#are possible and who doesn't get to meet who.

[mojavebluez]

Bleed - the salesman x fem!reader

"What can I say?" His mouth curls into a soulless smile. "I like watching girls bleed."

summary - days after your first encounter, the two of you meet again, exactly as promised. This time, he’s eager for you to get to know him better. You play a game of two truths and a lie - with a twist: for every lie you miss, he gets to make you bleed.

tags - knifeplay, age gap, praise kink, degradation kink, blood as lube, bdsm, non-con, sadomasochism, sub!reader, dom!salesman, creampie, unprotected sex

a/n - thanks for the love on part 1! This is one of my first times writing nsfw stuff so I’m so grateful for the positive feedback :))

part 2 to ‘Russian roulette - the salesman x fem!reader’

4.3k words

———————————————————————

The days leading up to Friday were painfully slow. Your mind was plagued by thoughts of him, mostly denial about the entire situation. You were conflicted. The memory of him, so tall and utterly imposing - it sometimes made your heart skip, sometimes made it sink. You got the feeling you were only seeing a small part of him, a sample of his entire character. It filled you with dread. And excitement.

Friday came and there was no sign of him. You spent your whole day twiddling your thumbs and glancing out windows, searching for any sign of him. Occasionally, you would see a man in a suit walking past, and frantically stand up to see if it was him. But it was never him. You had memorised the curve of his back after nights of reminiscing, the exact slope of his jaw. It was ironic, really: with this information you could easily go to the police and explain the situation. You never did, though, and he must have known you wouldn't. That card - incredibly incriminating evidence, really - was just another symbol of the power he held over you.

On the way home, the reality of the situation becomes very real indeed. If you ran away, would he know where to find you? If you stayed at a friend's place for the night, or even in a hotel, would he seek you out? No. You aren't the sort of person to back out of something. Not now you're so close to finding out who this man really is.

You knock on the door of your apartment, expecting one of your parents to let you in. Usually, it stays locked during the day. But when you bring your hand to the door, it opens at your touch. You glance around. Then, step inside. The entire apartment is dark, every shutter closed and every light off. You don't turn them on, too afraid of what you might find if you do. Carefully, you search the place, trying to make your footsteps as silent as possible. But there's no sign of your parents.

Finally, you open your mouth to call their names. From behind, a hand claps over your face, muffling your voice. Your eyes widen in realisation, and you grab at the hand, attempting to pull it off. You recognise the smell of him. Something musky and expensive, though slightly metallic. The smell brings you to your senses, and your adrenaline kicks in. You scream against his hand, scratching at his fingers and kicking out your legs in an attempt to break free from his hold. He doesn't waver, just pulls another arm around you, holding you even firmer in place than before.

Eventually, you grow tired, and decide to do something you don't really want to. You bite his hand as hard as you can. He makes a pained noise and rips his hand away, staggering backwards. You jump forward, away from his hold, then turn to face him. He holds the wrist of his injured hand, studying it with a frustrated expression. When he looks up at you, eyes burning, fear sinks in.

You step backwards, anticipating his response. "I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Now, now," he shakes his head, a false smile on his face, "what did you do that for, sweetheart?"

You blink frantically, assessing your options. The only way out is the door, and in order to escape you would have to pass him, but he could grab you with ease. After a moment, he decides for you. He moves towards you, gripping your upper arm and wrenching your body toward him. His fingers easily curl around your entire arm. Your head rushes with regret. An assault like that can't go unpunished with him. You know it.

He pulls you through your own apartment and into the dining room, an action which indicates he already knows his way around. He pulls out a chair at the head of the table and pushes you into it. He wastes no time. Already set on the table are coils of binding; he grabs them and instantly starts tying your ankles. He then pulls your arms behind you with painful force, binding your wrists.

"I was really hoping we wouldn't have to do this," he says bitterly whilst tying the ropes.

"How did you get in here?" You ask him, tears thick in your throat. "Where are my parents?"

"Questions I can answer later. Be patient," he stands back once he finishes, and dusts off his hands like an artist that has just finished a project.

"Please-" you begin to say, but he cuts you off with a palm raised in the air. A ring of purple, angry teeth marks are imbedded in his skin.

"You talk far too much. Do I have to keep you quiet?" He lowers his hand carefully.

You press your lips together and shake your head frantically. That would only make the situation worse. He smiles approvingly, then lowers himself to his haunches, studying you from head to toe in a clinical manner. You feel scrutinised under his cold gaze.

"Need I remind you," he stands up, "you called me. I come here out of my own kindness, and this is how I am repaid?" He raises his hand again, showing the teeth marks. Then, he tuts and shakes his head as though he is greatly disappointed.

"I said I'm sorry," you watch him carefully, fighting back tears. His level voice seems more terrifying to you than any sort of outright aggression. When he is in control, he knows just how to make you scream.

He leans back against the wall and folds his arms. "I had something else planned for this little rendezvous, but I'm not sure it will suffice after that outburst. Something else, I think."

You watch him ponder. Everything about him is still a mystery to you. Why did he choose you? There are so many other girls. You scan him from head to toe, almost sizing him up. He wears a different suit this time: dark navy and paired with a black tie. His shoes are perfectly polished, and his hair is slicked back into its usual style. Memories of him rush past, flushed and sweating after practically violating you. That was someone else. You wonder if you will meet that man again tonight.

He seems to decide on something. "Well, I know so much about you, but you know nothing about me. It seems unfair, don't you think?"

"Everything about this seems unfair," you say bitterly, pulling at your ropes for effect.

"You're right, of course. But that's just the dynamic you'll have to get used to, sweetheart," his lips curl as he says the word. Nothing about him is sweet.

You eye him as he moves toward you and pulls out a chair. He sets it opposite you, closer than he was sitting last time. You instinctively shrink backwards as he lowers himself into the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees so he can be level with your eyes. "I have a proposition."

"What is it?" You say quietly, searching his eyes. Nothing.

"A game," his eye sparkles.

"Another one?" You whisper, breaking eye contact.

"Don't worry," he leans backwards, smirking, "no guns involved this time."

"How lucky for me," you say through gritted teeth.

"You're a very lucky girl," he smiles. "Something else - you probably played it in school."

You struggled to think of a school game that involved being tied down to a chair. "Peekaboo?"

"Funny," he doesn't laugh, "no, not that." He holds up two hands. On one hand, he raises his index finger, and on the other, he raises two more fingers. "Any guesses?"

You watch the gesture, thinking. Then it comes to you. "Two truths and a lie?"

His mouth breaks into a wide smile. "Good girl."

"But that's not fair," you say, voice raised, "I don't know anything about you! How am I supposed to win?"

"I'll make it easy for you," he clasps his hands together like a games-master on a TV show. "Round one, are you ready?"

You nod.

"Your parents are dead. Your parents are alive. Or your parents are in this apartment, right now."

Your eyes fly open. The mention of them was completely unexpected. You feel your heart rate pick up as you think of an answer. You so desperately want them to be alive - but would he even say it if they were? You decide to go for the most simple option: after all, you searched the whole place and saw no sign of them.

"You're lying. They aren't in this apartment." You say stoically, meeting his eyes.

He smirks. "Correct. So, dead or alive?"

"That's not how you play. I already found the lie-"

He darts out a hand and grips your thigh, making you cry out. "In case you haven't noticed," he squeezes your leg, "I don't play by the rules. Answer me."

Tears make your vision blurry. "They're alive," you choke, nearly sobbing, "that's the lie."

He pauses for a moment, not letting go of your thigh. "Incorrect."

"So they are alive? Oh-"

"You were wrong. You know what that means?" He dips a hand into his blazer pocket, pulling something out. You squint into the darkness, then freeze when you realise what it is.

"Oh god, no-" your whole body begins to tremble.

"Shh," he brings the blade towards your inner thigh, the metal reflecting your smooth skin, "if you try to win, this won't have to happen."

"I didn't know! You tricked me!" You whimper as he pushes back the material of your skirt and brings the blade to your thigh. There was no way for you to win that round, and he knows it. Once again, he uses you as a tool to show his own deception. He can’t be trusted.

"I'm shocked at how cruel you think I am," he says with fake surprise.

He presses the blade to your skin and you scream a bloodcurdling noise. Red-hot pain seeps from your thigh as he draws a deep line in your skin. You thrash around in the chair, but it only makes the pain worse. He makes a tutting noise, the noise an adult might make when a child falls and grazes their knee. When he raises the blade again, you look down to see a dripping line, like a crimson tally mark. One.

Your chest heaves as you try to console the pain. He pulls a cloth from his breast pocket and wipes the knife with one swipe. You meet his eyes and find that familiar mist clouding them again. He's finally hurt you now, and the cracks are beginning to show.

"Now you know the punishment for failure," he sets the blade on the table, raising his chin with a superior expression.

"I'm sorry- it hurts-" the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. You are only aware of the pain flooding your thigh. How deep did he go?

"I've barely touched you," he tilts his head, moving your thigh to assess the injury. "You're so fragile."

You just stare at him, chewing your lip in an attempt to distract from the pain.

He smirks. "Round two, are you ready?"

You hold eye contact, hoping he can see the utter hatred in your eyes. Like it would make any difference. He takes your silence as a sign to continue, and leans back, thinking. "I work as a messenger. I work in an office. Or I am a mass murderer. Which is the lie?" He says it with an amused smirk on his face, as though he already knows what you are going to pick.

You console yourself and try to think of an answer. Judging by his smug expression, he said must have said the last one as a joke - though, you wouldn't put it past him. "The last one. It's a lie."

His smile falls. His expression turns dark. "Wrong. Again."

Realisation falls on you like a ton of bricks. Slowly, as if it pains him to do so, he grabs the knife off the table. You scream again, tears falling too fast for you to stop them. You pull at the ropes, arching your entire body to escape his grasp, managing to shuffle the chair a few inches. It doesn't help. He grabs the bottom of the chair and wrenches you forwards with one hand, close enough that his knee is planted firmly between your legs.

"The more you scream, the deeper I go." He says, lip curling and his voice husky. You watch helplessly as he brings the blade back down, holding your legs back with his knee. The knife, now stained with the product of your failure, meets your skin. The pain is easier to handle this time, though still just as awful as before. Another thick, seeping line beside the last. Two marks. Two losses.

You hang your head, body heaving with sobs. He makes that same pitying noise, using one finger to lift your chin. You watch him through your eyelashes as he brings the blade to his mouth, running his tongue along the flat edge. Your blood stains his mouth and drips from his tongue. He makes a small, pleased noise, then sets the blade back down, now clean.

Unmistakable arousal clouds his eyes. You're really giving him a show this time. He leans back in his chair, adjusting his trousers. "You're on a bit of a losing streak, aren't you?" His voice is breathy as he rakes his eyes from your wounds to your face, savouring every inch.

"What is it, huh?" You speak up, voice broken. "What's your angle? Why are you doing this?" Desperation seeps into your words and you search his face for any sign of remorse.

"What can I say?" His mouth curls into a soulless smile. "I like watching girls bleed."

Your mouth falls open. Hopelessness overwhelms you. There it is. The confession. If he doesn't kill you tonight, he will leave you a bloody mess on this chair, alone and stained and scarred.

The game resumes for several rounds more. Each loss is marked with another line, and you feel yourself growing more distant with every tally mark. His dick pushes harder against his trousers every time he makes you bleed or scream, reminding you of your last meeting. He held out that time, however, and seemed satisfied just by making you cum. But not this time. You knew something was different.

By your fifth loss, he strikes a final line across your thigh, and you feel yourself getting faint. Blood pools on the seat of your chair, dripping from your leg so thickly you can barely distinguish the individual lines. His breath picks up, mouth open wide as you scream once more, leg trembling.

"Fuck it," he grunts. Suddenly, he rips off his blazer and throws it onto the table. It slides away to the other end, and you watch him, terrified at every movement he makes and his plan for you.

It's not what you expect. He bends down, ripping away the binding at your ankles so roughly that it hurts. Then, he moves behind you and tears off the rope at your wrists, too. You freeze for a moment, registering your freedom. You attempt to move, but wince when the pain in your leg overwhelms you. Instead, you rub your wrists, marvelling at the ring of purple bruises on each arm.

He moves back toward his chair, breath fast and heavy, then grabs your waist. He lifts you with ease. You cry out as he hooks two hands beneath your knees and pulls your legs around his torso. Scared that you might fall, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on. He falls back into his chair and you realise the purpose of his hold on you. Your legs straddle his hips, and blood flows from your thigh to stain the fabric of his trousers.

"Fuck," he swear again, looking down at the mess. He releases his hold on you to unbutton his trousers, ripping down his zip quicker than you can see. You whimper, knowing what is to come. The pressure of your leg on his makes the pain worse and the room begins to spin.

You watch helplessly, loosening your grasp on him. His cock springs from his trousers, already hard and dripping with precum. Veins span from the base to his swollen tip. "Look what you've done," he tuts, watching the blood from your leg stain his hands. "Look at the mess you've made."

You sob quietly and watch as he runs a hand down his cock, painting it with your blood. You make a strangled noise when he swipes a finger over the deep slashes on your thigh. He sucks in his breath sharply. "I need to fuck you." He mumbles it so quietly you almost don't hear.

Your head falls back as he lifts you up, lining up his cock with your entrance. He moves your panties aside with one finger, already wet with your own arousal. More and more blood drips onto him and he grunts, gasping slightly as he eases himself inside you. You cry out at the size of him. He's bigger than the gun. Much bigger. He's barely inside you, but the blood on his cock makes it easier for him to slip inside.

"You're so tight," he grunts, gripping your waist with one hand and your thigh with the other. He's barely halfway inside you before he pulls out and rams himself back into you, using the hand on your waist to lift you up. You have no choice but to take him. Your walls tighten around him, and you squeeze your legs together, trying your hardest to fight the discomfort.

Tears fall from your eyes. Your senses are heightened in your last moments of clarity - you feel like you might faint. Somehow, the blood keeps pouring, turning his suit trousers black.

"Don't you dare fucking pass out," he says, gritting his teeth. He squeezes your thigh and you cry out, the pain too much to bear. Your body feels weak.

Still, he fucks you harder, slamming his cock inside you with every thrust. Somehow he goes deeper until you're sure he must be hitting some vital organ. You've never been fucked like this before. You almost forget the pain he just caused you as you buck your hips against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

"Such a whore. You want it, huh?" He squeezes your ass, lifting you so that you bounce on his lap. Pleasure builds in you, a jarring contrast to the utter agony you felt almost moments ago.

His head falls back hangs off the chair as he thrusts in and out of you. You lift a hand to his face, desperate for something to hold onto, not noticing your fingers are still marked with your own blood. He sees and grips your wrist, sticking a finger into his mouth. He sucks them clean.

"You taste even better than you look," he smirks. He can't hold the expression for long. His eyes roll back slightly when you move your hips over him, making wide circles. You press a hand to his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he lets you keep your grip there, too distracted by the hypnotic movements of your hips. You notice that blood drips from the corner of his mouth, instinctively, you lean in and swipe it off with your tongue. He chuckles darkly.

"You're forgetting yourself," he says, slowing his pace. You make a desperate whimper, raising your hips again to continue the rhythm.

"I'm going to need more motivation than that," he mumbles, bringing his mouth to your collarbone. You slow down, unsure of his intentions.

Still inside you, he parts his lips and sucks at the skin of your neck. He applies intense pressure, sending shocks through your body and you cry out, dropping your head over his shoulder.

"That's it," he says, laughing breathily into your ear.

He doesn't stop despite the fact you wince away from him. He plants firm, harsh marks along your neck, leaving a dark line of bruises to your collarbone. Every time you make a noise, he presses harder, until you're biting your lip just to suppress your whimpers. Then, once he's satisfied, he plants two hands on each thigh, ramming his cock back into you. He grunts loudly with every thrust.

He's rougher this time. The flow of blood slows, but still makes his cock glisten red as he pumps in and out of you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, along with his grunts and your faint whimpers. His increase in pace makes the warmth in your stomach more intense, and you feel yourself on the brink of release. You arch your back, gripping onto his shoulder to keep yourself steady.

He notices you nearing your orgasm and uses his last burst of energy to make you ride him even harder. His hips buck up and down until his cock fills you entirely. You grip onto his tie, finally reaching your climax. You nearly scream as you cum with him still inside you, intense warmth and euphoria rushing through your entire body. He does the same, gasping for breath as he cums inside you, still bouncing your ass on his lap whilst you ride it out.

Your entire body goes limp. You collapse over him, taking in lungfuls of air. The euphoria is quickly replaced by exhaustion and pain. Your entire leg feels sore despite the blood no longer flowing as freely as it did before. He slows to a stop, then pulls his cock out of you. It's still stained red and dripping with his cum, and he grunts at the sight of your cunt, glistening with your own blood and his cum. He has complete control of you now.

"You're fucking crazy," he says, panting. He swipes two fingers over the wounds on your thigh, making you wince as he wipes the last of the blood away. He leans back for a moment as he comes down from his high, pressing a hand to his forehead. Strands of black hair fall over his eyes, damp with sweat.

