds ago. “Sounds—” His heart leapt to his throat when his foot slipped. His grip tightened against the rock as he tried to recover his footing, his legs bending in an awkward manner to try and accommodate the strange position. “ —good!”

He let out a ragged sigh. Every corded muscle trembled with exertion, doing everything they can to fight off the increasing fatigue that weighed down on him.

God, this would be so much easier if he could just fly. 

“You okay?” Henri called.

Danny bared his teeth in a grimace. “Never better!”

“Well hurry up then! Don’t wanna give up the lead we have on the other pairs.”

Danny pushed himself off the cliff face slightly, peering down at the steep drop. There were a few dark shadows that he could see slowly advancing up, but—he shifted his gaze to the setting sun—none of them would be able to reach them before nightfall anyway. 

He said as much to Henri, who scoffed and said something about “never underestimating the enemy” and “that’s what they get for wasting so much energy on a pointless fight.”

They kept climbing. And climbing. And climbing  this damned mountain for who knows how long, ignoring the ache in their muscles and the way their fingers would nearly cramp at the force of their grip. Anything, everything to keep their eye on the prize.

That coveted title, the position they all worked themselves to near-death to get: official membership of the league. 

After months of arduous training and their numbers slowly being whittled down, Henri and Danny were at last in the final stretch of the League’s basic training. All of their hard work came down to passing the infamous final test. A set of three trials spanning seven days, meant to test each recruit’s physical and mental skills to the limit. Those who did not complete each trial were kicked from the League. Those who could not complete all three tasks within the allotted time were failed. And even those lucky and skillful few who made it past the third trial were not guaranteed a place in the League.

What’s more, whatever rules of conduct their mentors had bound them to during training (notably the ‘no killing other recruits rule’) was now rendered null and void. It was a no holds barred competition. Every pair for themselves.

The Head of the Demon demanded only the best. And only those who were willing to claw their way to the top were worthy enough to stand at his feet. 

Their first trial was a test of physical skill. A grueling trek from base camp to a designated rendezvous site ten miles out through the sweltering desert heat. Not only that, but the last hurdle to cross to reach the site was a steep thousand-and-something foot mountain. The base of which was already a rocky hike before it nearly shot up to one awfully flat rock face. 

“Look out!”

“Wha— shit!” Danny ducked his head, biting back a shout as a fist-sized rock slammed onto his shoulder before tumbling down hundreds of feet. 

“Sorry,” Henri called from above. “Didn’t realize it was that loose.” His fingers found purchase on a ledge a few feet above and he hauled himself into the mouth of the cave. A few seconds later, Henri threw down a few feet of rope. “Climb up!”

Danny reached out to grab the rope. He wrapped it a few times around his arm and gave a sharp tug to make sure Henri had it anchored up there. “I’m ready!” Once Danny got a firm grip on the rope, it only took a few minutes to make his way up to the cave. 

He nearly collapsed on his back as soon as his feet hit that wide expanse of rock. And his brain—finally registering that he was no longer in immediate danger of falling off and becoming a giant splatter on the ground—breathed a sigh of relief. What remained of his adrenaline rushed out of his body, replaced instead with an overwhelming onslaught of fatigue, hunger, and thirst. 

Danny scrambled for his pack, guzzling down his water bottle and relishing the way the lukewarm liquid soothed his parched throat. He shoved the bottle back when he finished and stumbled further into the cave where Henri was foraging kindling for a fire.

“Merde,” Henri swore under his breath. “This place has nothing.” 

Danny threw his pack against a dry corner of the cave and settled down beside it. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve had to sleep in the cold.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried for me. It wouldn’t do for our resident prince to get back aches from sleeping on the ground now, yeah?” Henri said with a teasing lilt as he sat next to Danny.

“Hey!” Danny smacked him on the side of his arm. “And prince? Really?”

“I have eyes, you know. Mentor singles you out way too much, and some of the actual established members treat you differently than they do the rest of us,” Henri explained. “And then seeing Lady Talia and her little son just made everything click into place.”

Heat bloomed in Danny’s cheeks. 

He looked like them, he thought, giddy. 

(Well of course he does. They were his family.)

Danny blinked. “Wait a minute. Was the whole reason why you wanted me to be your partner because you figured out that Ra’s al Ghul is my grandfather?”

“Well…”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you.”

“Stones at a glass house, Danyal,” Henri sing-songed. “You got advanced training because of nepotism, and I might be able to pass this trial because I’m your friend. Besides, I didn’t see you eager enough to pair with anyone else.”

Well it wasn’t like Danny knew anyone in the second cohort. And he was pretty sure the majority of the first cohort still hated his guts for one reason or another. (Did Dusan really treat him differently than everyone else? Was that why people hated him?)

He buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m a nepotism baby.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Well, I didn’t have much choice in who my partner was, but what about you?” Danny pulled his knees up to cushion his head. “I heard you were ranked first in our cohort. Pretty sure the others would’ve been tripping themselves to partner with you.”

“It’s because I’m first that I didn’t choose any of them to be my partner. Those bastards had been gunning for me ever since you left. People like them love to tear others down because they think they’ll be able to stand taller,” Henri spat. “Well, I showed them. I’ve earned my place here in the League, and I’ll do whatever it takes to stay here.”

From their position, they could see the sky quickly darken. Oranges and reds faded away to dark blues and deep violets, the first twinkling of stars emerging from the shadows. 

“Is that it, then?” Danny asked, voice hushed. “I was the least evil option?”

“Danyal, there’s not an evil bone in your body.” Henri said. 

That’s what you think, Danny thought .  

“If it wasn’t for your family, I wouldn’t even begin to guess why you’re here.” Henri tilted his head back,  downing half his water bottle. He wiped the stray moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand. “But, no, that’s not why I picked you. I wanted to be your partner because you’re my friend, you’ve got good instincts, and because deep down I know you care more about bettering yourself than tearing other people down.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere ,” Danny joked.

“Good thing it’s the truth then,” Henri smiled. “I mean, just think of this morning. While everyone else was too preoccupied with eliminating the competition as soon as the test started, what did you say we should do? You said to sneak out of base camp and get a head-start on the first trial before anyone noticed.”

Danny buried his head in his arms, ears burning.

“You’re a good person, Danyal. I don’t know why you sometimes act like you aren’t.”

Here in the darkness of the cave, with Henri’s red hair and too-kind words, Danny was reminded of the times when he was a kid and snuck beneath the covers of Jazz’s bed. Eyes red-rimmed as he sniffled into her arms and she soothed his worries whenever he got into trouble or the kids at school would tease him about not being as smart as the rest of his family. You’re a good kid, Danny. You’re good, and that’s the most important thing.

(But here’s the thing: Danny wasn’t good. If he was, then maybe Talia would have considered him good enough to keep. Maybe he would have been able to save his family. Saved Tucker. Saved Sam. Even Phantom, the source of all of his good deeds, was still considered a menace half the time.

Phantom might’ve been a bit good, but Danny had certainly never been good enough.)

