#and i don't want them to be assholes to me about it or about how i kind of miss shots quite a bit

[3rdyetagain]

[Image ID: a Reddit post with the author cropped out. It reads: "AITAH for "training" a guy "like a dog"?

I (23F) have recently started seeing this guy (26M). He's super pretty, but he's kind of emotionally unavailable and he's alluded to an unstable/unhealthy childhood.

for context, i also work w socializing abused and neglecting dogs at a local shelter and i think how much time i spend w the dogs is impacting the way i interact w ppl.

when we were on a date i started subconsciously making mental notes abt him like the notes id make about a dog. for example, i noticed when we went out to dinner i noticed he ate really quickly and was very anti-sharing (resource guarding) but when i offered to pay and suggested dessert it seemed to make him really happy and a little calmer (food-motivated); he's really particular about his car (territorial/crate aggression); he likes when i pick where we go/what we do (eager to please), etc. so, ive started using the tactics id use on a dog w similar problems.

Recently a friend (22F) pointed out that it's weird that i keep peanut M&Ms on me w the specific purpose of offering the guy one when i see him, and offering them again whenever i can tell he feels vulnerable. she said that i'm being an asshole bc he's a person, not a dog so i shouldn't be "training him like one."

i don't think that's fair, i'm not trying to control him or anything, i just want him to feel comfortable w me the same way i need the animals i'm helping to be comfortable w me. humans and animals aren't THAT diff after all, we all just want to feel safe and cared for. the guy hasn't noticed yet as far as i can tell. the problem is, my "technique" is yielding really positive results.

AITAH? should i stop?" End ID]

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

[yukioos]

HELLO! This is my first time requesting so my apologies if I didn't do it right

(｡>﹏<)

(Katsuki x insomniac!reader)

I love your writing style smm, so I was hoping you could write one where the reader is like an insomniac, staying up late to be chronically online and stuff and Katsuki tries to help her ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

I struggle with insomnia quite a bit, and I just stay up, scrolling through my phone or computer even if I don't have anything to do on there. And it's not like a one time thing either, it's like every night, and the only way I actually go to sleep is holding my plushies or listening to ASMR/or calming music, but it still takes quite a long time for it to kick in.

So I would love it if you could convey that in one of your oneshots!!

If you don't wish to go through with my request for any reason, no worries and I hope you have a good rest of your evening! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

I wish you tons of love and good times all around, thank you for listening (∩˃o˂∩)♡

katsuki trying to help his insomniac partner

katsuki was writing down what was on the board, listening to what mister aizawa was teaching when he turned his head to see you nodding off. he glared, and checked to see when the teacher wasn’t looking, then reached over to push your shoulder.

you slowly turned toward him and pouted, quietly grumbling, “what?”

“pay attention. you’re not failing this test, idiot.” he scoffed, changing his attention to his paper and trying to solve the equation in front of him.

after a few minutes, he heard a loud thump to his left, and he sighed once he saw what happened, your hair was splayed out everywhere, your head lay on the desk, and your arms wrapped around your head, protecting it in some sort of way. he reached his arm out, not caring about the equation anymore, and wrapped his hand around your bicep, squeezing it, and small explosions landed on your arm, causing there to be a black mark on your uniform.

you swatted his hand away, seemingly wide awake when he whispered, “we’re talking after class.”

you retorted and laughed, “no shit, katsuki, we always talk after class.”

he rolled his eyes and scoffed, done with your antics. but when the time came, and the class was done, school was officially over for the day, he dragged you by your hand into your dorm.

once you set your bags down and yawned, he asked, crossing his arms after he took his clothes off and changed, “why the hell are you always so tired during the day? do you not sleep or some stupid shit like that?”

you shook your head and then nodded, a little confused about how to explain it with just signals. you spoke, “i have insomnia.”

his eyes widened. well, now he felt like an asshole.

he mumbled, “first off, you need to sleep quicker and easier. what do you think makes you calmer and more sleepy?”

“i think being around people i like makes me sleepy because i feel relaxed around them, like a comfort person. then i like listening to asmr, i love listening to soft taps and crunchy sounds! it’s so cool!” you exclaimed.

he rolled his eyes. he didn’t know what the fuck asmr was, but he assumed it helped, so he spoke, “sleep with me tonight, and we’ll put that asmr thing on.”

“really?” you asked, eyes shining with admiration. all he was worrying about was your phone, as you managed to check it around a hundred times a day, even when you weren’t supposed to. who knew what you would be like at night?

so when it came to be around eight at night, you found yourself in katsuki’s dim room, with his large television screen opened up to the youtube app. you complained, “why are we here so early, kats?”

he answered, “because i’m guessing you take a long time to sleep. put on your favorite channel and get in bed.”

he stripped off his shirt as you took control of the remote, typing in the letters of your favorite asmr channel before clicking on a video. you climbed into bed with katsuki and crawled closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth.

after a couple of minutes, you reached over to the nightstand to grab your phone when katsuki forced your hand down. he argued, “no phones past eight.”

you immediately tried to argue as well, “but—“

“go the hell to bed. no phones.” he kept his word, and eventually your eyes started to feel heavy.

you mumbled, digging your face deeper into his side, and around two hours later, after conversations, and switching through multiple videos, he finally felt your breathing evening, and he sighed.

although you had to wake up early in the morning, two hours preparing to sleep was better than many more hours. he smirked to himself, katsuki had to make this part of your nightly routine.

hi i hope this was realistic enough! i’m so glad you love my writing, you have no idea how much this affects me

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Protective Stiles

Give me unhinged Stiles. All human, full confidence, protective as fuck Stiles.

I want Stiles' name to be broadcasted on Nemeton weekly as the pack guardian. Not Emissary, not Protector Druid, just full, no holds barred— willing to die, happy to kill, will gut you like a fish if you touch my beta's and or alphas—Stiles.

Isaac and Stiles are bullshitting one day when Isaac says his "I spent my childhood locked in a freezer. How would I know how to be helpful?" And Stiles rolls his eyes.

"You can't use that every time Isaac." It's unfortunate that Aiden is walking passed them at that moment and he glares at the beta.

"It's where you belonged mutt." The twin hisses and Stiles is out of his seat so fast Scott doesn't have time to grab him. Cause sure, Stiles can't beat up Aiden but the werewolf can't heal his vision back if he's missing a goddamn eyeball. And it takes both Scott and Boyd to pull Stiles away before he stabs him in the face with a newly fashioned, mountain ash pencil.

Some new supernatural cat girl has been stalking Allison for weeks. Stiles at first tries to reason with her, tells her she's under Alpha McCalls protection and though she's a hunter Allison will leave her alone as long as she behaves. But Cat Girl won't have any of it and when she threatens to scalp Allison's 'pretty little head' Stiles runs her over with the jeep.