"Let's take care of these cuts, shall we?" He says, too gently for it to be genuine. He lifts you up, straddling each leg on his waist. He lowers you onto the table, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

He makes a gesture that suggests he will be right back, and leaves the room in the direction of your bathroom. His clear knowledge of the layout of your home is concerning, but you can't find the energy to care. You close your eyes, letting your head hang, trying to suppress the dull thudding pain in your leg.

He returns after a few minutes, holding a medical kit and looking a lot more composed. The lusting look in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by emptiness, and his tie - which you managed to almost pull off earlier - is centred again. Blood still spatters his shirt, and his hair glistens as though he has dampened it and swept it back. You almost feel flattered that he tries to look so presentable for you.

He moves before you, lowering onto one knee. He kneels between your legs and parts your legs gently. Too gently. You wonder for a moment if you're dreaming. If you passed out back there and this was just some fantasy you invented to console yourself. But no. He opens the box and lifts out some alcohol wipes. Absently, you lay a hand on his head, stirring the dark waves. He doesn't look up. Just brings a wipe to your wounds, wiping away the blood. It stings so badly that you grip his hair as tightly as you can. You feel the urge to cry again.

Before you even register it, he places a large plaster over the wounds and pats the site gently, as if congratulating you. He stands up and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You don't even meet his eyes. Your vision is cloudy. Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you, and you're dangerously close to passing out altogether.

You have a faint memory of him lifting you and carrying you to your bedroom. You recall grabbing his arm after he lowered you onto your bed. Then asking, "when will I see you again?"

You couldn't make out his face. His voice was low and gentle. "Call me."

Then he left.

—

You woke up to the sound of the front door opening. Jolting out of bed, you rush to the hallway, hoping against hope. It's your parents. They greet you, smiling, and ask how your day was. You can barely find the words to respond. Your entire body aches, and you nurse the wounds at your neck and wrists to find they're covered by a hoodie you don't remember wearing.

They apologise for leaving and ask if you got their message. You say no. Then you leave in the direction of the dining room to confirm some faint suspicion. The room is completely normal. No blood. No ropes. No knife. Not even a chair is out of place. You press a hand to your forehead.

Later that night, you stare at the plaster on your thigh, the only evidence that the entire situation happened. You peel it back and your head rushes with adrenaline. Five slashes. Still there. You collapse back onto your bed, ignoring the pain that is almost a comfort by now - at least it proves the whole thing was, in fact, real.

Your phone rings. Every normal, human part of you fights back the urge to pick up. But, of course, you do.

The human part of you is long gone by now.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"seems so unfair ,i want to cry,, 2.7k words synopsis: after you learn the truth about the explosion at your childhood home ,you seek out a certain crow with something important to say contains: angst -> fluffy ending! lnds sylus x mc!reader (fem-coded reader) ,established relationship ,based after caleb's return ,written before caleb is added to the game (so mind any inaccuracies when he is..) & mc talks w him ,brief mention of zayne ,mc has a breakdown ,v soft!sylus ,sylus comforts you ,he bathes you (all fluffy) ,carries you ,slight evol use but its to lift u up for 2s ,references to the main story (namely the explosion + when u meet sylus) ,slight reference to sylus lore but no spoils ,apologies ,lots of kisses ,cuddles ,i think thats it?? note: (proofread, not edited!) this is braindump based off of a tweet i saw today let me live :x

-

this was bad.

this was terrible.

no, this was beyond that.

this was awful.

your mind was spinning ever since caleb's return- the man from your childhood who you'd been sure you'd watched die before your eyes- his interrogation, and learning everything that you could in the long time you'd spent together in that room.

your mind was swimming with information overload: of the EVER group, the fact that caleb was alive, the emergence of colonel caleb no less...

but most of all, you think back to the explosion.

and the man you initially thought who had caused it.

your heart was heavy in your chest, overwhelmed with guilt that felt like it was physically weighing you down, prompting you to lay a hand over your beating heart and take in slow, deep breaths.

in spite of everything- of the information you'd learned from caleb swirling, questioning everything you knew and giving you a headache- your mind was clear enough to do one thing:

you had to see him.

you couldn't stop thinking about him, speeding on your motorcycle through the N109 zone back to the familiar base, thinking back to when you'd first met: your immediate resentment towards him, your sudden distrust, your desire to get any and all answers from him at any cost-

and namely, how you had accused him of the explosion from that day.

you vaguely remember at the researcher's shop the look of hurt that flashed in his eyes when the man had suggested you were afraid or disgusted by him on a subconscious level.

back then, you didn't know what to believe, and even long after he'd said it, the words of his lingered in your head.

"you really are a naive linkon citizen."

you think back to his warning of being wary of the ones closest to you after today's meeting, and even back when zayne had given you the enclosed research papers of your grandma's after she had passed.

there really was too much that you didn't know and too much information to properly process in your mind right now, but you pushed that aside for the moment thinking back to the leader of onychinus.

the boss that you had, somehow, grown much closer to and much more fond of than you could've ever thought possible.

your engine revs as you speed up, sun dipping just below the horizon as your determination leads you to the place you've subconsciously recognized as a second home, a singular thought circulating your head.

i have to see him.

-

when you finally arrive, you practically leap off of your bike, barely putting it in park and snatching the keys from the ignition before racing through the doors with the memorized numbers of the familiar keypads, heart racing in anticipation, head whirling from the ride-

but you couldn't stop now, not before seeing him.

as you race through the empty halls, peeking into every open door in case he may be lingering in one while you head straight towards his room, you run into something firm.

"ah!"

while the collision makes you stumble, the firm object- or rather, person- doesn't even flinch, hands automatically steadying your body as he looks down at you, a mix of mirth and slight surprise in his expression.

"oh? is a little kitten in a rush today?"

you gaze up at the man who'd occupied your every thought, panting breaths escaping you before you get lost in his eyes, mind emptying itself at the sight of him: of the man you've grown close to, the one you've sworn yourself to protect and watched him do the same for you.

you're overcome with a sense of warmth and longing, though the one you yearn for is right before you.

he's staring right back into your eyes, noticing their distraught appearance, taking in your slightly disheveled hair, the way you're catching your breath, and most worrying:

the way he sees your eyes begin to water.

"hey..."

his voice is that deep, gentle tremble he reserves just for you, dropping the teasing completely, noticing that something is really very wrong here.

"what happened? tell me."

he's begun softly massaging your shoulders, but only does so for a mere few seconds before you're clutching onto the fabric of his shirt tight.

your hands are scrunching the fabric so hard its causing wrinkles, but he couldn't care less when the tears break free and your face falls into his chest, your body shaking.

even if you wanted to tell him everything, you can't handle it right now, the information not even close to being processed by your own jumbled brain, and you're so overwhelmed that you can't help but to break down in front of the one you've come to trust the most.

the tears won't stop flowing, quickly staining his shirt as he holds you, and when he hears the first sob break from your lips, he swears his heart completely shatters at the sound.

sylus begins rubbing your back, reserving the questions for now, seeing that you're in no state to talk

even if his own mind was racing and heart pounding at the thought of someone or something hurting or threatening you- his initial response, seeing as it's rare to see you break down to such a degree in front of him.

after a couple of minutes of sobs wracking your quivering body, sylus feels you being speaking, a repeated mantra escaping in broken gasps from you, and his concern increases tenfold.

"i'm sorry... i'm sorry.... im so sorry... sylus, i'm-!"

you're mumbling apologies into his shirt between your loud hiccups and pathetic sobs, over and over and over again, unable to get any other words out than the ones you mean the most from the deepest depths of your stricken heart.

and even though he's overcome with worry, hands trembling ever so slightly wanting so badly to take your tears away, he doesn't ask now, he doesn't need to.

instead, he holds you, rubbing your back, softly shushing you and trying to soothe your cries.

"it's okay... let it out. i'm here."

at his reassurances, your apologies slowly die out, drowned out by your continuous sobs.

-

once you finally manage to calm down, sylus fetches you a glass of water, urging you to drink before he wordlessly carries you to his bathroom, starting up a bath for you. he takes heed to add a few drops of essential oil to help soothe you further (anything to make you fele more at ease in this state) as he adjusts the temperature of the water to be just right before slowly shedding you of your clothes.

he speaks here and there the entire time, small questions between every action as he rids you of each layer of clothing to make sure its okay with you, mixed with his reassurances that he's here with you before gently laying you inside of the tub and settling behind you to begin washing your hair.

his hands do wonders for your head, headache gradually subsiding as you close your eyes against his ministrations, sniffling nose taking in the calming aroma of the oils as you lean back against him to relax further.

when he's rinsed the soapy residue from your head, he massages a hair mask into your scalp before rinsing his hands and moving to massage your neck, your shoulders, and down your body, gradually cleaning and scrubbing away as he goes.

you feel yourself dozing off just as he's finishing, his fond chuckle filling your ears as he holds your heavy head steady with one hand, moving to drain the tub with the other.

"not yet, we still have to dry you off," he murmurs into your ear, warm breath pulling a slight shiver from you. he lifts your damp body once again, wrapping you in a fluffy towel and sitting you down on the counter.

you allow yourself to be towel dried by him, melting at the sound of his gentle yet off-key humming as he works, gently brushing away the spare droplets before he reaches for your lotion, squeezing some into his hands, warming it between his palms and again massaging it into your tired body.

you take a deep breath, all too aware of the love and care this man- known to be feared and intimidating to many- has for you as he wordlessly pampers you, knowing nothing but that you needed to relax a little, refraining from asking you about anything before he was sure you were ready to tell him yourself.

"arms up."

you blink back to the present, not realizing he'd finished moisturizing your body. you obey without question as he slips your nightgown over you, pulling up your damp strands of hair that get caught under it and grabbing another towel to dry it for you, closing your eyes again as he does so.

always so gentle when it came to your hair.

once he's satisfied, he helps you slip on a fresh pair of panties (you almost don't realize he's used his evol to lift you up for just a moment to slip them over your seated thighs before you're softly placed down once again, opening your eyes to see his soft expression looking back at you).

as he gives you a once over, you can't help but to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. his hands come up to hold your wrists, but make no move to remove them.

"what's wrong?" he finally asks, worried eyes looking into your now slightly-calmed yet equally tired ones.

you blink once, pulling him towards you as you lean forward, soft lips meeting his warm ones in a longing kiss.

he returns the gesture with equal fervor, eyes closing as he revels in the flavor that is you, lips moving slowly and rhythmically against yours, allowing you full control of how this goes. after a few long moments, you pull back to look at him.

the faintest grin appears on the corner of his lips, still wrought with worry but just slightly reassured at your gesture.

"bedroom?" he murmurs.

you nod, and he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and chin hooked on his shoulder as he shuts off the light, carrying you out towards the bed and gently resting your body on the soft mattress.

he moves to stand straight but your arms are still locked around his neck, eyes staring up into his. he lets out a soft scoff, gripping your arms once more in his hands, but again making no move to remove them from their place, staring back at you with a grin.

"how can i get the lights like this?"

at the sound of your soft laugh ringing through his ears, he feels his heart beat again.

"just leave them," you whisper, and the little smile has him obeying in a heartbeat.

you were truly is one biggest weakness.

"well, it's hard to lay down when you've trapped me like this, sweetie."

"no, its not," you rebuke, teasing glint in your eyes as you continue smiling up at him.

a happy smirk plasters itself on his face.

"wanna bet?"

before you can answer, a surprised sound escapes you as you're lifted with his evol, unlatching your hands and allowing him to take his spot sitting up at the headboard as your laugh rings out through the room.

"sylus!"

he chuckles, pulling you towards him and draping you in his lap, arms quickly winding around your waist, pleased hum escaping you as you lean your head against his chest.

the two of you stay like that, cuddled up together when the weight of the day slowly comes back to you, your mind once again beginning to reel, thinking back to what you needed to say to him when his soft timber breaks the cozy and comfortable silence.

"are you feeling alright now?"

you look up at his face, shaky breath escaping you.

"i... learned a lot of information today."

he hums in acknowledgement, hand coming up to caress your slightly-damp hair.

"about.. a lot. my family, EVER, and the explosion..."

your voice trails off as you lift your head from his chest, sitting up to face him completely before your soft hands reach up to cup his face.

"and it made me think- about back then, when we first met. i was so angry and desperate for answers, and-"

you take a deep breath again, feeling your voice begin to waver and eyes filling with regretful tears, but he holds your gaze and doesn't interrupt, taking in your every word.

"and- i'm sorry, sylus."

his eyes slightly widen at your apology, but he let's you continue.

"at the time, i blamed you, accused you, when in the end, you truly had nothing to do with it..."

"sweetie..."

his soft, glazed crimson eyes gaze back into yours as the picture begins to paint itself.

sure, you were right, it wasn't him, but he couldn't blame you for your assumption back then, not really...

even if it did kill him to consider you thought so negatively of him then.

still, he listens.

"you were right: i was just a naive linkon citizen, and your warning before- about 'the closest ones to you,' i just-"

his hand moves to caress your back once again, the other brushing stray hair over your shoulders.

"i'm so sorry," you sniffle, tear-filled eyes gazing into his own warm yet sad ones.

"even if you did kidnap me, and mess with me," you smile at the soft chuckle that rumbles through his chest. "you were always on my side, even when i wasn't on yours. you've looked out for me, taken care of me, spent time with me, loved me-"

the tears flow freely now, thumbs caressing his cheeks.

"i could never despise you, be afraid of you, or ever be disgusted by you, not in a million years."

his breath hitches slightly at that.

even though you both were well past that time, even though you both had grown impossibly closer- inseparable, even- since you'd met, his heart thrashed wildly at your bold declaration of reassurance.

"i'm sorry that i hurt you back then without knowing anything," you whispered.

momentarily at a loss, mind slowly processing your words, he doesn't get a chance to respond as you gently pull his face towards yours, planting another soft, loving kiss on his lips.

you pull back from him, smiling at the way he momentarily chases your lips as your hold on his face never breaks. your legs shift under you to sit on your knees, leaning into him before you plant a kiss on the corners of his lips, his chin, his nose, and slowly covering every crevice of his visage with your love.

his hands are holding your wrists firmly now, eyes fluttering shut and feeling your presence, feeling your kisses, feeling your love, your tear-stricken face no longer causing a full sense of anxiety but rather causing his thoughts to fear his heart might be seizing to function.

but if he were to die right here, right now, just like this, he supposes he couldn't complain.

truly, he had no fear of that moment anymore, but having this reassurance from you and seeing you so distraught by something that seemed to have occurred so long ago- he allows you to reassure him, and revels within it, each kiss a welcome warmth as he pulls you closer towards his body.

you pull back slightly to look into his love-filled gaze once again.

"i love you, sylus," you whisper into the night.

"and i love you," he responds, taking charge to kiss you first this time, heart feeling as full as it had when he'd first met you all that time ago.

and you stay in each other's embrace, soft whispers seeping into the night, something having shifted beneath this moonlit night, reveling in each other's comfort.

everything you had learned, everything that had happened, everything else that may or may not: you pushed it aside for now. you could always let him know later on, and you fully planned to.

but for now, you were satisfied to hold each other just like this, longtime bonds feeling mended, your normal chatter and whispered confessions filling the hours late into the night under the guise of the moon.

-

a/n: based off one single tweet that i saw today.. (couldn't find the og but it was basically saying they need to hear mc apologize to sylus for accusing him of causing the explosion once we learn more ab the actual cause) didn't realize i'd make a whole short fic of it at nearly four in the morning when i have to be up in four hrs yet here we are :x

[baepsays]

Domesticity is a privilege, and privilege is attracted to Gojo Satoru.

Wait we might need to reiterate that. Because if privilege is attracted to Satoru, and being domestic with the love your life is a privilege — how come he hasn't attracted that wishful life yet!?

I mean he's already privileged (in capitalistic and aesthetic sense), he is hopelessly in love with you, so by default next outcome in this equation must be—you, him, and your cats, chilling in your bed. Just watching the rerun of your overwatched favourite show while the cats cuddle up to you two.

Now the only problem is despite being capitally and aesthetically blessed by default, the whole wooing the love of your life thing doesn't happen by staring at them from a distance while making up little scenarios in your head —how your first date would go, your first kiss, what if you met back in high school, meeting the parents, getting their blessings, getting married, and adopting two cats.

You might call him pathetic, but do not worry his friends do not shy away from voicing that fact out every two seconds. Because every two seconds he's letting out a big sigh and going "y/n would like that." or,

"y/n should try this."

"y/n"-

You get the gist of it. Really- thoughtful of him.

So this brings us here, THE Gojo Satoru sitting on the curb of the sidewalk infront of your building. With a bouquet in his hands, decked up in a three piece (probably Italian) custom suit, tie is tied rather not how a tie should be tied. But it works for him. Everything works for him.

Now do not take him for a creep! He's a gentleman of the highest stature. Gojo is actually waiting here for you for that date he secured with you after graciously asking you (practically begging you and with the help of Geto Suguru who made the dire mistake of introducing you to him in the first place).

"Satoru? What are you doing here?"

That is a valid question to have, to walk up to your building, exhausted after work and to see your date sitting outside your building, on the sidewalk nonetheless. Isn't he loaded? Where is his car even?

"Oh I was waiting for you! What are you doing out so late?" At this point he got up to stand face to face with you (took a lot of courage for him to do that!).

"I had to do overtime and, no, wait. Why are you waiting for me at 2 AM?