◆◆◆

Midway through the night, Danny woke to the sound of voices near the mouth of the cave. He kept quiet, aware that the darkness made him and Henri invisible to the intruders until they walked further in. He nudged Henri awake with his foot. The latter’s dark eyes snapped open, the only movement their strict training allowed them.

Danny carefully tried to make himself smaller as he observed the two. The one on the right was female (5’7”, possibly 175 pounds, body-type and stance indicates affinity for leg-based martial arts. Avoid kicks at all cost). The other on the left was male (5’5”, leaner, maybe around 150 pounds? Expect faster movements). The two had yet to notice Danny and Henri, their attention focused on looking down below the cave as they talked.

“It would’ve been so easy to cut their hammocks loose,” the guy said. Danny couldn’t recognize the voice. Recruits from the second cohort? “Just one slice and— splat! — another one out of the competition.” 

Henri signaled Danny with a few hand signs. Me-right-you-left-take-out-quick.

Danny signed back. Nonlethal?

“It would’ve taken too much time and energy and you know it,” said the girl. 

Henri shook his head. Ledge-push-them

She craned her head up. “We need to focus on catching up with those two guys in the lead. Where’d you think they are?”

No, Danny signed. Nonlethal.

Dangerous-my-plan-easier.

“Well they haven’t left the mountain yet. We would’ve heard the helicopter if they did.”

Nonlethal. 

No!-Eliminate-quick— Henri aborted his hand signs when the intruders turned around, still oblivious to their presence. There wouldn’t be much time left before the two walked further into the cave and so Danny and Henri.

Henri scrunched his face in exasperation. Fine. Nonlethal.

In a flash, Henri and Danny leapt out of their hiding spot and rushed at the intruders. Caught by surprise and tired from their climb, the two were barely able to put up a fight. Danny’s opponent only managed to block Danny’s strike for a second before Danny redirected his attack and struck the guy’s carotid artery with the edge of his hand. The guy fell to the ground with a thud. Stunned from the sudden interruption of oxygen before passing out.

Beside him, Henri had the girl in a chokehold. The girl scratched at his arms, gasping furiously before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she was knocked out cold. 

Henri dropped the girl with a frustrated sigh. Face screwed up in pain as he gripped his side. “ Putain de bordel de merde!” 

Danny rushed to him. “You alright?”

“Alright?” He screeched. “No I’m not— that bitch stabbed me with a knife!” 

It was then that Danny saw the glint of a knife on the floor, the blade streaked red with Henri’s blood. “Shit.” He ran for his pack, taking out what bit of disinfectant and gauze he could find.

“Fuck— give me that,” Henri said. He snatched the supplies from Danny’s hands before slumping down against the cave wall. “I’ll take care of this. You go tie them up or something.”

“Right— yeah. I should—” Henri was bleeding. Henri got hurt. Because Danny was stubborn and he insisted and— and he made the wrong choice again. “Henri, I’m so, so, sorry—”

“Just go , Danyal. Before those two fucks wake up and I got stabbed for nothing.”

Danny nodded, mute. (Your fault.) With shaking hands he looted the intruders’ bags for anything that could hold them. (You caused this.) With their own rope, he got to work tying their hands behind their back in tight knots, and then looping the rope between their ankles. (You couldn’t protect him.)

Behind him, Henri cursed up a storm. An endless stream of french swears that Danny couldn’t understand but could hazard a guess that most of it was probably about him. He couldn’t blame Henri, though. It was his fault all this happened.

(If only—)

“Looks like our lead won’t last much longer.” Henri held back a grimace as he slipped black tunic over his shoulders. “We should get going soon.”

Danny threw their opponents’ packs deep into the cave after looting them of anything useful. For a moment, he contemplated hurling their supplies off the cliff— but it felt too cruel to leave them stranded here without any way to get back down. (But they would have deserved it.) 

“Visibility is barely above zero,” Danny said. The sky was still pitch black. It’d be difficult to scale the rest of the sheer cliff face when they can’t properly gauge their handholds. “And you’re— you’re hurt.” 

Henri secured his pack. “It’s just a flesh wound.” He looked up at Danny, and something in his expression shifted. He sighs, carding fingers through his hair before placing a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I overreacted, don’t worry. It didn’t hit anything important.”

“But—”

“It’ll make the climb terrible, I won’t lie, but I’m not just gonna drop dead that easily. Ranked first in the cohort, remember?”

Danny worried at the inside of his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

◆◆◆

They reached the summit at the crack of dawn.  Black uniforms smudged with dirt and dust, faces crimson from the exertion. Henri clutched his side, almost fetal-like, before he grit his teeth and pushed himself up to his feet. Danny followed. The two of them attempted to regain some semblance of appearances as they neared the helicopter in the middle of the rocky plateau, patting off dust and combing sweat-slick hair. 

At the sight of a band of people lounging in front of the helicopter, Danny froze. He widened his stance, shoulders tense and ready for a fight. 

“At ease,” Henri whispered. “Look at their uniforms.”

At first, Danny thought they were other recruits. Ones that somehow managed to overtake Henri and Danny and decided to camp at the first check-point to pick off any competition. But a closer look confirmed otherwise. The standard League uniform was reminiscent of the shinobi shozoku, an all-black garment made of light but durable fabric, devoid of identifying marks. These uniforms, however, were slightly different. Though keeping with the same base design, the suit had noticeable kevlar and body armor built into it as opposed to plain fabric. Sewn over the heart—in subtle, gold thread—was the crescent emblem of the League of Shadows. 

These people weren’t recruits. No, they were disciples ; full-fledged members of the League of Shadows.

One of them—lounging at the entrance of the cockpit—acknowledged their presence with a tilt of their head. A black half-balaclava covered their face from their neck to the bridge of their nose. “Recruits,” they said, as Henri and Danny saluted them. “State your purpose.”

“Recruits Henri and Danyal reporting from basecamp, sir,” Henri said. “We are ready and willing to proceed with the second trial, sir.”

“Acknowledged, recruit.” He nodded his head upwards at his companion, who held a stack of folders in one arm. “My co-pilot and I will serve as your transport towards, as well as your proctors for your second trial. You will  be given a dossier containing the details of your mission as well as the outlined objectives. You are given carte blanche in how you choose to approach this, however what methods you use and how successful you are in completing your tasks will be taken into account on your final evaluation. If you understand, repeat to me your names and cohort designation.”

Danny and Henri rattled off the information in clipped tones. Their proctor nodded, immediately pulling out a single file-folder from the very bottom of the stack. He handed them the folder with a wry grin. “Well then, if you understand, then why are your asses still here and not on the chopper? You’ve wasted enough daylight as it is.”

The other disciples—most likely also proctors for the other groups—chortled. “Don’t mess up now!” One of them called out. “The Head expects a lot from you two, after all. Don’t wanna disappoint.”

◆◆◆

The second they saw the name “Mortimer Drake (Alias: The Cavalier)” at the top of their dossier, Henri’s face darkened into something downright murderous.  

