#and that most of the time his attitude is his secret complicated way of giving advice

[pwurrz]

quincy, sighing heavily: “alright, what’s going on? you’re making yakumo upset.”

dante, being even more blunt than usual: “what, like that’s a hard thing to do? he cries all the time anyways, most likely it wasn’t even my actions that upset him.”

quincy:

dante, suddenly hearing boss music: “…r-regardless of my intentions, my commentary was unnecessary and i probably hurt his feelings. i should.. apologize.. to him.”

quincy: “hm. good choice.”

[hamsternella]

please do a NSFW alphabet of Stanley Pines, please I'm begging you. The one with Ford was amazing.

Here it is!

Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

It takes him some time to catch his breath, but rest assured that through it all Stan will be wrapping your body in a gentle embrace, accompanied by his laughter. He always tells you how much he loved the encounter, and how beautiful you look despite the sweat and the palpable smell of sex. Not exactly romantic; but amidst all the talk and laughter you always find in his eyes a look of intense love and tenderness.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Did you know that in addition to generating conflict and lying a lot, Stan's mouth is good for other kinds of really cool stuff? Like giving you the strongest orgasms and the deepest kisses. If he had to choose, it would always be his mouth. His penis, too—but that last one doesn't exactly sound amazing. Of course his cock feels great; but he prefers that with which he can confess to you precious things, like how much he loves you, or how hot you look riding him. Stan is an expert with words.

Now, as for you… it's complicated. Stan loves everything about you—your whole body is his favorite thing. But if you were to urge him to pick one in particular, he'd say your face. There are many things that turn him on; but your face, in particular, gets him more than anything else in the world. Seeing you in his eyes as he pushes your head so you swallow his cock whole, gasping at you about how good you're being to him and that you're in for a great reward for being so obedient, makes Stan lose himself in a limbo of unimaginable pleasure.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. He loves to do it on your ass, or inside your mouth; always making sure you've swallowed it all. If you would give him the approval, then he would also do it inside you.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When Stanley can't stand the growing desire for you that consumes him, the cameras tracking your position throughout the cabin help him lessen the need. Whether it's paperwork, business matters, the presence of many buyers or your own personal affairs, Stan tries to use any excuse to control himself, although there are days when it's impossible. A little of your figure or your smile helps him enjoy himself in the privacy of his office.

It's not always him patting his bulge through his pants, his body leaning fully against the chair; sometimes it's the necessity of having to watch you smile while he lets out sighs like an idiot losing his breath because of love. Whether it's one or the other, Stan refuses to let you catch him daydreaming in the gloom of his office. How are you supposed to look him in the face if you knew the adolescent attitudes he has in privacy?

Some recordings end up saved for when you're away. Eventually this guy takes up the activity of taking pictures—of which you don't ever have to know. Unless you find the box tucked away in the back of the closet, of course.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. Your first night with Stan is unforgettable, and all those that follow equally so. He knows exactly what to do and say to make you a mess; no matter the place or the situation. He is a man who has lived diverse experiences, which help fuel everything that crosses his mind about sex. Rough, tough; soft or sweet—whatever you want and however you want. Stan is willing to teach you everything it takes to make you feel good.

F= Favorite position

It would be difficult to decide the best position, but there are a couple that always end up being used the most.

Rocking horse, because it's the easiest way to have your face close to his, with your eyes on his—the intense gaze of your man devouring your whole figure as you ride him. Impossible to lose sight of you. Stan loves that.

Missionary, because who doesn't love the classics? Nothing better than owning your body from above, bursting into your core with every thrust as Stan rips out a couple of those sweet sounds he loves so much.

Doggy, because if there's one other thing that drives him crazy, it's being able to take the tender flesh of your ass between his hands while watching himself enter you. Stan can grab you by the hair, caress your back or handle you at will. Better yet: you won't see his face when you moan his name; the way his eyes fill with longing.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Stan is as serious as he can get. He won't be a sea of laughter or jokes, but neither will he be completely at the mercy of an unflappable face or a tense body. A joke here, a joke there; sometimes a couple of stifled chuckles and crooked smiles, but all a product of the situation itself and the emotions that overwhelm him. It's nothing to be uncomfortable about, I assure you. Stan is a playful guy, who enjoys seeing you made a mess in his hands. Some humor doesn't hurt; but be assured that nothing he does or says is going to be to make fun of you in a bad way.

The effect is always the opposite, in fact.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hairy and unkempt. That's just the way he is. Stan attributes it to his genes, no matter how much you insist that fixing it is a separate issue. Of course, if that's the way you like it, there won't be a problem; but if it's the other way around, and no matter how much he complains about it, rest assured that Stan will get to work to at least trim it a little. The truth is, he likes hair—and that includes you, too. There is no need to feel ashamed!

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Extremely aware of your needs, which was a surprise the first time together. Stan may seem like a difficult guy —because he certainly is—, but in privacy his heart comes out, even with the heaviness of carnal desire upon you. He's a sensitive man; his rough hands always shy when the heat of the moment subsides, his eyes heavy with concern and his face red, sweaty.

The hoarse words of love and hugs are not lacking. Never. There comes a point where you consider that he needs it more than you do.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Stan used to do it regularly when he first met you, being that you didn't see each other often. But once you put your presence in the cabin, the masturbation thing becomes more of a regular occurrence if you two do it together. Stan loves to watch you touch yourself in front of him; just as many other times he did it himself to play with you, watching you get desperate. It's that way you see him so hungry, so needy, that makes him throw himself on you, bending your body over as best he can to fill you up.

Seeing you is all he needs—you are all he needs.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Blindfold sex, dominance and praise kink.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Naughty hands are everywhere. Stan allows you a moment's respite when there are people around; but there will always be a kiss or a couple of dirty words stirring up the floor. Now, when it comes to sex he prefers private places, because the last thing he wants is to risk being seen by someone else; or being interrupted and causing a scene. Sometimes Stan has certain fantasies, but they don't amount to much for the same reasons. The bedroom or office —even the kitchen or bathroom, if you're alone— is more than enough. He's a simple guy.

The car is another perfect place. You are the best travel companion!

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you make a pass at him or if you get rebellious Stan feels his pants bothering him. Suddenly his hands itch with the need to put you in your place—maybe a good spanking will help make you say all those dirty things that make him push his cock all the way down your throat.

If you use honesty to tell him how much you need him you may be spared punishment, but still get what you want so badly. Stan tends to warm up to your honesty when it comes to him. This guy loves that you want him as much as he wants you. That's what love is like.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Some burning is fine if you let him; but direct harm and anything else you dislike is a complete NO.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Stan loves to give oral. He loves the taste of you in his mouth and the way you squirm. But oh, my, he'd be lying if he said he doesn't prefer to have you with your mouth wide open and your eyes full of tears. How this man loves to keep you warm and full to the brim; wet lips and his hands on your head or your cheeks, cheering you on from above with pride shining in his gaze—because you're so good and you do it perfect, so well. You look beautiful when all you do is eat pure cock.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow at first, not so deep because he prefers to savor the pressure around him. Then it's a constant of hard and fast movements.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes them a lot, but it is something that tires him out and eventually the time comes to accept that at his age it is an activity that requires preparation and patience. At the end of the day Stan prefers regular foreplay, and the actual sex in the bedroom, in peace.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Stan is willing to experiment and take risks. He has no problem with it. As long as these kinds of experiments don't involve other people, of course; other than that there are plenty of things he's willing to put into practice with you.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

At the moment Stan gives the impression that he is a beast, but when the heat of said moment subsides you realize that he tires quite quickly, and doesn't give room for many rounds. Not that it is so necessary, either, because such is the intensity of the sex that there is nothing else to bring to the table. It's something that at first gave Stan insecurities—all this about his inability to go further. But a talk with you is enough to clear up certain misunderstandings.

Sex is amazing, especially because it's between you. There's nothing more to say.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

YES, no more questions. Stan is more than willing to experiment with you. Either using them with you, or even letting you do it with him. Whatever it is, it's a matter of finding out what else comes out of all this. Possibly fun! That's never lacking with Stan.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Very much so. Even though you tell him it's hopeless, he loves seeing you so needy. It's like an addiction—seeing that face and those eyes, that way your lips quiver. Stan would never stop doing it. He doesn't plan to, either.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and gasps, lots of dirty talk in between. It's almost at the end that the sounds increase, but he always manages to drown out most of them.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Stan is not only a very jealous person, but also extremely insecure. There are many ghosts from his past that still haunt him; that persist since you came into his life, to be more specific. It's complicated for him, but talking about it with you makes him embarrassed. Words of affirmation and acts of service always help to remind him how important he is to you.

On the other hand, Stan is touch starved. It's one thing to rub hands together, to just kiss, or to smile and flirt in public. But it's a different story when you're alone together: cuddling to sleep, deep kisses and confessions of an almost needy, even timid love. He is simply lost in you. You're so perfect that maybe you're not even real.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not so long—but thick. Slightly curved downward, with a fat head.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Stan needs you badly. That's all you need to know. Even if there is no sex, touch is never lacking. It would be a crime not to be able to enjoy your skin against his; the heat of your body feeding that desire that burns inside him. Stan needs you with a voracious hunger.

The longing is too much if it's about you.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very fast. It's hard for him to keep his eyes open, but at least he manages to talk to you a little to make sure you're okay before he falls asleep in your arms. The caresses are not lacking; his fingers still tremble in your hair as sleep takes hold of him.

Can there be anything better than sleeping next to you?

[paranoidginger]

Support Team!

Everyone's favorite crazed doctor, piss man, and stab crab, just a bit different than you might originally know them.

Clones are never perfect, they each have their own quirks.

First off, we have Johann, the medic of team Blu. Somewhat off-putting at first, with a relatively empty look in his eyes and a cold thousand-yard stare, Johann is a caring and loyal doctor.

He has a quieter demeanor than his red counterpart, and has much more genuine care towards his teammates. He is far less experimental towards them as well, unlike Ludwig, whose healing is moreso a side effect of the experiments he runs on his team.

Despite his usual quiet and caring demeanor towards his team, battle truly brings out the worst in him. The sights, smells, and sounds of battle can often send him into a frenzy, where he cannot help but relish in the violence and bloodshed, something he often has guilt in feeling.

He is generally close with his other support members, although he has a rougher relationship with Spy, after the trauma the other endured from the Red Medic.

He is absolutely horrible in hand to hand combat, so usually prefers to stick back during battles, making sure his teammates are good to go, while occasionally venturing out to collect the bodies of his fallen cohorts in order to properly revive them in a safer area. Thanks to his body hauling, he is physically much stronger than many people give him credit for.

It is rare for him to be seen without some form of gloves, since it is the only way he can keep himself from picking at his skin, a habit he unfortunately cannot help.

He cares deeply for all of his teammates, but cares especially for Heavy, Scout, and Engineer, all of which worry him to some degree. With heavy and Scout usually being towards the front lines, and Jacob's especially low health, he tends to focus most of his energy towards the two of them while in battle. The Engineer worries him for entirely different reasons, especially after he sawed his own arm off and almost bled out in his workshop.

He often harasses Jacob, Mace, and the others about wearing enough sunscreen.

Sniper is a coldhearted professional, seeing the enemy team as nothing but wild animals most of the time. The only ones he actually respects of the Red team are the Medic and Spy. The Medic, because of his sheer skill, and the Spy because of his quick, cutthroat attitude.

Unlike his Red counterpart, he isn't against disabling his target before a finishing blow. You won't see him taking his hat off in respect, either.

He is cold and distant, even when out of battle, he tends to blend into his surroundings, silent and watching. It takes a long time for him to warm up to anyone.

He's fairly close with Spy, and they sometimes train together in hand-to-hand combat, something that Mace is surprisingly good at, considering that his main focus is long-distance firearms.

A complicated fellow, Spy is close to quitting smoking, after urging from both Johann and the Engineer, both of whom he is rather close to, and trusting of.

He is especially close with the Engineer of the team, although he tends to stay quiet about their relationship to one another, trying to remain ambiguous, although to the others in the team, it is clear that they have more than just a simple "Friendship."

He has a fairly decent relationship with Jacob, trying to do his best to be a decent father. He is less secretive than the Red Spy, often taking his mask off whenever he knows that they won't be battling any time soon.

Despite doing his best, and being as loyal as possible to his team, he certainly has a few scars that are not so easy to brush off. He has persistent nightmares about the Red medic, and being trapped as a severed head in Ludwig's organ refrigerator.

Due to his trauma, once he had been safely recovered and reattached to his body, he attacked Johann, leaving a rather deep gash on the medic's face before realizing that he was not the Red medic and backing down.

After being reunited with his body, he is almost always seen wearing a turtleneck in order to conceal the scar around his neck, unless he is sleeping, when a turtleneck is simply too warm to sleep in.

[cloudlessly-light]

Heyyy

Could you pls pls pls write this for me pls pls pls

Hotch and Emily have been fucking each her other but not together.

Hotch bends Emily over the desk after she’s gives him attitude before they get ready for a flight to wherever it is they gotta go for a case. When they are done he keeps puts her thong in his pocket. For some reason one Reid has to borrow Aaron’s blazer and puts their hand in the pocket. Both Emily and Hotch watching wide eyed as it happens. And then Reid is like ‘Hotch, why do you have a thong in here and JJ is like hang on that is Emily’s I was there when she bought them

A/N: This is for the lovely @eobangingwhen who deserves some filth! Thank you for always being so incredibly sweet in the comments and in our chats, I hope you like this!

Title: Just the thought of you   Summary: They’re stuck somewhere in between together and apart, who knew a pair of underwear would be what finally pushed them together   Word count: 3,5k Rating: Explicit   Warnings: Smut, angry sex, restraints, spanking, feelings, attempt at humor

It was only supposed to be a one time thing, a secret hidden behind closed doors after a case going awry, leaving the entire team frazzled, and a little broken. It was supposed to be one night of two people using each other to forget, to feel something other than anger.

But of course it doesn’t stay that way, that one night turning into whatever they were now, not quite together, but not quite apart.

They know that at some point they’d have to talk about it, that they couldn’t keep doing this forever, but it was exciting and fun, having a secret that no one else knew about. It was sides that they rarely got to show, parts of themselves that had kept hidden for the most part, their job always taking time away from their private life.

It wasn’t something that either of them could really explain, all Emily knew that the rush she felt when he looked at her in a particular way, or the way Aaron felt the deep surge of arousal from something as simple as her smile, it wasn’t something they wanted to give up.

It was a game, caught somewhere between real and fantasy.

It was a new week and Emily walked into the bullpen already feeling restless. It had been weeks since their last night together, because they knew it couldn’t happen too often, that feelings would only lead them to complicated. Neither of them needed or wanted complicated.  But now she was restless, her need only getting worse after a night spent dreaming about him.

So she heads to his office first thing, knowing that no one but him was in yet and without knocking she enters before quickly closing the door behind her.

“Prentiss?” He gives her a questioning look, but he recognized that look in her eye. Slowly, he put his pen down and straightened in his chair. “No.” He states simply.

“No?” She scoffs, not once had he turned her down since they started this thing.

“The team will be here soon.” It’s an excuse that never stopped him before and her eyebrow arches. “Besides you got last weeks reports to finish.”

The chilly attitude does nothing but piss her off, because she can see the way his eyes linger on her, notices how he swallows the tiny bit harder, the slight clenching of his jaw. He wants her too, but he wants her to ask for it, to beg. And she refuses.

“Fine, sir.” She spits the word at him, voice dripping with venom and when his eyebrows furrow she knows that he’s not unaffected. But she’s Emily Prentiss, she doesn’t beg for anyone so with a huff, she leaves to do exactly what he had told her, finish the few files she had left before the morning briefing.