A werewolf with knowledge of the Hale pack comes back to town one day and is relentlessly harassing Derek. He blames him for the fire and Stiles happens to be out at the preserve when he hears the asshole talking about Kate. "Admit it Hale, you're glad they died! Selling your family out for one hard rut. Or did she make you the bitch?"

Neither notice Stiles and his metal bat wrapped in barbed wire and dipped in wolfsbane until he's on the guy. Derek watches in awestruck horror as Stiles beats the crap out of him. Human Stiles covered in blood and panting as he stands over the unconscious omega. He spits on the guy before turning to Derek and the alpha is both utterly terrified and completely turned on when narrowed and angry eyes turn to him with concern and gentleness.

"Please don't listen to him Der. None of it was your fault."

Alpha Ito makes it her mission to warn any new supernatural travelers that Beacon Hills is protected by two packs and one human. "You may speak freely with Alpha Hale or Alpha McCall if there is a problem but I implore you, do not insult the fox."

[writersdiscouragment-blog]

I needed to write 😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Hey, you good?" Oliver is all of sudden hovering over Lou, startling the older man from his nap.

They had to do reshoots and Lou and Oliver's scene with Aisha and Angela took till 3 am to film and they had an early call time

He had finally been able to nap in his trailer since wrapping up filming for the day. He wasn't expecting to see Oliver till later.

He definitely wasn't expecting Olive to be hovering over his head, inches away from his face.

"Where did you even come from?" Lou asked groggily.

"London." Oliver smirked, chuckling as Lou rolled his eyes, he ignored Lou calling him an "Smart ass." He gave Lou a quick smile that was all teeth before he fell on top of Lou, laying down chest to chest with the other man.

"Omph." Lou huffed out with a laugh as Oliver just settled his weight on him. They barely fit on the couch and with all the wiggling Oliver was doing to fit on top of Lou had Lou laughing harder.

"Did you want me to get a boner?" Lou laughed, watching as Oliver's smile grow bigger. The asshole.

"Hmm. Would that be a bad thing?" Oliver asked, his chin settled on top of Lou's chest. Lou studied him for a moment, combing his fingers through Oliver's unkempt curls before brushing his thumb over Oliver's birthmark.

The silence got to Oliver, he wasn't used to Lou being quiet and pensive.

He hated seeing Lou anxious, he was at the point in where he had to remind himself that he promised Lou that he wouldn't be snarky with fans and journalists alike when it came to how they engaged with Lou. But he hated it, "You're not okay." Oliver sighed, he knew Lou's tells by now.

"They're blaming me about Peter leaving." Lou admitted.

Oliver knew that certain fans were blaming Lou about Bobby being killed off.

It made no sense.

But it worried him.

How anxious Lou sounded now about it.

"You know it's not your fault. All of us know that it isn't your fault."

Lou hummed, half hearted and his eyes looking elsewhere.

Oliver pushed himself up till he was straddled on Lou's stomach. "You know that right?" Oliver asked, a certain edge in his voice that he didn't care to keep out.

Lou had been pretty dismissive about how fans reacted to him, it was what Oliver had admired about him from the start.

But he saw the cracks. Lou was an anxious man and had a hard time with talking about certain topics related to the show when it was just them.

But Oliver knew the signs by now becauae they had been together for nearly four months now. They weren't out yet, but Oliver figured Aisha and Peter perhaps knew about them.

"Lou?"

Lou sighed, covering his eyes with his forearms as Oliver waited for him to say anything. "They could have killed Tommy off and kept Bobby. It would make more sense, Peter is a EP and everyone loves Bobby. Tim could have killed off Tommy and there still would have been an impact but small and at least the fans would be happy and leave you alone."

Oliver pulled Lou's arm away from his face, perhaps more aggressive than Lou expected since the older man yelped when Oliver pulled at his arm and pinned his hands over his head.

"Listen to me, okay? Those fans will never be happy, even if Tim decided to kill off your character, Ryan and I don't want Buck and Eddie together and also, Peter agreed for Bobby to be written off. I don't like it, none of us do. But we know it happens in shows and it happens to firefighters in real life." Oliver lowered his body till he was resting against Lou's chest again. He still had Lou's hands pinned. "It would have been any of us, and none of us would have liked it. I don't think any of us are ready to say goodbye to each other. I-I don't want to say goodbye to Peter, he's been my mentor and one of my favorite people to work with since day one here." He paused, mulling over his words as he looked at Lou, the other man still looked nervous. Like he still couldn't believe in what Oliver was saying. "But you leaving wouldn't just make those people happy, I don't think they want to be happy. They seem to like being miserable."

Lou snorted, "Rude."

Oliver shrugged, he didn't care anymore about their feelings since he has seen how easy it was for some no-face-no-name-person hiding behind a computer to talk trash about him and his friends.

He had been professional, if not courteous to placate them.

But he had seen the death threats towards Lou, the stupid tweets about his father and people asking Lou to kill himself.

All because of this show.

"They started it."

Oliver moved his hands to Lou's face, watching intently as he noticed Lou's eyes watering. "No one here wants you to leave. Especially me, I'm quite enjoying being able to flirt with my boyfriend at work and home." He grinned, gently rubbing his thumb against Lou's cheek. "They can say or think whatever they want, they do usually. But we know you're not the reason for Peter being written off. The hell with them."

Lou let out a sigh, he moved Oliver's hand to his lips and kissed the center of his palm. "Might take a bit for me to believe that." He admitted tearfully.

For such a big man, Lou didn't have a lot of self confidence at times.

"Believe me, then." Oliver told him gently, "You can do that, can't you?" He felt Lou's heart beat under his, the rhythm becoming calmer now as though Lou's heartbeat was trying to match Oliver's.

He combed his fingers through Lou's curls, pressing his lips against Lou's cleft chin.

"I believe you, always." Lou promised.

Oliver gave him another kiss, this time on the lips. "Good, because either way, you're stuck with me." Oliver emphasized his point by wrapping his arms as best he could around Lou while the other man was still laying down on the couch. Oliver settled his head down over Lou's chest again, smiling as Lou's laughter shook him. He reveled as Lou touched the bare skin of his back under his shirt.

"Good." Lou sighed happily and contently as Oliver and him cuddled on the couch. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

[onlyancunin]

I think we're talking about the same thing perhaps, but from different angles then.

Armchair diagnosis refer to someone with no degree nor qualifications attempting to "diagnose", a.k.a. say they see somebody display behaviors commonly understood as part of a certain condition, in my understanding.

And this itself is not a problem, in my opinion, it's what happens after. They say that just by doing so we're throwing the people behind the diagnosis - either diagnosed by a proper professional or just assumed-diagnosed for the purpose of giving their therapy/pharmacology a direction - under the bus.

Which implies: somebody thinks Trump is NPD -> all people with NPD are like Trump. But it can happen only if there's an understanding that NPD equals being an asshole.

So my point is that saying all "armchair diagnosis" is bad because some people don't get the nuance of the diagnosis being just a part of someone, not the whole picture & explanation, is a blanket statement.