"Oh you know to pick you up for our date!"

"Satoru. That is tomorrow. I am supposed to see you at 4 PM tomorrow. Were you planning on to camp out here all night? where is your car??" (my concern as well)

"First of all- I got too excited and I couldn't sleep. sooooo-" he stretches it on, what's about to come next couldn't possibly be any better.

"So I thought I'd put on the suit I bought for our date! Then I thought hmm well now if I sleep in this it'll get creases and I won't have much time to get it ironed. Then I saw the flowers, I was growing to give you, sort of wilting away. And I couldn't possibly give you dead flowers for our first date! And I was waiting in my car, then it got towed away, and-"

"STOP."

What do you even do in this situation? Tell him to go home? How is he going to do that with practically no public transport working at this hour and his car gone. Even you barely caught the last train home. I mean any other individual would get weirded out, get angry, and upset. But you, well,

"How about instant ramen and a movie for a first date, on my couch?"

I suppose you are attracted to Gojo Satoru just as much as privilege is attracted to him. And oh what a privilege it is to be loved and to be wanted like that one soft blanket you just want to snuggle up into at the end of the day.

[retiredteabag]

Unknown Rivals

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: There was only one thing worse than being paired with Sukuna for an important school project, and that was realizing the slacker somehow had a higher class standing than yourself.

Tags: Academic rivals, enemies to eventual lovers, type A reader, mentions on anxiety.

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had been partnered with Sukuna for weeks now, and you were starting to lose it. After turning in your draft for the final presentation, you had learned of your classmates status as a student.

After having assumed that every meeting the two of you held was more of a free tutoring session for the lazy man, it would turn out Sukuna was the only student in class who was rivaling your own grades.

After this information had been absorbed, you left class without so much as a glace the boy's way.

It killed you to know that he was so nonchalant, that he barely put any effort into class and work yet he was up there with you.

He likely thought you a fool, all that time "teaching" him, he probably spent mocking you.

You couldn't help the flood of thoughts that overtook you, thoughts of him mocking you to his friends, thoughts of him screenshotting your messages to send to some group chat, thoughts of him making jeers at your intellect while you explain a concept ad nauseam.

Oh, how you hated him.

It didn't help that you so desperately craved approval from others. Teachers, friends, parents. You wanted it all. If you hadn't their validation, what did you have?

You worked tirelessly to earn the grades you maintained, even if people teased you, called you stuck up, or a sycophant. Was it so wrong to want to be liked?

And here he was, above it all, putting little to no effort into his work and still coming out on top.

He must have found it real funny. Probably had a good laugh every Friday when you met to "work" on your project.

That is why you found yourself writing up a short email, explaining how you no longer had an interest in meeting with him to prep. Requesting he develop his final presentation alone and informing him that from that day forward you would research, write, and present separately.

You hadn't even requested he send in his work for your review, though he had never done it before. No, you would do your part as far away from Sukuna as you possibly could and hope he never looked your way again.

This project was a big deal, you would be presenting it not just to your classmates and professors, no, but company stakeholders as well. They would be coming out to the auditorium to see students speak during finals. Some might even be looking for possible interns.

Apparently Sukuna knew what he was doing so maybe you didn’t need to monitor his work.

You were still going to stress about it though.

--

"UGH! I just cringe to think of every conversation. Why was he even meeting with me?"

You and your roommate had gone out for dinner and you were regaling her with the woes of your school project while she dipped her fries in a generous coating of milkshake.

"That boy looks like he's never held a coherent thought in his head, I doubt he cared to spare any consideration to something other than himself." She spoke with her mouth full, taking another bite, "He looks pretentious."

She wiped her fingers off on her jeans and reached for another handful of fries.

"But that's just the thing" You sigh, "he looks like he wouldn't handle complex thought but-" you're cut off by her giggle but you push onward, "-I'm serious! But he's apparently some wonder boy, a reeeeeal academic." You end your thought with a huff, dipping a nugget into some ketchup, and finishing your meal.

"Well now your Fridays are free, that's nice at least." She shrugs and all you can do is nod. "Who would have thought popular Sukuna is a nerd like you."

"He's not a nerd." You point a finger at her, "He doesn't even study! And I don't get why everyone likes him, he pays nobody the time of day."

"Are you kidding me?" She makes an incredulous laugh, raising her browns.

"What?"

"You haven't the slightest clue why he's so popular? Have you seen the man?"

As much as you hate to admit it... she was a little right. He was undeniably attractive. And his tattoos stretched across his body in a way that made him look like art. He wasn't a peacock either, flaunting himself, he seemed indifferent to the whole thing. He really was just one lucky bastard.

I seriously hate that guy.

--

The next week was filled with your typical busyness, avoiding your project partner didn't really occupy too much space in your mind, especially since he hadn't taken the curtesy to even respond to your email.

That was why, when you eventually saw him straighten his posture the second you entered the shared class, him stalking your movements carefully, you couldn't help but feel frustrated.

Did he say anything? No. Did he try to get your attention? No. But he kept looking at you, and every so often during the lecture, you could feel his gaze in your direction. Serving to annoy you further. He could pay no attention in class and still catch up to your academic level.

Stop being a distraction.

Ugh.

--

After the last fiasco with this professor, you weren't exactly looking forward to sharing a word so you found yourself packing up the moment class was over. It hadn't even taken you putting away your folder for you to feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey."

You narrowed your eyes in his direction. Sukuna spoke.

"We should probably discuss the presentation."

This might have been the most you had ever heard him say at a time. About school or otherwise.

"I sent you an email, you know?"

You shuffle your bag to fit everything comfortably and zip it up. Continuing on, "We already split everything up, if you'd like to see my slides so you can match my format you'll find them in the email I sent." You swung your bag over your shoulder, "Last week."

You were making your way to the classroom door, fully prepared for him to shrug it off, but he seemed to have kept up with your pace, speaking down into your ear as you made it to the threshold.

"I've looked over your slides. That's not what I'm talking about." He followed behind you, opening the classroom door wider to stand next to you.

"Sukuna. I emailed you. I've emailed you several times. What about our project do we need to discuss that you couldn't have just emailed me about?" You try to keep your voice down, your professor was still at his desk.

"Shouldn't we... I don't know, be practicing?" He shrugs.

"...What?"

"Practicing? For our presentation? I don't know, I figured you would be the type to want things to flow smoothly."

You pull back, "I do want things to flow smoothly, like I already stated in the email, I am going to present first, then wait for questions, and then you'll go and do the same."

He raises a brow, "I got that." The way he looks at you and speaks so patronizingly distinct as if to suggest you were the slow one. "I'm just saying, we should practice at least once, I want to make sure you can do it."

It took you a moment to understand what he had just said. No way, NO WAY he had just suggested that YOU didn't know what you were doing. You bark out a laugh. "I'm sorry? You want to make sure I can do it?"

He stands still, looks up at the ceiling, and hums, "Well, you're so anal about stuff, I figured you'd want to."

You can hear the blood pounding in your ears, "I'm sorry I like things to be done right." You swing your bag a little more aggressively. "I'll send you my presentation notes so you can make sure I can do it."

You start to march down the hall, offended by his lackadaisical insults when he swoops up to you in just a few strides. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying.... wouldn't it soothe your anxiety to go over it together? I don't think it's wrong to suggest that we would do better after having gone over it at least once."

Oh sure, he was thinking about your anxiety, how kind. You roll your eyes.

You saw him out of your periphery and clutched your bag to your chest as he approached. When you turned to see him he had his arms raised in defense. "If you really care so much I'll add my slides to the presentation and send it to you."

"Good." You swung back. "I've only been asking for," you roll your eyes, walking backward to one of the campus exits, "oh, I don't know, weeks?"

"Fine." He huffed, squinting at you, "But we seriously should go over it so I can be sure you don't ruin my work with your public speaking." He was smirking at you, you had never seen that look on his face and you hoped never to see it again.

"Oh-" You gasp, "my gosh." You stomp away, whipping out your keys, "Thanks Sukuna, I'll try not to ruin all your hard work since you're such a team player."

That man was dead to you.

--

You would never say it to his face, but as finals approached, you were beginning to feel the typical sickness in your stomach. You made recordings of your note cards to listen to at night, practiced your speech endlessly, and changed the batteries in your clicker at least three times.

You had always been anxious, memories of puking before tests as a child still live on in the churning of your gut. This anxiety helped to motivate you but was unnecessarily intense, your own mother had told you to loosen up in the past but that was simply not something you were capable of controlling.

"Well, you're so anal about stuff-"

Oh, that man pissed you off. And after all that effort to seem cool and composed in all of your "tutoring" sessions, he could still tell that you cared. Cared more than you should.

You would never be the cool girl.

And this was why you were growing more upset with the understanding that you felt- you knew you really would feel better if you could just have the chance to practice your speeches.

But your pride had gotten in the way.

Couldn't he have just said that he wanted to practice instead of making it seem like he didn't believe in you?

His email did come, by the way. No words, just an attachment.

And damn him, the slides we good, not too crowded, and perfectly concise, he even had his speaker notes included and as you whispered them to yourself while sitting on your mattress you became determined.

You would not let this man outperform you. There would be employers present looking for interns and if you wanted to be noticed you could not be seen as the weak leak between the two of you. Especially not if it was Sukuna.

You started your email at 11 that night and rewrote for far too long.

Yes, you would practice your presentation with him, because and ONLY because you wouldn't allow him to drag you down.

It would also help settle your nerves, but he didn't need that confirmation.

It was on. Partner or not, you were fighting for the top spot in class and if your speaking ability fell short in comparison to his, you could not ever stand to look at him again.

But one thing you knew for sure as you sent the email, was that your advisor would be receiving some correspondence about avoiding a certain someone in future semesters.

It was past midnight. You started drafting a note about your class enrollment needs.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Tags: @blueyesuguru @monimonster57

[cognitiveoverload]

The joke (Spencer Reid x reader)

summary: Spencer's joke doesn't land with the class, but you find him cute.

tags: fem!reader

note: Takes place at the beginning of 4x08.

1/?

The light bulb joke didn’t land. At all. It wasn’t bad. Well, not that bad, but it wasn’t great either. 

The silence in the room is deafening, and it’s so ridiculous that you can’t bite back the quiet chuckle that’s been threatening to escape your lips ever since that agent fell silent. His eyes shine with hope when they find you, accompanied by a sweet smile, and while it breaks your heart to say it, you can feel the weird looks the other students are sending your way. 

“Sorry, it was just so… quiet,” you say with a hand held up.

Disappointment. That’s what you see in the agent’s eyes after he heard you say that. It breaks your heart because he looks like a genuinely nice guy, but you have a reputation to uphold. It took so much hard work to be as social as possible, attending parties and hanging out with people, all while keeping your grades up, being among the top students. You can’t let finding a cute joke come in the way. 

You don’t pay much attention to the conversation after you hear one of the idiots ask them if they have shot anyone. That must be the most original, most important question you’ve ever heard. Congratulations, moron. Instead, you pull out a book and begin to flip through the pages, but you can feel it. You can feel a pair of eyes finding you over and over again, and when you finally look up and around to see who it is, your gaze falls on the agent, whose hazel eyes are fixed on you. Just when you flash a barely visible smile at him, though, he looks away. 

After their time here comes to an end, you quickly throw everything into your bag, then head down to meet them, because you know you have to apologize. You stop a few feet away, fidgeting with your fingers as you wait for Professor Harris to stop talking. There’s time, you’re not in a hurry to get out. The agent looks at you, his eyes mirroring a moderate amount of excitement, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheek to make you blush. Stupid biology. 

Harris notices this silent exchange, and decides to follow his eyes to see who has caught his attention. When he sees it’s you, he starts grinning and steps back with an arm extended to pull you a little closer to their little circle. “Let me introduce you to one of our brightest students. She’s studying psychology, and she wrote an amazing article that was published in a journal not long ago,” he says. 

Clearing your throat, you extend your hand to them and introduce yourself, and in return, they do the same. Dr. Spencer Reid. Now you definitely learned his name, you won’t be able to forget it, because the moment your hands touched, you could feel that unmistakable spark. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to apologize for that laugh. It wasn’t such a bad joke, it was just really… awkward here,” you say, unintentionally biting on your lower lip. 

Reid shakes his head as he reluctantly, but lets go of your hand. “It’s okay. Maybe these jokes should stay between philosophers,” he tells you with a humorless laugh. 

Next to you, Harris turns to the other agent and asks him if they could exchange a few words, but seeing the meaningful looks they exchange, it’s quite obvious they only want to give the two of you some space. You adjust the strap of your bag as you wait for him to speak up, because you have nothing on your mind. It’s not that you don’t want to talk, you just don’t really know what to say. He’s intelligent, that one’s clear, what could he possibly want from you? He probably wants someone who can challenge him, someone he can consider an equal, someone older than you, someone who’s–

“So, um… your article was published at your age?” he wonders, sounding a little surprised. Maybe he’s right, you're only completing your bachelor’s studies, not everyone takes the time to do these things. When you nod, he goes on. “I’d like to read it. Can you… send it to me?” 

“Sure, if you give me your email address, I’ll send it tonight,” you promise with a smile, still a little taken aback by the fact he’s interested. He didn’t even ask you what it’s about, but he wants to read it regardless of the topic. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, which he immediately offers to you. “Thank you, I promise I won’t ghost you,” you assure him again.

Though there’s clearly something else he wants to say, you both turn toward the door when his colleague is calling out for him. You feel a pang of disappointment that your conversation ends before it truly begins, but there’s nothing to do about it. “I’m sorry, I have to go. It was nice to meet you,” he tells you, then awkwardly waves before walking away. 

He’s nice. And charming in his nerdy way. You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if you got to spend a little more time with him, maybe managing to coax him into joining you on your social adventures. Would he learn to enjoy it? Or is he the type who’d rather spend his time at home, reading books? Maybe watching movies or binge-watching TV shows? And would he talk about his work, tell you about some interesting cases? 

God, you’re pathetic. You barely know the guy, yet here you are, already thinking several steps ahead.

[esote-rika]

not a mask, but a reflection | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: idk hurt/comfort?? flangst? something like that, I'm sorry I truly don't know how to categorize this Summary: The BAU ladies insist on a makeover for Spencer, so you decide to indulge them by promising to take him shopping. It doesn't go as either of you expected, but it allows a chance for the two of you to form a deeper bond. Content: reader’s outfit is described, reader is based on Blair Waldorf in background, and personality– so you're rich!! and fashionable!! And snarky, but in a ride or die sunshine x sunshine protector kind of way, early season 2 glasses!Spencer crushing on reader, implied autistic Spencer, brief mention of his bullying, lots of dialogue!!! especially about fashion advice (PSA to wear whatever you want!!) Word count: 2.8k A/N: I'm back on my Blair Waldorf-reader agenda. I'm mainly writing these because of my own crackship, but I tried very hard not to describe any specific appearance stuff for the reader (aside from what ur wearing) so it’s as immersive and universal as possible! Styling in film and TV fascinates me and I wanted to explore Spencer’s character through clothes. ALSO! I incorporate a Blair Waldorf quote into the conversation that goes “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be.” pls know I didn't come up with it, the Gossip Girl writers did. It's from S4E13 specifically.

Saturdays are usually meant for curling up on his couch to read his favorite books, or marathon obscure foreign films. Alone, always alone, Spencer Reid has grown used to the feeling; accepted it, enjoyed it, even. He wouldn’t have survived all these years if he didn't appreciate his own company, after all. 

However, today is different. He’s expecting company, which is unusual enough, but he’s expecting you of all people. And it’s for such a silly thing too— a makeover. Something straight out of a cliche high school movie. It had started at work, during a case, a passing comment made by one of the people being interviewed. Something about looking like he’s playing dress up, spoken so softly he’d been willing to pretend to ignore it. 

But you heard it, had snapped at the man in annoyance about respect and propriety. At the jet, you had snapped at him about wearing clothes that fit better, and of course Morgan and JJ had to get involved, and Garcia squealed about a makeover over the phone. He hadn’t expected you to accept; when you did, he considered several ways to get out of it: pretend to have a date (implausible), pretend to get sick, just don’t show up. But then you said you’ll meet him at his apartment and his world seemed to come crashing down.

“I need to see what I'm working with before I dive headfirst into this,” was your reply when he protested. It makes sense, of course, but he's not happy about accepting you into his space. It's curated for him and his comfort, and he dreads the idea of casting your shrewd, critical gaze over his design choices. If he's less of a coward, he would admit that a small part of him desires your approval. Craves it, needs it, so much it makes his skin crawl.

So that’s why his Saturday morning is spent cleaning; straightening books, hiding the case files strewn about. He doesn’t want to give you any ammunition to tease him with. Having to undergo a makeover is embarrassing enough.

It reeks of bleach when he opens the door for you. The wrinkle of your nose has no business being so cute when it's obviously done to express disgust.

“What is that smell?”

“Hello to you too,” he can't keep the sarcasm from his tone as he steps aside. 

You saunter in heels even though this is meant to be a casual get together. They click against his hardwood floors until you reach his rug, the thick fabric dulling out the noise. “Did you bleach your entire place?” 

His expression is sheepish as he closes the door, “I figured I'd clean.”