She works quietly, only stopping to greet the rest of the team as they arrive one by one and when she’s done she heads to his office again. She drops them carelessly on his desk and smirks when he looks up at her with dark eyes.

“All done. Happy?” Her arms cross as she stares him down, something she knows he hates. Like she assumed, he stands up from his chair, dark eyes flashing with something close to annoyance.

“Next time you hand those to me.” His voice is even, and it only fuels her irritation.

“Or what? Afraid that I’ll mess all that paperwork you’re so concerned about?” She can see the way his fingers twitch, he’s restraining himself from reaching for her, probably wants to grab her throat but instead he settles for leaning forward over his desk, voice low and almost threatening.

“Watch your tone.”

When she chuckles his whole face tenses in anger and she feels the thrill of it tingle down her spine. He’s about to say something, his mouth opening and then closing as he tries to control his own anger at her behavior.

“Hotch,” The sound of JJ’s voice breaks through whatever tension that had filled the room. She looks between the pair as they turn to her. “we’re ready to start. Is everything okay in here?”

“Oh we’re fine, Hotch is just a little uptight. You know, the usual.” She can see JJ’s eyes widen, but it’s not the first time they had a disagreement, so the blonde doesn’t say anything and only nods awkwardly.

“I’ll be there in a second.” Aaron mutters as Emily leaves and JJ follows her. He takes a deep breath to try and calm himself, wills his heartrate to slow and the deep pull in his groin to go away. Emily was infuriating, but there was no denying how much his body responded to it. It’s another second before he joins the rest of the team, feeling dark eyes on him the entire time.

They listen as JJ presents the case, Derek and Spencer already throwing out theories before the meeting has ended, Dave agreeing and adding his years of experience in the mix. But Emily has stayed silent, something that was unusual for her.

“We’re heading to Kansas, wheels up in an hour.” Aaron finishes and everyone is quick to stand from the table. “Prentiss, in my office.”

“Did you piss off the principal?” Derek teases with a grin and she rolls her eyes at him.

“He has a stick up his ass today, I don’t know what his problem is.” She knows Aaron hears her, her eyes trained on him as he waits for her by the door.

Derek just laughs, not noticing their boss behind him and gives her a wink before she walks out to join Aaron on the catwalk.

The tension is thick and silent as he ushers her into his office and closes the door, not sparing her as much as a glance as he shuts the drapes too. When he turns to face her, she catches the dark look on his face but it does nothing but excite her.

“So this is what happens when I tell you no? You behave like a bitch?” He takes two long steps towards her but she stands her ground.

“No, I’m acting like a bitch because you’re an ass.” She grabs his tie in a tight fist and pulls him forward. “If you don’t want to fuck me, that’s fine. I can just find someone else.” She speaks against his lips with a dark smirk on her face.

The mere thought of Emily being with someone else, kissing and touching another person, sends white hot rage down his spine. With strength he usually doesn’t show he grabs her shoulders and spins her around, the force of it causing her to let go of his tie in surprise. He pushes her down on his desk, easily maneuvering her body like he wants to before slipping of his tie and tying her hands behind her back. Once he’s done he steps back from her, and when she doesn’t move he trails his hand up her back.

“You think someone else could fuck you better than I could?” He kicks her legs apart and she sucks in a breath. But she doesn’t reply and he bends over her back, speaking against her ear as he pushes her harder against the desk. “Do you?”

“Seems like you won’t do it properly anymore.” It’s not an answer and they both know it, but it has the desired effect and the low growl that comes from him vibrates against her back.

“Fucking brat.” He mutters, hands already moving around her to find the button of her pants. He pulls them and her thong down roughly and watches as she steps out of them before he kicks them to the side.

She looks back at him over her shoulder just in time to see him unbuckling his belt and she smirks. The pulsing between her legs only intensifies when his dark eyes find hers, want and anger reflected back at her.

“What are you waiting for?” She asks and it seems to be the absolute last straw for him. His hand lands on her ass, the slap loud and stinging, and she hisses. The second slap causes her to jerk forward and she gasps as her forehead lands on the smooth wood. He spanks her three more times in rapid succession and if he weren’t worried that they could be heard through the door he would have continued.

Instead he looks down at her, hands tied, smooth skin hot and flushed, his mark on her clear and he can’t help but to jerk his already hard cock. Before she has the chance to open her mouth again he steps behind her, his slacks and boxers shoved down just enough that there wont be any evidence of her on his suit. He pushes inside of her roughly, grunting at the tight heat that surrounds him as Emily whimpers.

“This what you wanted?” He huffs as he starts to thrust hard and deep inside of her, hands forcing her down against the wood and making it impossible for her to move. “This what you needed? To get the attitude fucked out of you?”

“Y-yes.” She gasps, the stretch of him burning, his breath on her neck damp and hot. She can’t do much but take it, and it’s exactly what she had been craving, the restlessness she had woken up with disappearing by each of his heavy thrusts.  

They don’t have a lot of time, so he doesn’t waste any and quickly finds her clit. He rubs in circles, just the way he knows she loves and is rewarded by a breathy moan. His other hand move to cover her mouth and he stops moving, staying deep inside of her. She squirms slightly from the deep fill of him, almost too much.

“Do you want us to get caught?” He mutters and she shakes her head. “Then you gotta be quiet.” When she nods he slowly moves his hand away to instead wrap it around her throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just enjoys the fluttering of her pulse against his fingertips, the feeling of her labored breath.

“Move.” She grits out and he slaps his hand against her clit. “Fuck, please, please move.”

“There’s my girl.” He praises her and he feels her squeeze around his cock in response.

They stay like that, Aaron bent over her back as he holds her in place, his hips moving with sure strokes against her. It’s not long until Emily’s quiet moans turns needier, breather and she bites her bottom lip in an effort to keep from being too loud as her body starts to tense.

“Aaron, oh God.” She breathes and the sound of his name only gets him closer to his own release.

“Mine.” He mutters, barely aware of what he’s saying anymore. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” The words whispered, her sole focus on him and the way he’s making her feel as he gets her closer. “Only yours.” She gasps only moments before she falls of the edge, her orgasm rocking her entire body.

Her words are the last push he needs and he comes only a few seconds after she does, his pleasure muffled against her clothed shoulder. He stayed like that, pressed close against her, his hands turning gentle as his breathing evened out. The flexing of Emily’s fingers made him stand, a low moan sounding from him as he slipped out of her and she shivered. He untied her hands and draped the silk over one of his shoulders and watched as she bent down to reach for her pants and underwear but he quickly snatched the thong from her.

“Give me those.” She laughed but he shook his head and stuffed them in his pocket before redoing his own pants.

“No, I’m keeping these. You have more in your go-bag.”

She just shook her head at him but didn’t argue and instead pulled her pants back on. Once she was done she leaned against his desk.

“That was fun.” She smiled, cheeks flushed and dark eyes cloudy in that special way they always got after an orgasm.

“You really wanted to fuck huh?” He smirks before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips and then quickly inspected her wrists for any chafing.

“We both know I wasn’t going to beg, I needed you pissed off.” She muses with a soft hum, as she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss. When they break apart she takes the tie from his shoulder and loops it around his neck and under his collar. “Granted, I didn’t think you’d use the tie.” She laughed as she finished tying the tie and his hand grabbed her ass.

“You want to behave like a brat, I’ll treat you as one.” He always marveled at how easy things were with them, how they could go from hard to soft so quickly.

“Lucky me.” She winked and then quickly brushed her fingers through her hair. “Do I look okay?”

“You’re beautiful.” He says without thinking and she blushes. “But if you’re asking if you look like I just fucked you senseless over my desk, no you’re okay.” His words make her laugh softly and she nods.

“See you out there.” She presses one more kiss against his lips before walking towards the door and opening it.

She can feel three sets of eyes on her the moment she steps out on the catwalk but she avoids all of them. It wasn’t the first time she had snuck into Aaron’s office for a quickie, so she wasn’t worried that they would catch on.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks and she nods as she sits down at her desk.

“No really, Prentiss you good? What happened?” Derek looks between the open door and the now open blinds to Emily.

“We had a disagreement, but it’s settled, I think he saw my sides of things.” Her eyes lock with his through the window for a second and she can’t ignore the slight fluttering in her belly.

They fly to Kansas, the flight there turbulent as the rain pours down and only seemingly getting worse the closer they get. They get to the station and to everyone’s surprise it doesn’t take more than a few hours for them to find out who the unsub is.

Aaron sends Emily along with Spencer and Derek, as he and Dave stay at the station with JJ. It’s still raining and as they make their way towards the house where the unsubs mother lives. They were only going to ask her about his son’s whereabouts, but as they get closer a back door opens and a man walks out. He stops in his tracks as he sees the FBI vests and then turns around to run.

They quickly chase after him through the cold, wet streets. The rain is harsh, pouring down hard enough to make it difficult to see. But Derek manages to catch up and grabs the unsub, only to cause Spencer to trip over the unsub’s leg as he tries to get free, sending the youngest member of their team to fall to the ground, right in a large puddle.

She comes up right after them, and as Derek is putting the man in handcuffs she helps Spencer up.

“Are you okay?” She asks as she looks him over.

“I’m fine, just wet.” He mutters, his jacket soaked through and muddy.

“Come on, lets get him to the precinct and we can all clean up.” Derek tugs the man along, barely budging even as the much smaller man squirms and tries to fight him.

When they walk into the police station not much later she can see furrowed eyebrows and looks of confusion sent their way. She realizes that they all must look like wet messes and when JJ laughs as they approach her suspicion is confirmed.

“What happened?” She grabs her cardigan that she had disregarded and puts it over Emily’s slightly shivering frame.

“The bastard tried to run. Spencer tripped.” She motioned to the younger man who had taken his jacket off, his cardigan also wet and muddy.

“You want my jacket?” Aaron offers, already unbuttoning his suit jacket even as Spencer shook his head.

“No thanks, I’m okay.”

“Kid you’re shaking, take the jacket.” Derek tells him as he dries off his head with paper towels that JJ handed him.

“I’m okay.” He says again, pushing drops of water out of his face from where his hair was soaked and sticking to his face.

“Spence, just take it.” It’s JJ’s soft but determined voice that gets him to accept the jacket that Aaron is still holding out. It’s too big, the shoulder drooping and the arms too long, but it’s warm and he offers a smile.

“Thanks Hotch.”

“Don’t mention it.” He turns from Spencer to talk to the detectives, leaving the rest of the team to start packing up. They had only been there a day, a case was rarely solved so quickly but they were all happy to be heading home to sleep in their own beds that night.

By the time he comes back, the whiteboard is clear and most of the papers and files have been collected into neat stacks.

“The pilots are waiting for us.” JJ says before he even has the chance to ask and he smiles his thanks.

“Ready to get out of here?” Derek asks after throwing the takeaway mugs of coffee in the trash.

“Yes. Please.” Spencer says as he stands up, Aaron’s suit jacket still on. Absentmindedly he puts his hands in the pockets, a habit he’s had since he was a kid. “What is this?”

Aaron sees Emily’s eyes widen just as a look of confusion appears on Spencer’s face and his own eyes lock on his hand in the pocket. It’s like it’s happening in slow motion, Spencer pulling out the purple thong and holding it up for the rest of the team to see.

“Why is there underwear in your pocket?” He looks at Aaron who stands frozen in place. Derek whistles from beside him, a laugh soon following.

“Looks like someone’s been getting busy.” He pats Aaron on the shoulder while Dave joins in with his own chuckle.

“Well this brings back memories.” He says, remembering his own flings that happened when he was younger.

Emily just stared, mouth slightly open as her underwear hung from one of Spencer’s long fingers, too stunned to speak.

“Wait.” JJ takes a step closer to Spencer, eyes zeroed in on the thong.

Emily feels panic rising as blue eyes move from her to the thong and back. No, no, no, no, no.

“Those are Emily’s, I was with her when she bought them.”  

The moment the words are out, Emily sees Aaron’s shoulder slump and eyes close as he pinches the bridge of his nose and for a moment she wants to kill her best friend.

“Uhm, what?!” Derek looks between them, one look to Emily’s flushed face and he knows that JJ is right. “What are your panties doing in-”

“What do you think?” Emily snaps, cutting him off and then quickly snatches her underwear from Spencer and stuffs them in her pocket.

The silence that stretches out between them seems to go on forever until JJ clears her throat, an amused look on her face.

“Guess you owe me 50.” She grins at Derek who just shakes his head at them all.

“I knew I should have gotten in on that bet.” Dave winks at Emily who’s looking at them with wide eyes.

“You knew?” Aaron asks, finally feeling like he could breathe again and he slowly makes his way to Emily who still seemed too surprised at the team’s reaction to move.

“It’s been an ongoing bet for like a year now.” Spencer added casually. “JJ bet Morgan and Penelope wanted in and then I wasn’t allowed to bet cause they said it would be cheating because I can recall every single interaction you’ve had.”

The laugh that erupts from Emily comes out of nowhere, like she can’t contain the mix of emotions inside of her and she hides her face in Aaron’s chest. When his arm wraps around her and his lips press against the top of her head she relaxes. They might not have everything figured out, but she was pretty sure they were heading in the right direction. When she dared to look up at him he was smiling down at her and she smiled back.

“Want to go to dinner with me?” He asks it quietly as the team’s teasing and joking becomes a backdrop.

“I think it’s about time.”

[missmaywemeetagain]

you mentioned you love june and i'm curious how you feel about the other women in elvis' life? do you like priscilla and the relationship she had with him? and anita? linda? sheila? ginger?

Hello, dearest Nonnie! What a question! I think it's safe to give a huge disclaimer here that I am jealous of any woman who was loved by Elvis (lol), but for some reason, inexplicable or not, I find some of them delightful while others just rub me the wrong way. I will also say I can only imagine how insanely complicated, wonderful, and frustrating a relationship with that man could be and that all these women probably just did their best in the moment. My personal opinion is just that and is mainly based on my own ✨vibes.✨

And yes, it's no secret June is my favorite! I love her tenacity and spunk, how she didn't take a lot of shit, and while it breaks my heart, I respect the hell outta her for sticking to her values and letting him go when Elvis was being a dick and ignored her for months. Her book is beautifully written and such a great glimpse into a pivotal time in his life.

I also really like Kathy Westmoreland. I think spiritually and musically they connected on a wonderful level, and even though their affair didn't last super long, she was in his life longer than most women as a friend/colleague, and there is something telling and lovely about that. She was loyal to him until the very end and long after.

Shelia seems lovely and gave us some of the juiciest tidbits about him, and I'll always love her for that! 🤭 Their relationship was interesting, especially concerning how he seemed to play her against Linda and she didn't really give a care. I get the impression she just went with the flow, they enjoyed each other's company, and she knew it wasn't going to be long term. I like her.

Now the others...now keep in mind this is just my personal opinion, and I know others feel differently and that is totally fine! I'm not looking to war with anyone LOL.

Linda drives me bonkers as a person. Maybe it's the whole "beauty queen" mentality or her attitude on social media, but the woman is just not for me. Reading her book did give me more insight, and I really do think she and Elvis loved each other and that she was there for him during some really difficult times. But I just don't like her and hate how she seems to capitalize on her relationship with him to this day in a very "me me me!" manner. She's my least fave of them all.