So - I don't think it's the "diagnosing" that's the problem, it's the stigmatizing of the certain conditions. Because then we also come to situation when people start thinking "he's an asshole, therefore he must be NPD".

Maybe it's too deep of looking at the thing? But I've both been accused for being "albeist" by pointing out somebody displays certain potentially diagnoseable behaviors (even if I didn't use this as an excuse) AND been vilified and have my own diagnosises thrown in my face in an attempt to invalidate my opinions or feelings. And this is all the same root problem the way I see it, which is seeing cluster B personality disorders and/or mental illnesses as invalidating, people-breaking and dangerous.

I think there's space for understanding where someone is coming from without it being an excuse, which is another thing I see happening often. An explanation is not an excuse, again, it's just a map on how to navigate certain situations.

And in case of Trump... There's even more to that. Once I've learned of his father complex he has, with his father being a successful businessman and Donald growing up in his shadow, and desperately grasping at grand projects to "prove himself" - his behavior starts making even more sense. Not because its justified, but because it can be explained. He, to this day, keeps on repeating how he does things Biden would not. He strives for acceptance of billionaires, like his father, to heal his own wound. Do I think his behavior is damaging? Absolutely. Do I think his behavior is justified? ABSOLUTELY NOT. But it is interesting to me to observe where it comes from, also for the purpose of knowing how to prevent this happening in the future.

I'd say it's part of an even bigger picture, with the male loneliness also entering the stage.

So does that maybe make it more clean?

I understand OP wants to do the "just because someobe has this mental illness doesn't mean others with the same diagnosises are like them", but people attempting to understand even the worst people in history are not the issue, and this is what their post seems to suggest.

It's the stigmatizing and flattening what the mental disorders/illnesses actually are, which works both ways. Just covering someone's mouth is fighting the symptoms, which is also important, but There's more to that.

And by the way thank you for stating rhat you're not here to attack me, and please know I'm not here to attack you either. I want to insert more perspective into this, because I've seen the "armchair diagnosis" term used as a stick to beat up everyone, no matter the context. I remember you, I know your blog and I enjoy your presence on my dash and I hope we can continue with being friendly to one another.

Which brings up another thing - do we cater to people unable to distinguish between the diagnosis and the person?

I feel like I'm about to get hit with the "its not that complicated" argument - and I can see why. But it's also not that simple and I've experienced the effects of it being oversimplified.

So no, I don't think spotting patterns of behaviors or even bringing it up is bad. But leaving it at that can be harmful, and at the very least unproductive.

And I think I said my peace with that, iI'm not here to upset anybody. I just want us to see the real root of the problem. And approach it with more empathy, than going black and white on an issue. Which again I don't mean it as my take is superior... Just explaining my reasons for chiming in.

It’s weird that we keep trying to armchair diagnose asshole behaviour with mental health labels and in doing so throw people with mental health conditions under the asshole bus when we could just call a guy an asshole and leave it at that

It just seems far more straightforward, you know

[ghostly-bat]

jon being a fan of batman and then slowly getting to know him over the years and having reality hit him in the face like.

jon: ...your dads kind of a loser...

damian: ??

jon: he's also kind of an asshole...

bruce says one bad thinng about damian.

jon: you don't have to take that. you can fight him. you can easily take him. i could easily take him! do you want me to??? fuck it i'm gonna do it anyway, i'm gonna fight you dad.

and there's talia who jon did not like from the moment he meet her.

damian: she's my mom, she isn't that bad.

jon: most mom's don't hold a sword to their child's throat and send random assassins to fight them.

damian: that's just how we were raised.

jon: yeah well seems like you need therapy and I still don't like your mom cus that is not a valid excuse.

jon: i say we never talk to either of them again and move to japan and live out the rest of our days. you can afford it, we could be in an apartment in tokyo right now or the calm japanese countryside. we have the power to do that damian. say screw it and never talk to your parents again.

every breakdown damian has about his family jon is there to remind him like "hey wouldn't it be nice if we were in japan right now? a nice little apartment. hell it doesn't even have to be japan just anywhere but here. i say we pack our shit and leave no one ever has to know"

[futuremrsreid]

Love Like Ghosts - Chapter One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Hotchner!Reader

Warnings: Angst, flirty talk, Spencer isn’t an asshole he’s just deeply traumatized

A/N: Bear in mind, English isn’t my first language. This one is short, I guess it’s more of a prologue. Read this post for backstory on the reader

"I'm back in DC. Will you meet me for coffee tomorrow? At 3 p.m., the usual place? I heard you guys are on official time-out for a few weeks."

I waited 5 hours and 30 minutes, but no reply came. Good thing I didn't care about sounding desperate.

"Please, Spencer. I just want to talk."

"I'll be there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My fingers nervously fiddled with the menu laid out before me. The clock at the small café showed me the same time my phone already did. 2:55 pm. 5 minutes before we said we would meet, but for Spencer, that meant he was late. And since the last at least dozen times we had met here, he was always 10 minutes early.

I figured he didn't necessarily want to see me, but I never thought he would stand me up.

Maybe he had changed. I haven't seen him in so long, and from the snippets I had managed to get out of my dad, 3 months in prison did a number on him. My stomach churned at the thought.

Yet before my brain could spiral more, the small bell above the entrance rang, and Spencer Reid entered. His eyes scanned the few tables until he finally saw me.

I awkwardly waved at him, immediately chastising myself under my breath.

I felt like I couldn't breathe for the seconds it took for him to walk over. And when he finally sat down, my breath was still caught in my lungs.

His hair was longer and messy, his face pale and unshaven. Beautiful, like always, but in a devastatingly sad way.

"Hi", I said, voice cracking uncharacteristically. He noticed immediately.

"Hey", his reply was soft, despite his intense gaze on me.

"Thank you for coming. I won't hold you long. I get that you maybe don't really want to talk to me, but my dad told me what happened, and I just-", I stopped, not knowing how to put it without sounding desperate. "He said you were fine, but I wanted to see for myself."

"And?" his one-word reply came. I wasn’t sure how to handle this, to handle him. But I was never afraid to be honest with him, and I wouldn't start now.

"Well, either you have been lying to everybody, or you have been lying to yourself and everybody. You're clearly not fine." I could see that he didn't appreciate my answer, but we both knew I was right. He leaned back in his seat.

"Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

"What?"

"You said you'd get that I maybe wouldn't want to talk to you. Why would you think that?"

"Well, I-", I paused, unsure about what to say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7 months ago

"Thank you for driving me home. I'm still embarrassed that you had to pick me up there. As I've told you at least 10 times now, I usually don't go there."

"What? You usually don't spend your free time in dirty sticky bars? Who would've thought...", he was barely able to hide his grin, but when I jokingly hit his shoulder in fake offense, he chuckled.

"No, and you know....Usually, I try to be the dirtiest and stickiest thing in a bar, which would be unachievable in a place like that." I joked and flashed him a mischievous grin, taking note of the redness spreading on his face.