“The League really does their research, don't they?” He sneered at the photo of a well-groomed man that could almost pass for a real-life version of Captain Hook, long dark hair, goatee, and all. 

Danny held a hand over the microphone of his over-ear aviation headset, to minimize their proctors listening in on their conversation. “You know him?” Danny asked at a normal speaking volume, the roar of the open cockpit masking most of his words from everyone except Henri, who sat beside him. 

Henri mirrored his movements. “Know him? He’s the man that ruined my life.”

◆◆◆

“I have eyes on the package.”

Their mission took them to the wealth-drenched shores of Monte Carlo, the city teeming with the vibrant lives of rich socialites searching for new and exciting ways to waste their surplus of cash. The opulence of it all might have awed Danny at one point, but now, the sight of all this excess only wound his stomach in tight knots. 

(How long did that other-Danny last, he wondered. How long did he last in that empty castle, wallowing in grief, with only Vlad for company?)

“Copy that.”

Tonight marked their third—and hopefully last —night in the city. The previous two days had been marked by vigorous stake outs and observations on Mortimer Drake’s habits, mannerisms, and the layout of his multimillion dollar luxury apartment. 

Their mission? A simple search and seizure of an item of the League’s interest. According to the dossier, Drake was an American collector with the taste of the eccentric and esoteric. He used his wealth to obtain a wide variety of artifacts to display in his many, many international properties— and those that he couldn’t buy, he stole as the rogue Cavalier. 

The particular item in question—a large red gem of unknown make—was bought illegally at a black market auction. The item was to be shipped in tonight, guarded by a squadron of private security. The route they were going to take was unknown, the number of staff involved was unknown, and any added security on Drake’s part was unknown. Not exactly great odds for a two-man team working off of limited intel. 

“And the mark?”

“Twice as ugly and surrounded by guards. ETA forty-five minutes.”

On top of that, they were given a secondary objective to complete. Optional, yes, but doing so would garner them a more favorable outcome with their proctors. And if Henri was anything, it was an overachiever. So while Henri was tailing Drake and the shipment, Danny volunteered to break into the apartment, set-up the bugs that they’ll use to temporarily deactivate security, and look for their secondary objective. Danny wasn’t normally an extra-credit kind of student, but in this scenario, he was all for it. 

Ra’s and Dusan assigned this trial specifically for him , after all.

“Find the book yet?”

“Not yet, just doing one last sweep for bugs. Are you sure not preparing for the guards is the right call?”

“Positive. The little weasel’s the type to ogle his treasures alone so no one can see what a fucking weirdo he is. He won’t bring his guards inside if he can help it.”

The apartment was in the clear. Whatever bugs he caught were swiftly disabled, and their various entries and exits were secured. He stood up from his crouch next to Drake’s bedside table, stretching his arms as he walked back into the main living room. It shouldn’t be that long of a wait now. 

 Sunset bled through the wall-length windows of the grandiose apartment. He winced, swallowing down the bile creeping up his throat at the sight. (Red-red-too-red.) He shifts his eyes away from it, the intensity of the color reminding him of things (crimson eyes, the color of burning skies) that Danny would rather forget. Gathering dust on top of the coffee table was an antique looking perpetual calendar. The bronze disk was held up by a stand, the face of the sun engraved in the middle, with its innerworkings exposed to the light. He bent down, glancing at the date.

April 3rd.

Oh. 

It was his birthday. 

Strange how at fourteen, being fifteen felt so far away, but now that he was there…nothing felt different. 

Tucker always made such a huge deal about turning fifteen. It wasn’t as great as turning sixteen, he would say, but fifteen marked the year he could get his learner’s permit. Which meant one step closer to getting a car of his own. And if there’s anything Tucker thought girls liked in a guy, it was being able to drive. 

Tucker’s birthday was in January. If it was April now then that meant—

No. Tucker…Tucker was still fourteen. Tucker would be forever fourteen because he died before he had the chance ( —to even scream, the explosion was just that quick—) to be anything more. If Danny were better, Tucker would have had a future ( — but would it matter? The future is all the same. Rubble and fire and death, what difference would a couple extra years make? )

(“I am inevitable,” Dan decreed. His eyes are red, the skies are red and burning, and smoke— so much smoke it burned his nostrils and filled up his lungs until he was choking and— cold, cold fingers around his throat won’t let go and he cannot breathe he cannot breathe he can’t-he-can’t-he-can’t-he-can’t-he—)

“Brother?”

Danny reared back, as if burned. Hands drawn back into fists against his attacker, willing ectoplasmic energy into his hands to blast away his attacker—

“Brother? Danyal!”

“Danyal? Danyal, what’s going on? Hey— hey, why aren’t you answering?”

His lungs heave. There’s smoke in his lungs, filling his mouth with that acrid taste. He smells sauce and char and can feel the sensation of claws digging into his jugular—

“Danyal— merde. I need you to breathe for me, Danyal. Can you do that? Come on, count with me now.”

Danyal-Danyal-Danyal— who is that supposed to be again? Danyal-Danyal-Danyal—

(“Danny Fenton died,” said the other Vlad, in that other future where everyone is dead.)

Everyone is dead in this future too.

There is a warmth covering his hand, can feel circles rubbed into the back of his palm. He wants to yank it out, but the touch is familiar. There is someone counting in his ear; in for four, hold for seven, out for five. He breathes in— air from an AC, cool, slightly dry, with some kind of nondescript linen air freshener. No smoke. No char. No—

He looks out the window. The sky is closer to orange than it is red, and it isn’t burning. 

There are two Ming Dynasty looking vases that frame a wall table. There’s a large L-shaped couch in the middle of the living room, facing a too-big flat screen TV. On the coffee table there's a strange assortment of crystals. 

He doesn’t acknowledge the frost creeping out from his feet. 

“Brother? Are you alright?”

He snapped his neck towards the voice…and looked down.

“Damian?” He gasped. 

Damian is here. Here. Dressed in a League uniform and a goddamn katana strapped to his back. How did he get here? Who the fuck let him in here?

“Wait— as in that Damian?” Henri swore. “Why the fuck is he here?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He knelt down to Damian’s height, grabbing his shoulders. “Why’re you here, bud?”

His hands are trembling against Damian’s shoulders and they won’t fucking stop. Get a grip on yourself, Fenton. He’s so close to becoming a full-fledged disciple of the League and now is not the fucking time to act scared. 

Especially with Damian here. Small Damian. Tiny Damian with tiny breakable bones and a tiny snappable neck—

Damian stares at him, brows furrowed. What must he think right now? God, Damian must think that Danny is so weak freaking out over nothing. How is Damian supposed to rely on him then? How could he entrust his safety into someone so damn useless. 

He tries to steel himself. Will the ice in his limbs to shift, and to burrow ever deeper into his chest. Mind over matter, Danny.

“Damian,” he repeats, voice more level, “ why are you here?”

Damian looked as if he was caught off guard. He blinked his eyes a few times, looking down at his feet, suddenly unsure of himself. “I— I wanted to help.”