In a similar matter, I find his relationship with Priscilla very complicated and her relationship to his legacy even more so. I don't fall staunchly into either the "hate" or "love" camps for her, but do take everything she says or does related to him with a grain of salt because she seems to drift back and forth in her stories in a way that suits her in the moment. I don't love how she constantly seems to ride the coattails of his legacy. I hate that she was so young when they met and how he seemed to be okay with that (but that's another discussion entirely), and I think her youth plays a huge role in why the relationship played out the way it did. While I think they had love for each other, I feel like that love was based on idealized images of the other and what they wanted them to be vs. who they really were. I'm sure I could wax on and on about them but I'm not going to do that here. I don't love her, and I don't hate her totally, either. But I one hundred percent don't buy the weird Camelot-esque picture Graceland, EPE, and she tries to sell about their relationship a lot of the time.

Now Ginger...poor Ginger gets a bad rap and don't think she deserves it in the least. There is no scenario in my mind where I think she could've "saved" him and I don't feel she was negligent or conspiratorial in any way. However, I do think she was young and in way over her head. She wanted to maintain some semblance of her normal life and Elvis was just not having that, and it caused some major dissonance. He was very much not in a good space and she got swept up in the madness. The stuff with her parents and the money is a bit suspicious, but I don't necessarily think that was on Ginger. I think she loved him (though maybe not quite the way he loved her?) and I absolutely feel devastated for her that she was the one who found him. Talk about traumatic. I also respect the hell out of her for waiting until her children were grown to write her book and that she is a defender of him and Lisa to this day.

I don't know a ton about Anita (I haven't read her book yet), but the vibe of them together just feels weird to me. I feel like he really led her on and get the impression he had a sort of idealized version of this "pretty little Southern Belle wife" that his mama approved of and then mama died and he went into the army and he clung to that image like crazy. Not to say they didn't love each other! But the chemistry doesn't quite hit for me and I think it got pretty toxic. (And I've listened to that recorded call between them too many times and her voice annoys me LOL.) But she put up with a LOT of shit (I mean they all did, tbh...). I'm a bit amazed she stuck it out as long as she did.

Of course, there are so many other women who were in his life and it would be a novel to talk about them all! One thing I always try to remind myself is all of them seemed to really love him and he cared about them, too, and no one can take that away from them. So even if I don't personally like some of them, they were still a fixture in his life and it matters. My opinion, in the scheme of things, means nothing! I also don't love ragging on women, especially when at the end of the day, I know nothing about what truly went on between those two people in their relationship. And god knows that man could be difficult, so I try not to fault any of them for his sometimes very shitty behavior.

Anyway, thank you for the question, Non, and I hope my answer wasn't too rambly! ���� I do miss doing these asks!

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Idk what do you think about poly ships but could you give your thoughts on Silver x Shard x Larry?

I actually do love polyships! You wouldn't know this anon, but while I do have occasional monoships there is more than one fandom I'm a part of where I just have insanely big and complicated polyships😂

Anyhow, I actually kind of adore the thought of this ship? While out of all of the possible pairings here, Shardilver has always captivated me most, I loved their little trio and can't help but be sad that we won't see more of Joker, Jack, and Ace in action

As for canon stuff, I have to admit that I didn't really pay as much attention to Larry in my original read of the trio's first mission. This is largely because of how much of a sort of in your face rivalry Silver and Shard play with during the "follow Geoffrey" mission. I honestly have to give kudos to Larry for trying to focus on the mission while Shard and Silver take up time competing or arguing, especially since he's just kind of in the middle of it?

I feel like the trio really could have gone somewhere as a team and those couple issues of Sonic Universe (42 and 44) were just the beginning. Why? Well, they are a new team. These three are working together for the first time, learning about each other, and dealing with each other. I find it unfortunate that Shard and Silver's taking charge and Larry's trying not to rock the boat or making a wrong move leads to Larry being a bit out of the spotlight (after all, we only get to learn how Larry joined the secret freedom fighters because Silver asks about his "power"). This is all to say that...we could have seen them evolve and grow as a team and as characters a bit.

I think I'm going to go off for a second on some thoughts I have from them under the cut. In case you don't want to read all that though, the simple answer to anon's question is that I definitely can get behind Shard/Larry/Silver as a ship (though I am partial to Shard/Silver)

Okay, so I want to think about them as a team. All in all they're dysfunctional in that way where things just *barely* turn out. Shard and Silver are constantly competing/arguing, Larry really has no reason not to feel like a burden with his jinxes (especially with them coming into play in ways that present as obstacles when he tries to take charge of the situation), and all 3 of them are trying to prove themselves in some way while the mission goes...not as desired.

But in a way I feel like this trio pairing does or could have had a purpose. Silver has been trying to save his future by traveling to the past, but he's had a bad track record in prevention and actually pinpointing the issue that causes his bleak future (and his doubling down on his accusations to administer justice hasn't allowed him to make friends too well). Shard is the original Metal Sonic. He spent a lot of his existence following orders and obsessively messing with Sonic, uncaring of who he hurt or killed in the process. And although he eventually grew a soul and gave his life for Sonic and Tails, he can’t so easily leave his past behind. He can’t expect people to accept him or to forgive him. His attitude at this point is less about genuine maliciousness (as with his previous altercation with Sonic and Tails) or him actually hating Silver, but is more of a form of self protection. Larry has had a hard life. With his chronic unluckiness, he learned long ago that it was better if he stay away from others and just...try not to burden them, even if he can't help it. It gave him hope way back then, when Sonic helped him learn that he and his jinxes could have a use, and when he became part of the substitute legion of freedom fighters. However, it's clear from the story he tells Shard and Silver that he feels like he had a good thing going, only for his jinxes to ruin everything again. He just wants to be helpful, especially now that he's been given another chance to prove himself, but he's still afraid to be a burden.

All three of them have a past or track record that it's hard to move past, but they want to try. All three of them are looking to get something out of being a member of the secret freedom fighters (and though Silver is mostly doing so to get his information so he can find the traitor and go back to his own time, he, like the other two, is also being given another chance to do good via his membership of this freedom fighting group). For lack of a better term, this is a group of "failures" who are trying to do some good.

So I think if we could have seen more of them, we could have seen Silver and Shard come to care about Larry as a partner, appreciate him as one. Larry's background arc could have been about him starting to speak up and assert himself as a member of the group (instead of acting on his own to the group's detriment, sort of following along, or supplying commentary or advice occasionally). I think we could have seen Shard come to care about Silver and Larry (and their well-beings) beyond the mission at hand or his own goals. Just like Sonic often has to learn, we could have seen him grow more used to working in a team rather than trying to show off or prove superiority by handling most obstacles or decision making. I think this team could start as practice for him possibly trying to make up with others outside the secret freedom fighters in the future, and as a method of creating the "family" he wishes he had. I think we could have seen Silver becoming more closely involved with this time through them (further than he already is with his membership to the secret freedom fighters). His detachment to the people here and the lack of thought he's given beyond completing his goals and enacting justice are part of why he's so reckless, so coming to care closely about a couple of people who are hiding just like them and their well-being/home would do him some good. Like Shard, I think we could have seen him getting used to working better in a team rather than trying to handle things on his own.

They're all outsiders, so perhaps they could have created a kinship together so they don't feel so lonely? They're more similar than they believe, and I feel that they could have all grown together as people with their similar problems and situations

Okay okay, if you've read this far I feel perhaps I should give a slight change of topic. So, for fanon purposes, I bid you to imagine Silver and Larry napping, curling up in their sleep, and Shard...bidding himself to watch. He'll probably tease Silver about it later or make some statement about how not needing sleep makes him superior, but for now he just enjoys the moment of peacefulness. He enjoys watching the two at their most vulnerable, sweetly curled up around each other, sleeping like nothing in the world is wrong.

[rasshu-benaiokny]

〚 MEAT CHUNKS 〛

• A small Gyutaro x OC snippet (2nd person POV)

• Based off of “The Last Breath if Bravery” fanfiction

• SFW but talks about death

• Both featured characters are 20+

〚 Setting & Feel 〛

Its the middle of August and you just got done with your duties as a Hashira earlier than expected. However, you have to feed your demon.

〚 Opening 〛

Walking outside, the sun was already beginning to set as the warm sunlight slowly slid into the horizon. Your pupils track the sun rays as your smile fades when all of your students finally leave; its getting darker now. As a demon slayer and a human, the lack of sunlight usually meant a lack of safety and you never did like the night afterall. However you are now a warrior that needs to be the unwavering light, to protect the next generation.

Except, you don’t have to tonight. You don’t have any particular missions to do this week and you’re relieved to know that. Most slayers and people tend to fall asleep alongside the setting sun and sure, you do from time to time but you had to change that sleep schedule up a bit. You hold a rancid secret from every single slayer you know; a horrible secret.

You; a hashira, is in a secret affair with one of the most vile demons out there; an upper moon.

The whole situation was complicated as is but somehow you begrudgingly ended up falling in love with some huge repulsive demon that surely could devour you whole. He was a spiteful demon with a vicious but depressing attitude, he would act so uncaring at times but ever since you both got entangled in each other’s lives… he stopped killing humans. He began to kill less and less humans to respect your strict regulations and you started to smuggle fresh human flesh for him in return. Every hashira had access to a fortune so buying bodies off the forbidden streets was nothing impossible.

Either way, it was around the time that this demon lover was fed and you was able to snatch some rich blood this month; a clean young body of a dead woman.

══《 勇 》══

A few hours pass as you carefully cut up the body in little sections. Even if you’ve been doing this for years now, even if you’ve killed human-like demons, cutting the flesh of a dead person never got easier, especially a dead woman that was so close to your age. Your cold emotionless eyes bore into the woman’s dead face as you chop her head off with precision… you couldn’t bare to look at the victim’s face and longer nor would you let it be eaten, at least preserve their identity with a burial later on…

More moments pass until you hear a creaking noise at the door. Turning around, you see the demon’s unsightly silhouette close the front door as his body is drenched with marks and scars; its Gyutaro. He seems tired, nearly exhausted as he makes his way to you with a harsh scowl. You knew that he must’ve battled a strong demon from the injuries on him… you felt bad for nerfing him in a way because of his restricted diet.

Before he even said anything, you cup his rough face in your hands, gently guiding the demon down to your level as you swiftly give him a kiss on his cracked lips. His eyes close with relaxation as you see his shoulders melt down and then something plops into his mouth! You used your slight of hand to sneak a chunk of meaty flesh in his mouth just before he could snatch you away for whatever he had planned. He was very patient as you started to feed him by hand, knowing good and well that he could devour the food you had prepared in seconds. But having you take the time to feed him made eating anything better in his mind, even if he secretly wanted to chuck you away so he could gobble up this meal.

╚══《 勇 》══╝

Minutes turned to hours as you both shuffled around to the living room onto the fancy futon you had. His massive body was resting on your toned one as he licked your fingers raw. You didn’t seem to care about the sting that his toxic saliva had on your skin as it was just normal for you after being with him, and Gyutaro knew when you couldn’t handle his toxins anymore. He simply just laid on you observing your small quiet breaths. Finally, you speak about something thats been on your mind…

“Gyutaro… sweetie… Ive been thinking about something and i know i shouldn’t be worried but i just have to ask…”

“Hmm? go ahead n ask… some demon out there botherin ye? My little hashira feeling scared? Does she need her BIG SCARY DEMON? Keh…”

“Stop playing… im serious, im just worried that…”

“That?…”

“That when you get bored of me… ill have to kill you or you’ll eat me. I am a hashira after all and you are the big scary demon, im just worried about when-“

“Well… if i ever do turn on ya, you’ll behead me like how we first met. I know how strong you are.-“

“Lies. We both know how weak i truly am, and even if by gods grace that I managed to behead you, i dont think i could kill you… its just, each time you eat a human, i see myself… it that weird? Its weird… i”

“Its not weird, damnit… i, i know how you humans are with your mortality but i already told you that if i ever eat a human, im forcing you to become a demon alongside me… no questions asked”

“Gyutaro, im not becoming a demon and you know this… i just know that its a matter of time before something happens between us and in all honesty, i hope that one of us killed in battle before that happens”

“Like i said, thats not happening. Im not killing you… ok? And id never let your stupid ass die so stop thinking about it…. Damn.”

“Yeah yeah, well at least i know im the realist in the relationship, unlike you~”

“Mhmm… sure”

The annoyed demon grunts as he lifts himself off of you, looking down at your unfazed expression. Gyutaro blows air into your face just to spite you as he immediately drops onto you, flattening your body under his! This was his revenge for you being all mushy and worried; doubting his loyalty. Feeling you squirm and grunt under his boney muscular frame, he chuckles and smothers you some more as you struggle and whine.

Eventually you settle into your trapped position as Gyutaro cranes his head towards yours, leaving you with a haphazardly kiss on the cheek. He loved to see you worried but he didn’t want his loyalty to be in question because in his mind, he would never kill you, let alone eat you. And as your hands wrap around his back, he looks at you and whispers comforts into your ear.

“You’re big scary demon would never eat you, I promise…”

╚══《 勇 》══╝

[this is technically not a Gyutaro x Reader fiction because it is a self insert type deal BUT i made it close to a general reader insert. Regardless i wont use those tags cuz this is oc-isk lore but if this does count as a reader x gyutaro short… please tell me, i wann be good at tag culture or whatever it be called]

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: current LOCATION: owen's apartment PARTIES: @apaininyourneck & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: emilio and owen enjoy a relaxing morning, slayer style. CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol use, implications of suicidal ideation

Owen’s apartment was a hell of a lot cleaner than Axis. It wasn’t the first thing Emilio had noticed when he’d come in — he was a little too busy noticing the bed, the path to it, and the fact that the both of them were wearing too many clothes for the activity he was interested in — but he’d taken note of it not long after. Everything seemed nearly organized, the decorations sparse but in a way that seemed intentional in comparison to Emilio’s decor, which was closer to that of a man who didn’t understand the point of decorating and wasn’t interested in learning it. It didn’t seem to match the man, and there was something curious about that. Usually, you could tell a lot about a person by the space they lived in. Instead, Emilio felt he knew less about Owen now than he had before.

Not that it mattered, in the end. He wasn’t particularly interested in conversation with the other slayer, mostly for fear that he’d end up saying too much and outing himself as a man who was alive when he very much shouldn’t be. Emilio might not have been undead, but there were still plenty of slayers who would take issue with his continued survival. The more public details behind what had happened in Mexico were sparse, and it was so much safer to keep it that way. Otherwise, someone was bound to realize that Emilio hadn’t gotten what he’d deserved just yet. 

It definitely wasn’t something he wanted to unpack with a hookup, no matter how decent he was in bed. Emilio rolled off Owen’s mattress, gritting his teeth as he put weight on his bad leg to stand. “You got beer in the fridge? I’m getting one.” He crossed the room to the ‘kitchen’ area of the studio apartment, yanking the fridge door open. “You want one? I can —” 

He was cut off with a loud thud at the door. And then another, and then a crash as the door opened. There was a shiver down his spine, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A vampire. Great. “You know,” he said nonchalantly, turning to Owen, “if this kind of thing happens every time I get into bed with you, I’m going to start inviting you to mine. Seems like you’re the common thing here, wey. Gotta be your fault.” He opened the beer, taking a sip and looking to the vampire who’d barged in, leaning back against the counter. Did that guy look a little familiar? 

—

It would have been a bold faced lie to say that Owen wasn’t enjoying the time spent with this newly acquainted slayer. Emilio was anything but complicated - secretive and broody, yes, but not complicated. Owen didn’t mind the attitude, quite liked it actually, coupled with the fact that the other slayer had no interest in getting to know him and the feeling was very mutual. It was always a bit of a risk, hitting people up for round two since it came with the possibility of them thinking this was something more than sex. This was not a worry he had with Emilio who was currently padding over to the fridge for a beer. “At the risk of stressing your poor excuse for a leg, my smokes are by the door if you could bring those over.”