“You sure you're not hiding a murdered body in here?” you walk straight into the middle of his apartment and look around. He winces as he waits for your verdict.

“I’m not, I just - you’re so -”

“I’m so?”

“Particular.” I don’t want to disappoint you, but he clamps his mouth shut before the words escape. Having you come in for a makeover already isn’t doing anything for his confidence. In fact, it just confirms his suspicions. Something is wrong with him, despite all the attempts at propriety and flattery otherwise. The BAU sees it, you see it, and you’re here to fix it. He swallows the lump in his throat, and with it, his pride and the tiny hint of resentment. 

You are trying to help, he reminds himself. 

Maybe it’s his hopeless optimism, maybe it’s desperation to seem normal for once, but it’s enough to surrender to your knowledgeable hands. 

He lets his eyes take you in, allows himself a moment to linger on the details of your ensemble. The picture of coordination, as usual; shoes and bag the same shade of rich brown, the barrettes in your hair matching the pale blue trimming along the edges of the sundress you’re wearing. This is you dressed down, he knows, but somehow you manage to outdress him. 

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that,” your eyes roll, before landing to one of the doors in his apartment, “Where’s your bedroom?”

He sputters, “My - uh, why?”

“I’m assuming that’s where you keep your clothes?” You look at him like he’s dumb, and he turns bright pink. “I told you, I can’t take you shopping before I see what you already own.”

He can’t believe he fully didn’t realize it meant letting you into his bedroom. But then again, his brain has the tendency to turn to mush when he’s speaking with you. “Right,” he nods, scrambling to his bedroom. All of his anxieties about his living room and the overwhelming amount of books seem distant now; you hadn’t even commented on them. Instead, this new one arises, bubbles in his stomach. Showing you his bedroom is so much more intimate. The space he sleeps in, where he’s most vulnerable.

A space no other woman has ever even seen. 

He feels your presence behind him, smells the distinct loveliness of the perfume you like to call your signature scent. Of course you don’t ask for permission. He’s found quickly that you’re used to taking and having what you want, used to the world yielding to you instead of the other way around. 

Your heels make sharp taps against the floor. Combined with your perfume, it’s already obvious that you’re making your mark in his room, his haven. He imagines the fragrance will linger when you leave, and it makes his ears burn with a longing that knocks the wind from his chest. The door remains open, and he’s thankful that he isn’t completely caged in his bedroom with you. 

“Here’s my, uh, where I keep my clothes.” he hastily opens his closet, relief flooding his body as he sees it’s not that messy. Everything is ironed and pressed, although some of his sweaters are haphazardly piled together. He hopes he won’t have to show you the mess that is his sock drawer. 

You step up beside him, bare arm brushing against his. Brows furrowed in concentration as you rifle through his clothes. He steps back to give you more room to work with, although it’s more for his sake than yours. Your proximity is making him a little dizzy. He finds himself slumping on his bed, watching your movements. You’re approaching the task at hand with the same meticulous acuity as you would in a crime scene. Focused. Detail oriented, even when doing something so insignificant.

He’s not sure what to expect. He’s bought his clothes based on what he sees other men wear, relying on his observation skills, and the clothing guidelines given by HR to deduce what is considered appropriate. His father wore dress shirts a lot, back when his family was still intact. Hotch and Morgan wear suits, but those have always felt too formal to use on a daily basis. He opts for cardigans and sweater vests to keep him warm instead, because they’re softer, less restrictive. They remind him of Diana, the things she would wear back when she could still teach. He hopes you don’t make him get rid of them.

“You wear a lot of light browns,” your voice lifts him out of his anxious stupor, “You have to give that up.” 

He frowns in confusion, “What’s wrong with wearing light brown?”

“You’re too pale, they make you look even more sickly. But if you must wear brown, lean into this shade instead,” you hold up a dark brown blazer that he actually really likes. He smiles, happy that it got your seal of approval. You turn to him, eyes narrowed, “And your dress shirts are too big, look at where the shoulder seam falls.” 

He blinks in surprise as your hand comes to touch an inch past the edge of his shoulder, pinching the fabric, “It should be up here. You’re too slim for an oversized look, it just swamps your frame. If you’re going to be wearing them, they have to fit you better.” 

He nods, feeling a little out of his depth, “How do you know all of this?”

“Years of consuming Cosmopolitan and Vogue.” You turn back to the closet, he frowns slightly. The words mean nothing to him, and he flinches when he hears you sigh.

“Fashion magazines?” you prompt, glancing back over your shoulder.

“Ah,” He nods, lips pursed, “I can't say those are on my reading lists.”

“Obviously not, otherwise you'd know not to wear,” You gesture at his entire ensemble, nose wrinkling once again, “This.”

It doesn’t really occur to him what the problem is as he looks down at his checked button down. “It’s a nice shirt.” he says, although he can see your point now; it’s too big. 

“Reid, you look like you’re about to start proselytizing about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.” you say, stepping away from his wardrobe and stopping in front of him. 

Your teasing makes his cheeks burn. Or maybe it’s your sudden closeness, your hands at his buttons, “Um, what–” he’s stiff, memories rushing of being held down, clothes forcibly ripped—

“Relax,” you step back after undoing the top button. The annoyed scoff surprisingly gives him some comfort, reminds him it’s you, he’s here with you, “There, that’s better. Don’t button it up all the way.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, it makes you look like you’re cosplaying a minister.” He shifts under your gaze, feeling exposed, even though he’s fully dressed. But that’s exactly what you’re judging, after all, his clothes. There’s nowhere to hide. “Why are you so tense, Reid? It’s not going to make you look like a fool, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Why? Where does he even begin? The fact that he’s never had a woman in his room before, and it’s making him feel like he’s about to implode? His memories of being stripped naked for all the school to see, humiliated, fueling the irrational fear of letting go of his clothes, the things he’s comfortable wearing. And for what? In order to be fashionable? To seem normal, to be fixed? 

He settles for a half truth, the words mumbled and embarrassed, “I like my clothes.”

To his surprise, your eyes soften, “Okay. And?”

“I like how I dress.”

“You don’t want to change your style?”

He looks down and shakes his head, feeling a little silly. How can he explain it to someone like you, who probably would have been one of his tormentors when he was back in school? It’s sick, this desire to be close to you, to be accepted by you as though being in your orbit would lessen his eccentricity. He thought he’d left it behind in high school, had grown out of it, but it’s there, recognizable and refusing to let him rest. 

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this,” the bed dips as you sit beside him, “It was a silly thing the girls and I thought would be fun, but if it’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop and we could just, I dunno, go for ice cream instead.”

“No, I - I do, I just… don’t want to change completely.” It's almost pathetic how something as simple as clothes is making him spiral, “I like how I dress, even if you guys make fun of it. It’s comfortable. I get really cold hands, and the sweaters help, and - and the satchel is convenient even if you say it clashes with my outfits or whatever.”

Your hand rests on his forearm, and his rambling halts immediately.

“Then I won’t stop you from wearing grandpa-chic,” the lightness in your voice makes him smile, “This is why I wanted to see what you had. I wasn’t about to start from scratch, and there’s obviously a reason you gravitated towards these pieces. I wouldn’t force you into something you hate, that sort of defeats my fashion philosophy.”

“Your fashion philosophy?” He's smiling now as he listens to you.

“I believe that the whole point of fashion and clothing is to help reflect what you are on the inside, not mask it.” You reply, hand finding his own. He allows it, finding something warm and soothing in the touch of your hand, silencing the usual urge to pull away in fear of germs. “And, anyway, I think your clothes make you look really intellectual, so if you like them, you have the pieces in your closet already, it’s just a matter of styling them better.” 

You squeeze his hand, but he could have sworn you did it to his actual heart. 

He watches as you return to his closet again, rummaging through the clothes. You hold up a white button down and a navy blue cardigan, head tilted to the side, teeth worrying the plushness of your lower lip, “Like this; this is a nice combination, and it’ll work better with your complexion. Try it on.” they’re tossed over to him, landing on his lap.

You’re turning away from him, still going through his clothes—allowing him privacy. He appreciates that. He scrambles out of his current clothes, his skin prickling as he thinks about the fact that he’s in a room with a woman alone, getting undressed. No. You’re a friend and a coworker doing him a favor, he should get his head out of the gutter. Hurriedly, he puts the suggested ensemble on.

“Uh, it’s — you can turn around.”

He holds his breath as your eyes rove over his figure, still with the same sharpness he’s used to, but blunted by the small smile playing across your lips. “Yeah, that’s better. Navy’s a great color for you.” you have a stack of his shirts in your hand, all of them patterned and printed, “I’m sorry, but these… have to go. Or at least don’t wear them to work. The prints are ugly, no offense.”

He chuckles, taking the shirts from you, “Not wearing ugly prints to work anymore, got it.”

“Yeah, keep the funky patterns on your ties.” you reach up, brushing lint and dust off the cardigan, “Your shirts should remain plain, solid colors; you have a lot of nice sweater vests and cardigans, it’ll be easier to match them together if your shirts are in more basic colors.” 

Committing your words to memory is easy enough. Rules. He likes rules, but they need to make sense to him, otherwise their arbitrariness will simply frustrate him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

So far, you’re being so receptive to his questions, it might actually make him cry. It’s a new feeling, being the one who’s floundering. Not being the smartest, most knowledgeable person. How exciting, he decides, getting to learn in an area he’s never been able to fully understand on his own. He clarifies, “Why can’t I match the cardigans and sweaters to, uh, colorful shirts?” 

It’s a while before you answer, moving around to wind a tie across his neck. Your words are thoughtful when you speak, “It’s a visual balance. Too many colors and patterns can look heavy and distracting— which is okay, you know, but time and place is always something to consider when you’re dressing up. And you’re going to work, so it’s better to err on the side of caution and wear things that are more… sleek.” Your hands are deft as they tighten the tie, tucking it into the cardigan. “So now that I know what sorts of clothes you like to wear, it’s a matter of finding the right color combinations and cuts that fit your body. Here, see for yourself.”

You push him forward until he’s in front of his mirror, and indeed he does look… better. Still himself, still familiar, but the contrast of the navy cardigan against his pale skin somehow brings out more warmth from his cheeks and makes his hair seem less dull. Visual balance, you said. “Like art,” he murmurs.

“Exactly,” your smile is proud, peeking from behind his shoulder, “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be… and this is showing the world that you’re one attractive nerd.”

He laughs at that. There’s a lightness in his chest as he realizes he doesn’t have to change everything. “I think I get it.” he replies, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Of course you do, you’re a genius.” A slap on the back, one filled with warm intimacy, “Now, I did promise the team a makeover, so now that I know what sort of stuff you need, we can finally go shopping… and we need to do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he asks, but he’s smiling and so are you.

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! Also, tagging everyone who expressed interest in Waldorf!Reader @mggslover @libraprincessfairy @lillaberry @lokisswiftie

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have and To Hold: Part 12

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

A/N: surprise! idk who still cares for this but one of my new years resolutions is to finish some of my unfinished series so here we are.

Series Masterlist

It's late when Marc arrives to your father's home, well, his home now. He anticipates you're already asleep as he heads to the office to decompress after that very long talk with Layla and everything else he had to deal with today.

He had to admit that he did still care for the woman. Did he love her? No, but he'd always want the best for her.

Laying everything out on the table was good for him. He admitted his faults, apologized for being so stubborn and never reaching out until now.

Layla was still stubborn and firey as ever, but she understood. She accepted Marc's apology and offered up her own as well.

Then she asked if it was possible to try again.

That's when Marc admitted he had fallen for someone else, for you. He didn't tell her the whole truth behind his relationship with you, but he explained that it was unexpected. And it's true.

He didn't expect to fall for you when he agreed to the proposal your dad set out for him. Then the more time he spent with you, the more he understood why everyone called you Sunshine. You're sunlight personified.

You bring warmth and joy to everyone you meet, even Marc. And Marc thought he'd never feel this way again after Layla and all the bad he's done. But you brought something out of him, you allowed him to open himself up to love and light.

Seeing Marc's face when he spoke of you, Layla could see that Marc had genuine feelings for you. He seemed happy and she couldn't deny him that, despite everything that he's done and what happened between them.

So when Marc presented the divorce papers, she signed them.

They said their final good-byes and wished each other well.

After that, Marc immediately brought the papers to the L/N Family lawyer to set everything in motion. Then he had meetings for the rest of the day all around the city.

Body tense and craving the numbness alcohol can provide, Marc steps into the office, heading straight for the bar cart.

You switch on the desk lamp at the desk, causing Marc to jump.

"Fuck, Y/N! The hell you still doing up?"

You scoff, twirling your father's letter opener in your hands, “I think there’s some important things we have to discuss, Marc.”

He sighs as he pours amber liquid into a glass, “I agree, but it should wa-” his words are cut off as the letter opener flies at him, landing into the wall beside his head.

He looks at you with wide eyes, "The fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"No, Marc, what the fuck do you think you're doing?! You keep hiding things from me! What else are you hiding from me, Spector? Huh?" You stand from your father's desk, slowly stalking to your fiancé, "First you don't tell me about the arranged marriage my dad planned, then about your DID. You don't warn me about my dad's suicide plan. And now you don't tell me how you're still married?"

Marc gulps down the liquid and places the glass onto the bar cart, "I was planning on telling you-"

"When?! After we got married?!"

"No! Before that, I swear I planned to, but there's so much shit going on! I didn't want to stress you out because you're going through a lot!"

"Doesn't matter! I still had the right to know!"

"I know! And it's whatever now. She signed the divorce papers, I brought them to the family lawyer. They're being filed as we speak and it should be finalized by the time we get married. " He sighs again, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the letter opener lodged into the wall.

He looks back at you, "Listen, from now on, I promise, no more secrets." You scoff and roll your eyes, but he continues, "I'm serious, Y/N, no more secrets. This was my burden to bare and I handled it. Whatever happens now, we'll handle it together. I'll tell you everything that went down today if it makes you feel any better."

"You make me so angry sometimes," you say through gritted teeth.

"I know," he replies as he slowly closes the distance between you.

"Sometimes you make me want to scream."

"You always can. I won't judge," he says sincerely as he stands before you, hand hovering over your closed fist at your side.

"I really want to punch you," you mumble as you look at him.

"Do it," he says in a serious tone, "I've kept you in the dark for a lot of things, but I won't anymore. I'll let you do whatever you want. If you don't want anything to do with this business, fine. If you decide you want to partake in it, I'll let you. You have control here, Y/N," he slowly grabs hold of your wrist. He unravels your fist and guides your hand to his chest, "I let you in, Sunshine. I wanna give you my heart. It's up to you what you do to it."

You stand there speechless. For the first time, you don't know how to respond. Something in Marc's words stirs something in you. A fire in the pit of your stomach comes alive and begins to burn inside you.

Not knowing what else to do, you grip his shirt with the hand that rests on his chest. You pull him close and press your lips to his in a heated kiss. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand gripping onto his hair.

Marc's hands go to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You feel the heat of his body against yours as he kisses you back. His mouth moves against yours and you're so distracted by the taste of him you don't even realize he was walking you towards your father's desk.

He lifts you and places you onto the desktop with ease and he pulls back to look at you.

There's a haze over his eyes, his lips are slightly puffy from kissing you. His hair is disheveled from when you were gripping it.

"Do you want this?" he asks in a low whisper, his fingers grazing along the hem of your shirt.

You nod, "Yes. Fuck, Marc, fuck me."

He doesn't hesitate to pull your shirt off you in an instant, then working on your pants.

You never thought your first time with Marc would be in your father's office on his old desk. But fuck it, it's the heat of the moment. You're just hoping your dad isn't watching you about to get fucked in his office from above.

You're naked as the day you were born, laid out on the wooden desk. The cool surface a complete contrast to your body that feels like it's on fire.

"Need to get you ready," Marc murmurs as he drops to his knees, pulling your legs to rest on his shoulders, "Been dreaming about this pussy," he mumbles in between your thighs.

He licks a stripe up your slit and it causes your breath to hitch. Honestly, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

He spreads your lips apart, delving in with a careful taste. He hums and smiles up at you, "Sweet, just like I imagined."

You whine in desperation, "Marc-"

"I know, baby. I know. Already desperate for me, aren't ya?" His thumb reached up and draws slow careful circles around your clit. The bud already hardening underneath the pressure.

You hiss out a "Fuck!" Your jaw goes slack when you feel his mouth on your again. His tongue collecting your slick, devouring you like a starved man. Your fingers weave through his locks, gripping tight, and keeping him place.

You grind up into his face and eyes staring into yours as you use his face for pleasure.

You see the lust in his eyes, the hunger and desire for you. Fuck, that look alone could make you cum.

Speaking of which, you let out a moan as you grind harder against his mouth, "Shit. I'm close," you say and it makes Marc immediately pull away.

"What-"

"Shush. The first time you cum is on my cock," he says as he immediately unzips his pants, pushing them and his underwear down enough to free his dick.

He grips himself at the base, the tip just hovering over your entrance, "This still okay?"

You roll your eyes and wrap your legs around him, "Shut up and fuck me, Spector."

Marc smirks and teases your entrance with his top. He coats himself in your slick and then slowly enters you.

Your head drops onto the desktop as he fills you, "Goddamn you feel good."