"I hope you know that that's an extremely odd goal to have."

My reply came in a giggle and the rattling of my keys as I pushed them into the lock of my apartment door.

"Wanna come in? I can make you a cup of tea. I add ginger to it. It's actually famous in my family." He had never been in my apartment before. It was a line we hadn't crossed, and I wasn't sure he even wanted to. But when I opened the door and turned back around to him, there was a kind of longing in his eyes. Confirmation came in the form of a nod, his body following mine inside.

It really shouldn't have felt as forbidden as it did. I wasn’t a child. We weren't doing anything illegal. Yet my skin prickled when I felt the heat of his body behind mine.

"This is exactly how I imagined your apartment. I like it, it fits you."

"You imagined how I live...Interesting fact, Dr. Reid." I walked towards my small kitchen to make the tea I had promised him. "You imagined what my bedroom looks like as well?"  I heard him trip behind me.

"Did uh- Did you know someone's bedroom often reflects their personality because it’s in our nature to influence our environs to our choice and preferences. Over time, your bedroom reveals your personality and it develops a persona of its own. It's extremely improbable that any two bedrooms will look the same. So a tidy room can suggest a person is organized, detail-oriented, and perhaps even a bit of a perfectionist. Conversely, a messy room could indicate a more relaxed, less structured personality, or perhaps even a sign of underlying issues like disorganization or difficulty letting go of possessions."

"I bet you're just dying to see my bedroom to prove that theory."  I flashed a grin at him over my shoulder, my hands busy preparing our tea.

"I mean, the more data is input into a statistic, the more accurate it becomes." I breathed a laugh and put a mug with steaming tea in front of him.

"Bold." When I looked up, I was surprised to see that he's holding my gaze. "Also sounds like the beginning of a very nerdy adult movie." Cheeks warmed and eyes shy away, and after a moment, mine did too. I busied myself with sips of my tea.

“You usually use humor and sarcasm to deflect. Something you want to talk about?”

“No, not really. I mean, getting left alone in a dirty bar because my friend decided to leave with some guy wasn’t necessarily nice, but…other than that, I’m fine. And while I normally use my humor to deflect, I also often use it just to unnerve you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun. And it causes you to blush. And I just-” pause. I wasn’t sure if I should say it. But his eyes were expectantly following my every move, and so I set down my mug and took a step closer to him. “I guess I just like to cause a reaction in you.”

“But why?” His mug joined mine on the counter. We were suddenly so close that he would only have to raise his hand to touch me.

“Because…sometimes it feels like you try so hard not to have one. A reaction to me, I mean. Sometimes it feels like you distance yourself until you’re a thousand miles away, and the only way to reach you is to get you vulnerable enough so that my mind can touch yours. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

“Y/N I-” He sighed and looked away again. I could see it in his eyes, the distance.

“There! That is exactly what I mean. Why do you do that?” No answer came, so I grew frustrated. “Tell me why you won’t let me near.”

“Because I can’t!” His words were too loud for the tiny space we had created. “I just- I can’t.”

“But why?” My voice cracked on the words. It was quiet for another moment before I asked what I had been too afraid to ask this whole time. “Is it because I’m your boss’s daughter? Or is it because you think I’m too young for you?”

“That’s not-”

“Or is it because you’re too afraid to let someone in? Because if it is, I can understand that. Do you think this is easy for me? It’s not. But I-” He turned away suddenly.

“I should never have come inside. This isn’t good for either of us.” He turned away to leave, but I gripped his sweater with just enough force to stop him and turn towards me again. His eyes met mine and every word vanished from my mind. My defences were gone, and even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t listen to them anyway. So I did the only thing I could think of.

I rose up on my toes to kiss him, and his hands found the sides of my head like he had been waiting for it. Months of build-up came crashing down on us fast, but I felt alive. His lips were soft against mine, fingers buried in my hair.

We kissed until there was no air left in our lungs, and after that his lips moved to my jaw as the small of my back hit the kitchen counter.

A small moan escaped me from the impact, and everything shattered. 

I felt the cold air before I registered him moving away. He was halfway across my apartment when I came to my senses and went after him.

“Spencer, wait-”

“I told you I can’t do this, Y/N. We can’t do this!” I opened my mouth but he took the words right out of my mouth. “Don’t ask me why. We just can’t.”

“But-” Weak pleas on deaf ears.

“No. I am not repeating myself. I don’t think we should keep meeting. It will get both of us hurt.”

“Spencer!” But he was already out the door.

The next days were spent with more desperate pleas sent via text.

“Call me back, please.”

“I just want to talk.”

“Spencer, please just call me back.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“You kissed me back like you wanted to.”

“Can we just talk about this, please?”

“Are you going to ignore me forever?”

“You know, I could just turn up at your work, right? I’m a Hotchner after all.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I hope you know I would never do that.”

“But what about the next dinner party at Rossi’s? Are you gonna pretend I don’t exist?”

“Did that kiss truly mean nothing to you?”

The last message stung, sitting on read for days. But after three weeks, I managed to accept that it was over. Spencer Reid did not want me in his life. And as much as it hurt, I had to find a way to live with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You weren’t eager to talk to me before everything went to shit, so I figured it wouldn’t be any different now.” I finally said. My hands started fiddling with the menu again, our coffees cold and long forgotten. I could feel his eyes on me.

“The last time I saw you, you had a head injury and were terrified out of your mind. Of course, I wanted to see you. I wanted to make sure you’re alright too. I just- I didn’t know how to reach you and if you had your phone.” His confession made me look up to see his eyes already on me. I held his gaze for a moment, for about 3 heartbeats, before I forced a smile on my face.

“And?” I repeated his earlier question, trying to make it sound funny. From the look on his face, I hadn’t managed.

“Well, you seem physically fine. You’re nervous, but that's because of this situation. And the rest… I was never good at reading you, never knew what was going on in your head. I guess you get that from Hotch.” His hands reached out to take the menu from me, probably to keep me from accidentally ripping it. His fingers grazed my wrist unintentionally. I felt like I was going to burst into tears. “Will you tell me how you are?”

“Oh, I am fine. Like you promised all those months ago…Nothing happened to us, or me.”

“I hate to admit that I had no part in that.”

“You had other things to worry about.” I wasn’t sure if I could say it out loud. In prison for 3 months.

“Funny you say that, when in reality prison gave me too much time to worry about all of the things I couldn’t control. Like my mother getting sicker every day, and the fact that Scratch was still running around free, and I had no idea if you were okay.” My throat felt like it was getting tighter. I didn't expect him to worry so much.

“Penelope told me that your mother was better now. Is that not true?” 

“No, it is. She's better now. But things were getting worse for a while, which was mainly my fault.” Self-deprecation and shame laced his words. “It's a long story, and also the story of how I got framed for murder in the first place. I don't feel like telling it.”