Arms crossed behind his head, Owen was quite enjoying the view when the door almost blew off its hinges. The subtle change in Emilio’s posture was mirrored by Owen’s own skin crawling with the arrival of the newcomer. Not that either slayer looked particularly bothered by the intrusion despite the circumstances. At the very least, he had underwear on where he was lounging on the bed - not that the vampire’s face wouldn’t have been priceless if he hadn’t been. Emilio was the first to speak, dragging the vampire’s attention to him and giving Owen the chance to sit up and casually pull on a T-shirt. “Not my fault I’m the most interesting person in your life,” he retorted, stretching out as he stood from the bed. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” The last word had barely left his mouth when the uneasy feeling grew and sure enough, two more vampires appeared behind the one that had broken down his door. Which was going to be a pain to get fixed.

“You killed my sister,” the vampire spoke, interrupting any more quips between the two slayers, stance rigid and eyes narrowed while flitting between the two underdressed men. Owen glanced over to his night guest with a small shrug before turning his attention back to the vampire, creeping into the apartment with his two friends who (mostly) shut the door behind them. “I don’t know… maybe if there’s not a strong family resemblance because I would have remembered a misshapen face like yours-” The first one charged at that, heading straight for Owen who probably should have reached for a weapon before antagonizing the vampire because he’d really liked the lamp that was currently being smashed against the bloodsucker’s head. 

—

“Ah, fuck off,” Emilio replied, rolling his eyes in Owen’s direction at the comment about his leg. “You weren’t exactly worried about stressing it earlier.” A year or so ago, his response to something like that wouldn’t have been quite as amicable. It had taken him time to accept that his leg was never going to get back up to full form again, taken time for him to be okay with the fact that he was essentially going through life with closer to one and a half legs than two. He’d grown up with the mindset that his body was little more than a tool to be used, and broken tools weren’t good for much. But slayers weren’t built to last, anyway. He’d gotten a good thirty-two years out of the damn leg — he could handle the few he had left without it. It wasn’t like he was going to live long enough for the aches and pains to haunt his old age or anything, after all. 

Mostly because of shit like this. A goddamn vampire breaking down the door of the apartment you were in was never great, but it happening while you were still in your underwear was a new level of annoying. “You are not the most interesting person in my life. Maybe the most annoying.” He glanced back to the bed, where his own clothes were strewn across the floor. Did he have time to put on pants before this? It felt like a reflection of their last encounter, when Owen had been pantsless in Emilio’s apartment while someone came round for a fight. Was this going to happen every time? It was going to start getting old after a while. 

Ah, well. At least this guy knew how to keep it interesting. Just one vampire to fight would have been boring, wouldn’t it? Life would never give them something so easy. Two more thrown into the mix, now that kept things exciting. Emilio squinted as the vampire threw out an accusation, noting the way his eyes seemed to dart between the both of them. “Wait,” he said, holding up a hand as he took another swig from the beer. “Did you kill his sister, or did I do it? You got a name? We should at least work out who’s fighting who before you —” 

His words, overlapping with Owen’s, were cut off as the trio sprung into action. One straight for Owen, getting a lamp smashed over his head. Another came for Emilio, who groaned and smashed the bottle in his hand over the counter, weaponizing the jagged glass that remained. “I wasn’t finished with that,” he complained, shoving the broken bottle into the vampire’s throat. It wouldn’t kill him, but it might distract him long enough for Emilio to grab his pants. He’d really like to be wearing pants.

—

Out of all the people Owen could have invited for a sleep over on this particular evening, he was glad that it had been Emilio. He wasn’t worried about taking on three vampires, especially not on his own homecourt, but having a regular human in the mix could have been a bother. Getting rid of dust was one thing but a body with all evidence pointing towards Owen being the last person to see them alive? Would probably have prompted a sooner-than-preferred move from Wicked’s Rest. Emilio’s annoyed voice filtered over the noise of vampires shouting and snarling, bringing a smirk to Owen’s face. 

The lamp he’d shattered left the power cord in his hand, perfect for twisting around the distracted vampire’s throat. Obviously wouldn’t kill him but it would hurt like a bitch until he could get his hands on a stake. The angry glances towards Emilio’s discarded clothes hadn’t gone unnoticed and as much as Owen enjoyed seeing the toned muscles flex with every attack, the odds of neither of them getting injured were probably better if the other slayer wasn’t hung up on something as trivial as clothes. Rolling over to the other side of the bed and leaving one vampire struggling to untangle the cord from its neck, Owen grabbed the worn pants and whistled to the other man before tossing them over. Just in time to get tackled, body colliding hard with the nightstand and sending the other lamp crashing to the ground. Just as well, not like he was going to have two different kinds of lamps in the apartment. 

“You still haven’t told us which one of us you’re really pissed at,” Owen grunted, holding back a face of snarling teeth and a hand holding a knife. Maneuvering his leg, he swept the other vampire down onto the bed, knife slicing a shallow cut in his thigh in the process and pieces of broken lamp embedding themselves into his feet. “Jacket by the door. Inner pocket,” he shouted over to Emilio as he pressed the vampire’s face into the bed and used his free hand to snap the wrist holding the knife. The pained howls were muffled by the mattress and Owen pressed harder, seconds away from hopefully snapping the spine when the first vampire managed to untangle itself and join the soiree on the bed, desperate hands gunning for the knife.

—-

Emilio caught the pants as Owen tossed them over to him, shoving the sputtering vampire away from him long enough to yank them over his legs. It was a testament to his skill that he didn’t fall over as he pulled them on, even if he did stumble a little when he had to transfer the bulk of his weight to his bad leg to slip his good one through the pants leg. The adrenaline flowing through him helped with the pain of it, at least. By the time he’d gotten dressed, the vampire he’d temporarily taken care of had recovered enough to pull the bottle from its throat, brandishing the weapon for itself as it leaped back towards Emilio.

“Ah, that’s just lazy,” the slayer complained, ducking to avoid catching broken glass in his own throat. “Get your own moves, pendejo.” Unsurprisingly, the vampire didn’t listen. They never did. But Emilio’s dry humor only ever really satisfied Emilio, anyway, so maybe it was for the best. 

Owen had two vampires on his ass now, so it only seemed fair that Emilio be the one to cross the room and fetch the stake in his jacket pocket. “Should be one for you under the mattress,” he called back, utterly unashamed of having hidden a weapon in the bed of the man he’d been hooking up with. Hiding weapons around any place he planned to be for more than a few minutes at a time was an old habit, but it was probably one Owen understood. Besides, it wasn’t like there could be any misconception that he’d intended to kill Owen with the stake.

(The knife he’d hidden behind the toilet might have been another story, but a little precaution went a long way, sometimes. You never knew when you might have to stab a guy.)

Shoving the vampire away from him as it came in for another attack, Emilio ducked underneath its outstretched arms and moved towards the door. The wetness spreading just above the waistline of his newly placed jeans meant he probably hadn’t avoided the sharp glass of the bottle entirely, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins made it impossible to gauge how bad things were through pain alone and he had no desire to look at it right now. He’d grab the stake, keep Owen from bleeding out and forcing him to call the M.E. for the second time that week, and then he’d worry about asking where the duct tape was. Decent plan.

As his hands brushed the jacket’s fabric, another set grabbed him from behind. One hand encircled his wrist, another jabbed the bottle between his shoulderblades. It was a stupid move. The bottle was decent for slicing, but not great for stabbing. Sure, you could stick it into someone’s throat, but you couldn’t sever anyone’s spine with it. The vampire should have focused more on disabling both of Emilio’s hands. But it hadn’t, and it wouldn’t live long enough to learn its lesson. The hand not trapped in the vampire’s grip yanked the jacket from the hook, catching the stake as it fell from the inside pocket and flipping it deftly. He lined up the shot in his mind without looking and thrust the stake backwards, grinning at the choked off sound that meant it had found its home. A heartbeat later, the pressure on his wrist vanished, and he stumbled forward with its sudden absence, leaning against the wall. “Christ,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. 

Turning back to face Owen, he let himself lean a little more casually. “You want me to come back over there? Gonna take me a minute, you know, with my poor excuse for a leg and all.”

—

Despite the fact that he was currently playing ‘keep away’ with a knife and two very pissed off vampires, Owen barked out a laugh at the admission that the other slayer was hiding weapons around. “What, you didn’t think I’d-” he paused, swinging his body until his elbow made contact with a face, sharp fangs tearing up the skin in the process, “let you borrow my toys?” It was hard to keep track of the other side of the apartment with hands pulling and clawing at his wrist, attempting to break the knife from his hand. So he dropped it, letting the blood covered blade fall to the ground and throwing his knee into the face of the vampire that ducked to reach for it. 

With one vampire still clinging onto him, Owen stepped on the one on the ground, rather thankful for the shards of lamp slicing up his foot since it meant that his blood was now doing good work of searing the assailant’s skin. With some slight maneuvering, he charged the rather clingy vampire up against the wall, disorienting it enough to fucking let go. When it charged again, Owen had managed to turn and rip the sheets off the bed, deflecting the incoming attack with the fabric and wrapping the vampire up in it. “Time out,” he breathed before smashing his head into the vampire’s face. Never the most sophisticated attack but he was pissed as all hell about the current state of his apartment. 

It took a moment to dig around under the mattress - how far had that fucker tucked it in? - and as soon as his fingers found the solid wood, a knife had been lodged into his calf. “Fan helvete.” To add insult to injury, literally, Emilio was standing in a pile of dust and being smarmy. Gritting his teeth, Owen’s free hand shot out to grab the stab-happy vampire by the throat, followed by the stake finally emerging and being shoved very forcefully into the fucker’s chest. “Just go get yourself another fucking beer, old man,” he shot back, pain throbbing in his leg as he stood, dragging it and himself over to the vampire attempting to detangle itself from the sheets. 

Instead of finishing it off, he shoved the stake into the vampire’s shoulder, grinning at the pained sound. “Now, who the fuck was the sister and how did you end up here, hmm?” Without even giving the other a chance to answer, Owen pushed the stake in further, twisting it until he felt the end hit bone. “We just followed him here,” the vampire groaned, head whipping in Emilio’s general direction. Piercing green eyes moved from the vampire to the bleeding slayer, lighting up with amusement. “And you were trying to pin this on me. Shame.” Not bothering to listen to more of the desperate rambling from the vampire, Owen dislodged the stake and then finally got rid of the final bloodsucker in his apartment. 

—

“I like my toys better than yours,” Emilio replied unapologetically. Sure, a wooden stake was a wooden stake, but it always felt better when it was your own. It also always felt better when you knew exactly where something sharp was stashed. Owen probably wasn’t planning on fucking him over, but Emilio had been burned one too many times to believe that the other slayer wouldn’t sell him out if it served him. Everyone had an agenda; Emilio wasn’t arrogant enough to think he’d come above Owen’s just because they’d tangled in the sheets a time or two.

He probably ought to make more of an effort to help, but he got the feeling Owen might get offended if he rushed in now. He could tell the other hunter had a handle on things; if he hadn’t, Emilio would have made quick work of crossing the room to lend a helping hand. Still, he couldn’t help but wince as the knife went into the other man’s calf. That one was going to hurt in the morning. “You should try not getting stabbed,” he called out helpfully, still leaning against the wall and ignoring his own steadily bleeding injuries. He’d managed to slice up the bottoms of his feet on the broken bottle, too; bloody footprints marked his path as he padded back over towards the kitchen.

He pulled open the fridge, liberating another beer from the box on the shelf and opening it against the counter. “You want one? Look like you’re working up a sweat.” With Owen dealing with the last of the trio, Emilio busied himself with opening the drawers in the kitchen, half snooping and half looking for supplies to clean themselves up when the last vampire was dust. He found a roll of duct tape in one of the draws, making a satisfied sound as he pulled it out. Sponges could come in handy, too. Paper towels, maybe.

Glancing up as Owen questioned the last vampire, he made a face at the confession. “Well, it’s your apartment,” he grumbled. “Sorry for thinking you’re important enough for someone to want to kill.” He gathered his supplies in his arms and grabbed a second beer for good measure, limping back to the bed. Nodding to Owen’s bloody leg, he raised an eyebrow. “Karma,” he said flatly, tapping a finger against his own knee. “I want that stake back, by the way. Not yours to keep.” He’d stick it back under the mattress, just in case.

—

Blood rushing in his ears, Owen flopped back onto the now bloody mattress, taking a breath before removing his shirt and tying it tightly around his leg. It would do for the time being until he bothered getting up for the sewing kit. Emilio seemed to have a strategy of his own, the slayer noted as his equally bloody buddy hobbled over with his arms full of junk. “At least mine will heal,” he shot back with a sickly sweet smile, snatching one of the beers from the man. Once half of it was gone, doing little to dull the pain that was now starting to make its presence known with the adrenaline dissipating, Owen put down the beer and lifted the borrowed stake instead. 

“Oh, this stake?” he asked casually before tossing it over the length of the apartment because he was a petty bitch. “Also appreciate the duct tape idea but if we’re gonna do bondage, I’d rather you not bleed out and die on me while we’re at it.” Without waiting for a reply, Owen dragged himself off the bed, tracking blood over the already foot print covered floor and returning moments later from the bathroom with a box that had once held a very nice bottle of whiskey. Pouring the contents of it onto the bed as he sat, various bandages, needles and some hospital grade thread, Owen side eyed the scarce supplies Emilio had brought over. 

“How the fuck are you still alive?” he wondered out loud, scooting closer to Emilio and shoving him around to get a look at his back. The broken bottle had managed to add a few new wounds to the already scar littered back but nothing too deep. “Back will be fine with a bandage. You gonna shut up and let me stitch you up or stick to duct taping yourself like the idiot I’m starting to think you are?” 

—

Rolling his eyes, Emilio practically threw the beer at Owen’s head. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” he threatened, though he figured they both knew it was a pretty empty threat. It wasn’t like he had enough friends to go around maiming the few people closer to his own age who actually found him tolerable to be around. He watched Owen down the beer, taking note of the state of the place. Somehow, even after dusting three vampires in the apartment, Owen’s place was in better shape than Axis was after a normal Thursday night. It was a little satisfying to see it in some disarray, though. Maybe it’d make Owen talk about the state of Emilio’s apartment a little less.

Groaning, he shot Owen a dark glare. “Eres un pendejo.” He made no move to grab the stake now, though he’d certainly get it later just to prove a point. “That’s not what this is for. And I’m not bleeding out. You’re in worse shape than I am.” The slash he’d earned above the waistline of his jeans was the worst of his injuries, bleeding heavily enough to let him know it was deeper than he’d like it to be but not so bad that he was in any actual danger of bleeding himself dry on Owen’s mattress. He glanced up as Owen stood, watching him move through the apartment presumably to fetch more supplies. Emilio busied himself with his own haul as he did so, ripping open the pack of sponges with his teeth and taking one out to inspect it. Taping that over the wound would soak up the blood. Take that, Masami.

Before he could begin the process of ‘patching himself up,’ Owen returned with what looked like actual medical supplies, and Emilio made a face. Maybe not all slayers dealt with injury the way he did, then. Who knew? 

“Bad luck,” he replied, stone-faced as Owen turned him to inspect his back. He knew nothing there was worth looking at; left to his own devices, he would have just put a shirt on over it and called it a day. He seemed to actually consider Owen’s question for a moment, as if he was being offered a very tough choice. Finally, after a moment of debate, he sighed and shrugged. “If you want to.”

—

Despite his knowledge in Spanish being about as good as his knowledge in astrophysics, he’d spent time without enough Spanish speakers to have picked up on the most important words. Mostly the cursing which was proving very helpful in regards to Emilio. “And you’re a skitstövel.”