“Help? With what?”

“There— I overheard members of the League talking. They were saying that because so much resources were spent on you, if you failed the test you would be— they said that you’d be put down!” There’s a desperation in Damian’s eyes as he lunged for Danny, grasping his too-small fingers around Danny’s shirt. “It’s a lie, I know it is! Mother and Grandfather would never— I nearly wanted to gut those fools for saying something like that!”

“But it’s true.” It surprised Danny how easy it was to accept it. It surprised Damian how Danny didn’t even blink at the insinuation of his own murder. “Since the very beginning, I’ve known that staying at the League was only possible if I did well. If I couldn’t handle it, I would have to leave, because the League can’t afford any weakness if it wants to save anything.”

“Danny. They said that they would kill you.”

Better than the alternative. There was nothing for Danny outside of the League. Not as Phantom, and definitely not as Fenton. There was too much risk. Too many uncertain variables. Too many ways that he could mess up and accidentally plunge the world into another dark timeline. Even if Danny helped arm the League with all the ghost hunting knowledge at his disposal, it still might not be enough.

“And I’d let them.”

There were no heroes in Dan’s timeline.

Silence hung like a noose. The tension was only broken by the crackle of Henri’s voice in Danny’s ear. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck is going on over there but you better be ready. Target’s ETA is less than 10 minutes, and I don’t want the little prince ruining our run here.”

Danny swore under his breath. “Yeah, we’ll be ready.” He dragged Damian towards the library by the elbow. “Damian won’t get in the way, don’t worry.”

“Good.” There were muffled sounds on the other side. “And you…you’re alright?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. That’s…good.”

A click told Danny that Henri switched off his comms. 

With a sigh, he turned to Damian again. “Alright, now I really need you to leave.”

Damian crossed his arms and huffed. “I am not leaving.”

“I’ll tell mother.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Oh just try me.”

Despite the flash of fear across Damian’s face, Danny begrudgingly admitted to himself that convincing Damian to leave now would be as fruitful as all of Vlad’s attempts at flirting with his mom. He made Damian hold onto a piece of his shirt and channeled that sleeping store of power inside of himself.

Ra’s and Dusan ran him ragged with exercises on drawing out his ghost powers while in human form. Invisibility, intangibility, minor ecto-rays and telekinesis (something he always forgot that he had), among other powers. Abilities that he took for granted inside the wellspring of energy that was Amity Park, he was now forced to remaster using the limited resources he had. 

He let the invisibility wash over him and Damian. The other’s response was only a sudden jolt from the cold energy, but otherwise Damian didn’t seem to think that anything was different.  Unless Damian happened to walk in front of a mirror, he wouldn’t notice that he was invisible right now. 

“Look, I’ll let you stay, on one condition: you stay quiet and you do what I say.”

“Isn’t that two conditions?”

“Amazing observation Einstein, now shut-up and don’t let go of my shirt.”

The library itself was a room with a heavy oaken desk and built-in wooden shelves filled with a hodge-podge of probably rare and esoteric books. The subjects themselves ranged from ancient history to herbology to first editions of almanacs from who knows what century. And while the shelves and books were kept tidy and dusted, there was hardly any sign of actual use or focused subjects. It was as if Drake was just collecting for the sake of collecting. 

Danny thumbed his way down to the far bottom shelves. The books were sorted alphabetically by their author, putting his mark at…

…Not there.

  At the corner of his eye, he spotted the top drawer of the desk being strangely ajar. Upon closer look, the others were locked shut. Carefully, he opened the drawer, checking for any kind of hidden traps. Finding it clear, he pulled the drawer back and— aha!

He pulled out a faded brown book, the edges of the pages lined yellow with age. Sewn on the cover in faded black thread was the title: “ Summoning Spirits and the Subjugation of Spectres” by Heinrich Showenhower.

Another from that family.

Idly, he wondered what Freakshow was doing. 

He flipped through the pages, noting various illustrations and diagrams that looked a bit too close to magic than his parents’ science. Circular formations with strange writings, pentagrams, detailed sketches of specific herbs, a couple depictions of the more primitive ghosts in the Zone— 

His eyes caught something familiar. 

A picture of an orb. A bright and mesmerizing orb. 

Freakshow’s orb. 

“Danny?”

He snapped the book shut. “Were my eyes red?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” 

A foreboding chill crawled up his spine. 

He turned on his comm-piece. “Henri, do you have direct eyes on the package?”

A pause, before the earpiece crackled to life. “Affirmative. Drake and It just arrived at the apartment. Right now he’s doing one last inspection before taking it inside.”

“What does it look like?”

“About as close as what intel gave us. It’s bigger than I thought, though, maybe about the size of my palm.”

Fuck. Fuck. It was a coincidence. Surely it’s a coincidence. The odds of the crystal being Freakshow’s orb were higher than Danny felt comfortable with, but the most frustrating part is that he can’t tell if it’s Freakshow’s orb unless he actually sees it.

And if he sees it—

He glanced down at the still-invisible Damian observing the perimeter. (Mine-mine-brother-mine-DANGER.)

Danny gripped the book in his hands tight. He’s broken out of its control once, hadn’t he? He could do it again. 

(Didn’t Sam have to fall off a train for him to break out of Freakshow’s control?)

“Damian, you need to leave.”

“And I told you I won’t.”

“Go to the balcony and start heading to the apartment above this one. It should be empty. You have a communicator on you, right?”

A new wave of apprehension washed over Damian. “Brother?”

Danny started pushing Damian out of the library and towards the balcony. He ripped the comm-piece out of his ear and handed it to Damian, rattling off a set of numbers. Frequency lines. “I need you to go up there and contact our proctors. Tell them who you are and to contact Dusan or mother or anyone and tell them that I may be compromised.”

“Brother you’re worrying me.”

“I need you to do this for me, Damian. Can you do that? It’s important.”

The urgency in his voice must have knocked some sense into Damian. His little brother slipped the comms piece into his ear and nodded, repeating Danny’s instructions back. 

Danny ruffled Damian’s hair, breaking Damian’s invisibility. “Good. Now go, and stay safe.”

“What’s going on, brother?”

Danny shook his head. “It might be nothing, but I’d rather you be safe in case things go south.”

With Damian safely out of the way and the League alerted, Danny took his position near the entrance of the living room. He wanted to take this test with his own strength, to prove in some small way to Ra’s that he was worth more than his ghost powers, but that sentiment would have to wait. If Danny was right— and he really, really did not want to be— then this mission needed speed more than anything else. And the element of surprise invisibility and intangibility could get him would be their trump card. 

He crouched and waited.

Eventually, the door opened. Mortimer Drake entered the space, holding the orb out in the open.

Red seeped into the corner of Danny’s mind—

And all he could feel was bliss.

[multisfabulis]

A Common Rarity

An Icy Reunion (Chapter 1/7)

Word Count: 4378

Hello to all my readers! Yes, I am finally back to post this and I apologize for the long wait!