“That's okay. You don't have to tell me anything.” My words were almost a whisper. “Are you talking to someone at least?” He paused and leaned back in his seat slightly, guarded.

“Yes. My reinstatement requires mandatory therapy, if that's what you mean.” 

“And how about a non-mandatory therapist? Because you and I both know you want to be reinstated and would keep things from them to achieve that.” I regretted my words the second they had left my mouth.

“Prentiss isn't worried, so neither should you.” Cold, harsh words, meant to throw me off, I'm sure.

“I'm not doubting your ability in the field, Spencer. I'm worried about you.”

“You don't think we are past that point?” I could see that he didn't really mean it, but he had said it nonetheless. And I knew he did it to hurt me. I swallowed down the tears that stung in my eyes.

“You just told me you worried about me while you were in prison. So why would you say that.” The hurt was visible in my voice.

“That's different.” His whole body tensed, arms crossing in front of him.

“How?” 

“It just is.”

“That's not a real answer and you know it!” The sadness disappeared and was replaced by hot, burning anger. “ ‘It just is’, ‘I can't’, ‘Don't ask me why, we just can’t’.” I said, mocking his voice. Bile rose in my throat, but I pushed it down. “I am not a stupid child, Spencer. You don't get to treat me like one! You might think that you don't owe me these explanations, but you do!”

“I don't owe you anything, Y/N.” He said it with such certainty and resentment that I couldn't stop the tears from flooding. The other people in the cafe were looking our way when an involuntary sob left me. “Y/N, I-” 

But the room suddenly felt too small, and the air too thick. I knew I had to leave now to keep at least some of my dignity. So I quickly grabbed my bag and scrambled out of the seat. 

He called my name again, but I didn't want to hear anything else from him.

[naamahdarling]

.

[goldstien]

kiernan blinks — alright, that's fair enough. “ah,” is what he says in response. at least the other is trying to make conversation, rather than just walking of. a point for them. "well, you don't gotta do that - not your fault, after all, a shrug. maybe he was a bit too lax, unsure of how to go about the conversation when that's all it was. back in school, he'd noticed people did the same thing — constant apologies for things that aren't their fault, yet they're expressing a sympathy. him, on the other hand? rolls off his shoulder. not his bidding, not his doing, no need to say sorry unless it's a real detriment to the situation. having to go outside for a cart rather than getting one from inside is more of a set back than anything else.

“so you're a parrot?” that's the jist, from what he understands. it's not a bad thing — when his baby cousins were born, always chastised for swearing and being rowdy when they grow up to emulate the people around them. never one to watch what he says ( and that, is a detriment ) and leads life with no filter, it was difficult. the idea of being nerdy about words makes him chuckle. “i think you're a lot more old school than you think you are. like, my cousin? he's old — ” asher isn't, kiernan is just an asshole. “he says those kinda things all the time. though i doubt you're in your 40's, so that kinda just makes you old school. big difference.” that doesn't make any sense and yet he will still go for it. 

a wordless answer as he turns to walk out to the parking lot, not going too fast – always a fast walker, it's the long legs, maybe – to ensure christian was keeping up with him. “i just talk.” a shrug, like it's the most obvious answer in the world. “definitely not no nerd – not to say you are, but, you know,” hand motions as if to say … well, something he's unsure. “not a scholar in a good way. my dad says i got the goldstein gene but prays that i don't go into law – somethin' ‘bout being a deadly lawyer or something, i dunno. or politics. but that shit’s too boring for me, you know? too by the book. i prefer doing what i want, when i want it. it's easier to do than to follow someone else's rules.” grabs hold of a cart, pushing it for christian to grab before grabbing his own. “more of a talk until people get confused and don't ask me stupid shit kind of guy. though if you're a writer then you must be somewhat good at talking, too."

Christian watched the other man’s eyebrows furrow and realized that what he’d said had confused him. It was the fact that he’d said “sorry”. This was something Christian did to diffuse tension; whenever you expressed that you understood a situation, that you empathized with the other people, stuff became instantly smoother. But maybe the way he’d said it had been unclear.

“No, I just mean that I feel sorry,” Christian explained, “that I empathize. Sorry, I guess when I—” He barked out a laugh. “Oh, wow, I did it again. No, I’m not formally apologizing. I’m not that nice. Kind of wish I were.”

The man seemed intelligent; thoughtful, at the very least. Christian was intrigued by the notion that he could be using slang from different eras. He said so: “That’s really cool, actually, because I’m not old school at all. I’ve always repeated what other people say, the words they choose. I’m a writer, so I listen for that; then I can write in a lot of different ways, with different connotations. It’s neat, knowing that I—no, no, I just said neat, I see what you mean. I’m using stuff differently than I think, when I talk. When I write, though—it all comes together,” he finished, partially sarcastic. “Then it makes sense.”

Christian’s interest had been piqued by the stranger. He said, “You wanna walk out to the carts with me and talk a little? Are you a word person, or just smarter than me when it comes to how people talk?”

[fidgetspringer-art]

hi hello. can you catch me up on the oc lore

Since I've gained like a LOT of followers since the last time I did a lore summary, I'll happily do another!

First off though, here is Martin's character profile and Noah's character profile. Those have got the basics about the two of them, and I have a summary for how they met and how their relationship develops right here.

But since i've also brought up Gabriel a lot lately, and plan on mentioning him more, i'll give a little info dump on his relationship with Noah under the cut:

I plan on making Gabe his own character profile in a bit, so i'll go more into detail about him then, but basically he's Noah's oldest and best friend.

Their mothers were also best friends and they were born only a few months apart, so they've been together since before they knew how to walk pretty much.

Noah was a preacher's daughter so they went to church together. They also went to school together and drove their teachers mad if they were sat too close in class.

I touch on the subject of Noah falling in with a bad crowd as a teenager in his profile, but i'm not sure i've gone into much detail on that, it's important to his and Gabe's relationship though.

The short version is that Noah gets tempted into hanging with a guy who's a couple years older than them, called Marcus. Gabriel, always the one trying to keep Noah out of trouble, ends up getting dragged into this group with him.

Marcus makes Noah think he's the leader of their little crew, but basically all he is is Marcus' scapegoat. Marcus would get them all into trouble, and because Noah was the preacher's kid he'd pin the blame on him because he figured he'd get off easier than the rest of them.

In the end though, Gabriel manages to make Noah see how fucked up their situation is (after they both get a pretty bad scare), and the two of them try to distance themselves from the group, eventually getting out of that life.

Noah goes off on his own, and Gabriel becomes a decently successful tattoo artist who owns the flat above his studio.

Their current day relationship is that Gabriel tries to live the life he's worked hard to build for himself, while having the constant reminder of his old life (Noah) stumble in through his door every few months, drunk, beat to hell or straight up just sick.

Noah always jokingly says that in another world it would have been the two of them together. They're pretty much soulmates in every way that matters. With the way things turned out though, all Noah ever tolerates are quick visits and quick fucks to scratch the itch before he's off again.