The two words in reply to Owen’s very rhetorical questions were heavy, laced with the weight of something unspoken. Lucky for Emilio, there was absolutely no interest in digging into that whole bucket of worms tonight, or ever. Judging from whatever the two men currently had going between them, too casual and strange to be defined as a relationship of any sorts, Owen could only guess that they shared a dark past keeping them… well, relationship-less. It had worked for the slayer for years now, going through this self administered mission alone and seeking out company for necessary occasions while always keeping the distance. Which was only one of the reasons his thoughts on Emilio’s past would remain guesswork. The other reason being that the man was a locked vault and would probably pass out before getting drunk enough to divulge his secrets. 

“You asking if I want to stick a needle in you and watch you squirm while also being a really good friend for it? Thought you knew me better than that.” With some gesturing and demanding, Owen had the other slayer on his back as he picked out the necessary things. And just because he could, while he waited for the alcohol to try around the gash on Emilio’s stomach, he reached over into his bedroom drawer and pulled out a ball gag. “If you need something to bite down on,” he said with a wink before setting his focus on the wound. He could have been reckless, making this more painful than strictly necessary but he didn’t dislike the man he was currently stitching up. It didn’t take long to close up the wound with surprisingly neat stitches, the whole thing finally covered up with a large bandaid. Owen did however place the bandage and give it a good slap, just to make sure it was properly attached. 

With that done, he handed Emilio a pair of tweezers and some more bandages, nodding towards the other’s bloody feet. Sliding to the edge of the bed, Owen started work on his own leg, removing the already blood soaked shirt that had been doing a pretty shit job at keeping his blood inside his body. So much for never bleeding all over his apartment. 

—

He didn’t even know what language Owen shot back his retort in, the expression on his face betraying his confusion. It certainly sounded strange, and Emilio wasn’t used to being on the other side of it. Usually he was the one throwing around insults in a language the other person didn’t speak. This was a new one for him. He thought he might kind of like it.

He knew he liked the way Owen didn’t dig into the things he said offhandedly the way other people might have. Plenty of the friends Emilio had accidentally made for himself in Wicked’s Rest would want to unpack those two words, would ask him what he meant by that or why surviving was bad luck instead of good. And if Owen had chosen a similar route, Emilio would have likely stood up and left, leaving bloody footprints in the carpet and his shirt on the floor. There were few things he wanted to talk about less than his checkered past, especially when the air smelled a little too much like blood and dust to keep it in the past entirely. Even without putting it to words, he could practically feel the hot Mexican air against his skin, could see the bodies lurking in the corner of his vision. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it enough to solidify them here, and certainly not with Owen. He was good in bed, but if Emilio opened up to someone, it wouldn’t be a slayer. Not when there was a shot at said slayer recognizing the story and putting two and two together.

“You’re right,” he allowed with a roll of his eyes and a quiet huff. “That’s exactly the kind of shit you’d be into.” He adjusted himself on the bed, allowing Owen easy access to the wound even as he kept his wary gaze on the needle. For all the injuries he’d earned, Emilio hadn’t had many stitches in his life. His mother had always insisted that stitching up a wound undid the lesson it was meant to teach you, and he had the ugly scars to prove as much. But he figured Owen would give him shit if he went with the tape here, and he’d already learned this lesson more than once, anyway. At the sight of the ball gag, he snorted. “You sure you didn’t call those vampires here to put a different color on your fun?” He forewent the gag in favor of biting down on the pillow instead, if only to ensure Owen didn’t get the satisfaction. He was clearly getting enough of a kick out of the stitches already; he didn’t need more fuel. Still, he was kind enough to make the process an easy one. The stitches hurt — there was no way to put a needle through your skin in a manner that didn’t — but it was over quick enough. 

The slap felt a little unnecessary, though. Just a bit.

Sitting up again, Emilio raised a brow at the tweezers, then glanced down at his feet. He could feel the glass under the skin, though it hadn’t occurred to him that he ought to do something about that. Healing would push it out on its own, wouldn’t it? “You want me to stitch you up now?” He wasn’t great at it — lack of experience, since his siblings had been taught the same philosophy he had — but he figured it might be better than Owen doing it himself. And it would provide the added bonus of allowing him time to decide if he actually wanted to tweeze glass out of his foot.

—

It was pretty humorous to see Emilio, the man who had just a few minutes ago fought off a vampire in his underwear like it was a mild nuisance, stare at a tiny needle the way he was. Owen was oh-so tempted to make a dig at it but it ran the risk of the other slayer reverting to option B, as in the sponge and tape method which was just barbaric. Besides, if the other man ended up with an infection from it, he’d be out of commission for a while and Owen was starting to appreciate the company. Not enough so that he’d be bringing the man chicken soup on his sick bed or anything but enough to be annoyed if something as stupid as a badly kept wound would bring him close to death. 

“I wouldn’t call vampires over for that,” he argued, not surprised at all when Emilio discarded the politely offered gag. “Would have just stabbed you myself.” For someone not used to stitches, the man took it like a champ, but Owen definitely used every minute wince and jerk of the other’s body as a chance to shush him.

The offer had definitely been unexpected and the tone in which it was delivered wasn’t exactly one that made you well up with trust. Still, this angle was awkward as hell and digging a needle through your own skin was always a pain. Glancing back over his shoulder at Emilio, who was holding the tweezers like he’d been handed a very complicated math equation, Owen finally shrugged. “Might as well let you have your revenge.” The needle was handed over, accompanied by some instructions delivered in an unnecessarily patronizing tone. As far as the instructions went, they were definitely needed it seemed. The patronizing was just for fun. Not that antagonizing the person that was going to be sowing you up was a great idea but consequences were for later, not the now. 

Finishing up his beer before laying down, wondering distractedly whether or not he could be bothered changing the sheets tonight, Owen breathed through the pain of the stitches. “And don’t try to tell me you’re not enjoying this a little bit,” he bit out after a particularly painful stab, unable to actually gauge what the other man was thinking as he lay there face down. As deep as the wound was, it wasn’t too wide. Lucky, since he wasn’t sure how much he trusted Emilio to do a precise job of it. It was a relief to have it over with, supplies simply shoved to the floor once he felt that he was properly bandaged up for the moment. 

“So, guess we finished the checklist of drinking, sex and stabbing in the span of an hour. Could have done without having to replace the door, though.” Owen sighed, craving for another beer or even something stronger but feeling far too lazy at the moment to move from the bed. 

—

“If you stabbed me yourself and did this bad a job at it, I wouldn’t sleep with you anymore,” Emilio snorted, rolling his eyes. In all honesty, they were both pretty lucky that the vampires had been incompetent. The way things went down, it could have been far worse. The vampires had come in with the element of surprise on their side, had more numbers than the slayers, and quite literally caught the pair with their pants down. Had any of them been half-decent fighters, the night would have ended far, far differently. Instead, Emilio and Owen sat on the latter’s bed, making jokes and dealing with injuries that weren’t so bad at all. Not for the first time, Emilio wondered if this made his luck good or bad. 

He thought Owen would probably consider it the former, if the joy with which he stabbed that needle through Emilio’s skin had anything to say about it. With each shush he offered to Emilio’s uncontrollable physical responses to the pain, the detective shot him a glare. What an ass.

At least he could have his own go. He set aside the tweezers, feeling a little grateful that he wouldn’t need to worry about them just yet. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to worry about them at all, though he figured Owen forgetting about them entirely was a longshot. Motioning for the other slayer to shift to give him a better position, Emilio leaned in and began the work of stitching Owen up, looking pleased with himself each time he jabbed the needle through. He wasn’t malicious about it; he was as gentle as he knew how to be. It just turned out that he didn’t know how to be very gentle. 

“What, stabbing you? It is kind of fun. I can see why those vampires liked it so much.” The stitches were far messier than the ones Owen had given him. Not as close, not as neat. He hadn’t done this often, only a few times here and there for Rhett and the odd experience with Juliana, but not in years. It was hard not to feel a little bad for just how much he sucked at it, especially when Owen had been pretty intent on helping Emilio in spite of his smugness while he did it. But shitty stitches were probably preferable to no stitches at all for Owen. And it was a little less messy than the sponge and duct tape method. Emilio could admit that. 

When he’d finished, he slapped the bandage on in the same way Owen had done for him, flashing an amused half-grin as he did so. “Guess we’re really on top of things tonight,” he agreed. “Maybe you should be thanking me for them following me over. Might have gotten bored without it.” He glanced to the door with a shrug. “I don’t think doors matter as much as people think they do.” The one at Axis didn’t even have a lock, and Emilio was surviving just fine.

—

As was to be expected, Emilio gave exactly as much as he got, whacking the newly stitched wound with a pleased smile. Yeah, Owen definitely enjoyed him. “Dick,” he’d replied simply, no malice to be found behind the insult. This was easy. Literally all he had to do was not divulge into the territory of feelings, which he never did anyway, and the two slayers could continue having a lovely if not slightly chaotic time together. 

“Bored?” Owen gasped in mock offense, the insulting connotation enough to finally move him from the splayed position on the bed. “I see how it is. I’ll make sure to have five vampires crash the next time, then.” No questions about whether or not there would be a next time, no beating around the bush or playful banter. Owen was interested in a next time. If the other slayer didn’t agree, so be it but at least he’d made his stance known. With a heavy sigh, he got up from the bed, moving to one of the apartment’s cabinets. Pulling out two whiskey glasses and a bottle, he poured the two of them a drink and returned to the bed with the glasses and his cigarettes. 

A very weird evening. Not his weirdest to date but high up there on the ‘weird but in a fun way’ list. Downing some of the amber liquid, Owen allowed himself to revel in the aches and pains starting to make themselves known all over his body - the markings of something successful having taken place. He was sure the two of them could come up with some way to distract from the pain once the whiskey was gone and they’d managed to properly catch their breaths. 

[thisisnarcissismtalking]

Hi dearies

You see, the thing is that I don't have anything that interesting happening right now, that I'm very unsure what to talk to you about. And it's all because I don't do much except studying and planning a DND campaign, because my dearest girlfriend is out of town!! 😭😭😭

And I know, I know, I'll see her soon when I move in with her, but it won't be the same due to university starting, our study hours being vastly different, and general big city conditions being sadder and... more boring in a way. It may be just my attachment to this town and our little adventures around it, but it's real.

So! I thought I'm gonna speak some stuff about relationships, friendships and generally my attitude towards people in my life - as a narcissist. Cause that's a thing that I thought very much about lately and I need to get it out of me finally.

Because I really don't think I need so many people in my life - in a deep, close relationship way. And that being said, I don't think I do have.. like, you know, close friends?

The person closest to me, my girlfriend, is also my very, very close friend in a way. She knows a lot about me, I try to tell her everything and to not keep secrets. It's hard because I'm not yet feeling that well about some of my narcissistic traits, that part of society would probably deem strong flaws. You know - the jealousy, the high need for constant attention and praise despite not doing much, or even, resulting from these, passive and negative attitude towards some people and ideas. Because when I'm jealous of someone I usually tend to get quiet and unhappy, and I can't for the love of god hide it, so I just come off as acting weird xddd

But yesterday I realized another thing about me. And it's that I am.. pretty much indifferent to most people. And holy hell is it a complicated subject though.

It's not like I don't hang out with people. I even like some of them. But it isn't anything more than that. They are people I meet sometimes to go on a short walk or play DND with. And the thing is, I do not feel empathy, practically at all. Adding up these things - I am mostly indifferent to what happens in their lives unless I can somehow see myself in them (worse thing is if they see themselves in me sometimes, because they are usually wrong and it's weird, stop projecting onto me people, only my gf knows me well enough to guess what's up with me xdd).

It's hard because I also have a thing with seeing relationships as "what can I get if I talk to this person". And because of this, my attitude towards university colleagues is right now "get to know someone so you would have a person you can get notes from, and maybe borrow money sometimes if you need", cause that was a surprising lot of my high school relationships. But I don't feel the need to befriend anyone. I don't need friends.

And yeah, many people would say "wdym it's hard, it's so cool! I wish I wouldn't need friends, I don't like caring about other people...."

...idk, I don't know what to say to you. I don't relate at all xdd I just sometimes feel bad about it. Cause on one hand I would like to know someone who would understand me, maybe someone cool with similar interests as me, but on the other, I just know that I wouldn't feel the need to contact them, talk and make moves to get the friendship going. Probably also get tired of them quickly.

I may just... very much not like people and hate everyone that isn't my girlfriend because they tire me, they have problems that they talk about often and that I don't care about at all, and sometimes they're funny. But that's all. I don't even feel I want praise from them because I don't care about it.

I hold dearly sweet words from my favorite person and time spent with them. I care about them and wouldn't ever want that relationship to end. And it's not for the stereotypical reasons - she criticizes me a lot, and she's not treating me like a walking goddess, only giving me praise. Nah, I just love her. Actually and honestly. I want to get better for her in ways that I can. And these aren't things I would say about anyone else in the whole world.

....I wonder if my npd has something to do with being demisexual. It would be a really interesting connection considering all of the above, don't you think?

That would be all for today. I think. I would maybe do a post about my relationship with myself too. So maybe it's not all for today, but for now.

[tiredpandaportfolio]

Idle Thoughts on How I Write Dante and Tess.

I felt like fooling around and getting some thoughts I have about them in order, again because I like having some consistency to my writing. There's very particular ways I write the two of them and I often have thoughts that don't always make it into my stories.

Tess is a rather odd character, as far as my creations go. She breaks a lot of "the rules" of the setting, but in a way that helps flesh her and the worldbuilding out, I think. Her presence allows me to cover topics that I might otherwise not really be able to tell within the DMC universe.You can check out the oc: tess templar tag on my blog if you want to find out more about her.

The Nature of Their Relationship

It is complicated and this is not even an exaggeration. They're both difficult, broken people and much as we'd all like that, love doesn't bridge every gap or patch every problem. Navigating a relationship has been a challenge for them, from the very beginning.

When they were young, they used to be pretty vicious with each other, verbally and emotionally. Just becoming friends required a lot of time and compromises, a little bit every time. If you'd asked them, at the time, why they made the effort, neither would admit to consciously doing so. With the benefit of retrospect, if you twisted their arms, they'd both admit that it was loneliness. By that time, they had each spent most of their lives very isolated and alienated, in often hostile circumstances. They had terrible trust issues, particularly directed at adults. Meeting someone of the same age, with similar baggage -- someone who got it -- was a big deal for a pair of dysfunctional teenagers.

In a way it sort of saved them both emotionally, particularly Dante, staving off cynicism and misanthropy for a bit longer. He could still allow himself to make connections with people. Tess found an anchor in herself that propped her up against her own cynicism and she developed her eventual patience with people.

Their separation hurt them both. They had only just started to acknowledge their awkward feelings and Dante was particularly angry about it, for a very long time. He did his best to bury his anger about it, but part of him was greatly frustrated by the feeling that he had allowed something precious to slip through his fingers. Tess was plagued by regrets for years, especially as her own circumstances began to beat her down and she lost hope in even the conviction she had that they might see each other again.

Meeting again after years was not some magical moment where all was suddenly well. They had fresh trauma to work through, more inner demons to fight against. The years had changed them. They were once more practically strangers. They both had secrets they were unwilling to talk about. Dante never managed to find the courage to open up about his family issues and thought Tess was doing him a favor, not asking. She would regret that, eventually, but she only wanted to give him peace. And she was scared to ask, too.

But that memory of the old fondness, the warmth it brought, got them to try; to bridge that distance, re-acquaint themselves with each other and why they got along so well in the first place. It actually didn't take that long for their feelings to run from friendly to something deeper, but it did take them a long time to acknowledge them -- in fact, Dante nearly didn't, until Tess' familiar, Roy, gave him an earful about it. Dante had been convinced that neither were the feelings mutual, nor did he deserve a chance. Roy was not gentle in disabusing him of this notion, and he was quite harsh about Dante treating Tess' feelings too lightly and hiding behind his 'make a joke out of everything' attitude.