He gives an experimental thrust into you and then smirks when you moan in pleasure. He then grips you by the back of the neck and pulls you to sit up. He holds you close to him as he fucks into you.

With each snap of his hips, the desk beneath you shakes and creaks. A few of the knick knacks tip over, some pens roll onto the floor. Neither of you care in the moment, obviously, too lost in the lust.

"Harder, Marc. Please. I want it." you beg him with pleading, lust filled eyes.

"You want me to fuck you harder?" he asks in panting breaths.

You nod, "Make me forget. I don't want to think about anything else but you."

"Fuck, keep talking like that, it's gonna be over a lot sooner," he groans, thrusting into your faster and harder.

You chuckle and press your lips to his. He happily kisses you back as he fucks into you. One hand holds onto your thigh while the other is in-between you two, working your clit.

You pull away for air, your lips grazing against his. In short breaths, you murmur out, "I'm sorry I was a bitch."

He chuckles while he continues to fuck you, "It's okay. I deserve it."

"Did you really mean it? You'll give me control whenever I want it?"

He nods, "Whatever you want, Sunshine. I just want you to be happy." He leaves you speechless again, but it's fine, especially since you feel that winding in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

"I'm close."

"Give it to me, baby. Lemme feel you. I got you, baby."

He fucks into your harder, deeper. You're sure the desk will break any moment now by how hard Marc's fucking you.

"Fuuuu-mmf!" Marc swallows your cries with a kiss. He feels the fluttering of your pussy around him and he feels in absolute bliss.

"Shit," he groans, and pulls out, jerking himself off just above your pussy. He enters you again and gives you a few more thrusts before pulling out and cumming right onto you.

He's a sweaty, panting mess and you're sure you look the same. As he catches his breath, he reaches onto the desk at the tissue box. He takes a few and wipes up the mess he left on you as well as your own mess. He then wipes himself off, tossing the remnants into the bin beside the desk. You sit up with a groan, rolling your neck and shoulders.

You sigh and look up to the ceiling, "Sorry, dad."

Marc snorts and helps you off the desk. He catches you when you lose your footing, a smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes, "Don't even."

"Didn't even say anything."

You sigh, gathering your strewn out clothes, "Let's shower and go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Marc murmurs, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you out of the office.

"We still need to talk more, you know," you say as you both climb the stairs.

He lowly chuckles, "In the morning. We'll talk. Promise," he pauses to kiss your head and then continues to guide you to, now, your shared bedroom.

[ficsinhistory]

Sonic 4 and Amy Rose: How her character can be.

So…Sonic 3 is kinda stuck in my head and spinning like a microwave.

In particular, Amy Rose. I loved her cameo and her possible dynamic in the fourth movie with all characters plus her story made my writer’s ideas go WILD! So, I decided to do a silly little post about it! 

I never played the games, just watched the movies, but I've done my search! 

 So let 's go!

(Spoilers to Sonic Movie 3)

Tagging @annymation @nerdyneko6373

BACKSTORY 

I answered an ask before with some basic thoughts, but repeating here, Amy would have a widely new backstory, motivations, arc and narrative purpose while keeping her core: Unconditional love for all living things and a deeply Empathy. 

From the mid-credits, we could see that Metal Sonic apparently came from the future, so not only we may have time travel but that Sonic 4 probs will be based on Sonic CD, which heavily has time travel and fate in its theme.

In the game, cards told Amy she would meet Sonic and she fell madly in love because…destiny said so. Ok, obviously, the movie will need a stronger reason for her to exist, and her role as a whole.

So, here's my theory:

Amy will be on a mission to protect Sonic to save the future from Metal domination. 

She would be a little girl from the Little Planet, or a place where it came close, raised in an orphanage where she never was adopted. Her home would be destroyed because the Metal Army wants the Time Stones. From who doesn't know, the Time Stones are 7 stones that can fold time itself. A crazy power to fall on bad hands. 

In this scenario, Amy would risk her life trying to save everyone, getting the stones first to use them to stop the Metal Army somehow. However, the time stones would why the Metals exist, because Sonic was defeated, before sending her to Earth (at the same age of Sonic or a little older, it depends)  to protect the gems and Sonic. But there is a small problem: she doesn't know where he is!

So she would grow up running away from Metal Army and the GUN, who find her after their readers went crazy since she didn't travel through rings but by the Time Stones, which would generate a lot of chaos energy. Amy also would have a beef with this organization not only for persecute her but for… you know…destroy the future as is known!

You heard me right, they'd be the ones who made Metal to be a “prevention” against Sonic before they get out of control (if with the help of Robotinik, Stone or not is open) and dominate Earth and universe. 

I also theorize that her being an orphan gave her attachment issues and feelings she will always be left behind, longing for a place to belong at least once since he could never stop running. Growing up with this mission of saving everyone by finding this specific boy and keeping the Stones safe would be the only constant in her “always running away to survive” life.

With those changes in the backstory, Amy Rose would become guardian of the Time Stones and an anomaly in the current timeline. With her latest pursuits settling her in New York (why Sonic ended up there is still a mystery, maybe his powers evolved?).

But not only that! She also would gain powers related to time. What I personally think is perfect for her. Sonic has speed, Tails his brain, Knuckles his strength, Shadow his teleport, Amy Rose, time.

In her case, time manipulation to some extent with chaos energy (and sure, Silver can do this but he already has psychic powers not to mention that there isn't really a reason in how he does it and I don't see any harm in transferring this ability to Amy, or even both of them having it in this universe, since Silver has more psychic powers as a trademark). 

I think abilities related to seeing the future and past, allowing her to think strategically and would be great for her core traits. Imagine when you can know all about a person's story? Or even a second chance, like Ekko’s from Arcane? Whatever could be, I think is amazing giving Amy a proper ability that also could push her empathy, love and determination more.

Also with her being the last refugee for a dominated planet and timeline would give her more complexity and a compelling story. Making her the only chance that things can be different and save everyone would be a responsibility and pressure for. While Amy could do anything to make sure things change, because that is who she is. 

Not only that, changing Amy’s backstory to protect Sonic can give their relationship a deeper foundation. With her, presumably coming to Earth not much younger than Sonic and always seeing him as her hope, is so cool! He would inspire her even before they knew each other. Imagine her powers showing some glimpses of him as Amy grows up with Sonic being the only constant in a life she always has to be running away. 

That would give a cool nood to her debut in the video game but with a blast! Destiny indeed brings her and Sonic together, but now isn't about her. Is about this lifetime mission. Is Sonic’s life on the line. The Wachowski’s life. 

Billions of lives across the universe on her shoulders. A hard mission she assumed because she loves those people and thinks all of them deserve a good life with freedom. That she has to try to get a better future.

She'd try to be a heroine, even if she was too young and this is a hell of a life. Because Amy Rose cares. She empathizes soo much! And always believes things can be different, better. What brings me to…

PERSONALITY AND TRAITS

Listen, I know she evolved a lot but…Amy, to be a movie character has to have a strong characterization. A thing thank God got better, but can get upgrades.

As I said above, with some story before Sonic like Shadow, Knuckles and Tails have, Amy can bring good points to establish her arc and persona.

First, this Amy would be more…traumatized. Sorry, but it is true. Everyone in these movies passed through the horrors, so should Amy. 

The girl'd see her home falling on evil hands and be the only one who escaped, that's alone is terrible. Now, add the responsibility of fixing things, find and protect the only being in the universe that can change things and she doesn't have any idea where is AND being on her own for years in one place after another? The past would do a NUMBER on Amy Rose.

Because see, Amy at her core is a lovable and kind character. And I can see this being the reason that she doesn't give up fighting at the same time she beats herself. Is too much pressure and stress, to think about. And she cares. Because is Amy Rose, and she cares too much. Amy’d be anxious and perfectionist in the movies, with the constant memory of a terrible future looming above her head. She can’t relax, she can’t get attached to anything or anyone.

More than that, if Amy really is an orphan with no family, always left behind, she can start to think that the mission is more important than herself, which would bring? Exactly, sacrificial tendencies. Amy would do all she can to protect Sonic and the rest of the Wachowski, even this put her life constantly on the line. If your mission is to save billions and you don't have anyone to care about you, why would you?

 Not only that but I think, because of her mission, Amy would be very lonely and independent. She doesn't allow rely on anyone, so she does it all by herself, without having others help her for so long. Amy may also not let herself dwell too much on her own sadness, being reserved with her emotions and avoiding talking about her past suffering in silence most of the time, leaving her, as well as her powers, unstable. Maybe working hard to put up a facade.

She also wouldn't be willing to sacrifice her loved ones, maybe prefering to die than to lose someone adopting, like in the games, a mentality of “between the world and you, I chose you” with her new found family. Again, pretty interesting conflit to her, and the whole save the world mission. 

But not only angst makes a character, so Amy would also be kind, gentle, emphatic and forgiving. I can see her loving the Earth and the animals and humans in it, even if it was humans – the GUN who still persecutes her – that shattered her life in the first place and still gets in the way of the mission which is nothing more than cleaning up their mess because she believes that all life is valid.

Amy would want to help, raising the morale of others and feeling very compassionate (imo she also would be amazing giving advice). I also see her being the type that sees someone's needing help and doing that immediately. I can see her being gentle with Tails because he's this cute, smart, little kid or admiring Knuckles’ strength and instincts. Or helpful to Maddie and Tom because she accepts her. Always glad for the good actions of others.

She also would be persistent, feisty, hot-tempered and aggressive.

Fight for the future can wreck someone's nerves and Amy is kinda irrational and violent sometimes in the games and, to be honest, go girl! I mean, she destroyed and beheaded Metal Sonics like they were made of paper. The girl can fight and is pretty good at it! She did it for a long time, I can tell. Amy also would often be in touch with anger, with some moments that would make anyone regret annoying her.  She's temperamental and it would be good to see it. Imagine seeing this little pink, cute, girl  who almost has a heart attack because things don't go the way she planned or because she was bossed around. Amy always has been angry, let her be in the movies too!

Not only that, but this is my “Amy is a powerful chaos energy user” agenda. The girl's hammer was infused with chaos energy to such an extent that it glowed brightly and seemed to obey her commands from a distance (please, let her cuffs be limiter rings 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼). Not to mention her stealth skills as she approached machines made to track without being noticed.

Amy also would be resourceful, clearly living by herself for so long, would make her see different ways. And I don't know if she made her hammer or brought her or built but it's a point. Maybe using her time powers to heal herself?

I think she would also have some difficulty acknowledging her own feelings, due to years of constant travels and persecution. But it would be more like she doesn't know how to behave with her being kind of intense at times. Not only that, I think that because of this she may not understand some feelings that she is not used to, such as acceptance and attachment, not allowing herself to get too attached because thinks she'll have to leave soon.

And of course, a funny sense of humor. I think Amy cracks jokes at the most random moments, but she would also go down the route of witty observations, dry one-liners, and good-natured teasing. And she really has time powers, time travel references. And propensity for chaos and shenanigans cause, c'mon…girl hates GUN (and any authority let's be honest, she does whatever she wants)  AND is a war refugee. Amy doesn't have the goody-two-shoes atitude, no way. If anything, she’s only less impulsive than the main cast in doing crazy shit, planning little to not get caught.

Amy would also have a strong belief in time and destiny. Having grown up on Little Planet with the Time Stones or at least them being prominent in her culture, she might have that mindset. Which would be fun since she's essentially trying to change the fate that was the end of her home and interfering.

My girl also would be a great leader. She would guide everyone on how to deal with the robotic threat that adapts to enemies and copies attacks very well. And also a love for adventures and emotion.

We can't forget her love for girly things. Amy is a girl who loves being one. I imagine she likes what all average girls like: music, books, fashion etc. I dare say that this is one of the most important traits to portray. Amy being more independent and a warrior should in no way erase how feminine she can and likes to be. The character was inspired by the average Japanese girl of the time, it would be a disservice to forget this very important trait. Not to mention that in the context of this story, it could give her comfort. Fighting your whole life is tiring and can destroy someone's spirit. So having these feminine hobbies and tastes could be a way for Amy to maintain her own sanity. To have something beyond the mission to define herself. An escape. And a funny way to put her obsessive traits in work like her being crazy about a saga she knows in a YouTube video's essay level.

And the greatest trait: Unconditional Love. Amy loves all things. It's her trait that has to be brought to the games. To all her interactions. It has to influence her decisions. 

Amy has the type of compassion and kindness that would make this girl hold your hand, say she's on your side and fight with and for you. The do-good-because-you-can type. That inspires the best in others. She canonically remembers Shadow of Maria's compassion in the games. Amy Rose never gives up or left behind those who chose to do good. She gets out of her way to help a random bird in the games, for goodness' sake!

That's what they can't get wrong. If SCU!Sonic already has compassion, Amy has to irradiate it. Have this vibe at the moment you look at her. Is who she is. Love is her central trait. Not that Amy couldn't hate anything, she can. She has the temper to do it and is as any character. But Amy chose hope and mercy by default, not fighting. 

She can be violent and angry as much as any girl is (which is a lot) but at the end of the day, would believe in the one she loves until the end without wavering and that cannot be ruled out. Amy is a loving person. An optimistic.

A girl that believes she can defy destiny by putting heart enough. An average little girl that chooses to put herself in danger in the name of others because of love and compassion.

With that covered…

DYNAMICS!

Oh boy I love this part!

To start, the Wachowski, more specifically, our colorful bunch: only child meet brothers.

That's it, fight me.

 Look me in the eyes, and tell me she didn't give the energy to the girl that made everything by herself finds THE trio ever. Amy would love all of them and the boys would be thrilled with her (one more but I'll get there). Tom and Maddie? In the clouds! Maddie, especially.

First, Knuckles and Amy would be besties. Protectors of a powerful gem? Lost their home? Badass warriors? Sold. They would click in a blink of an eye! Let's recall Amy is pretty strong and a class A fighter. This boy just found his new sparring duo! Not only that, but Knuckles is a protector above everything and if my theory about Amy is true, she can relate more than anyone with the role: my life is devoted to a single purpose, protection. Imagine a scene where Knuckles stands his hand ro a handshake and Amy actually gives it back with a big smile and equal force. 

Tails and Amy? She'd see Tails and would kill everyone in the room than herself if anything happened to him. He's the cutest little boy, c'mom. Tails? You see Amy's hammer? A gorgeous technological weapon? Nah, he's a simple boy. Plus, Amy is really gentle and Tails' main insecurity is people despising him. But if anything, she'd find him endearing, valuing him as a team member. This little kit would see this really cool pink girl who is kind and imprints on her like a baby duck. Is her sibling too now, your honor! She carried this boy on her back like a backpack whenever she could. I need to see them as the duo ever!

Now… Sonic.

Fun fact, I'm not a Sonamy shipper, but I am a writer and man, and I love when a dynamic can be WILD.  

To start: Amy is protecting Sonic. Period.

That girl doesn't find the boy randomly, no, no. She found him. 

And if it is true, it makes me so FERAL! Because in a meta level, would change the Amy's damsel in distress portraying, placing Sonic as the one in need of protection and rescue. Would be amazing! On a narrative level? Epic, because now Sonic, the everyone's hero who always meets their new allies fighting them and after being friends with them, is the one someone fiercely defends against an enemy that can't be reasoned with. He's out of his comfort zone.

Sure, Tails saved him too, but Tails also is a young kid that needs his help. Amy? Don't let the pink fool you, girl is a menace. She destroyed at least a dozen of Metal Sonics alone when Sonic himself barely scratched one. She knows this enemy in the palm of her hand because, remember, this thing can copy abilities AND improve itself! Girl is fighting an AI made to fight and is winning!

Amy isn't a person who needs Sonic…is him that needs her.

Amy Rose has survived all this chaos all this time, she doesn't need a hero for herself. She needs one for the world, for the future. 

Sonic has always fought villains like Ivo, or people who were fierce antagonists but became allies with him by extending a helping hand, like Shadow or Knuckles. Or even allies from the beginning, but who still depended heavily on external resources, like Tails.

Amy? Nah, girl can fight but not against him. On contraire, he is fighting for him. From the start. Total change. And it's so intense and incredible that I'm going to set aside a session just for it.

Amy and Sonic are equals in this version!

And God, this is AMAZING!

Tom Wachowski. The man would like Amy just for the fact that she saved his son. After all the saving him, saving future, and her being friend of Sonic (maybe more, I will cover later)? The man would be supportive as hell! Let's recall Tom is a helpful person as Amy and both would  find a common ground in this. She would respect his leadership as the patriarch and Tom appreciate Amy's effort in defending his family.

But now…Maddie Wachowski. The movie can destroy me so bad here. First, Maddie would be thrilled to have another girl at home. But not only that. Maddie's a nurturing person. She's the emotional support, the doctor, the mother of the house. And Amy would align very much with Maddie's personality. She's this sweet, brave girl who's trying to save everyone and just wants to help all the time. Maybe Maddie feels relieved to have another girl in the house because Amy understands her position: Love through sacrifice as a loving and caring person.

Maddie only is a veterinarian because Tom bust his butt to make her happy. She willingly would move her whole life to SF because now was time to support her husband. Maddie also supported Tom and adopted the boys. This woman helped and was helped, loved and was loved, many times. 

Both Maddie and Amy have this love in their essence. And how hard it can be for those who accept so deeply.