Believe me when I say I didn't plan on taking almost 4 months to post my first fic of the year but life has a funny way of showing how cruel it can be to me. As I explained on Twitter, my hard drive suddenly died on me way back in February and, due to me not having any backups available, I couldn't begin writing this until after I had my files recovered, which included the outline and rough draft for this fic. I literally finished writing the first chapter's draft the night before everything happened so I was doubly upset! So, after almost a month of settling everything IRL, I was finally able to sit down and do the process of editing and revising the chapter before sending it off to my beta reader and letting them do their magic. It took a while but that's how we got here!

So! This fic is pretty much Ferreth's version of TRFBD was to Ven. He's going to be confronting his abusers and dealing with his self-worth issues in this, with the help of his now-girlfriend Ven! I have been wanting to write this for so long, especially since this is taking place a couple years in the future after MZCR, the first fic to show Verreth being a couple, and I'm finally able to add more to Ferreth's character that isn't just him being a simp or being down over his perceived lack of value (Yes, I know LTL did a similar job to that but this is centered on and will be mostly written in his POV, unlike LTL, so it's not quite the same!). I can only say that I hope you all will enjoy reading this up to the last chapter whenever it is written!

One last thing is that the first chapter was beta'd by my friend rosemaryblues! They did a lot of work in trimming this down and making it flow better so please show them some appreciation! As always, thank you for helping me!

Read on AO3 | Read on DeviantArt | Support me on Ko-fi!

     He could hardly believe it. He never thought he’d be here again, not after what happened seven years ago. A part of him wanted to turn heel and run while another kept him rooted to in place. It was no use. He may as well just accept the truth that was staring him right in the face.

     Ferreth was back “home” again.

     Thesriden seemed to be how he left it that night. The same cobblestone roads covered in snow, the same black lamp posts that dotted the sidewalk on main street, the same charmingly garish shops welcoming passerbys with warm glows from the inside. It was exactly like how he remembered it. Even the many paths that climbed up and around the surrounding mountains had remained as they were. Everything looked to be unchanged from his memories, to the point it was uncanny.

     His heart pounded in his ears. Shivers ran down his spine, but he wasn’t cold in the least. His vision began to fade in and out as the biting chill in the air caused the ache in his arms to flare up in pain. All the thoughts rushing through his head were screaming at him to run; to run and never look back---

     “Ferret? Are you okay?”

     A familiar voice broke through his mind’s cacophony. His eyes turned towards Ven, who appeared to be studying him. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she stood in front of him, and she reached a gloved hand out to touch his cheek.

     “Are you with me now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

     Seeing the worry across her face snapped him out of his stupor. He took her hand in his and tried to steady his breathing. He was beginning to understand just a little of how she felt when they arrived in Thal Esari a couple years ago. God, how did she make it look so easy back then?

     “You’re back.” Her gaze softened as the corners of her mouth curled up into a tiny smile. “I’m glad. You had that far-off look in your eyes, the one I usually get when I remember something bad.”

     “Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologized, bringing her fingers up to his lips. He didn’t want to upset her more than he already had. “I’m all right now, though, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

     “...Okay.”

     He needed to be better. He couldn’t have Ven worrying herself sick just because he couldn’t handle being back here. He either had to suck it up or deal with it in a way she wouldn’t be capable of noticing.

     “So,” Ven started with renewed vigor, “now that we’re here, what’s the first order of business?”

     “Hmm…” Despite needing to find a place to stay, he had something else in mind. “Let’s go see my old man. I wanna get this over with sooner rather than later.”

     “All right, then. Lead the way.”

     So they began the long trek up to Ferreth’s childhood home. People stared at them as they walked past, some directed at him but almost all eyes were on Ven. Vlixeoxs were believed by many Dradnach to be fairy tales, scary stories to tell to children in order to spook them into being on their best behavior. She would be the first, and likely only one they’d see in their lifetimes. Her grip on his hand tightened in response to this. It was due to this that he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her close. That sent a message and it was one they all read loud and clear.

     His mind kept replaying the events that led up to them being here today. It was only a month or so ago now Bris had flown down to Aurora Zenith to deliver some serious news to him. His father had fallen ill and it was unclear whether he’d pull through or not. Although apparently he was alive and kicking by the time Bris received word of it, he still thought it was urgent enough to tell Ferreth of it. It was certainly a surprise to hear about what had happened.

     Yet he found the whole situation strange. Why did he care whether his father lived or died? It was that man’s fault that Ferreth grew up to have such low fucking self-esteem. Both his and Kandorinth. So why did he even feel some need to care?

     Maybe raising a little girl of his own was beginning to make him see things differently.

     Whatever the case may be, here he was. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. There were plenty of ways he imagined this trip to be going, all of which ended pretty badly for him. At least Ven was here to help him through this.

     It wasn’t even a question of whether she wanted to come with him or not. The moment he informed her of this, she was asking him when they could leave, and if they should bring Ammy along.

     It was then he understood what she meant. When she had asked him to come with her to Thal Esari for her own quest, she said it was because he gave her the courage she lacked. Those words rang out in his head and he took them to heart. Much like how he was her rock back then, she was his for the now.

     Eventually, after walking several miles up one of the steeper paths, they arrived at their destination; a quaint stone cabin on a little ledge that jutted out the side of the mountain, giving its residents a rather impressive view of Thesriden below. Black smoke billowed out of the chimney atop the roof as dim orange light glowed from within the house. The steps leading up to the front door looked like they had seen better days. This was certainly a sight for sore eyes, though it seemed almost smaller than he’d remembered.

     The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they walked up to the door. With anxiety toiling in his stomach, he rapped his knuckles against the wood one, two, three times before stopping. It didn’t take long for him to pick up on the sound of someone shuffling around inside and that got his mind racing.

     Who was going to be on the other side of the door? Would it be his father or Kandorinth? He could handle his father but if it was his brother? God, he might as well just hightail the hell outta there while he still could.

     “It’ll be okay, Ferreth.” He felt Ven squeeze his hand gently. It was only then he realized he was trembling. “No matter what happens in there, I’ll be by your side, okay? So don’t worry.”

     Cracking a smile for the first time since they entered Thesriden, he held her hand as tightly as he could.

     The door swung open. Behind it was an older man with light brown skin similar to his own, short blond hair streaked with gray, and sharp gray eyes. He had white stubble all along his jaw and mouth, a surprising change to the full beard he usually sported. He wasn’t the only one who changed over the course of seven years. Despite all of this though, Norvicross looked good for a Dradnach in his nineties.

     Their eyes met. He watched his father’s gaze shift from confusion to recognition to finally shock as he realized who was standing right in front of him.

     “F-Ferreth?” His voice sounded older, raspier. “You’re here.”

     “Yeah, I know. It’s been a while.” The words came out stilted as he struggled to find something else to say. “How have you been?”

     Clearing his throat, Norvicross replied stiffly, “Good! Good. Um, what brings you out here? I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

     “Bris told me you got sick a while back, said it was pretty bad. I wanted to come see you so…”

     “Well, I’m glad you decided to come back!” He let out a nervous laugh before falling silent, effectively bringing the conversation to a standstill.