He was a little floored that she reciprocated because her own tendency to bottle up her feelings to protect herself made it difficult for her to properly express them, something she continues having difficulty doing, but she tries.

But even after clearing the air, they still can't agree on the precise nature of their relationship, save that they are incredibly important to each other. And that's regardless of how they look to others. Between calling each other names, bickering like an old married couple and even antagonizing each other, it's easy to mistake them for frenemies. They are in fact, just incredibly independent people who don't react well when others interfere in their lives, even someone they love deeply. Theirs is a relationship of constant compromise, pushing and pulling until they find the middle.

Will It Last?

It could. But it all depends on them.

Dante is not one to burn bridges lightly and if you think about it, he is an incredibly forgiving person when it comes down to it. He's given second and even third chances to people who by all rights may not have quite deserved it. He's willing to overlook and forgive a lot of things, even quite heinous ones. He's had to learn to live with a lot of the things he himself does.

But... Tess isn't like that. She's far more firm in her principles and for better or for worse, those mainly center around her survival. She's spent her entire life trying to make sure she isn't killed or worse, eaten by demons and whatever other threat rears its head. She doesn't quite know any other way of living. To be perfectly honest, being anywhere near Dante is a massive risk on her part, and not just because trouble and death follow him like a bad omen. Witches are hunted, quite literally, by both demons and humans in the know. Dante himself poses a legitimate threat to her, no matter how much he or she might believe otherwise. It is a possibility she can never completely remove from her mind.

The thing is, Tess' principles also mean she doesn't let others off the hook easily and can hold grudges. If she had enough evidence that Dante, either directly, or by association, had done things she could never forgive... it might be over. She wouldn't be able to exist in a relationship where she is expected to turn a blind eye to things she can't stomach, no matter how much she loves the other party. She's just too used to having to protect herself and she will do so, even from people she loves. This doesn't mean it's not going to hurt.

Romance

Of the two of them, Dante is the hopeless romantic. And this is despite his long-held belief that romantic love just wasn't really going to be a thing for him. He's aware of the irony. He's all about the grand, sweeping gestures. The flowery confessions, the recitation of poetry and overt and subtle flirtations. He's the one who goes over the top. He's the type to go for a full Hollywood Dip kiss. He wants to go big or go home. And he does it all with all of his usual confidence, even when he’s actually being incredibly awkward. It’s almost as if, now that it’s really dawned on him that he loves her, he wants to yell it from the rooftops. Subtlety just isn’t in his blood.

The problem is, Tess is rather the opposite. She's really not much of a romantic, no matter how much she tries. She appreciates and welcomes romantic gestures, but there is a definite awkwardness that she can’t seem to overcome and she’s rather bad at initiating them herself. Besides, overly "loud" gestures tend to embarrass her and send her running. She swears she understands and appreciates his enthusiasm but anything over the top really goes over her head and makes her feel embarrassed. Her own romantic gestures tend to be small and heartfelt and focus on wanting to be close to the other party. She’ll cook for the both of them and wants to spend time with Dante doing nothing much.

They’ve both had to compromise and reach a happy middle. Dante’s trying to temper his need for showboating and instead make his romantic gestures more intimate and immediate while Tess is learning to be more accepting of Dante’s need to be a flashy dumbass; she doesn’t object so long as there isn’t much of an audience. They have hit and misses but they don’t really mind as long as they’re having fun.

The Physical Side of Things

There is no escaping the fact that Dante, being nearly 6'5", towers over the 5'4" Tess. He's always been taller than her but as adults, the height and size difference can be a little staggering.

Tess is of fairly average height and lean with good curves but she hangs out with much taller people all the time, giving the illusion that she is, in fact,  a shortie, which annoys her to no end. Dante being as tall and broad as he is makes her look even tinier. It's just one part of why she's so feisty and snarky all the time. Obviously, Dante loves ribbing her about her height. He also loves using it against her. He can end their arguments by simply picking her up, throwing her on his shoulder like a sack of dirt and walking off, and he has, much to her annoyance.

To be fair, Tess actually adores how taller he is. He's a great barrier to hide behind when she doesn't want to be directly visible. It's also very hard to miss him in a crowd. Dante finds her height amusing and endearing, even if he has to stoop a little to kiss her. He likes joking that dating her is bad for his back. He won't admit it, but it also makes him feel quite protective of her, even though he knows that she's quite capable of killing things five times her size with little hesitation.

His overwhelming strength can be a bit of a concern, but Dante has never hurt people accidentally because he's actually very well practiced with how he handles it. Tess on the other hand is definitely the more agile and nimble of the two, easily getting around or through obstacles Dante might need to detour around. He jokes she might be part cat with all the climbing, parkour and squeezing through narrow passages she does.

The difference is even more glaring if he happens to be in demonic form, because then he is well over 7' and watching a short witch argue with such a massive beast can be rather worrying for onlookers.

Physical Contact

Once Dante got really comfortable in the relationship, he sort of started to revert to how clingy he was as a young boy. For her part, Tess needed some time to adjust and find her confidence. They started from struggling to figure out how to hold hands to working through how comfortable each other was with touching.

Now Dante has little regard for personal space when it comes to other people and no regard whatsoever when it comes to Tess. He isn't satisfied with just hand-holding or even just a hug. He's progressed to the point where he wants to fully drape himself over her whenever he can and cuddle her like there's no tomorrow. He's also very grabby. In part, Dante gets a thrill out of knowing he can touch her whenever and express affection without saying a word. He's not even afraid to do it in public, though he's still awkward because he has a certain reputation, some street-cred he wants to maintain.

Sometimes he'll just do the aforementioned over-the-shoulder maneuver just for fun, because she gets flustered and mad. And he loves flustering her, because she's funny.

Tess is also quite physically affectionate, but she's rather like a cat in the sense that she'd rather be the one to initiate it and can only tolerate so much before she gets wigged out, but ultimately she likes the attention anyway, even if she grumbles. She likes to lean into the touches, and has a fondness for his hands. She likes nothing better than to curl up against him or on his lap when they're able to relax together. If they happen to share a bed and he spoons her, chances are she'll fall asleep almost immediately because of how cozy and secure she feels.

She tries to be patient with his grabbiness, but there's a time and place for slapping someone's butt and in public or in front of god damn demons is not it. Of course she likes touching him too and her favorite thing is absently playing with his hair and giving him kisses. He's quite funny when he's acting like he's too good for kisses but watch him lean in for them all the same.

Their Effects On Each Other

One of the biggest obstacles they had to navigate in the relationship is the curious interactions that demonic powers have on witches and vice versa. This hadn't crossed their minds as teenagers because neither was Dante potent enough yet to override whatever protections Tess used against demons, nor was her supernatural sense sensitive enough to get overwhelmed.

Now that they're adults and fully grown into their powers, things aren't that simple. Tess needs a large number of personal protections and 'veils' in order to just exist without being tracked down by demons or immediately swarmed by ghosts who want things done. She's very skilled at them and can lead a mostly normal life and work without issues... but Dante is a special case. He gives off such an intense and thick power when he's agitated that it can start to get to her.

The first time she was within close proximity when he shifted to the devil trigger, she was knocked out from the sensory feedback. She tried to make a joke out of it, but she had a hard time trying to adjust and the best she could do was suffer frequent enough exposure to try and acclimate. It took months of frustration and migraines and adjusting personal wards but now she's in a position where she's actually quite comfortable around powerful demons without getting stunned. She still gets nauseous around actual Hell Gates or in the presence of huge numbers of demons, but at least she stays standing.

On the other hand, demons get incredibly excited around witches, and view them as fine prey, since their blood runs thick with power. More than once, Tess has used her presence or some of her blood as bait to lure out demons. Dante is unfortunately not immune to this effect. Even though she's wrapped up in wards, he can still sense her arcane powers and it's impossible not to notice. Her blood smells sweet and spicy to him and he's actually kind of scared of what might happen if he gets a taste. He also has an unusually strong reaction to her powers, if she has to use some kind of effect on him. It seems to overly excite his demonic side, making him a little manic and aggressive. They're both a little baffled as to why this happens since it didn't happen when they were teenagers. It does tend to manifest in his tendency to be a pain in her neck and how much he likes provoking her, but also comes out in how forward he is with her. Sometimes when he's particularly agitated he might get a little edgy in dealing with her and struggle to contain himself.

Worries

They don't like it, but as a consequence of who and what they are, there is always a tension in their relationship. They worry about each other, even if they are not good at showing it. Tess worries about his emotional well-being and his self-control. She's always overly conscious of his demonic nature and how far into it he's venturing. She's afraid he'll hurt her, in every sense, but she also has an incredible amount of trust in him and he knows it. That's what gets to him. He cares more about her than he does himself because he's too used to being the most invincible thing in a space and he's starting to understand that's not the case for her.

Dante's actually rather quietly freaked out by how Tess operates; extremely dedicated to whatever she decides to do and very efficient at planning and then executing ploys that will achieve her goals. She doesn't fight for fun or her pride, she fights to survive and it shows. She's ruthless. When motivated she really is so "do-or-die" that it actually unsettles him. She seems afraid of nothing and as much as he admires her tenacity and ruthlessness, it also terrifies him. She's capable of making some truly difficult decisions just so that others don't have to do so and she follows through with them.

Fights

Dante is generally very laid back and doesn't give a hoot about what other people say or do. He does not argue with people unless pushed, he's got better things to do. Insults towards his person or even his family roll off like water on a duck's back. But the moment Tess snarks at him about something he's said or done, or just generally sasses him and calls him a dumbass, he immediately wants to clap back.

He will bicker with her about the stupidest things and they can end up having quite a stupid back and forth, complete with rather childish insults. And they don't care if they do this in front of others. Several demons have met their end because they assume their quarrel means their guard is dropped, just to be annihilated with an angry remark that they're busy talking.

Most of the time it's all rather a lot of hot air, though, the result of two very stubborn people butting heads. People who don't know them well often get the wrong idea about them, and might worry about Tess' well-being, prodding a huge mercenary like that. The fact of the matter is, 90% of the time, the bickering is trivial and they get over it a few minutes later.

Their actual fights and arguments are much, much different. They are rare and never particularly loud or obvious, and rather than trade barbs, they outright attack each other verbally and challenge each other's authority and reason. They will only rarely raise their voices but their words are full of venom and quiet anger. It takes them a long time to reconcile after such fights, and they are mercifully very uncommon.

Mundane Things

With their lives so full of tragedy, risk, the supernatural and the worst of human nature, they find immense satisfaction in little, mundane things that make them feel a sense of normalcy. Neither knew they craved this sense of normalcy until they started to experience it. They take incredible liberties with each other, things they would never do with anyone else.

Dante will sometimes steal her spare keys and let himself into her apartment, often without even expecting to find her there. He likes napping on her sofa and she lets him be. Because she's paranoid about her safety, her apartment is warded so tightly that not even a tiny demon could find it, let alone get in. But she's woven his presence into the exceptions so he has free pass and that fills him with a incredible sense of glee and accomplishment, being allowed into her sanctum like that. It's a great hiding place from Lady and Morrison, too.

Despite all the snark and their jokes and back and forths, their better moments are spent largely in companionable silence. Dante likes doing nothing in particular and doing fuck all with Tess is just better. Her large sofa means he can spread out and there's still room for her to curl up, still in contact with him and he can nap while she reads, and maybe plays with his hair absently. Or they might actually sit down to watch a movie, because Tess is a film nut, especially about old horror films. He has to admit that watching them with her is fun because she makes the most amusing comments.

Once in a while they’ll have a serious conversation about something - but never about themselves. They're too scared to ask the hard questions. They're... content with how things are.

Sleep

Sleep is a precarious affair for both of them. Dante doesn't need to sleep as much as humans but he does like to conserve his energy and motivation -- like a lion in the savannah, he says. Which... is a poor disguise for his laziness. The truth of the matter is that Dante sleeps poorly much of the time because he's still plagued by nightmares and insomnia brought by guilt and depression.

Tess on the other hand, has frequent bouts of insomnia coming from her hyper-sensitive sixth sense, and is prone to night-terrors and sleep paralysis. She suffers frequent, aggressive visitations by ghosts and other entities attracted to her, and there is only so much she can do to ward her sleeping space and herself from their influences. There are times when she goes sleepless for days until she can solve an issue and it shows.

Dante finds this incredibly frustrating because it's something he can't do much to help her with. There's nothing to fight. He takes some small comfort in her saying that his sheer oppressive presence drives off the small fry, the ones too scared of a demon's aura to bother her.

Which is one more reason why they enjoy sharing a bed. Dante's big, warm and very cozy to sleep nestled against and Dante gets an incredible amount of satisfaction just holding her. She fits very nicely against his chest and hearing her sleep soundly makes him nice and drowsy too. He normally sleeps on his back but it's nice to practically curl up around her.

Laughter

Dante is usually seen scoffing sarcastically, or chuckling in amusement at something going on. It's not common to see him belly laugh often, he saves that for the moments when he's relaxed and around people he trusts. He's started doing it a lot more often now that he's dating Tess because her sense of humor can really get to him. She has a way of telling stupid stories from her jobs relating to ghosts or other witches in a sassy way that makes him wheeze. She considers these moments a personal triumph.

On the other hand, Tess' sense of humor often undermines her usual confident and collected appearance. Dante's cheesy lines and his showboating and his particular brand of jokes crack her up way too easily at times, even when she's trying very hard to keep a straight face. Dante actively enjoys attempting to make her fall apart and when she gets going, she's gone, leading him to call her "crazed hyena" when she's having one of her fits.

They’re both dorks.

[allyear-lff]

Lady Chatterley's lover

Summary: the marriage between a man of aristocratic background and a free thinking woman from London collapses when he returns from the war disabled by his injuries, the woman takes solace in a relationship with a servant, also a war veteran, which leads to scandal and to all the lives involved changed forever.

Plot and musings: so most people know about the book and its travails not to be banned, I read it a long time ago and don't remember all the sordid details that so enraged (and continue to enrage) polite society and obtuse obscenity authorities in many places, the problem for a film retelling this tale (because goodness know how many adaptations there have been) is that it has to find a new take in the story, or it has to give us a different one, which in a way defeats the purpose of doing an adaptation, but anyway, people will try and this is one of such attempts.

The plot isn't very complicated, Clifford Chatterley is a young man from an aristocratic family, he is getting married to Connie (Constance) that throughout the film is presented as an independent free thinking woman more in tune with 20th century attitudes than with the 19th or even 18th century preoccupations of her handsome new husband, unfortunately for them they are getting married in times of war and Clifford departs to the war front only to return disabled by the horrific injuries he has suffered and wheel chair bound for life.

At this point they (he really) decide to move to a Chatterley family home where Clifford tries to start to run the affairs of the family as it would be expected of him, he manages to do so with the help of Connie but she is getting bored, a situation not helped by the refusal of Clifford to let her go to London where all her social and cultural life used to be. This tense situation is further worsened by Clifford's character hardening as a consequence of dealing with his disability and by the admission that they can't have heirs, Clifford suggests that Connie could conceive a heir with somebody else and nobody should know he wasn't the father.