Maddie almost died a lot of times, so do her sons, and her husband who she loves so much too. Amy fights and hides and risks her life for this family. Love isn't easy. Can hurt.

Maddie almost lost her darling husband thanks to her adopted sons, aliens, that she accepted. Amy lost her home to humans that still want to kill her. But both don't give up on loving those others would hate. Because their caring and loving sides are bigger than any hate.

Just…Amy and Maddie man…

GUN. Oh, GUN…Amy would hate this organization's guts so much. They not only would make the things that destroyed her home and hurt billions but also their lack of empathy and complete disdain for others definitely put them as her public enemy number #1. 

Shadow. You hear me right, Shadow, because, fun fact, they're kinda friends from what I could see in the games and he has a great respect for her. Amy literally inspired him to save Earth once and believes that Shadow is a good person, having faith in him to do the right thing. They're like siblings. And I need to see this in the cinema. They could bond through similar despise to GUN :D

Metal Sonic. Your enemy is just like the hero you forseek. I need more info to go deep but thinking in how Amy fights copies of what should be her “savior” is sooo mess up and endearing.

SONIC AND AMY

I told you they would have a separate part!

Like I said, I'm not a Sonamy shipper, I only watched the movies and Sonic Boom sometimes. But man, the grip the version of this duo got me should be studied. 

They are a…controversial topic. Can see why, the foundation of them isn't good and they are kinda a mess. But in the movies? Oh man, how different things can be.

They will come from scratch in the movies which gives them a big advantage. No crazy behaviors or one-sided feelings. Is a fresh start!

As said, probably Amy will look out and protect Sonic for the Metal Army.

Which is great because it's not only an excellent reason to bring and keep the two together but it also avoids any of the obsessive stalking Amy had originally. No, she's looking for Sonic but to save his life and ensure the universe a good future. She's selfless, she takes Sonic as a person into consideration.

Which is good for Sonic too, since he will have an ally who is skilled in combat and who didn't start out wanting to kill him the first time. They will be equals, unlike Sonic who had to save Amy.

Now the dynamic. It's a... complicated topic. I understand why people are afraid it’ll be terrible with the writers apparently going the Sonamy route.

Some people fear that the film will be just that, that Amy will lose her personality in the name of romance or that they just aren't big fans of Sonamy because of how she was done in the games or because they have other preferences, which is valid.

But, at least in this version, I think it can work. And not only can, but be extremely well done and coherent, going beyond simply platonic and romantic.

To begin with, no matter how it develops, I firmly believe that their friendship and bond will be the strongest foundation of these two.

The games didn't start out focusing on Sonic and Amy's friendship, more in the romance-ish. However, the movie would change that. Instead of following the typical relationship story, I think the writers could explore more a route where they show why they are the person for each other.

While yes, because it was said by the directors that the plan involves a "romantic" route; the most important thing established for Amy and Sonic in the movies is to show why they work as a duo, why they get along in the first place rather than just romance and saying that they will be together. Will be about the bond. 

To begin with: Amy and Sonic's versions of the movies are extremely compatible. As a whole, independent of the label.

Movie!Sonic is a brave but extremely traumatized boy. He has some trust issues and what all the people he loves and cares about have in common is that they are all undeniably selfless and good people. Tom protects and helps both people and animals. Maddie is a veterinarian who helps animals. Tailes is his little brother who always helps. Knuckles is his protective older brother. Even Shadow, at the moment he realized that the black hedgehog was just very traumatized and manipulated, Sonic had no problem putting aside any animosity after nearly killing him. Sonic grew up isolated, with his first guardian telling him he would be persecuted for his powers.

If there's one thing he values in people, it's kindness and goodness. 

And these qualities Amy has plenty. 

And I say more, while Sonic would be impressed by the rescue, he would trust and like Amy seeing how kind and concerned she's with people and animals (I mean, in the games, she’d this story about helping a bird). Sonic would admire her for her fighting skills, yes, but above all, he would value Amy for her compassionate and loving personality. Someone who is risking everything just to keep people safe, to keep him and his family safe. 

Not only that, Amy is a deeply sensitive, forgiving and kind soul and that would be one of, if not the most, important points for her and Sonic's dynamic. This boy... has been through a lot. He's lost a mother figure, almost killed people, almost lost his dad and must surely have a lot of guilt. And if there's one type of person who knows how to deal with people with guilt, it's those with kindness and unconditional love. 

Amy, in Sonic's POV, wouldn't be amazing because she knows how to fight or because of the really cool powers she’d have, but because of her ability to show love and kindness unconditionally even after all she has been.

He shows so much compassion throughout the movies, but I think what still really gets Sonic is to receive it. And Amy shows it easily, like breathing. If Sonic at some moment lost faith in himself, that he maybe doesn't deserve his family, if he loses in guilt, Amy will be there with all her trust and love.

Amy, on the other hand, would value Sonic as well. 

She would grow up with this beacon of hope, this person who could put an end to the terrible future. But not only that, I believe that she had him as a role model, perhaps seeing lapses of Sonic's life, and how he always persisted even when alone and afraid. This would inspire her, he would not only be a hero, but like her hero. What she wants to be. Remembering that Amy would enter this mission purely to do good, the girl would be going through this. She didn't want to be a hero, maybe explore and have adventure, but not being in charge of countless lives so young.  But she entered this because it was the only way to fix things, that doesn't mean she doesn't crack under pressure.

Sonic is not just the trigger that can save the world. He is the shattering of expectations. Someone so good and special that he can change an almost certain destiny. For Amy, Sonic would be the reason she doesn't give up, won't let this crazy endeavor go by and accept defeat. He is the fastest creature in the universe who not only breaks the sound barrier, but also writes fates. The simple fact that he lives makes a difference and this would inspire Amy that maybe she can too. 

That a simple girl who threw herself against everything and everyone in a mission that could kill her in the name of change can be a heroine. That she doesn't need to accept bad things passively without fighting, that she can indeed change the timeline.

Sonic would be a reason for Amy. Someone who never gives up, who will try again and again, no matter how many times he falls. Who will keep running until he reaches the finish line.

What I mean is, that there is no shortage of real and profound reasons for these two to enjoy each other's company. Their personalities complement each other. Isn't just superficial reasons, but real, deep things that influence both of them. 

Is a mutual connection they have that is different from anyone. That just exists between them. Is about building.

Development

Everyone talks about reverse Sonamy and I see the vision, but may I add: both are low-key crushing…except they don't see it.

We're talking about a boy who was isolated for ten years before having a family, carrying devastating traumas, and a girl who lost everything, is on the run without creating bonds for years also with devastating traumas.

C'mon, they don't know shit about romance.

And no, it's not that the passion isn't there, because it is... it's just that they don't know.

Starting with Sonic, maybe he'll notice the signs: his heart beating faster, his need to impress Amy, his nerves on edge...but don't connect the dots until someone points them out.

While Amy thinks he's a little weird but definitely endearing and heroic, and finds Sonic's actions silly but cute... and ends up attributing it to devotion and attachment to him in general.

Meanwhile, Maddie and Tom are nearly having a stroke because for the love of God they are so obvious while Tails and Knuckles also didn't get the why.

And while it might be a funny running joke, it also takes the pressure off the romance. They're not self-conscious about it. For them, they’re just new friends…with a weird amount of tension. But friends, noneless. Y'know, not second intentions or anything. Just them thinking their new pal is cool! As should be.

With that said, I buy the idea of Sonic showing his feelings more openly and being the one who goes after Amy more while she is more shy about it. And considering that she has a mission that determines the end or not of the known universe, it makes even more sense.

Although I see moments where Sonic is flirting really cheesy and Amy comes with a super deep declaration full of sincere devotion and drives this poor hedgehog to blue screen.

Something that can also contribute to their dynamics is parallels.

Sonic has parallels with almost everyone: Tails, Knuckles, Shadow. Heavily in Shadow. Good dynamics are born from it. All iconic audiovisual interactions have them. And with Amy and Sonic it would be no different.

One really cute thing about them is, Sonic and Shadow for example thrived on the parallels of similar loss, grief and as opposites, which is amazing narratively, Amy and Sonic are more parallel in qualities and, depending on how the film approaches it, in backstories.

They are both kind and sweet souls who fight for the ones they love until the end and are compassionate. Not only that, Amy and Sonic may be young folks who grew up alone feeling the weight of loneliness hit them hard. And heroes who now have to save the world because no one else can.

They have opposing parallels too, like Sonic being more laid back and impulsive while I see Amy being more strategic and thoughtful, him having to hide while she had to constantly move around, or Sonic finding family while Amy can't have bonds for the greater good. 

Heck, the writers can even pull a Amy and Sonic/ Tom and Maddie parallel if they really want to hit us!

But imo, they'd thrive in the alikeness. In their shared compassion.

In the capacity of changing the other for the better.

Sonic could help Amy relax. She would have a lot of responsibility on her shoulders, without support and always struggling. He would show her what it's like to have support, a family, how to take life more lightly. That she's doing well.

Amy can help Sonic to find peace. That he’s a hero and that although isn't perfect by any means, and yes he makes mistakes, that does not diminish his worth. She gets what he has been and keeps the same hope and trust in him.

And that's the appeal, imo. Not a love at first sign or destiny. But showing how they work, how they don't need to change who each other is but help, and how natural the interaction is. The growing feelings. The simplicity of the whole thing.

The lightness of young love, y’know.

Conflict

Trust me when I say it, the writers can make Sonamy doomed by narrative. Not only that, but it would be their core conflict as a duo.

No, I'm not crazy. 

See, cuteness apart, Sonamy is almost an “anomaly” by default in this universe. With the Metal Domination, Sonic probably should be dead in the future, not possible to meet anyone after that. Amy who came from the future to a time that isn't hers to stop it. She is not from his timeline, and he isn't from hers either. 

Sonic and Amy never should meet each other in any normal circumstances. They have a mission bigger than them. They have a clear reference to Terminator and my pal, it romance doesn't end well.

If my theories are correct, the fourth film is essentially a fight against destiny. The star-cross story writes itself. Amy and Sonic meet and hit it off, but man, none of the odds are in their favor.

And to make matters worse, I'm pretty sure that if love is a theme in the film, the writers will pull to love is to sacrifice. 

Remember the Tom and Maddie/Sonic and Amy parallels I mentioned? Tom and Maddie’s relationship has a strong foundation in sacrifice.

Maddie has said that Tom did everything he could to get her to go to veterinary school while Maddie gave up her life in Green Hills to be with Tom and make his dreams come true. Same with Sonic and Amy, except the stakes for these two are so much higher.

Because these two have a policy of no loved ones hurt equally at least in this universe and I know this will be a point of discussion. Sonic would never agree to someone he cares about sacrificing themselves, while Amy wouldn't accept it either. They're alike.

And I say more, it would be worse for Amy because this is her mission but also her feelings. The goal she dedicated her entire life to vs the people she loves. She won't condemn billions...but she won't be able to send Sonic into a near-death fight. And I'll say more, if she can save both of them at the cost of her own life, I say she would.

She doesn't have a family or a home and after spending time with the Wachowski, she wouldn't accept the risk of the family losing their son and brother. And man Sonic wouldn't take this fact well. 

He wouldn't understand why Amy wouldn't try to fight to change things once more instead of just accepting death, not accepting that this time, there would be no way to talk her way out of this situation. Amy would be right in her point. Lives were at stake and any other decision would lead to losses. 

Sonic would be torn too. It's a very important mission, and he has his family and the universe at stake...but leaving Amy would devastate him just as much. She's cool, she's amazing, and she'd still die for others. How do you deal with that?

Love and sacrifice. And always think about the other person and their well-being, not your own because that would be better. Doing things so that others can have their dreams and aspirations fulfilled. And how to balance what them both want.

They will find a way but God, the drama!

So yeah, Sonamy can be doomed by the narrative.

.

.

.

Well, this ends my talk about Amy Rose. What is right we'll see only in 2027. Until then, let's enjoy what we have. Please, if you wanna say something, do it! I would love to hear it! A big hug! Bye!

[hellinistical]

Thoughts on Rafayel- contains card spoilers and lore spoilers.

Rafayel is like a salmon in that he goes out of his home (never forgets the way no matter how far), and slowly loses bits of himself, eventually rotting while alive. Only taking 1 mate for his life time(s), and how in some cases, should she wish to go to her home would return with her despite nature telling him to return to his own. He loses his scales, his sight, his fins, lots of his weight, his strength, and yet still mc consumes him even after the rot. (Farmers often collect salmon when they're returning home before they can lay eggs or soon after; once they lay the eggs and frrtilize them they've served their purpose so they usually die soon). But of course, the farmer doesn't settle for one fish, he gets others. So the fish that's been caught, knowing its going to die anyways, let's the farmer catch it.

If rafayel is hunger then the mc is greed, or better yet, hunger with no appetite. Wasteful. And salmon- even if they're farm raised, still don't learn to get away from the farmer even when they see their kind getting caught.

Lemurians are huge and rafayel, compared to the other mls, is significantly smaller.

Additionally, thinking about child/teen rafayel (sea god him) who foolishly promised himself to mc on the first meeting and how naive he was to just trust her, giving up his future. at the first glance? possibly. but i saw it as more so curiosity and the first start of a crush or feeling flattered. cause mc said she liked his scales and he was like "where i come from that means you like me" which means he understood the societal differences and still went ahead and made a pact with her.

okay so like. he wasnt the sea god in this life but the price he had to pay for the aether core was taking up the responsibility of the sea god once again, but whether this applies to his future self/future lives is unclear, which makes me think that being the sea god is by contract not by blood, nor is it bound by any one person. it is a spirit that possesses you. This would clear confusion that he has lived for 800 years yet died over and over again.

So mc has a bond with both, rafayel *and* the sea God entity/the sea itself. The path just makes it so that they are one being (rafayel and the sea)

And the sea God is messy for using a child to (using this lightly) forcing a contract on mc's spirit (who was ALSO a child).

Kinda like Karma. Karma has you reborn as smth non-human depending how bad you were. Being human was your best bet. But ultimately you wanna *stop* being reborn. Which means achieving enlightenment. There's definitely aspects of Buddhism in his lore.

Also, the only thing that stopped the sea god from killing mc here was the bond she had with *rafayel*- cause she ordered him to stop and snap out of it. And this shows his awareness of the curse (cause let's face it, that's what it is).

Maybe this is a stretch. Idk.

He gave his scales to her, letting her tame him, his leg is weak from turning to a human, he's slowly losing his sight, and he cut off his fins on his ears (check the back- there's scars behind his ears).

[psink]

Makoto Teruhashi and Sai's (Kusuo's cat form) guidebook's full pages translation:

(left side) Disaster element: Siscon delusions in full swing! False accusations victim

A perverted older brother who loves his sister way too much A top idol who plays leading roles in blockbuster movies and popular TV dramas. (On the surface) he is a friendly, handsome and pleasant young man, but... ↑ This is Mugami Toru's true nature. He suffers from an extreme case of a sister complex. When it comes to his little sister, his delusions run wild.

? To avoid encountering･･････ Stay away from Teruhashi-san!! The other party is a top idol. He usually doesn't interact with people, but if you happen to get involved with Teruhashi-san, you'll become the victim of his escalating delusions! ! If you happen to encounter･･････ Teruhashi-san was over there!! He's in love with his little sister all day long. If you bring up the topic of Teruhashi-san in a conversation, all of his attention will shift to that. If possible, an avoidance technique is to involve other people.

(right side) Ecological information: 【Name】 Teruhashi Makoto 【Stage Name】 Mugami Toru 【Height】 178cm 【Weight】 64kg 【Birthday】 March 4th 【Blood type】 A

Disaster Status: Intelligence D, Physical Strength C, Acting ability D Kokomi ♡ Delusions◎ Popular ◎ Demon-Eye Detective Joker Actually a pervert ◎ Got it!

Overall disaster difficulty: 60% (C) A celebrity and a demon. Harmless, as long as you're not in contact with Teruhashi-san.

[Kusuo]: His inner-self is too disappointing and pitiful.

Main appearance spots Where does Teruhashi's older brother, a popular idol, for whom it'd be bad if he got discovered, frequently show up!? (top left) He's popular, but you can encounter him somewhere around there During the break from his drama shoots, he sometimes relaxes in nearby rest areas. Who knows, maybe he'll get to meet his sister there☆

(bottom left) He's popular, but if it's for Kokomi He took a break from Tamo-san's TV show to show up on his younger sister's school trip. He announced his participation in front of Saiki's house.

(top right) He's popular, so the drama shoots are also nearby! When shooting dramas, he pushes for the location to be his hometown, so that his younger sister can see his impressive appearance.

(bottom right) He's popular, so it'd be bad if it gets discovered He watches the movies he stars in with his beloved younger sister in a local movie theatre. He gives her commentaries, for her sake.

Asou-sensei's idea memo: Older brother + cute younger sister = siscon. His stage name is Mugami Toru. When you combine it and his given name, it becomes "communication". His last name is a play on "telepathy", so I think it's a well-thought-out name. By the way, the name Kokomi is a pun on "to see the heart" and "the heart is beautiful".

(up and middle left) Disaster element: Even in the cat world, he reigns on top!