The two of them keep up their little friends with benefits things way after Martin and Noah start their years long routine of dancing around each other. Even after Noah stops sleeping around with strangers, he comes back to Gabriel when he feels the need to.

Basically he's one more person Noah has wrapped around his little finger.

[feraldestruccion]

Damn right it was his number. Having it briefly removed from him brought him great pain and sorrow, the likes of which he never wanted to feel ever again. The sexta was his number and to hear Ichigo acknowledge that gave him great satisfication. "Damn right it's my fuckin' number. Those assholes can take it off my cold dead body if they want it that badly." Even then some of them claimed his number wasn't even high enough for their liking. To be standing beside Nelliel and Halibel? There was no way. They could suck it however and a playful smile danced on his features. "Wild and unpredictable is damn right." He would grin sapphire hues dancing with pure mischief. "That's why I like hearin' you talk to me so much you just say exactly what I wanna hear."

The substitute indeed was no push-over. He also wasn't someone to be underestimated either. Especially in the games the two of them played. They were both partners in a back and forth that Grimmjow very much enjoyed the end result of. Which was usually Ichigo pinned underneath him and him getting his fill of that delicious taste of his lips and tongue. His fangs getting to pierce his lips and him getting to grab and caress with his clawed fingertips. Getting to leave scratches where he pleased. "Damn right I'll shut ya sassy self right up." He would reply as he deepened that contact, hand moving to tangle in the other's orange hair and giving a slight tug. His tongue tangling along with Ichigo's, a hand that had wrapped itself around his hip sneaking up the other's shirt so he could lightly scratch and caress with his clawed fingertips.

Grimmjow wasn't even sure how he felt about Ichigo back then. Other than seeing him as enemy. Someone to fight, to kill. His mind was pretty one-tracked back then. Focused on growth, focused on gaining more strength than he already had. "All I can say about back then is that ya were a pretty sweet prize to me. Someone that could challenge me and I wanted to experience that." He wanted himself and Ichigo back then--to be brought to the edge of death over and over. He wanted bloodshed to the highest degree. Of course now things were different, but still. "Ya thought I died? Ain't nobody strong enough to fuckin' kill me. I'm the sexta and I'm a king." He was prideful but not entirely wrong. He was capable in more ways than one. "That's true. Gettin' to kiss ya like this wouldn't exactly work out if I ate ya. But that don't mean it ain't temptin' to see where my strawberry taste would come from. On the outside? Or maybe somewhere on the inside."

Of course he would like it. Grimmjow damn well liked doing it to Ichigo. He liked this back and forth they shared, of bites and promises of so much more. The way his fangs and claws could do as they pleased against a delicate canvas would never cease to arouse the sexta at all. It would always entice him to see his handiwork. "With all those sounds ya make I'm not surprised to hear how much ya like it." He would grin widely. "I like doin' it to ya. Ya always taste so good underneath my mouth. I bet other parts of ya are just as tasty ." He'd grin widely at the notion. So many wonderful thoughts bouncing around in that devious head of his.

That growl certainly took Grimmjow by surprise. But he didn't mind it, if anything it egged him on as their passionate kiss grew and grew. "Oh? Now ya soundin' just like me. Maybe I should do it, just to have ya react. Just to have ya tear someone's eyes out." He wouldn't actually but the thought turned him on greatly. "A man can't take his time? Teasin' and caressin' along what I enjoy so much?" He would scoff with fake offense, as he would find his favorite spot. A spot right where the other's neck ended and his shoulder began. His nose inhaled the spot, and his tongue would flicker out to lick along the flesh in question before his teeth sank in, lightly and carefully, as he tasted nothing but Ichigo. "So--So fuckin' good, so fuckin' tasty."

"Nobody can strip you of your number. You're the Sexta that's your number," Ichigo would probably fight anyone who tried to strip Grimmjow of his number. That was HIS number it didn't belong to anyone else. Period. He could feel the change in the taller man's Reiryoku the moment he saw him again the first time. He'd not felt an influx of Reiatsu at the time he'd merely felt Grimmjow himself. "You're wrong. If I was saying it to merely butter you up that'd mean I was lying to you. You're the only person who can keep me on my toes. Because you're wild and unpredictable, Grimmjow."

He genuinely wanted to face off against Grimmjow again, properly, without their lives on the line. He'd given the taller man his word that he's spar with him whenever he wanted to and he was planning on making good on that promise. The ginger would look at the Arrancar while holding onto him however he'd been able to do so after climbing up him to get to his face. He wasn't overly affectionate but he was pretty needy to some extent. Especially where Grimmjow was concerned he'd do a great many things to ensure the other was kept on his toes too. Never knowing what to expect from his smaller boyfriend. The Soul Reaper was no pushover and he knew the ex-Espada knew that. "Alright then, do your best to get me to stop sassing you, Grimmjow." He'd smirk at him prior to the much deeper kiss, their tongues tangling together causing him to groan and cling that much tighter to the taller man.

"I don't really know what I felt back then. I mean, I was young, just a dumb teenager." He'd never really been all that dumb, he'd not been the top of his class but he'd passed. His Soul Reaper duties had kept him rather busy, and then everything else that happened with stuff going to shit all at once. Yeah, he was probably pretty lucky he'd passed in the end but he'd still managed to do so. "I saw you, before you vanished, I mean. When I looked and you weren't there anymore I thought━I thought you'd died, Grimmjow." He was happy the other had managed to find him again, or sought him out, he supposed. For a rematch. He'd part his lips a retort upon the tip of his tongue but the 'threat' of being devoured made his face turn pink. He'd shrug. "Maybe but if you ate me then who would be your rival you drag into dark alleys, pin to walls, and kiss senseless?" That was one-hundred percent not a complaint on the ginger's part. He loved that Grimmjow dragged him off to make out with him.

"That's exactly right, I don't care where it happens, so long as it's YOU kissing me. Any other guy will get decked or maybe kicked. Perhaps even both." Women didn't really show much interest in him, he'd been told his face was 'scary', he didn't mind that too much. Maybe Grimmjow's lack of shame was rubbing off on the ginger. Or maybe the smaller man had never really had shame in the first place despite how red he turned from some of the filthy words the other uttered occasionally. "Am I too much, or just enough? That's the real question, because I don't hear any complaints in your tone." He'd hum to himself as he finished speaking those words, golden brown eyes looking into the pools of endless blue that were Grimmjow's eyes. Perhaps egging the embodiment of destruction to wreak havoc wasn't the best look, but the ginger really couldn't be assed to care.

The words the other said in regard to his comment about not really having kissed someone before Grimmjow. Or rather, having kissed anyone the way Grimmjow kissed him. That might be the better way to put it. "Oh, well..." And the light pink his face had been would deepen a few shades. "Maybe━maybe they did. I like being marked up by you, Grimmjow." They were rather vivid dreams all things considered, the bruises and marks that adorned his skin in them, and some of the scenes that played out? Yeah, he'd happily let Grimmjow do those things to him. So maybe he was a masochist. He was still learning about what he liked with the Arrancar.