This conversation and the longing of Connie for an intimate relationship she can't have with Clifford makes her fertile ground to become adventurous and by chance she gets friendly with the gamekeeper, Mellors, who is a good looking Scottish fellow, a handsome educated war veteran to whom Connie opens herself unreservedly, this all could have ended there, or could have continued as a secret affair, but they realise that they need each other more than they would have expected, so they get careless until they can't hide the affair at which point he is fired and she is ostracised, but Connie can't have any of this and just leaves Chatterley's home (with the help of her formidable proto feminist sister), she had endeared herself with the servants in the house and they manage to find where Mellors lives, Connie hurries there to find him in a farm in the Scottish countryside where they reunite to live their lives in dignified poverty.

Yeah, right.

So the positives of this unlikely scenario are the locations, all invariably period drama beautiful, the acting that one can't really fault, the characters which are constructed well enough.

So what is missing? Sex. Plain and simple. And foul language and all the things that made the book scandalous to some. To me it felt like an attempt to sanitise the story and to give it a middle class happy ending cottoned in all kind of justifications about why Connie would have a passionate affair with somebody so much below her social class. The poignancy of the book is its daring, this film feels like a declawed tiger, perfectly enjoyable but lacking in punch, Connie going after Mellors just because she can is missing here, she doesn't do it because she is a liberal goodie, she does it because she can plain and simple, and that disparity of power is never really felt, this couple is formed by equals in a world in which such a thing didn't really exist.

Rating: 3.5/5

71 of 168

Date: 6 December 2022

Venue: Curzon Camden

The list of films in the LFF 2022

[ceranovis]

(Tossing ideas at this under the cut, feel free to take any pieces you like or ignore my ramblings entirely)

Merc Fit works for the Federation, which the Favela 5 was originally formed for the sake of taking down.

Maybe they all used to work for the Federation?

What if Mike is the only one of them with super powers? Maybe a lab experiment exploded on him and Pac one day-- Pac lost a leg in the blast, but Mike developed powers, and they both suddenly share a psychic link.

Sometimes Pac is angry about how unfair that day was. Sometimes he thinks the reason he didnt get abilities is because he's really just not all that special or good at anything, compared to Mike (and everyone else he loves).

They knew Cellbit and Felps before the accident, they just worked in different departments. After the accident, Pac ended up spending a lot of time with Felps-- Felps' chill attitude would be a good counterbalance for his own complicated feelings about Mike in the aftermath. Especially with them just starting to navigate the brain link thing-- it's not Mike's fault, he knows, but even just looking at him hurts sometimes, nevermind suddenly having Mike constabtly there for even his most private thoughts. Maybe Felps helps him out with his physical therapy as he got used to the prosthetic leg, which is one of the times he's feeling the most frustrated and vulnerable and liable to be bitter towards Mike in ways he doesn't want to be.

Meanwhile Cellbit, smart guy that he is, figured put something happened to Mike too and then helps Mike figure out how to get a handle on his new powers, in secret. Cellbit knows what the Federation would do with Mike if they found out-- maybe he actually intends on giving Mike up to them, once Mike is a little more polished, a better tool, and then reaping the reward from turning over such a valuable asset.

But then Felps gets a little too close to a Federation secret, and they spirit him away. And with that, all bets are off. Cellbit is willing to tear the Federation apart to get his friend back, and he's got the perfect weapon-in-training to do it. Pac convinces Mike to work with Cellbit on this, because he wants to save Felps too.

Shortly after the 3 of them defect, Bagi follows her brother. She's not going to let him run off and make an enemy of the Federation without her, no matter how hard he tries to keep her at a distance. She's also, quite frankly, worried about the collateral damage he might cause to their relatively innocent former coworkers if she's not around to reign him in.

The do eventually save Felps. Since they made themselves Federation enemy #1 in the process, they decide to say "fuck it" and stay together as a team to stop the Federation's machinations and eventually bring it down entirely.

Mike is their public face, because his powers make him pretty conspicuous anyways and he can go head-to-head with the Federation's goons (maybe he's got a whole anarchy theme going for his hero persona? Anti-hero persona?). Pac is the Man In The Chair, aided by the brain link for field communication with Mike and his own technical capabilities. Cellbit does a lot of their strategic planning, with Bagi providing a counter-balance and alternatives to Cellbit's more sociopathic tactics; they both do some field work too, usually more lowkey stealth sorts of things. Felps is less active on the Federation-fighting side; he deals more with the back end, the things that keep everyone else functioning when they get too wrapped up in the mission to take care of themselves or each other. He keeps the spiritual/emotional health of the team from declining they don't call him Saint Felps for nothing.

After the Felps incident, the Federation starts hiring mercs to protect their assets as it's pretty clear their own security isn't going to stand up to the Favela 5. Fit & Foolish are brought in around the same time.

Technically Mike and Felps are the only confirmed Favela 5 associates, the rest of them are just suspected by the Federation based on their connections to Mike and Felps and the extremely suspicious timing with which they left Federation employment.

Pac, being the Oracle of the group, would absolutely know who Fit is long before Fit had even seen his face outside of a Federation suspect file.

Maybe he first engineered running into Fit because he wanted to prove he could be useful for more than just chair-duty. He can do field work too, right? He can collect intel on their enemies too. He's totally stealthy.

Fit clocks him immediately.

It's not every day that someone clearly linked to the elusive underground vigilante group you're supposed to be taking out just walks right up to you in the grocery store and starts making small talk about the price of mangos (Pac looks cuter in person a bit different from the old company ID picture Fit saw in his file, but it's defintiely the same guy). He figures he can use Pac to get to the rest of them, so he plays along with the weird conversation and manages to get Pac's number and a promise to get mango smoothies together sometime.

Neither of them expected to actually be charmed while attempting to extract information out of the other. Their equally pisspoor espionage attempts kind of just turn into increasingly honest flirting.

Fit eventually confesses to suspecting Pac and trying to use him, because he wants to actually date but can't do that in good concious if he doesn't come clean. Besides, they've been dancing around each other for ages and, from what Fit has pieced together, Pac left the Federation when Mike blew off his leg in an unsanction experiment to gain power-- even of they were close before, there's no way Pac is actually helping the guy who did that to him. Right? Right. Totally unfair to level suspicion on him for that.

Pac knows it's going to be A Problem, but like... Fit is a really sweet guy, actually! Not even that evil! Haven't we all done bad things sometimes? They all worked for the Federation once too, they cant really hold that against Fit, right? It's not like Fit's attempts at murdering Mike were anything personal. He'll totally come around when he hears their side of things, and he'll definitely forgive Pac for the teensy bit of deception once he does. And it'll be even easier for Fit to forgive his boyfriend!

So Pac conveniently leaves out that Fit was right to suspect him, and they start officially dating. And Pac starts laying the groundwork for easing Fit (and his team) into the truth.

Pac just knows Mike and Fit will get along great, if they aren't actively trying to rip each other apart. He's been very careful to only think of Fit as 'the hot guy from the grocery store' or 'my boyfriend' when the link with Mike is strong enough for Mike to hear specific thoughts. Originally that was just so Mike didn't catch on to his attempts at spying and try to stop him, but it's come in handy now. He starts thinking about all the parts of Fit he knows Mike would appreciate in connection to the boyfriend thing, when he knows Mike can hear it. And also redirecting Mike from doing things that would put him in direct conflict with Fit while they're both on duty (Poor Foolish suddenly has a very bad lucky, constantly running into Mike instead)

Meanwhile he works on subtly persuading Fit to start questioning the Federation more. Dropping hints that the Federation was really what hurt him the most. Mentioning that he's spoken to Mike since the incident (though not exactly how much), and maybe doesnt blame Mike as much as Fit assumes he does. After all, forgiveness is super important right, Fit? Especially when people hurt you unintentionally? They can still care about you a lot! Love you, even! Right, Fit?

And then, when Pac thinks they can probably see each other without immedietely attacking, he sets up the dinner and crosses his fingers under the table. Fit and Mike are remarkably well-behaved, considering.

superhero mike and merc fit are arch enemies pac is mike’s civilian sidekick and he told mike he’s been seeing this guy for months mike couldn’t give less shit and when pac finally introduced his boyfriend to him over a dinner both mike and fit are both shocked and are fighting every time pac turns around

[dilfhos]

AND I’VE FINALLY REALIZED

#!WHO; KEI TSUKISHIMA x f!reader

#!CC; hate-fuck, light degradation/humiliation, haters to haters-that-fuck, pining, teasing, you’re called a brat

Your feelings for Tsukishima were…complicated. His for you seemed profound. Some could say that the two of you were either very much in love.

Or that you absolutely hated one another.

Anyone who didn’t know you would just assume the both of you had it in for each other with some point you were always trying to prove. But your problem with Tsukishima was his problem with you. The time and place never mattered to him, as soon as he sought you out, it began.

To your friends, it was nothing more than petty banter. If anything, they were all silently wishing the two of you would just date already since you acted like quite the bickering couple in their presence. But it was way deeper than that. The way he got under your skin was like a painful itch that couldn’t be expelled. It caused the knot to tugged at your gut when he tried to press you over some mundane thing, waiting for you to slip up so that he could swoop in like a hawk with his chastisement.

The way he’d fixate on you was a blatant reminder of how he was back in highschool being a blocker when you’d first met him. That white hot leer that would strike a certain caution in his peers, an inexplicit, surefire way of saying, ‘I’m in control now. Not you.’

There had been no doubt in your mind when you’d ran flush into upperclassman Tsukishima in the gym that fateful day. And while you were busy apologizing profusely, Tsukishima had only grunted and brushed past as if you weren’t even worth his attention.

That’s when it began. The desire to prove that you were worth looking at, worth getting emotional over, worth every single glance, glare, and grievance since that day.

You never did let his attitude get to you, in fact once he started, everyone knew you were warming up petty retorts of your own. Never would you give the stringy bastard the satisfaction of thinking he was actually doing something.

“This is why you can never be on my level.” Your narrowed eyes dipped, giving him a dirty look over.

“Careful guys, she’s having a brat moment.”

“Are you dumb? You’re clearly having a dumb one.” You’d scoff.

ᶻᶻᶻ

“Just fuck already, ” You were at the campus tables with the rest of your friends, Tsukishima on the opposite side. Three students separated you two and his roommate, Bokuto, sat across from you. His brows were raised, waiting for you to take the bait.

You only stared, features scrunched in distaste . To shut him up about it completely, you leaned forward and crossed your arms. Your shirt was low enough for him to just barely catch a glimpse at your chest.

“Absolutely not.” You wouldn’t look his way had he been the last man on earth. It was the truth, but only what you were willing to reveal.

What they didn’t know is that you had a secret. That there was more to the way Tsukishima would sometimes look at you as if you were the most incompetent person on earth. Talk to you as though you were hopelessly clueless. The proof was in the juices that would always pool in your panties, pussy aching, longing for him.

That asshole.

You fantasized about him fucking you beneath the secrecy of your sheets. To really fucked you with the animosity he had. From the moment you first laid you eyes on him, you knew that one day he would be yours, no matter what you had to do. As the two of you grew older through the years, you figured you had to keep up appearances which is why your evident distaste for one another increased as well, only choosing to tolerate each other for the sake of your mutual friends.

But after all, you yearned for reality. Hell, a girl can only get but so excited with her own mind’s eye, You thought.

Across the group, Tsukishima’s gaze moved from Sugawara’s to your own, a brief connection giving you the sight of his deadpanned expression. He then leaned into Sugawara’s ears, eyes locked on you. You would have retaliated had not been the sun beating off the bright rogue in his cheeks as his whispered. He seemed bothered.

You rolled your eyes at him and he at you.

Especially about him.

ᶻᶻᶻ

314

Bokuto and Tsukishima’s apartment. His front door.

This was it.

You inhaled and exhaled, a miniscule act of confidence before knocking. After a second you started to tap rhythmically against the wood until the door swung open, a disgruntled Tsukishima before you. He made a noise of aggravation.

“Excuse me,”

You batted your lashes and smiled sweetly before brushing past him, making sure to clip his arm hard with your own. For shit-talking, pinass.

“Is Bokuto here? I need this morning’s lecture notes.”

You quickly stepped out of your shoes before trekking further in, head whipping back and forth in search of him. But you already knew that he wasn’t with Tsukishima, considering you’d passed him on your way to the apartment.

You continued your brief yet frivolous search, feeling every bit as powerful than him. Especially knowing what you knew.

…

“At the dorm.” Bokuto had froze, a smirk slowly appearing on his face. You knew that face and it had taken everything within you not to stay and retaliate. Instead you give him a snall eyeroll before he could start. “Why? Off to provoke him some more? We get it, you're-”

“No, see he…” Um? Your mind went blank, short of a response, a lie. Bokuto shook his head, chuckling softly at your state. Rolling your eyes, you refused him the opportunity to say anything as you brushed past him in the direction of their housing complex.

…

“He’s not here,” You turned to look at him. Striking eyes hardened and narrowed behind his frames, it caught you off guard, the intensity of his gaze. Rigid with arms crossed, there was no doubt you'd shattered any peace he had before your arrival yet, it made it all the better. For a split second, your mind was blank, short of the snippish comeback you were so dying to give him as you tried so hard to ignore Bokuto’s words echoing in your mind.

“So…you’re leaving now right?” He started towards the door. “Your mere presence makes me like, physically ill.” He muttered.

“That’s not how you treat a guest,” You pouted, making a small show of rubbing your forehead with your middle finger.

“You’re not a guest. Get out.”

“You’re so rude!”

“You’re annoying.”

“Careful, wouldn’t want me to mistake that for ban-ter.” You sang, leaning against the couch. He scoffed at your taunt, shoving up his glasses.

“So you are delusional.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, he’s obviously not here.” He said again, emphatically this time. Then a sudden ping interrupted the tension, the source being a cellphone resting on the small table a few feet away. Less than a second was all it took for your gazes to connect before you both dove for it. Being the quickest, you snatched it up and turned your body away from him, shielding the device from his advances.

“Stop it,” He urged, body pressing against yours as he tried to maneuver his phone from you. His hand gripped your waist as he tried to grab it, but as quick as he did he drew back, like your very essence was poison. You didn’t let his weird reaction deter you, in fact, in urged you to push further.

“Who’s texting you?” The taunt turned into a hum when it pinged again.

“I’m not kidding, quit screwing around.”

The phone came to life with a tap of your finger and that’s when you felt his tight grip on your wrist, the sound of sucking his teeth in your ear. With a twist, it fell from your hand and onto the floor with a cry and a resounding thud. Tsukishima didn’t retrieve it. He didn’t let go.

“H-Hey!”

“I told you to stop fucking around,” He shoved you forward trapping you between his body and the couch’s armrest. Ducking his head neck to your ear, he seethed.

“Why do you have to be such a fucking brat Constantly. Huh?”

“That kinda hurts.” Your voice was a whimper and you began to move.

“So what? Seems you need a little pain or something because what the fuck? Why—” He stopped after a sound from you. You still squirmed but no longer to get away from him.

“What’re you getting turned on?” Tsukishima asked, an incredulous snort amidst his words. (It was a pretty shit attempt to hide how stunned even he was.) And while you probably should have felt shame, maybe embarrassment, you didn’t.

What you did feel however was what his mere grip on you did to your body. Like ice melting quickly into a despicable puddle, the very heat being the daggers he burned into you, the vehemency behind his grip, the intensity of his body temperature against yours, the fire of his words.

Your body relaxed save for the arch you created, ass pressed flush against his groin. You peeked behind you with a smirk as if daring Tsukishima to act.

Now very rarely did Tsukishima get stumped on anything. But right now he was completely dumbfounded; you were an enigma, completely slipping through years of his understanding in the single moment.

His brief pause was shattered by a titter. For the first time ever, you had Tsukishima completely stuck. He felt annoyance wash over him and he almost wanted to fling you away. But he did something unexpected of his own.