A mysterious cat with an enlightened, detached gaze Saiki transformed into a cat form. He transformed because of Anpu, who had settled in Saiki's house without permission. This was actually the only time he turned into a cat. ← Since he was originally human, he's got a considerably intiminating presence.

! If you happen to encounter･･････ No way! Are you doing it outside? Because he was originally human, although he could do it outside if he wanted to, expectedly, he prefers to do excert indoors. If something inclines him to go to the bathroom, he'll retreat indoors.

(middle right) Ecological information: 【Name】 Sai (Saiki Kusuo) 【Height】 54cm 【Weight】 4.5kg 【Birthday】 August 16th 【Blood type】 Unknown Disaster Status: Intelligence S, Physical Strength A, Punch power S Uncontrollable Toilet Seat

Overall disaster difficulty: 10% (E) [Kusuo:] If you pet me, I won't show any mercy. (bottom left) Main appearance spots Since it's just a one-time cat transformation, the range of activities is extremely limited. To put it plainly, it's just one block.

The surroundings of Saiki's house, one block Since he doesn't travel far, as Sai, his actions were limited to about one block surrounding Saiki's house (bottom right) On top of Saiki Kuniharu's head It's no exaggeration to call the top of his father's head, Sai's reserved seat. The view and comfort of standing there are excellent.

Asou-sensei's idea memo: When the series first started, I never imagined that Saiki would turn into a cat. His psychic powers have come so far...! [Power] inflation is scary, isn't it?

== Other guidebook pages: Kuusuke + Teruhashi Kusuo + Kuriko

[mcrits]

kanthony ballet au!

Anthony has long since fallen out of love with ballet.

Ever since his father, a renowned dancer and head of the Bridgerton Dance Academy, passed away, Anthony has taken over his responsibilities. He rarely dances anymore, too focused on taking care of his family, keeping the academy running, and training the next generation of dancers, some of which are his own siblings.

One day, he's approached by his mother's dear friend Agatha Danbury, who asks if he wants to star in her upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet. He tries to decline, saying that he's far too busy with the academy, but in typical Danbury fashion, he ends up agreeing before he's even realized it.

His mother thinks it'll be good for him to dance again. "Maybe it'll get you out of whatever rut you've been in," she says. Anthony rolls his eyes.

"I'm not in a rut, mother. I've simply been busy."

"Busy brooding, maybe."

Upon showing up for the first day of rehearsals, he meets his Juliet: Edwina Sharma, an up-and-coming dancer from India who is just making her debut in London's professional ballet scene.

She's talented and lovely with work with. She's graceful and the very image of excellence. She never seems to misstep or slip. Anthony could never dream of achieving such perfection, and he's been dancing in some form since the day he learned to walk.

She's kind, as well. When they arrive, during their breaks, and when they're preparing to leave, they get a chance to talk. When she asks him if he wants to get dinner with her after rehearsal one day, he finds no reason why he shouldn't.

She tells him about the stories she's been reading, and he tells her about his work at the academy. Usually, he'd be preening at the attention of a pretty, smart, and kind woman who is possibly into him, but for whatever reason, he isn't.

He has to, though, at least on stage. He has to lift her and press his body to hers and kiss her.

It's fine, but Anthony certainly doesn't feel any of the passion he once felt for dancing. He can't wait to tell his mother 'I told you so.'

Until two weeks before they're set to open, that is. Anthony is lifting her like he's done a hundred times before, but this time, she pushes off a bit too hard, sending them both off balance.

He has neither the reaction time nor the grip to keep her from falling. She falls to the ground with a loud thud and a gasp of pain. As Anthony stares down at her in shock, he winces. Her ankle does not look right.

He drives her to the hospital, where he waits with her until she can be seen and sits with her in the exam room as a doctor examines her ankle.

That is where he meets the older sister he has heard so much about. Kate Sharma.

She's like a storm, bursting into the room with who is presumably their mother in tow, demanding to know what happened and if Edwina's okay.

"I'm okay, didi," Edwina assures her. "It was just a lift gone badly, it's alright." Her face turns a little sad. "They think my ankle is broken, but they're doing an X-ray to be sure. I also have a concussion from my head hitting the floor. but I'm okay, I promise."

Anthony knows that there is no chance of her being well enough to perform in just a few weeks. But in this moment, he doesn't have much of a chance to think about it, because Kate turns to him. Her eyes are burning.

"May i speak with you in the hall, Mr. Bridgerton?"

Anthony snorts at the overly formal name. "Certainly, Miss Sharma."

As soon as the door closes behind them, Kate starts talking. "So, a lift gone badly. What happened?"

"Well, I had her, she pushed off a bit too hard, we both lost our balance, and I wasn't able to catch her."

Kate stares at him. "So you're going to blame her for you dropping her?"

Anthony frowns, his mind spinning. "Excuse me?"

"Don't think I don't know what's happening here, Bridgerton. I know you didn't want to dance again. I know you probably want a way out of this."

When Anthony processes what she's insinuating, he laughs. "You think so lowly of me that you think I'd drop Edwina on purpose?"

"Considering the way you've led her on, yes, I do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Anthony asks. "I've just been nice! I've never given her any impression that there was anything between us other than friendship. Would you rather I be rude to her?"

"No, but I'd rather you not take her to countless lunches and dinners."

"Do you end up kissing every single person you go to lunch with? Uou don't have to do that, you know."

Late, breathing heavily with her rage, groans. "You are insufferable."

"Then you must be looking into a mirror."

Finally, Kate storms off, and Anthony shakes his head. Unbelievable.

He says a quick goodbye to Edwina, telling her to let him know about how her recovery is going, and heads home.

The next morning, rehearsal is surprisingly still on. He arrives, his heart dropping into his stomach as he sees who's sitting on the floor, pulling on her pointe shoes.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Kate looks up at him, her expression hardening. "I don't like it any more than you do, Bridgerton. But I know this show, and we only have two weeks until opening night."

This is going to be a long two weeks.

As much as Kate makes it her life's mission to piss him off, he does have to admit that she impresses him. She hasn't done the choreography in years, and yet she picks it up quickly.

But even with her fast pace, she still stays long after everyone leaves, rehearsing steps.

One night, against his better judgement, he agrees to stay late and practice with her. Despite his lack of passion, he does want to show to be as perfect as it can be.

That night, with just the two of them practicing passionate scenes over and over, Anthony truly sees her.

Kate is everything Edwina is not. She's stubborn where Edwina is easy-going. She's rude where Edwina is nice. She's reserved where Edwina is open.

Anthony loves it.

Finally, he gets a glimpse of his old passion. Their steps become routine, allowing them to focus on the emotion of the scene. Their bodies press together, and Anthony feels warm for the first time in a long time.

Their touches last longer than they should. They're closer than what's necessary.

As he walks forward to kiss her, they're both panting heavily, and his approach is much slower than it usually is. He can't help but savor the sight of her. Her cheeks are red and her hair is messy from the exertion. The blood leaves Anthony's brain.

Their lips connect, his hands going to grab her waist as usual, but this time?

Instead of leaning back and extending her arms out, she wraps both arms around his neck, going off pointe and burying a hand in the back of his hair.

He moans, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and she groans against his lips. His brain has completely shut off, and doesn't kick back into gear until Kate pulls away.

They're sitting on the floor, their feet and legs aching, and Kate straddles his lap. She seems to have lost herself, too, since she laughs breathlessly. "I think that's enough for today," she says, her gorgeous eyes constantly flicking between his eyes and his lips.

"Agreed," he whispers, leaning in to give her a brief kiss before hovering his lips by her ear, his voice lowering. "I know you've been sore since we started rehearsing. I could introduce you to my bathtub. A warm bath does wonders."

Kate shakes her head. "I shouldn't."

"But do you want to?"

After a moment of hesitation, she sighs. "Your bathtub better be big enough for two."

Anthony grins, his heart fluttering.

From that moment on, their late-night rendezvous become routine. It's the first time in a long time that Anthony has looked forward to dancing, and the sex that follows certainly helps with the passion. But between rehearsing and sex, they do get to know each other. And while half the time, they're arguing, the other half consists of deep conversations and jokes.

It's nice. Her humor is dry and witty, and Anthony's delighted by their constant banter. Unlike Edwina, Kate challenges him. While he doesn't enjoy being bested by her as often as he is, he can't help but be thrilled by the competition.

"I'll be sad when this is over," he admits softly during one of their breaks, sitting on the floor side-by-side and sipping water.

"So will I. It's been fun." She presses her shoulder against his, and he smiles, unable to take his eyes off of her. "I'm- I'm sorry I came off so strong during our first meeting."

"It's alright, Kate. I'm a protective older sibling, I get it. If it was my sister who was dropped by an asshole, I would've been pissed, too. But for the record, it really was an accident. and I hope she's back to dancing soon."

"Her doctor says she should be alright," Kate replies, nodding. "But thank you, Anthony. As much as it pains me to say this, you're not as bad as I thought."

Anthony rolls his eyes, but grins, bumping his shoulder against hers. "You're not so bad, either, Sharma."

When the show comes to a close, Kate stays over at Anthony's apartment before the closing night of the show. With their bodies pressed together, their limbs completely entangled underneath the blankets, Kate lifts her head from his bare chest and looks him in the eye.

"I don't want this to end, Anthony," she whispers, placing a hand on his cheek.

"Neither do I."

"Then we'll still see each other after the show ends?"

Anthony grins. "You won't be able to get rid of me."

Kate matches his grin and leans in to kiss him.

Anthony loves dancing again, and he also loves Kate Sharma.

[princess-of-the-corner]

You're reblog with the explanation of the Maribat salt prevalence got my brain kinda stuck on on the potential of a possible non-salty Batfam x ML crossover.

As someone who is an actual DC fan and an ML fan but has never touched Maribat with a 10 foot pole, here are a couple plot points I can picture if ML actually crossed over with the Batfam (more of a WFA style one though, considering the nature of ML)

The bats aren't really shocked or concerned Bustier lost a student, if that happens, because they've dealt with far worse from the school systems. They're more curious why the FUCK someone thought Gotham would be a good international tourist destination.

They're not shocked about the international magic terrorist or the children fighting him because *gestures vaguely at every iteration of the Teen Titans ever*, they're just kinda surprised they didn't know about it.

The batgirls are people that exist, and they would get along SO well with Chat.

Especially Stephanie. Which one of them am I describing here? Comedic, joke-cracking blonde cinammon roll who's also a TERRIFYING motherfucker when they wanna be, in love with a hyper-competent black-haired individual who's also a bit of a social disaster, considered too reckless and irresponsible and inexperienced by their teammates/mentors and frequently left out of the loop because of it, AND has an asshole villainous theatre kid for a father. They're SO similar, it's not even funny.

Also, the batgirls get chat on hormone therapy

Max, Markov, and Barbara have a coding fight that Barbara wins, but she's still really intrigued by Markov, spends hours chit chatting about it, and offers to teach Max coding remotely.

Tim trains/hires Lila somehow. This man gets like 3 separate villains working for him in Red Robin, and under his rules too. Tim doesn't really give a shit about your morality, if you're skilled and can be directed, he'll get you on his payroll.

Selina meets LB and CN and is absolutely gone on Chat. She thinks he's so adorable. She likes Mari too, but the punny catsuit kid strikes a chord with her.

Harley meets up with Juleka and they punch things together.

Nino and Harley commiserate about bad clown-themed fashion choices.

Forget Bruce Wayne. Helena Bertinelli, a.k.a Huntress, a.k.a someone who is a teacher as her day job has a field day shepherding the whole miracuclass around and teaching them how to use crossbows.

Just some thoughts running around in my head thanks to that RB. There really is quite a bit of potential here, especially if you allow the Batgirls to exist and let Chat run with the Bats.

Honestly there's so many oppurtunities for fun and shenanigans in a ml/batman crossover when it's actually an ml/batman crossover and not 'Mari as a mary sue who is sooooo beloved and perfect except her old class are evil people worse than Literally The Joker™ despite being dumb teenagers and she's gonna go fuck off and have fun with Batman instead!!!"

Honestly just the fact that the Bats would be more likely to pick up Lila than Marinette. Like Marinette is a girl who has loving parents and a wonderful life and sure she'll be recruited as Ladybug but Lila? Lila and Tim are going to team up to take over the world and there;s nothing we can do about it

[yanderes-galore]

Can I request a rivalry concept with yandere Blackbeard and yandere Whitebeard? Thank you <3

Oh no... Blackbeard's intentions are dubious, but Whitebeard is platonic.

Yandere! Blackbeard vs Whitebeard Concept

(Marshall D Teach vs Edward Newgate)

Pairing: Romantic (Blackbeard)/Platonic (Whitebeard/Blackbeard) - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Deception, Kidnapping, Isolation, Forced companionship/relationship (Blackbeard).

Honestly, being stuck between these two powerhouses can be such an issue for you.

While Whitebeard is going to be the one who definitely takes care of you.

Blackbeard's intentions... Well, they're just as unpredictable as he is.

Blackbeard has always been known to follow his own ambitions.

He's probably one of the most cutthroat pirates out there.

Blackbeard sees those around him as pawns.

While Whitebeard offered to be a father figure to him, Blackbeard was completely fine with betraying him to get what he wanted.

He did it with his Devil Fruit, he'll certainly do it to take you.

One way you could've met the two is being part of the Whitebeard Pirates.

After all, there was a point in time Blackbeard joined Whitebeard to be part of his family as an orphan.

Maybe you ended up meeting him on the crew, only to surprisingly get along with him.

Blackbeard, although you knew him as Teach then, always talked to you about dreams.

At the time you had found such beliefs admirable.

Many had dreams they chased and being part of Whitebeard's family helped many.

In fact, one of Whitebeard's dreams was having a family.

Teach had met you and seemed to know you were close with Whitebeard like many of the crew.

You had learned a lot of the older man's teachings in such a short amount of time.

You had truly tried to see Teach as family.

If Teach never found the Devil Fruit he needed, you two probably would have had a positive relationship with one another.

In fact, maybe in another timeline you and Teach would've had a better life with Whitebeard watching over you both.

Teach had always held a certain fondness towards you....

Granted, he never really acted on it, but it was there to taunt him.

It felt distracting at first... In fact, Teach hesitated to follow through with his plan due to you.

He hated to leave you... however...

He could always retrieve you later, no?

Truth is, Teach never liked how loyal you were to Whitebeard.

Part of him envied that... Part of him wanted that.

At the time, he didn't understand why he cared.

Yet... He can't help but feel frustrated that you have more respect for Whitebeard than him.

Perhaps this was the start of Teach's craving for your attention.

The rivalry would probably "begin" after Teach defects, murders a crewmate, and leaves.

Whitebeard is aware you were close with Teach.

While Teach didn't physically hurt you, Whitebeard knows you could've been hurt.

Whitebeard is like a father to you, he refuses to just be a captain.

You are his family and he knows he needs to protect you.

Maybe Teach commented on coming back for you once he's stronger... and that stuck with Whitebeard since?

Afterwards, Whitebeard has kept an eye on you.

Teach, now Blackbeard, doesn't come back into your life until Ace hunts him down.

Truth is, Blackbeard never forgot about you.

No, you've been on his mind quite a lot actually.

He knows you're still loyal to Whitebeard, that old pirate.

Blackbeard picks his crew based on how useful they are to him.

In a way, Blackbeard has always viewed you as useful.

The unfortunate thing is Whitebeard stands in the way of him having you for himself.

He knows you'd never betray your family....

Well, if you won't, he'll just have to pry you from them, right?

Whitebeard is someone who would die for his family.

You are so much smaller than him... yet such a determined little thing.

He's always viewed you as one of his many children.

You came to him with nowhere to go and he provided you a home.

Whitebeard is aware Blackbeard is capable of horrid acts.

He's a selfish man who killed a crewmate, a sin among his crew.

Whitebeard knows Blackbeard is not only plotting to be King of The Pirates, to rule the world...

But he plans to take you with him, willing or not.

You were not like Ace, you didn't want to track Blackbeard down.

Especially since Whitebeard disliked the idea.

He didn't say it... You just knew.

In that case, the true rivalry doesn't really begin until the Paramount War I feel.

Marineford is where everyone gathers to fight and determine the new era.

Pirate, Warlord, Emperor, Marine... It didn't matter.

Everyone was there.

You had come there with Whitebeard to help rescue Ace.

Whitebeard had insisted you stayed close, but such a plan backfires the moment Blackbeard appears.

The rivalry itself is rather short-lived.

Anything before the Paramount War was tension and planning.

Unfortunately, if we're sticking to canon, Whitebeard was rather slated to lose such a rivalry.

He already gets quite weakened by the Marines there.

That and once he sees Blackbeard, he gets distracted with protecting you and Ace.

Such distraction and weakness... Is easy for Blackbeard to exploit.

Whitebeard had always wanted a happy life for you.

He always wanted to show you freedom and family... He wanted to be the father you looked up to.

Sadly, such dreams were quickly trashed once Blackbeard swooped in to end things.

It's ironic, really.

Whitebeard wants freedom and family for you...

Yet Blackbeard instead gives you captivity and isolation in an effort to keep you to himself.

The rivalry, what little had occurred, ends with Whitebeard and Ace dying...

You're practically left in the ashes, scared of what to do next.