     God, this was painfully awkward. It wasn’t like he was going to be a sparkling conversationalist throughout this meeting, but this was worse than he thought. Maybe he should’ve prepared more for this…

     “Ah, I see you have someone with you!” He felt Ven jump slightly beside him as his father grasped at a new avenue of talk. “What’s your name, miss?”

     “Oh, um, I-I am Venlithea Virthana--” she gave a respectful bow before continuing on, “--though most people just call me Ven. I’m Ferreth’s girlfriend.”

     “Hmm, he sure knows how to pick ‘em. I must say, though, I don’t think I’ve seen an elf quite like you before.”

     “That’s because she’s a, um…Vlixeox.”

     “Oh. Well. Hmm.”

     He didn’t think it was possible for things to be worse than they already were but he was wrong.

     “How about you two come inside? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

     Norvicross stepped aside to let the pair in. They walked into a small (by Dradnach standards anyway) living room that felt even more cramped due to the sheer amount of things lying around everywhere. In front of the lit fireplace was an upholstered emerald coloured sofa, two similar-looking chairs on either side of it. The one on the left seemed to be extremely worn while the other was practically spotless. Above the mantel was a family portrait, depicting a much younger Norvicross. A woman sat beside him, her warm smile highlighted by the fireplace. He and his brother were seated on their laps, their smiles equally as bright.

     Ferreth’s heart ached upon seeing his mother. It had been almost a decade since her death. She had looked so healthy, and so happy back then. Visiting her resting place was another thing he needed to do while he was here. It’d be nice to tell her of everything that’s happened.

     As they all sat down, Norvicross commented to Ven, “You know, in all my years, I never thought I’d see someone like you, much less meet one. Frankly, I didn’t think your kind existed!”

     “You wouldn’t be the first to say something like that,” she remarked with a nervous giggle.

     “Forgive me if I’m asking for too much but would you mind showing me what you can do? I’m quite curious!”

     “Oh, well, uh, o-okay.” She took a deep breath in and held out her hand. Wisps of darkness trailed down her arm before forming something resembling a small ball in her palm. It then began to flicker in and out like smoldering embers in a dying fire. “Is this okay?”

     Taken aback by the display of power, Norvicross leaned in to start inspecting it from every angle. “Now that is an extraordinary power, young lady.” Once Norvicross’ curiosity had been sated, he returned to his seat. “I hope you’ll show me more of that during your stay here.”

     “Oh, I-I-I don’t know if that would be…”

     “Can you just cut the crap already?” interrupted Ferreth, who was this close to leaving the house in a huff. “Ven and I are tired, and if we’re just here to trade fake pleasantries then we might as well go.”

     “...Right.” Norvicross sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I understand you’ve come all this way, and it wouldn’t be right to just merely entertain…” The older Dradnach paused, his eyes sullen. “I know it must have been hard, just coming to face me, and well…--”

     “--Ferreth…I’m sorry.”

     He was…sorry?

     For what?

     For being a shitty father? Not loving him the way he was supposed to?

     Ferreth couldn’t remember the last time his father apologized to him. He couldn’t even remember if he’d ever apologized to him. What was going through his head right now?

     “I realize that many of the things I said and did to you as a child were just, well, completely unacceptable. I should’ve been better,” Norvicross confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

     After letting what he said sink in, Ferreth asked sardonically, “How long has it taken you to figure that out, huh?”

     “Too long. If I really had to put a time to it, I’d say it was…around the time you left Thesriden. I’m just surprised you came back after everything.”

     “Oh, that makes two of us, believe me.”

     “Listen, Ferreth, I want to make it up to you. I know no amount of groveling or begging will erase the years of pain I put you through. You’re my son and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” He breathed in deep before continuing on. “I want to do right by you so…would you care to tell me everything you’ve been through on your journey? I want to know what you’ve been up to since you left.”

     He sounded genuine enough. However, Ferreth knew better than to take his father on his word. Sure, he seemed to have acknowledged his wrongdoings and the effect they had on him growing up but did he really mean it? Or was he only doing this to alleviate the guilt he felt? Ferreth didn’t know what to believe.

     But there was only one way to find out.

     “I won’t force you to do that if you’re not interested, though. I’m just---”

     “All right, all right,” Ferreth stopped him from floundering any further. Admittedly, he liked seeing his father struggle with his words. “Pick a time and place, then we’ll talk.”

     “...Thank you, Ferreth, I---”

     “But I’m saying it now, if I find that you really haven’t changed over the past few years, then I’m gone. I’m not putting myself through that shit again.”

     With a slow nod, Norvicross simply said, “I understand.”

     He was drawing the line here. He already spent seventeen years being demeaned, belittled, and mocked by both his father and Kandorinth and he refused to give them any more of his time. Things were going to be different, whether they liked it or not.

     Norvicross showed them to the door and bade them farewell with promises to meet up again sometime in the near future. Then they set off for the next stop, with Ferreth feeling mildly surprised that the reunion went as smoothly as it did.

     The next order of business was checking in at the inn. It was a place that, by virtue of it being high up in the mountains and its clientele being fellow Dradnach, could rent out small cabins to visitors instead of rooms like most other inns. It gave them more privacy and space to work with, along with other little bonuses like extra storage, and a sense of peace and tranquility. Not even Thornewind had something like this during his time living there.

     With night quickly descending upon them, they needed to hurry and get themselves settled in. If he was remembering correctly, the cabins came stocked with pre-packaged meals in case of emergencies. Still, with how long they’d been traveling up till now, they were exhausted. He was almost tempted to go without dinner but---

     “Ah, I see you’ve returned, Ferra.”

     Oh.

     Oh fuck.

     Fuck, fuck, fuck!

     Memories of that night flashed in his mind. A fist flying through the air to strike, snow whipping around him, ice seeping into his veins, his slit eyes. He could never forget the sheer agony he felt as thousands of tiny pinpricks stabbed his arms, right down to the very bone. He begged and pleaded for death to take him then, all in hopes it’d stop the pain.

     Everything blurred together in a haze. He gasped for air as a dying man would, his hands clutching at his chest to relieve himself of the anguish he felt. Ven calling out to him barely registered in his mind, her voice growing more and more distant the louder his heart pounded.

     Cold.

     So cold.

     He had to run.

     He needed to run.

     Why couldn’t he run?

     Why couldn’t he move?!

     But it was too late. A hand clapped his shoulder and he knew it was over.

     Entering his line of sight was a familiar man. Striking blue eyes bore into his, disdain rising beneath with a tight frown. It felt like they were peering straight into Ferreth’s soul.

     God, Kandorinth hadn’t changed one fucking bit.

     “Are you not going to say hi to your brother, Ferra?” Kandorinth asked, his frown twisting into a dubious smirk. “It’s been about seven years, hasn’t it?”

