#because they both used both he and she at different points so they is not really correct i guess but using he or she isn't either

[xshadowdelta]

FORMER MANAGER

PART 5: PURITY.

Mashiro x Male Reader (4K length)

You observed your face in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, your messy hair, the marks of the sheets on your cheeks and some visible dark circles bordering your eyes, it definitely had not been your best night. You had barely slept, tossing and turning in bed all night while your head was spinning around the scene with Jang Wonyoung.

The image of her crying wouldn't disappear from your mind no matter how hard you tried, but how did this happen in the first place? The last memory you had of her was when you said goodbye years ago before returning home, back then she also cried, but this time it was totally different, her look of disappointment on you disturbed you even more than her tears.

You catched some water from the sink, throwing it over your face, trying to clear yourself up and wake up a little, because you had to continue with your life and your work, you would find a free time lapse to be able to fix this problem.

You showered, fixed your hair, and hid the traces of a terrible night on your face as well as you could before getting dressed and leaving your apartment heading to the company.

You arrived at the building where as soon as you entered, your boss was waiting for you, folder in hand, and while you both walked he explained the itinerary of the day and the schedule for the upcoming weeks. Kep1er’s members had returned from their last shows abroad, there had been a few changes at the management level, and a new comeback was already planned, so the work was going to be hard and intense.

Both of you stopped in front of one of the practice rooms, a light touch of your coworker knuckles on the door and you entered inside, a group of girls who were stretching stared at you.

“Good morning girls.” Your partner began to speak. “Before starting preparations for this new album I want to introduce you to your new full-time manager, starting on today he will take care of all of you and about everything you need.” He exclaimed, indicating for you to introduce yourself to them with a gesture of his hand.

You bowed them instantly. “Nice to meet you! I will be at your service from now on, I hope we get along well.” You said a little nervous, a feeling that disappeared when you saw the smiles and applause they offered you. “Nice to meet you, please treat us well!” They all said in unison bowing to you aswell.

"Good." Your boss interrupted. “The dance teacher will come right away to show you and start practicing the new choreographies, I hope the best from all of you. “Fighting!” He said with his fist, before handing you the information folder and leaving the room.

You watched him leave and when you looked back you jumped when you realized how the Kep1er girls had surrounded you, occupying any personal space you could have, their eyes analyzing you carefully.

"Hello!" One of them greeted with a huge smile on her face. “I'm the leader Yujin, nice to meet you, it's incredible, it's the first time I have such a young manager.” You smiled shyly, uncomfortable with the circle of people that had formed around you.

“Wow, can I call you oppa?” A girl with pink hair and rounded cheeks asked next to her, if you were not mistaken it was Kim Chaehyun, you nodded affirmatively at her question causing her to laugh.

You noticed that penetrating eyes were focused on you to the point that you realized that gaze was passing through you, you made eye contact with it, increasing your nervousness.

“Is something wrong, Xiaoting?” You asked softly making the mentioned girl blink a few times. “Do you know my name already?” She questioned surprised. “Our new manager has studied a lot!” Dayeon shouted, starting to laugh and causing the rest of the members to laugh.

“Look at his dark eyes, he sure hasn't been able to sleep all night!” Hikaru joked, releasing one of her particular laughs that resonated throughout the room, increasing the volume and joy of the rest of the members.

These girls were really loud and restless, they were going to give you a lot of headaches, yet a smile was drawn on your lips and for a while you forgot about the rest of your problems.

The dance teacher appeared and the morning passed with the girls memorizing and practicing the new choreographies, so you took the opportunity to go to your office to work on other aspects such as contacting the wardrobe team, making venue reservations where the filming would be done, hire the recording equipment.

The days went by and with the amount of work you had it was impossible to even think about Wonyoung. Your relationship with the members of Kep1er was improving and due to the characteristics of these girls, in just a week it seemed like you had been together since their debut, and that was something that relieved you and made everything much more enjoyable.

This day in question the girls would spend it in the recording studio, testing their vocals and recording the songs for the new album, so really your presence there was not very significant so your task for the day was to clean and organize everything in the house.

If you already hated doing housework, doing it in a home full of girls made you hate it excessively. A multitude of clothes scattered throughout the rooms, boxes and cardboard in every corner.

You were infinitely grateful to Bahiyyih for trying to keep the house in order, saving you some work, but the whirlwind that was Chaehyun Dayeon and Hikaru was simply unstoppable.

You finished off the apartment Yujin Bahiyyih Chaehyun and Xiaoting shared and headed upstairs to start cleaning the next one. You hadn't been there for long but there was a room that you had not yet accessed, it was a two-bed bedroom that did not belong to anyone in the group but that had serious signs of having been habited before, it was perfectly arranged and there were still clothes hanging in the closet.

You inspected said clothes, leaving them on one of the beds, you opened the drawers looking to know what, and this really had you confused.

“W-W-Who are you? What are you doing with my clothes?” A sudden voice surprised and scared you, almost making you fall on the bed when you turned to look at the door frame of the room, finding a small girl with brown hair and a rather cute appearance carrying a cardboard box in her hands, looking at you in a scared way.

“That's what I should ask, how did you get in here? The door has a password, and what's with your clothes?” You were trying to appear as calm as possible but you were really uneasy with that presence.

“Don't tell me…A SASAENG!” You both shouted at the same time, pointing your fingers at each other.  "WHAT? ME?" Now your fingers were pointing towards yourselves.

“It's over I'm going to call the police.” The girl said, dropping the box and taking her mobile phone out of her pants pocket.

“That's exactly what I'm going to do, look at this.” You said, taking out the company ID, surprising the girl.

"Huh?"

.

.

.

.

“I'm sorry again, I had no idea you were the new manager.” The girl said with her head down, looking at the ground, feeling guilty for the previous misunderstanding.