Only for Blackbeard, Teach, to proudly laugh like he didn't decimate an old man.

Now, your loyalty to Whitebeard could be tossed aside.

Blackbeard has been waiting for this moment since his obsession began.

He never liked how you praised Whitebeard, how you ignored Blackbeard's wants for the sake of loyalty.

Now it doesn't matter!

You can't defy him now, can you?

He's got much more power than you, including Whitebeard's power.

This is when Blackbeard becomes an Emperor of The Sea.

The title and power isn't his only prize, however...

Now, Blackbeard can claim you.

Truth is, he's been giddy about it since he saw you.

This war was nothing more than your downfall.

Although, to Blackbeard, you're more than a pawn like the rest of his crew.

You're a treasure, a conquest.

You were once good companions under Whitebeard...

But with him gone... Blackbeard is free to take you as his own.

With Blackbeard, there's no freedom for you, or a real sense of family...

Blackbeard is an ambitious man who takes what he wants.

He planned to have you for a long time... it just took waiting for the right moment...

Now with your old man out of the way, the real fun begins...

You belong to Blackbeard now, forced to follow him and his schemes, yet another trophy for him to gloat about as he continues to collect his victories.

[blackfoy]

The Hound's Gone Feral

The Hound, after everything, has found himself back in time. He does not know how, and he does not particularly care. All he knows is that he will protect his pups this time, no matter the cost. Vander has time-traveled. Except he's not really sure he's Vander anymore. He's been Warwick for a long time now, and after that, he was part of a hivemind. He's not even close to the man he used to be, and he isn't sure what to do now that he's back to the time when he was still human. But then he sees his pups, his kids, and he knows that nothing else matters. But if he's going to protect them, then he's going to have to take care of the Silco problem. He isn't sure if the man is friend or foe, pack or prey, and so he sets about finding out.

This Vander is feral in a way that nobody is used to. Or, at least, nobody but Silco, who believes that Vander had gone soft. He finds out pretty quickly that Vander is more feral than ever before. Vader has Sevika tell Silco he wants to talk alone, which was a shock by itself since Vander shouldn't have known she was working for him. Silco comes long after the sun has set and the kids are in bed, not actually alone since he decided to bring Sevika with him. But that's fine with the Hound because he knows Sevika is good with his pups when she wants to be. Silco tries to go into the conversation with his silver tongue, but Vander is blunt and honest with him. He tells him that he's been changed, tells him he isn't sure how to see him. Silco tries to scoff and needle and provoke a reaction, but the Hound just watches.

In the end Silco finds the push he was looking for, the kids, and gets a reaction out of Vander. Vander has his hands on Silco almost before he's finished speaking, surprisingly gentle as he pins him against the wall. Silco acts like he's won, gloats about Vander's savage nature, but instead of flinching away Vander leans in closer and *admits that he's worse than ever.* Now Silco's starting to understand, with Vander growing into his neck, that the man pinning him down is far from soft. He starts to panic and struggle, making the Hound chuckle. "Regardless of if you are Pack or Prey, you will not harm the pups." Silco foolishly decided to push his luck, "And if I do?" Vander growled deeper than it should be possible for a human. "Then you will wish you had drowned."

And then Vander lets him go, lets him gasp for air, lets him run off trying to act like he wasn't completely terrified. But Silco knows that Vander has changed, that he isn't soft, and that's enough to change his plans. He also has to bury the part of him that wants to be a part of the Hound's pack, wants to be protected by Vander's bulk once more. Silco realizes that Vander holds seemingly no remorse for what he's done and is willing to do it again. This strokes his anger into yelling, which Vander shuts up by biting him hard enough to draw blood. The Hound is testing to see if Silco's blood will entice him to hunt, but Silco feels the punishment and the claim of the marking. Vander declares him not prey and lays him down in a booth to get the first aid kit and some water. Silco reacts when Vander grabs him to treat the wound and Vander growls back, enforcing the dynamic some more. Some more conversation.

After a few days and then a few meet ups with no violence from Silco, the Hound assumes that Silco has chosen Pack. Which means he starts trying to make sure the man has ate and drank and slept and is otherwise protected since he doesn't sleep in the den with the rest of them. He's been doing the same with Benzo and Ekko, but they take it much better than Silco does. Sevika is mostly amused by this point, and takes the occasional glass of water shoved her way with a nod.

Eventually, they get into an argument about something or another, and Vander threatens to punish Silco. Silco laughs, but then Vander handcuffs him to the chair and plops Powder in his lap with instructions to tell him about her inventions. Powder kind of shrugs and goes with it, and while Silco is definitely feeling the punishment in the beginning, by the end, he's getting along pretty well with Powder and actually helping her with her bombs. The Hound is smug.

The second the Hound and Dr. Corin Reveck are in the same room it is a blood bath. Silco is introducing them for one reason or another, and then Vander is on top of Reveck pounding his skull in. Corin struggles, and manages to get a few wounds in, but he is quickly and brutally overwhelmed by a panicking raging Hound. Silco is in shock and also fairly terrified, especially when Vander rounds on him, but Vander just holds him close and mutters some curses at Reveck's dead body before insisting he is shown his laboratory. Not wanting to get hurt by trying to say no, Silco brings him and watches as the Hound tears the lab apart. He knows very little of what is going on, but he knows from the few words Vader spoke to Reveck that the scientist had been involved in whatever it was that changed him. Silco doesn't think that Vander has taken shimmer, but Reveck did something to him, and so he's not that upset at the man's death. More so the destruction of his plans and a whole lot of shimmer. The only thing Vander handles with any care is Rio, who he puts out of her misery as gently as he can.

Sheriff Grayson meets with the Hound, and is very unnerved by him. Not to mention not very pleased about the hard changes they will have to make. The Hound isn't afraid to threaten, to state facts that double as threats, to drop Grayson's own death into the conversation.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi hi hi!! first of all, i'm so fascinated with how your mind works. seeing your theories, metas, and explanations actually inspired me to read the books (even if they're off of this slightly dodgy website lol). i've read some of your thoughts on harry's love interests / possible li's for him (the theo posts too), and i wondered what sort of love interest would be fitting for him if they were a girl. would they be like luna or any other existing character, how would they meet (ideally), what house or personality traits, etc.

Thank you!! 💛

Holy shit, it's insane you enjoyed my writing so much even without reading the books and that I got you to read the HP books but please be careful not to download malware on your PC. Stay safe out there.

Honestly, I can see a lot of different types of characters working as a love interest for Harry, but there are some common denominators for characters I think would work with him better. That being said, shipping is very subjective, and I think any character could be written in a compelling romance with any character by a talented enough writer, so these are mostly my preferences for Harry's dynamics in a romance with how I see his character.

Someone like Luna definitely could work. I like their dynamic and under the right circumstances, I think it could work. She's blunt, and straightforward in a way Harry respects, she can call out his bullshit and isn't scared of being herself. Harry's also open-minded enough to let Luna believe whatever she wants and would probably not mind a Sweaden vacation even if he doesn't believe they'd actually find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

Personally, I was always under the impression that if Harry and Susan Bones actually talked they would've gotten along really well due to Susan's, like, 3 lines:

“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,” said Michael Corner at once. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying. . . .” “Yeah, well —” said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree. “And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,” said Susan Bones.

(OotP, Ch16)

She clearly sees Hary's accomplishments for what they are and calls out his unfounded self-doubts (Harry needs someone who can do that without making him feel stupid).

Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors: Susan Bones, who had an uncle, aunt, and cousins who had all died at the hands of one of the ten, said miserably during Herbology that she now had a good idea what it felt like to be Harry. “And I don’t know how you stand it, it’s horrible,” she said bluntly, dumping far too much dragon manure on her tray of Screechsnap seedlings, causing them to wriggle and squeak in discomfort.

(OotP, Ch25)

She's straightforward and chill with a few of her own demons and she dislikes public attention as much as Harry. Even if Susan had ways less time with Harry, she understands he doesn't like the attention. She asks "how you stand it?" she thinks he must hate it as much as she does. I just find it interesting a random Hufflepuff girl who has 2 lines knows and understands Harry better than his love interest who thinks he likes getting attention and going after Voldemort.

Basically, a blunt, chill Hufflepuff that treats him like just Harry and not the Boy-Who-Lived would work too, is what I'm saying. Like a younger Tonks-like character who's a bit more serious and responsible (which is how I imagine Susan, except, less punk) could work with Harry. (though Harry thinks anyone who looks a little punk looks cool... He thinks Tonks is cool, and Kingsly and Bill are instantly cool in Harry's opinion for having an earring, so maybe give him a punk girlfriend. I think he'd be into it)

A Gryffindor girl who likes Quidditch (like Ginny) could've worked too. My problem with Ginny is that JKR tried to make her too perfect in the later books. Like, a Gryffindor girl who's confident and has a sense of humor could've been a good match for Harry. Just give her some actual insecurities and the willingness to be emotionally vulnerable with Harry and without Ginny's obsession so she'd see Harry as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived — that could've worked. Like, Ginny as a concept could've worked if the character and her romance with Harry were written better. As she is in the books, I don't think it works though, I'd change the character's personality/attitude if I wanted to write her with Harry, so I don't feel like I could really call her "Ginny" you know?

A Ravenclaw like Cho who doesn't expect Harry to be another Cedric and is just more chill and not actively grieving could've worked. Like, as I mentioned Luna (who's a Ravenclaw) could work with Harry, but a sporty, chill, Ravenclaw could've also worked. She just needed to know who Harry is and date him for him and not as a Cedric replacement. Also, I just, don't think Harry would be interested in a girl who's into dragging him to Madam Paddifoots, but, like, a Ravenclaw who plays Quidditch and is, like, idk, obsessed with alchemy and has a bit of a mad scientist vibe going on, could work with Harry. I think his love interest should have interests of her own, basically. I think it adds flavor.

A cunning and intelligent Slytherin girl who isn't Pansy Parkinson (a la Daphne Greengrass or Tracy Davis) could work as well, depending on how you characterize her.

Basically, to ship Harry with a girl, of any house, I'd be looking for a lot of the same traits I look for in guys I ship Harry with:

Treat Harry as Harry and not as the Boy Who Lived — the reason doesn't matter but he/she has to see Harry as his own person and not his scar or fame and understand he hates the attention.

Intelligence — because Harry's actually really smart and he needs someone who could not only keep up with him but also correct and argue with him when the situation calls for it.

Self-confidence but also some insecurities — they need to have a spine to stand their ground and call Harry on his bullshit and his own low self-esteem but they should have their own issues and self-perception problems. I like it when things are fair and a ship helps each other grow together. Also, I don't think Harry would date someone truly arrogant. Arrogant to hide insecurities — that I think could work though under the right conditions.

Wit and humor — Harry is a sarcastic, sassy little shit with a slightly dark sense of humor, I think he needs a partner who can match his sense of humor and not get offended if he makes a comment about wanting to torture Snape.

Chill — Harry is a little emotionally inept, he would probably not manage well with a very emotional partner that requires a lot of attention (like Cho). Don't get me wrong, Harry would care and do his best, and pay attention when needed, but the guy doesn't really know how to deal with crying people. So, his partner should be someone who's fine with Harry's sort of comfort methods. (Some people don't want to talk about it when they're upset, they just want someone to listen to them vent a bit. Which, I think Harry would be great at. And vice versa. Harry, when upset, often just wants someone to be next to him quietly, but he doesn't want to talk about it sometimes). Basically, they need to have matching comfort styles so they could actually communicate when upset.

Chill (p2) — Harry's sort of anger requires someone who'd be able to remain cool once Harry reaches his threshold in year 5 wouldn't get quickly offended, but instead calmly put Harry in his place. Basically, they need to have more emotional intelligence than Harry because someone needs to know how to do emotions in the relationship. (In Ronmione's case, Ron is the more emotionally intelligent one, contrary to what Hermione likes to think. In Hinny's case, neither of them knows how to do emotions somehow, which adds to why they never appealed to me, I think. In Tommary, which I used to read, Harry is the emotionally intelligent one in the relationship, which is why this pairing is only realistic to me when it's a disastrous mess)

Knows to be both blunt and subtle depending on the situation — Harry needs someone to match him, as Harry can be a sneaky Slytherin sometimes, but sometimes, the situations in his life would require his partner to be brave and blunt. I think, regardless of house, his partner should be able to do both.

The capacity to be quiet — Harry is a quiet person overall and I think he'd work better with a partner who can just let him be quiet and not force him to engage in conversation. Ron and Hermione, for example, love bantering and bickering, but Harry finds their sort of bickering infuriating, so, yeah. Like, he can work with a partner who talks more than him, but they need to not always need to talk, yk?

At least a little anti-authority (or a lot) — I don't think Harry could date someone who's perfectly by-the-book and loves the rules and authority. Most of his clashes with Hermione come from a place of her trusting certain authority while Harry doesn't really trust any authority. I think he'd get frustrated dating someone who's too pro-authority (why he and Cho wouldn't have lasted even without Cedric's ghost hanging over them).

Magically talented — Harry's magic is insane, he doesn't need a partner that's on his level, but someone who is capable and skilled enough to hold their own is necessary with how dangerous Harry's life is and for him to be able to treat them seriously.

Brave — there are different kinds and levels of bravery, but at the end of the day, I don't think Harry could date someone who isn't brave enough to deal with all the shit Harry's life throws at him. Like, Harry's partner, I think, should be willing to join the trio on the Horcrux hunt should they be offered to. (I personally portray Theo, for example, as someone who doesn't think he's brave, but when he needs to, he's way braver than he thinks. Luna is brave enough to be herself and damn what anyone thinks. So you can play around with the kinds of bravery). Like, the fact Ginny didn't press him to know more about what they're planning and wanting to join the danger to help protect and defend Harry is insane to me. I think Harry deserves a ride-or-die relationship because he's a very ride-or-die person for the people he loves. (Hence why I love his friendship with Ron and Hermione. The Golden Trio is the definition of ride-or-die)

A bit of a tragic Backstory — this isn't mandatory, per se, but I think Harry would work best with a partner that has some of their own demons in their past. It's a little spice that I love. It's why I like shipping him with Theo (who from the very little we know of him can be read as being abused by his father, plus his mother is dead) or potentially Luna who saw her mother die. I think someone who's suffered some trauma similar to Harry would be better at connecting with Harry and seeing him in a way even Ron and Hermione struggle to do.

So, yeah, this is like, my thoughts on shipping Harry with any character and what's the broad strokes of my recipe for my preferred Harry dynamic in romance.

But, like with most things in fiction, it's all about execution. If you write it well enough, anything will work.

[rheydhotts]

Drabbles #1 — Modern Au! Timebomb

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko are first year college students.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx is a chemical engineering major and ekko is a political science and engineering major.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko are academic rivals who can't admit their feelings for each other.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko have study dates sessions every Saturday.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx falls asleep less than an hour in since she's quick to bore due to the fact she knows everything.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko can't help but admire how peaceful she looks while she rests.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko catches himself by mumbling about how lazy jinx is.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko begrudgingly gives her a blanket and moves her notes to make sure she doesn't drool on them.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko takes another photo of her to add to his album, not as blackmail but something to keep him motivated.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx also has photos of him sleeping in her camera roll that she does use as blackmail.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko sometimes paint murals on abandoned walls they find.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko sometimes lets jinx ride his skateboard.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko tries his hardest not to think too much about the fact he's holding her waist so she doesn't eat shit if she falls (and she will)

modern au! timebomb, where jinx puts herself in situations where she's touching ekko or ekko is touching her.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko often brag about getting the better grades or a higher test score even though they aren't studying the same thing. they just want the other to know that they're smarter in their respective topic than the other is in theirs.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko often criticizes jinx for how messy her dorm is.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx keeps it messy just to annoy him since she thinks it's cute.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko have been dancing around each other since high school.

modern au! timebomb, where it's finally spring break and ekko decides to make a move.

...

can you meet me at the park near the campus? i need to talk to you..

ekko nearly threw his phone out the window after sending that text. his hands were shaking and his nerves were shot at what he was about to do. he's liked her for years now but the thought of possibly changing their relationship terrified him. what if she said no? worse. what if she said yes? what would he do then?

ekko started to get ready, ignoring the cold sweats that would drip from his brow and how shallow his breaths are. he cursed himself for not owning anything more casual. most of his closet was occupied by turtlenecks, sweater vests and button ups. occasionally, there would be a hoodie or two. he decided to go with one of those. a green hoodie with a graphic of a huge tree plastered on the back. and for his pants? he didn't worry too much about those since he only had 2 valid options. jeans and sweats. he went with the jeans. they were acid wash with a few rips below the knees. jinx had made them for him. she originally just accidentally washed them with the whites one time after saying she'll do his laundry for him. she tried to make it look intentional but clearly it wasn't. ekko was pissed but he'll admit, they do look cool.

sure?

y?

watz goin on?

ekko rolled his eyes and smiled when he got her response. though he made fun of her for it, he secretly loved the way she typed. even if it meant spending a few minutes to decide it, the ridiculousness makes him laugh.

nothing. i just want to talk to you

...

um ok

weirdo

be there in 15

and with the finishing touches of his cedarwood cologne, he was out the door.

who has time to write full length fics? — xoxo, rheyd.