     He tried with all his might to force the words out but they just wouldn’t come to him. It was as if someone had stolen his voice, rendering him speechless.

     “Oh, what’s the matter, wyvern got your tongue?” Kandorinth scoffed, his eyes never once leaving Ferreth’s as he took a step forward. “I gotta say, it’s strange not hearing you prattle on and on about---”

     “Ah, you must be Kandorinth! You know, Ferreth’s told me so much about you since we arrived here!” Ven chimed in, putting herself between the two men.

     As if noticing for the first time she was there, Kandorinth narrowed his gaze at her. “And who on earth are you supposed to be?”

     “I’m Venlithea. I’m Ferreth’s girlfriend,” she replied. She giggled rather uncharacteristically, angling herself to look up at him. “You’ll have to excuse him, we’ve come a long way to get here and he’s feeling a little tired.”

     Her name was stuck in his throat. He wished he could tell her to not engage with him, to not put herself on Kandorinth’s radar. He knew his brother wasn’t above using violence to achieve his goals, and she’d be the perfect target.

     If only he wasn’t so weak, then this wouldn’t be happening!

     “I see…” Kandorinth backed up a little and folded his arms across his chest, his smile only getting wider. “So tell me, Ferra.” He tilted his head towards his brother. “What made you decide to come back home? I thought you had all but abandoned us.”

     “We got news that his father had fallen ill a little while ago and we wanted to come see him. Is that a problem?” Ven tilted her own head to obscure Kandorinth’s vision, causing him to blink in surprise.

     “No…but I didn’t think he cared at all about Father. I mean, what kind of son runs out on his family for seven years, telling them nothing of his whereabouts or why he left them in the first place?”

     “Well, that’s why we’re here. Ferreth feels really bad about leaving you and he wanted to make amends for that. We would’ve come up sooner but he just didn’t know when would be the right time. He’s really sorry and he hopes you’ll forgive him, right, sweetheart?”

     “Is she right, Ferreth? Did you really come back home to make amends with me and Father?”

     “Like I said, he’s really-”

     “I’d suggest you keep quiet while we’re talking, Thea.”

     Anger stirred from within Ferreth. It was one thing for Kandorinth to treat him like crap but he had absolutely no right to even be speaking to Ven. It was this that, despite the terror currently strangling him, had him mutter through gritted teeth,

     “It’s as she said. We’re here to make amends. Nothing more, nothing less.”

     A moment passed before Kandorinth sneered. “It’s nice hearing your voice again, Ferra, especially after we exchanged such harsh words the last time we talked.”

     That was one hell of a way to put it. The ache in his arms flared up as he remembered the events that transpired that night.

     “Well, I think we’ve done enough catching up for now, wouldn’t you say?” With yet another smirk, Kandorinth took a few steps back and turned in the direction from which they came from. “I’ll be seeing you again, Ferra. I look forward to hearing about all your little…exploits. Until then!”

     With that, he turned on his heel and left. They watched him go further and further down the road till he was but a speck in the distance before he disappeared completely. It was then Ferreth dropped to one knee.

     “Fuck…” he panted, “I--I can’t breathe…”

     Ven knelt down in front of him, taking his face into her hands and asking, “Hey, hey, Ferreth, look at me, okay? Look at me, what’s going on? What do you need? Do you need to sit down?”

     A weak nod spurred her into action. After helping him up to his feet, she threw his arm over her shoulders. Finding a set of wooden benches nearby, she sat him down, brushing the hair from his face. “Are you okay now? Do you need anything?”

     “Just…stay with me, please…”

     Nothing more needed to be said between them. She simply took his hands in hers and held them while he tried to steady his breathing. He’d inhale, hold for a few seconds, then exhale and repeat the process. His heart eventually stopped racing and his mind slowly cleared.

     Winding his arms around her, he dropped his head onto Ven’s chest and murmured, “Sorry, I didn’t know it would get that bad.”

     She breathed a sigh of relief before doing the same, carding her fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture. “So long as you’re okay. What happened back there? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

     “Let’s just say the last time me and Kandorinth talked, it didn’t end so well.” He pressed his ear against her chest. Her heart rang steady, comforting, and he let out a small sigh. “It…wasn’t good.”

     “We don’t have to stay here, you know? We could just leave right now and no one would know.”

     “I don’t think that’s going to work. Besides, it took us three weeks to get here and I don’t want the time we spent traveling to be wasted.”

     “But that doesn’t mean you should suffer while we’re up here!” She lifted his face to look at hers. “You may be the strongest person I know but even you have your limits, so please--” she stroked a thumb along his cheek. “--don’t feel like you need to be brave for me, okay?”

     This brought back memories of when they went to Thal Esari for her own journey and how he was saying much the same things she was to her. The quiet resolve in her eyes, the determination she had to see her quest through to the end; they were things he both envied and admired her for. So, as terrified as he was being back here again, he was going to follow her example and face his past head-on.

     He would not let his father and Kandorinth run him out of town again.

     Pulling back, he reached a hand out to cup her cheek. “I know and I’ll be okay. So long as you’re here with me.” He gave her a small smile. “Things are different now and I’m not the same person I was back then. I’m not going to be cowed into running away with my tail between my legs.”

     “What are you going to do then?” she asked insistently. “What if Kandorinth tries to go after you? I don’t want you getting hurt because of him.”

     “Well, I don’t think he’s stupid enough to try anything. He may be an asshole but he’s not dumb. Still, I want you to be careful around him. I know you can take care of yourself and all but---”

     “Oh, if he tries anything, I will kick his ass. He may be a big, scary dragon but I’ve faced scarier things than him. He’s got nothing on me.”

     With this, his face broke into a grin. “Thanks, Ven.”

     He leaned down to kiss her before he drew her into a tight embrace, a gesture she returned by nestling her cheek into his stomach and wrapping her arms around his waist.

     It was moments like these that reminded him of how strong she was, contrary to her petite stature. She may have presented herself as this soft, delicate waif of a girl but he’d seen the tough, firm might she had underneath. She was able to handle both a glaive and heavy gardening equipment with ease, not to mention her prowess and finesse over her ability to control darkness. She was a miniature powerhouse, and that was one of the many things he loved about her.

     Kandorinth wouldn’t do anything to them, that much he knew. But if he was ballsy enough to try, Ferreth was fully confident in Ven’s ability to win. She would kick his ass six ways to Sunday and he’d revel in it.

     That’d definitely be the show of a lifetime.

     “I love you.”

     “Love you too.”

     Soon, they arrived at the inn. With a key in hand, he and Ven made their way over to the cabin they’d be staying in for a few days. The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by a pleasant, cozy warmth the room seemed to emanate. There was wood paneling on the walls and the floor was made entirely out of a dark hardwood that creaked with each footfall. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all in the same area, with only a meter or so of empty space dividing them into each of their own separate sections, and an enormous fireplace sat in the back.

     A narrow hallway off to the right led to a small bedroom that had a king-sized bed and an armoire. Next door to it was an equally-sized bathroom, with a large vanity that had two sinks attached to it, a claw-footed tub, and a separate chamber containing a modernized garderobe.