“Fine.” You were roughly bent over the armrest, chin nearly missing the hard surface. It was your turn to be startled by the sudden turn. But a prt of you had seen this coming. You’d recklessly pulled wires of the bomb that was Tsukishima’s feeling’s, his patience tick tick ticking away until he’d finally snapped. He couldn’t find any one emotion, they were all flowing through him—hatred, bewilderment, arousal…

He was pissed; his grip on your wrist had loosened some but you could tell he was holding back.

“You know,” His fingers hook under your chin, yanking you back until you can feel him pressing against your backside. “Everything about you infuriates me.”

And as he said so, he’s rutting up against you, the unmistakable rigidness of his cock aligning with the seam of your ass. Your hands clutched at his forearm for leverage as he worked his other hand in yanking at your clothes. For the very first time, you felt small and undeniably vulnerable in his presence as he pulled at your tights, his other hand moving to pull your top and bra above your tits.

“Tsukki-”

“Shut up. Fuck, your voice too—just stop talking...” You flinched and did exactly that, your lips snapping into a tight line.

“Is that all you’re good for, talk?”

“Mm-mm…” You shook your head coyly. Gosh, you were so fucking wet. So wet, your panties were sticking to the outline of your pussy.

“No?” Both his hands fell away but you remained arched.

“You don’t move.” Under different circumstances, you’d release the smart-ass remark but you weren’t going anywhere.

You heard shuffling of clothing behind you. He returned and yanking your soiled panties down your thighs. The cool air kissed along your nude body and mixing in with the hole he burned into your back, a ripple of shivers spread all over. Tsukishima’s fingers pressed against your cunt, feelin’ along your wet lips, face growing warm in the noises of your slick coating his fingers.

“Of course you’d be wet,” He scoffed, hiding his own delight.

“Hnn…” His digits plunged into your pussy, pads immediately seeking out the spot that had your legs quivering beneath you.

“A slut too, who would’ve thought you would be the one suckin’ in my fingers like this.” Your nails dug into the armrests, hips involuntarily pushing back against him. In and out, in motions of twists and scissors—his long and dexterous fingers worked at drawing your wanton reactions, cock pulsating from merely the sounds of your helpless panting and whimpers.

His palm settled on your hip, blunt nails digging against your skin. Through the mist building up against his lenses, he looked down at his cock— rigid and throbbing, thick head leaking with pre. Your body was inches away, bent over his couch with your arousal smearing your thighs.

“I bet you’re wanting me to fuck you dumb right now huh?” He muttered with a frown. He pulled back his fingers, smearing your slick on your ass cheek. There you were, cunt drooling, peeking back at him with dilated pupils and moistened lips, nothing coming from them but a whimper. His hips surged forward, dick catching on your cunt.

“So fucking irritating…” You don’t expect the groan nor the sudden intrusion thereafter, your eyes nearly crossing at the sheer size.

“You were after this all along, huh?” His thrusts were punctuated by his words and it made your eyes water. Whatever wapish response that settled in your head quickly dissipated when he rolled his hips at an angle. You let out a cry, everything short of the reply he was looking for.

“Mmmhmm, can’t even answer me.” What came out was a gargled moan which was drowned immediately by his hand making contact with the skin of your ass. He bunched your shirt at your back for purchase as he continued to rail into you, biting back a groan at the way your pussy sucked him in.

“…ood”

“What? What did you say?” His hand raked through his locks hair, entranced at the sight of your tight muscles engulfing his dick.

“Feels good Tsukki-“ The words were out before you could stop them, and if you weren’t so cock-drunk, they would’ve almost surprised you. So breathless and heated, not at all your usual voice of arrogance. And for some reason, it pissed him off more. He sped up, cock fucking into so viciously, heavy balls slapping against your clit with every stroke, actions driven purely by hostility.

He hated you, hated the way your plush walls cushioned around his dick, the way your stupid fucking moans fill his ears. He couldn’t stand how you simply keened against him with every cant of his hips or the way you were babbling his name as if you hadn’t been the bane of his existence for the last few years.

His hand pressed down against your nape, driving your head into the cushion and you on your tip toes. It should’ve startled you, at least a little but with the overwhelming pleasure of how his cock fucked so deliciously into you, his words you simply didn’t care.

His words continued to rattle out cruel and uncensored, no doubt all of the things he’s for so long wanted to say out loud to your face. Each degrading word only added onto the pressure building in your gut, a coil within winding up in cadence with his voice.

So what you were a mindless cock-slut. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather be with acting like one. You weren’t dumb. Maybe Tsukki was the clueless one or maybe he knew, that was only a matter of when he’d see right through you.

“Shit…” He hisses, transfixed at the cream coating his dick.

“Can’t help it. You’re a good fuck,” You purred.

“Yeah?” He took a hold of your arm, regaining the upper hand before pinning it against your lower back for leverage, his stance widening.

“Gotta give credit where it’s due, your dumb cunt isn’t half bad either.”

His pace increased, lean pelvis slamming against your ass, his thick tip hitting snugly against your cervix,. It invoked a cry as you held on, nails digging crescents as he continued in the very same fashion, grunting with every snap of his hips.

They fill the living room alongside vile mutterings and your whining and Tsukishima still wanted to hate it.

He wanted to hate you—stupid, bratty, irritatingly sexy you. And yet his balls tightened against his taint, so full and promising of the load he was about to unleash.

Through his one track mind, beneath the sex-stupor, he pushed back the thought that maybe this time—just the only time— you’d won. That he’d scold himself for as long as it took but in a sense he was just glad he was free.

Finally free to admit the real reason why his cheeks would always adorn vermilion whenever you come around, but never from anger. Never from spite. That all along, from high school, the reason he couldn’t shake you was because he didn’t want to.

“Cum.” It’s what he needs, to feel you unraveling around him it’s what has him desperate to feel you come undone. (It’s what he needs to be honest with himself.) Luckily his directive is all it takes.

“Kei-” It hits you like a punch to the gut. It has white blooming in your vision, your voice seemingly far away. It has every nerve in your body lacing with electricity as you stutter to a halt, your cry echoing throughout the space. He’s sweaty and light headed as he feels your pussy clenching around him.

“Fuck me,” He sucked in a breath, pulling out just in time for for his cum to spurt against your ass. Paired with the vision of the way you shiver and buckle had euphoria rushing straight through his veins.

Before he could fully collect himself and allow reason to surface, he pulled you around to face him.

“Wha-”

His lips. Flush against yours, tongue licking at your bottom lip. Ignoring the comfortable angle of his glasses pushing into your forehead, you pulled him in, arms lacing around his neck. Static filled your head as butterflies ravaged your insides. He consumed you with all the emotions he felt now and throughout the past years. The armrest dug into your back as he pulled you closer, nearly toppling the two of you over the couch.

After all the humiliation, the late nights with slick fingers down your throat and cunt, the fantasies, the lies—

Finally, was he yours.

ᶻᶻᶻ

Bokuto later returned to the apartment, a bag of takeout in his hands. He slowed down, brow raised at the lack of his roommate's presence, expecting him to be laid up on the sofa with a textbook on his lap.

He didn’t make it any further because he nearly tripped over scattered clothing—sweatpants, a shirt and a pair of panties, the sight causing blood to rush to his cheeks. Gripping his meal, he made his way to the kitchen table, mind swimming around with pieces of a puzzle beginning to fit together.

He recognized that shirt. He couldn’t stop staring at it—or rather your chest when you passed him earlier in your cunning search. And Bokuto lowkey wished the walls weren’t so thin because a loud moan suddenly ripped through the apartment mid-bite.

And if he hadn’t already seen it coming, he would have been in complete shock as he silently continued to eat his meal.

DILFOS© DO NOT PLAGIARIZE OR REUPLOAD MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

[lircha]

CHARACTER SHEET

                                   Leifian Graye Vernworth 

15 y/o, 5’1” (155 cm)

He is actually very soft and tender. He’s shy and unsociable, and he tries to copy his father’s attitude when communicating with other witches. He’s a very nice and talented boy, but his potential was buried due to Adrian’s high demands, and he became deeply insecure. Leif is horribly touch-starved since his father barely shows him any affection, but he’s also not used to hugs and feels really uncomfortable if anyone hugs him.

Speaking of his mother, even Adrian doesn’t know who she is. I imagine him being quite slutty in his youth. Anyways, baby Leifian was found alone in a basket on Adrian’s doorstep, and this day is considered his birthday.

The kid was absolutely fascinated with bard magic thanks to the previous head of the Bard Coven (the one before Rain). I think Leif could spend a lot of time with him and, to his father’s mild concern, study bard magic. Adrian, obviously, wanted his son to join the Illusion Coven, but he eventually chose the Bard Coven. When Leif was 12-13 y/o (yes, that young. Also at that time Adrian and Darius were dating) he had a conflict with Adrian that led to Leif being forcefully branded with an Illusion sigil by his father. I don’t think this is a stretch, given what we saw from Adrian in the show. Leif loves his father way too much to hate him for that, since he’s the only real close person to the boy.

Almost no one (actually no one) knows Leif actually has freckles. Adrian considered them a flaw and made Leif hide them with illusions. The same tale with the tail – he shamefully hides it under his cloak, that he wears most of the time. His cloak gives him comfort; he hides in it and grabs it tight when he’s embarrassed/nervous/scared.

Leif’s relationship with Darius is… complicated? They were getting along quite well while Darius and Adrian were dating. Well, maybe he might have been a bit jealous since Adrian payed more attention to his lover than to his own son. But after their breakup Adrian would constantly tell Leif what a bastard Darius is, and slowly they grew apart. Now Leif, who used to wave his hand at Darius in the hallway, is more likely to turn around and flee from him. Besides, Adrian made sure that “Leifian will not come in contact with the undesirables” by daily giving him quite a lot of tasks to complete, so the boy is constantly tired. I will probably touch on Darius and Adrian relationship more later…

Leif is also very curious… and has his secrets. He even has stashes in his room, hidden from his father, for example the one with sheet music and a flute. There is also a secret collection of stones and gems, that Adrian would consider useless junk if it was found.

The happiest memory in Leif’s life is the day when he and his father took a photo together. That day Leif felt rare care and warmth from Adrian, and his father even gifted him his own earring.

Trivia!

1. Leif is associated with the smell of peppermint

2. He loves mint and berry tea

3. Adrian has a special punishment for Leif. He casts an illusion of absolute darkness and silence, and Leif sees and hears nothing except his father’s voice, telling him how exactly he messed up and what is wrong with the boy himself

4. In copying his father’s behavior Leif lost understanding of his own self. More often than not he scolds his own reflection if he messes up, saying things like “don’t you ever dare fail like that again, stop embarrassing yourself”

5. During the moments of high stress Leif’s blocked bard magic may manifest in quite painful ways

6. Leif carries a mirror similar to Adrian’s

7. His palisman is a fennec fox

8. He is an incredible cook!ar

THAT’S IT FOR NOW, if you have questions I’ll be glad to answer them… (as @sadistic--healer asked requested)

[dysfunctionalcereal]

Vlad x Ena (2)

i meant to post this yesterday but,, i forgot rip djfhjs also?? sometimes i feel as though my representation of vlad is kinda,, iffy?? i guess???? i can never tell if it's too ooc or not but wtv i had fun making this, enjoy lol

How it Happens: Okay, so this one’s a bit complicated. Originally, Ena was only polite to Vlad because of Charles, however, after she found out the two of them were vampires she was instantly infatuated. It wasn't quite love, it was simply her curiosity needing to understand a pureblooded vampire. Meanwhile, from the first time they met, Vlad was incredibly intrigued by Ena. He could tell she had a lot of inner turmoil and secrets, some of which might be just as dark as his. Vlad’s the one who incited things, which was easily reciprocated. Ena was the one who confessed though, it was very straightforward and the honesty just made him like her more.

Handling Conflict: He doesn't try to start arguments but Vlad’s morals being what they are causes the occasional falling out. In these instances, Ena’s usually the first to apologize; Vlad practically worships the ground she walks on but he's still a stubborn man. That's not to say he won't apologize first, but it's typically Ena as she despises the conflict. Despite this, Ena takes time to forgive in most instances since she just can't see eye-to-eye with her lover.

Relationship Attitude: These two are both extremely dedicated to each other and everyone knows it. Ena doesn't mind PDA but Vlad doesn't really like to do too much in public, he prefers to save all his energy and affection to spoil Ena when they're alone. This isn't to say he doesn't like her greeting/parting hugs and kisses though because he's a real sucker for them.

Showing Affection: Both believe that actions speak louder than words, however, they're very charismatic and a compliment or words of affirmation are always welcome. Vlad’s usually the initiator, being the more dominant one, but they both give and receive mostly equal parts.

Dealing with Jealousy: Vlad deals with jealousy in ways that would upset Ena if she found out, so it's a good thing she hasn't! Which is shocking, seeing how easily jealous he gets when it comes to... Well, anything or anyone, but, at the end of the day, he fully trusts her. On the other hand, Ena doesn't get jealous often; when Ena gets jealous, she just wants Vlad’s undivided attention and affection.

Attachment: Vlad is very overprotective of Ena, he doesn't want to suffocate her but he wants the whole world to know that she is his and he is hers. He's fairly independent, he has his moments of anxiety but, more often than not, he's jealous. Now, Ena’s definitely different here. While she's fairly relaxed, she's constantly riddled with anxiety. She values him far more than she values herself – which he quite obviously hates, they're working on it – and just can't bear losing him.

[maryholmes94]

Well, I'm always ready to talk about 'Sherlock', no matter one month later or one year later, so thank you for sharing your opinion ;)

With your permission, I go in a different order, from the easiest point to the most complicated.

I agree about Mary - in this scene she wasn't an 'ex assassin', she was a pregnant woman who endured many months of her husband's hostile attitude, so she wasn't a threat to anyone at that point.

Magnussen - the thing is that Moffat had a fan theory about the original ACD story where Holmes and Watson arrive at Milverton's house to get the letters of Holmes' client, and another woman, also Milverton's victim, kills the latter. And for some reason Moffat believes that it was a trick, and ACD really meant that it were Holmes and Watson who killed Milverton. So he subjected the whole plot of 'His Last Vow' to this fan theory, and his final aim was to make Sherlock kill Magnussen. But Sherlock was never a cold-blooded murderer, so the only reason he would do it was that Magnussen would be in possession of this knowledge about Mary. So Moffat turned Magnussen into this psycho who is stupid, in my opinion, because he learns by heart a whole bunch of facts which he can easily obtain any time he wants (like about Mrs H being a stripper in her past, or about that MP's disabled daughter). And the worst thing is the contradiction arising from the fact that he is a newspapers' owner: he himself says that he doesn't need to prove anything - he just needs to print it - and yet he learns by heart like tonnes of information. So in my opinion it is the worst interpretation of the original ACD story ever, and therefore I would give HLV only 2 of 10 - it was very disappointing, especially after 'The Empty Hearse' and 'The Sign of Three'.

And finally Mycroft - well, to be honest, I believe that Moffat just doesn't like this character (judging by his interviews and what we later saw in 'The Lying Detective'). So yes, in this episode Mycroft was partly a victim of his own self-confidence, but partly - of a very naive and grotesque understanding of the government's work which is strange to see from two adult men. Such a thing like 'a laptop with all the secret information from the world' can't exist. No. I just don't believe it. The British are many things, but they are not stupid (I am not British, but I can't buy it, it's just way too naive). And also - this laptop appears only in this episode. Not before, not after. So again, it is one more tool to achieve 'the great aim' of this episode, and is in itself utterly pointless.

The worst thing wasn't how Mycroft got drugged and had his laptop taken out of his hands by his own brother. Think about how it seems like he left it unattended on the kitchen table while he was out having a smoke while there was a shady addict and an ex assassin in the house.