He'd let loose a growl, which was a noise the ginger had never made before at the little 'threat' the other uttered. "Don't you dare. Only I'm allowed to see your chest and abdomen." The hard kiss would elicit a rather pretty moan from him though it was muffled pretty effectively by the taller man's lips. He'd whimper as he felt Grimmjow teasing his skin with his fangs. "Grimm━Grimmjow are you... just going to tease me, or are you going to bite me?" He even went as far as to bear a bit more of his neck to the other. His fingers would more than likely dig into Grimmjow's shoulders or part of his back from how he was clinging to him.

[musashi]

.

[acerikus]

Okay!!!! It's!!!! A day off being a month since I finished tma and I. Gave it a couple of days to feel crushingly sad and read a bunch of fanfics, then listened to the entire thing again (a lil less all at once though bc I started using it for evening walks and it's been really nice!!!! On one of my walks rn and will be continuing through protocol I think :])

Putting this under a readmore bc I was just gonna slap together some ending thoughts, but I accidentally let the words spill out and I've been typing this out for an hour now. Oops.

Anyway. G o d this was good. I've never listened to podcasts before really and this feels like it was a good place to get into it! Only picked it up in the first place bc I've seen mutuals talking about it for years and I wanted something to do when cooking other than half watch YouTube videos in the background. Somehow I still managed to go into it totally blind except for knowing it was horror, that it was mainly voiced by jonny sims and that the spinoff has lesbians???? EXTREMELY glad I wasn't spoiled on anything, bc watching it all come together was magical and a huge part of why I had to relisten.

I love how tied together every story is and how the earlier seasons in a first listen just kinda???? Feel like disconnected scary stories???? I usually don't do horror - never been able to watch horror movies and I only get through horror games by watching manlybadasshero play them and sound so chill about it the whole time, and I knew from slay the princess that jonny had a nice voice for it too.

Anyway a bunch of the early ones still freaked me out but were like... Kinda assuring bc the people mostly made it out? Like that kinda assurance of 'oh it's not TOO scary bc they have to survive to make a statement!' ...Until they started revealing a bunch died afterwards and then the scariness was right back.

Then it's... Kinda cool how as you learn more info about the fears and avatars, it takes a lot more shape???? The tone feels totally different once you learn to start identifying which fear each statement is, where avatars are involved and start recognising reoccurring names (is2g I recognised sarah baldwin's name when it got to Melanie's statement, then dismissed it as some other Sarah like all the Michaels and the way jonny kept pronouncing gerard as jared and making it seem like there were several jareds w wildly different motivations 😭)

And after a while it becomes a lot more about the characters - including avatars from earlier on who just seemed like background spookiness, and you have to sit and listen as jon gets more and more dragged into it himself. Especially liked that part in season 3 where Gerry mentions that Gertrude doesn't like compelling people and then Jon admits he does when asked. Like. Oh. Oh this isn't gonna end well, huh.

Like!!!! The way the entire thing builds up more and more to Jon being far too wrapped up in beholding to ever give it up is really cool, and solidifies that it couldn't have ended any other way, I think. He would've always made that choice, he couldn't help it. He was always going to end up that way.

And there's the added tragedy of him mentioning that he doesn't wanna end up a mystery back in his conversation w martin at the end of season 1 too!!!! Bc the way the end is so ambiguous and open with what actually happened to them (I think I actually do like the idea that they both died best tbh, but I love that it's not confirmed either way) and like. At the core of it, his fate DID end up a mystery. One of the things he was scared of most. And that's just... Really neat????

Should wrap this up soon bc I've been typing this out for like half an hour but another thing I like is that NOBODY in tma is like. Treated as wholly a good person. Everyone's an asshole and most of the time nobody even likes each other and that's???? Really fun and interesting? Like even when jon and martin get together they still argue constantly and aren't super great for each other, and a good chunk of that is probably due to going through an apocalypse but even then, they'd probably both need to work through a lot more of their own issues independently before they could actually have a healthy relationship, I think. Even at the safehouse before the eyepocalypse happened I think they were probs sweeping a loooooot of their issues under the rug, both with themselves and with each other. And I genuinely LOVE that, they're doomed and kinda toxic and not exactly good for each other, but they still somehow love each other more than pretty much anything in such a powerful and destructive way and that's awesome.

Characters like Gertrude too!!!! Gertrude fascinates me so so much because everything about her feels like somebody who would be far more fitting as a protag to this kind of story, while jon would be some kinda distant tragic failure of the past, but that's not it at all. She's the archivist who never really became The Archivist, who learned enough about the situation and the fears and who Magnus really was to decide she was never going to let any of that in, to hold onto her humanity at every chance she got and devoted herself to stopping the dread powers in every way she could. She p much felt like some kind of badass action antihero in all of her tapes - even as it was proved time and time again that she was pretty messed up too and treated all her assistants as disposable, a means to an end.

It contrasts so much with jon, as someone who's so desperate to Know that he falls further into the grasp of the eye, who takes thrill from compelling people and seeking out information, even as it becomes clearer and clearer how dangerous it is, and how it won't end well for him. And jon cares so much for the others around him too, even as they turn their backs on him and call him a monster. He just also does that while relishing in the power he's been given by an eldrich dread entity, and being aware of that fact. Idk, I just think the way they contrast each other is neat :]

Anyway uhhhhhh tma didn't actually make me cry but it made me scared, got me hooked, made me laugh a bunch, caught me EXTREMELY off guard bc for some reason I thought jon was aro even up till most of season 4 due to mishearing something earlier on (he's demiro TO ME) and its ending hit me so hard that I just kinda sat numb the entire night after I finished it and didn't sleep Like At All for like three days bc I was too buzzed (which has only happened to me before after uhh. Undertale, deltarune chapter 2 and uty soooooooo-)

Yeah. It was good. And now that I've finally had a good relisten, had a chance to notice all the connections and plot threads and setup from the get-go and take them all in at a slower pace, I think I'm ready to listen to protocol!

...even if I did just get to the end of my walk. Oops. Maybe I'll do one tonight?

OH. OH ELIAS HAS BEEN JONAH THIS WHOLE TIME HASN'T HE

[mla0]

i hate when people portray michael and/or patrick as some kind of master manipulator who was terrible to shaun and stormy. like, in the past, michael sometimes got portrayed with little autonomy, or as childish and overly innocent in a weird way. that in itself is an issue with the treatment of mentally ill characters (infantilization), but the solution isn't to argue that he's actually a monster who only wanted to hurt and mislead people. the same goes for patrick. i don't enjoy the "goofy flirty mass murderer" interpretation for very similar reasons, because in the canon patrick did indeed do some wild shit but i think it's a stretch to say it was out of malice, except maybe towards eric lol

obviously there will be different views of these characters and this isn't meant to be gatekeep-y or anything, i'm just concerned with how certain portrayals can quickly slide into negative biases towards mental illness. i think if you're going on this route you might want to ask yourself why, and consider how it could make the mentally ill people within the fandom feel when they see their own symptoms portrayed by their peers as synonymous with being dishonest or manipulative

[muffinrecord]

This is what I should copy/paste when people ask me to spend a hundred hours recording things that I don't wanna do for the google drive

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Before Vox could react pain radiated from the back of his head and he fell to the ground holding where he was hit.