     Ferreth sighed, flopping down backwards on the bed. He didn’t think he’d be back in Thesriden again. On that night, seven years ago, he swore up and down he’d never return, not after all the things his father and brother did to him. Yet here he was, jumping on the meager chance things might’ve changed between them in his absence. Was he being too naive, too foolish in giving them this opportunity to prove that things would be different?

     He didn’t know.

     Whatever the case may be, the next few days were going to be interesting. Very interesting, indeed…

[eyestumblin]

today on breath of the wild...

After an actually indescribable amount of goofing around, climbing up walls and mountains, blowing myself up, side-tracking up/down/over/across the map, poking my nose where it didn't belong, and blindly running past countless obvious objectives, I at long last made my way into the heart of Hyrule castle to do my heroic duties, relieving my old allies of their hundred year wait.

I reached the throne room faster than anticipated, though I'd crawled around (and up, and under) the castle in a few previous trips. Unlike those times, I was determined not to procrastinate a single day longer.

This week we played a lot in anticipation of the sequel release, so I was able to hunt down and collect the final memory locations and watch each of them in order. Most I didn't remember at all- some I hadn't seen in years. I felt more for the hopes of the champions and for the frustration and pain Zelda was going through in her journey. I also (reluctantly) read the diary she left in her room at the castle and was tickled that Link disclosed his reason for not speaking. "He felt everyone's expectations and the need to bear them silently." It was nice to learn about these characters in a different way than previous games.

The story fresh in mind fortified me to finally face the sincerely upsetting amorphous blob of evil gestating in the castle's crown. With overpowered weapons, armor, and food I was able to faceroll my way through the fight. There was one terrible shock; when teleported out of the castle, none other than Dolly herself was waiting for me. A devastating horse accident from earlier in the week had me on full alert for the worst and ready to panic about being suddenly forced to pit sweet, easy paced, 2 spur Dolly in her fancy showgirl feather adorned bridle against a behemoth, world-ending incarnation of rage and destruction. Thankfully it was fight meant to be won without suffering and as we circled Ganon in the home stretch, I told Sana, "Dolly was never meant for this, but I am so proud of her."

And then... at last, the story was finally concluded.

Although there are a lot of memorable highlights, I can't imagine trying to summarize roughly 100 hours of gameplay I haven't written about across the last five years. Covid kept us apart, I moved states and there have been all kinds of life events that resulted in not being able to play. Sometimes it was tough to be patient- I'd be thinking about quests, curiosities, the endless new discoveries on every horizon. Going months or even years between sessions could make it difficult to remember what I was doing and game mechanics or controls, basically how to play at all.

I have 0 regrets about any of that. I'm just extremely grateful we were able to pick things up and continue this journey to its end. BotW began as an adventure with my dear friend and it has been a very special experience to share every harebrained thought, clumsy failure, lucky shot, delightful discovery, and quiet beautiful moment with her from start to finish. Our time playing has kept me feeling close by no matter how far we are in time and space.

BotW is a great game- everyone already knows that. I'm looking forward to someday playing the sequel, and for now I can delve back into my save file to continue exploring the many mysteries still uncovered. Usually I review media but instead this is really about my deep, heartfelt thanks to @sanachanto for her infinite patience, all the gentle hints that never spoiled anything, and for enjoying my adventures as much as I did. BotW: friendship is the greatest treasure/10

[steddie-island]

I was going to put this in the notes but you know what? Nah. I keep wanting to talk about it and then backing off but like. Nah today, y'all get to hear about what happened last year because this shit is important.

To try to keep a long story short (and get to the point that actually has something to do with OP's post) we're going to do as much of a speedrun as we can for what happened to me last year. I'm not known for being able to condense things super well but we're gonna try anyway!

In April I had a massive bleeding episode that landed me in the hospital. I thought it was just a heavy period, I have PCOS and was used to those, but nah. It was Bad. They gave me medicine, it slowed down until I ran out and had another (though less severe) episode. I was put on birth control but every month the bleeding was just so heavy and the pain so severe I could barely leave my house.

After I stood up in the bathroom one day and then literally had to rest my forehead against the wall to keep from passing out I decided to do some research, then went to urgent care three times trying to say "Hey I think I'm severely anemic, these are my symptoms, can you check this?" One of those visits ended with me going to the hospital for the second time that year in a trip that could have been avoided if the doctor looking me over had just fucking asked what birth control I'm on. But he didn't.

I finally called a doctor's office a friend had recommended to me because no one else was listening. I got in to a woman who not only listened to me and believed me when I told her that I was anemic, she apologized for the way I had been medically mistreated not just as a woman but as a fat patient. She did tests, found out that yes, I was severely anemic. We started doing iron transfusions and looking into what had happened.

Turns out I had a fibroid in my uterus that made any other treatments for heavy periods pretty much useless. She sent me to a surgeon to talk about me getting a hysterectomy. The consult went great, I left crying happy tears because I was finally being listened to and wouldn't have to deal with severe pain and bleeding for the rest of my life.

Fast forward to October. I had requested the time off work, made all the arrangements that needed to be made. I was hooked to an IV, scrubbed up, ready to go back to the OR. There were last minute changes that had to be made regarding how the surgery would be handled. Something that was supposed to be a one day outpatient thing ended up being a 2 night stay in the hospital. It was a much more difficult recovery, I had to take an extra week unpaid from work because it was genuinely a much more traumatizing experience than expected, and I hadn't had any time at all to prepare.

My doctor reached out to check up on me after a week. I explained the last minute changes, and how I had felt like I was an afterthought when this man had to go in and cut me open, and he couldn't even tell me for sure later what all had been done/ removed. (He literally said they "may have" left part of my cervix in. Like???)

My doctor was pissed. She started filing complaints with the hospital. They told her that the complaints really needed to come from me and she said basically said "bullshit this patient is in my care and this isn't her responsibility, she came to me and I'm going to help with this." And she did. She called, and complained, and she got him on the phone to get me the answers that he couldn't give me the day of my surgery.

She was nice, but he still got a dressing down, and she told me recently that she could tell he was very humbled by the feedback she had passed along. She's also stopped recommending any of her patients go to him, at least for the time being. She hasn't sent anyone to him since my debacle in October.

I love my doctor, and I trust her with my life (literally.) And whether they do it politely the way I know my PCP did, or if they're yelling at each other the way the post says? Fuck yes, this should be normalized.

Doctors should have to listen to their patients. Doctors should fucking believe their patients. And if they aren't listening, and believing? Then yeah, they should get knocked down a few pegs when someone does finally figure it out.

Doctors should snark at each other more, be a bit mean. Not for no reason, mind you. But if five doctors blow me off about symptoms and doctor number six FINALLY runs actual tests and gets a diagnosis, I think it should be Doctor Six's right to call up the other five and tell them they're lazy pieces of shit. That should be socially encouraged. Those first five doctors clearly can't listen to patients, but maybe another doctor might finally get to them.