Vox: FUCK!!

Adam stood there with a maniacal grin on his face, this was the fucker that held his Luci down so he couldn't get away. He would pay just as much as Al would.

And since he's been following them, he knows Al is with him.

Adam: Oh come on, tis but a flesh wound.

Vox looked up and paled: ...... You're that guy.... But Al killed you!!

Adam: Guess you should make sure someone's dead. Like I will with you both.

With the bat he busted both of Vox's knee caps making him scream. As much as Adam wanted to torture this fucker for everything he was worth, he didn't know if he could take two at once. Because once Al heard Vox screams he'd be on the run.

So, it was time to shut him up.

-

Alastor came back with everything he needed but when he got back he didn't see Vox anywhere.

Alastor: ..... Vox? Come on, now's not the time for games.

Looking around, that's when he saw Vox's shoe over by the rock. And then the rest of him as he got closer.

Alastor: F-fuck!

He reached down to check for a pulse even though he knew there wouldn't be one.

Alastor stood up and screamed: WHERE ARE YOU ASSHOLE!?

Adam: Turn around.

Alastor spun around to face Adam only to get a baseball bat upside his own head.

Adam: Hurts don't it? Seeing the one you care about lay there dead and there was nothing you could do.

Alastor glared: YOU!! How?..... I slit your fucking throat!!

Adam smirked: And now I'll slit yours.

-

Lucifer needed to find Adam, he could tell that he was getting close. He actually saw him! He wasn't kidnapped like he thought but Adam was moving too fast for him to catch up.

So he followed him into the woods. When he finally caught up he could see Adam and the guy that he thought took him were fighting.

Adam was winning, he had the guy on the ground.

Adam: AND THIS IS FOR LUCIFER!!!

Lucifer stepped out of the shadows from the forest: Addie?

Adam froze, he hadn't heard that nickname and voice for far too long. Turning he nearly lost all the air in his lungs when he saw Lucifer standing there.

Adam: L-Lu?

Lucifer had tears in his eyes, he held out his hand towards Adam: You promised to take me home, Addie. I-I-I want to go home.

✨️The Crow✨️

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

((Unoriginal name, I know- I plan on changing it! Give me ideas, please 😫🙌))

Lucifer chuckled as Adam dragged him to another bar: Come on, Ad. I want to go home!

Adam: One more drink, babe! And then-.

The blonde rolled his eyes as Adam wrapped his arms around his neck: And then, I promise I'll take you home~.

Resting his hands on Adam's hips, Lucifer looked out towards the sky, ignoring the bustling side walk.

Lucifer: Addie... it's going to rain!

Adam: It can't rain all the time~.

Lucifer: How did I know you'd say that~?

Adam: Because you're obsessed with me~. Now, come on! We need another shot before the buzz wears off!

The blonde laughed again as Adam took his hand and ran off towards another bar. What they didn't know was a group of men that had been following them for over an hour, were only getting closer.

-

Walking out of the bar, Lucifer sighed and wrapped his jacket around himself: Adam! It's bloody raining! I told you it was going to rain-! It always rain in this shit hole!

He softened instantly as Adam came up behind him and kissed his neck before resting his head on Lucifer's shoulder to look out at the wet street.

Adam: Aw, you're not afraid of getting a little wet, are you? We'll have a nice warm shower when we get home- and I'll do that thing you like~. Y'know-.

Lucifer shuddered as Adam licked a line up his neck: That thing~?

Lucifer: O-Oh-! Well, we better get going, hm~?

-

After a few minutes of walking, they reached the end of the Night district, and the last of the shelter quickly ran out. Adam took off his jacket and rested it over Lucifer's head, aiming to keep him as dry as possible before they both ran out into the pouring rain.

Turning down a few tight streets to get to their flat, they decided to take a shortcut down a darker alley. It was under some cover, so Adam quickly pressed Lucifer into the brick wall and placed a kiss on his lips.

Lucifer: Fuck, I love you~.

Adam: Damn right you do~.

Lucifer: Such a dork.

Adam: Just lay one on me, babe~.

"Don't mind if I do!"

Both turned towards the source of the voice, but before they could see the person, a bat was swung and hit Adam over the head, sending him to the concrete.

Lucifer screamed and tried to go to his side, but he was quickly grabbed and thrown to the ground.

Adam couldn't move. His head pulsed, sending white flashes over his vision that was blurry. His whole body buzzed and radiated with a dull pain.

The blonde tried to fight the men off to get to Adam so they could get out of here. But when he felt multiple sharp pains radiate through his stomach and chest. He felt weak and warm. Lucifer's arms quickly stopped working and fell at his sides. As everything went numb, his head lolled to the side. He made sure to face Adam, who was trying to reach for him.

As tears fell from his eyes, Lucifer mouthed "I love you" before everything went black.

Adam sobbed as he watched two men stab Lucifer over and over. Even after he had obviously died. He was so frustrated that his movements were so unsteady.

Adam: S-Stop-! Please-!

Alastor: Bit late, my dear~.

Adam gasped as a tall man walked over and grabbed a fistful of his hair, right where he was hit, sending even more pain through him.

Adam: W-Why-?

The man smirked and leaned down, and he was whispering in Adam's ear: Because I was bored~.

Before Adam could speak, he felt something wet and sharp of his throat before it was dragged along his throat. Over and over. Going deeper and deeper each time.

Adam tried to struggle as he felt his blood hill his throat, mouth, and poured down onto the wet concrete. He tried to breathe, but blood filled his lungs.

As soon as the man let go of his hair, dropping him, Adam covered his throat, trying to stay alive long enough to reach Lucifer.

He could hear laughing as the men crowded around them. They started kicking him as he pulled himself to Lucifer, but that didn't stop him. It already crushed Adam that Lucifer died without his touch. Cold.

Adam couldn't even say "I love you" back. He'd give anything to say it back.

Reaching out, Adam grabbed his arm and pulled them close. His love was still warm. Tucking Lucifer's head weakly under his chin, Adam finally felt everything slow down, even the kicks and laughing felt invisible.

Alastor: Pitiful! Let's go, gentlemen. We have bigger and better things to attend to!

The last thing Adam saw was three men walking out of the alley. But Adam kept his eye on the tallest of the three, the one who seemed to be the leader. He memorised his face, even though Adam was dying. If he could curse the fucker, he would.

He'd do anything to come back and make them all suffer.