“The mistake was mine for not having recognized you before, Mashiro-shi.” Now you knew who this room belonged to.

Apparently, and after left the grou, both Mashiro and Yeseo had been terribly busy with their new group and their own activities that they had been coming and going to the house making small moves of their things. However some things of their property were still there.

“If you need help with your…”

“Oh no no, please, I'm sure you're very busy, I don't want to bother you.” She commented, making notable gestures with her hands. You smiled at how adorable that was.

“The rest of the members say that you and Yeseo will continue to be part of Kep1er forever…” You commented, bending down to pick up the cardboard box from the floor and put it on the bed, opening it. “So now I'm also your manager, okay Mashiro-chan?” You smiled warmly at her causing her cheeks to turn a deep pink color.

“O-O-Okay” She agreed shyly, approaching you and helping you pack more clothes from her closet.

Together you cleared out the closet and packed all the clothes, and you organized the rest of the room and cleaned it. You glanced at Mashiro from time to time, even with that strange first impression you had with her, you really thought she was a super adorable girl. Her small stature, her beautiful face and the dimples that were marked on her cheeks reaffirmed it.

“What do you think of the members?” She asked casually while doing her task, your gaze drifted towards the ceiling, sketching a slight smile after a few seconds of thought.

“Noisy.” You responded simply causing her to giggle, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

“I understand you perfectly.” She supported you.

“But they are really amazing.” You continued. “They spend the day laughing and making a fuss but they don't lower the effort they put into their practices one bit, sometimes I envy them. I would also like to enjoy my work like they do.” Out of the corner of my eye you could notice a small smile melancholy on her face, so you decided not to say anything else and continue with the cleaning.

You walked over to one of the nightstands next to one of the beds to open the drawers, see what they kept and see if there was anything else that needed to be packed.

“Don't open that!” Mashiro screamed hysterically, throwing herself on the bed trying to stop you but you had already opened the drawer. You looked at her confused, even more so when she threw her hands over her face trying to hide herself, while her ears turned red.

You looked down, looking at the vibrator that was inside the drawer, blushing too and quickly moving away, falling on your ass to the floor.

"I'm sorry."  You whispered embarrassed, unable to look up, noticing how your face was burning.

“Noooooo…how embarrassing.” Mashiro sobbed, rolling on the bed. You grabbed a lock of your hair, analyzing the situation, looking for the right words for a moment like this.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of Mashiro, it is something totally normal for someone your age and…Mashiro?” You were absorbed as you looked up to see directly at the girl who was still sobbing, covering her face with one hand, while the other was now rubbing her crotch over her pants. So those sounds weren't sobs, they were moans.

You saw how she relaxed her body and lie down on the bed. The hand that covered her face no longer did so, she was now looking at you clearly, intently, a look very different from what you had seen from her before.

“It has been such a hard, stressful and emotional weeks. Leaving one group to enter another, new members, comeback, and performances. Even now all the responsibility of being a leader falls on my shoulders.”

“Mashiro…” Your words were interrupted by a new moan.

“And I forgot my stress reliever during the move, I tried using my fingers but they didn't have the same effect…” You turned your gaze to the vibrator and took it in your hands, Mashiro's eyes did not take their eyes off the device. You turned it on, listening to the vibrations it produced, making Mashiro groan in despair.

“You said before that you were also my manager…” The Japanese girl began to say. “So, I need your help, manager oppa, please…” You swallowed after hearing that request of deep need in her tone of voice.

You stood up and approached the bed, sitting on the edge near Mashiro, who lowered the zipper of her sweatshirt a little, revealing a bit of the shirt she was wearing underneath and then, moving against the bed, she managed to lower her pants until her underwear was visible.

“You are very wet Mashiro-chan.” You commented looking at the huge stain that had appeared on her panties. “You really are so needy…”

She didn't respond but she brought her hand back to where the stain was now, caressing herself again with circular movements, closing her eyes enjoying her own touch.

When she stopped she opened her eyes to look deeply at you, eyes that were screaming for your help. You sighed and got even closer to her body, vibrator in hand, gently bringing it to her desired area, coming into contact causing Mashiro's back to arch due to excitement.

“Yes, please…” She continued asking needily.

You pushed aside the fabric of her panties, visualizing her wonderful pink pussy completely flooded that was crying out for pleasure.

The sex toy now caressed Mashiro's folds mercilessly, forcing her to moan loudly, her eyes closed again enjoying the waves of pleasure that ran through her body.

That scene was fucking erotic for you, so much so that a huge bulge peeked out from between your pants. With your free hand you managed to free that bulge from outside your clothes, however it was somewhat difficult to satisfy both of you at the same time.

A naughty idea crossed your mind. If you were busy offering pleasure to Mashiro she was free to give it to you, so you took her hand closest to you and placed it around your cock.

Upon feeling that she opened her eyes again, offering you a small smile when she knew your intentions, grabbing your penis tightly and beginning to move her hand up and down constantly.

“Oppa hentai…” She whispered, biting her lip, watching how she was masturbating you.

“It's your fault in the first place…” You responded, emitting the occasional small moan caused by her touch, and lowering the zipper of her sweatshirt completely with your free hand, allowing yourself to caressing her stomach and her hips.

You threw the vibrator to the side of the bed and began to caress her pussy with your own hand, separating her folds with your fingers and inserting a couple of them inside causing a squeal of surprise from her.

“Shit oppa…it feels so good…”

“A girl as adorable as you talking so dirty.” You said increasing the pace of your caresses on her pussy, feeling how your hand became wet with Mashiro's fluids.

“You love when I talk dirty, right oppa?” She asked continuing the caresses on your penis. “It hasn't stopped growing…”

You smiled, leaning over her body, placing a few kisses across her bare stomach. She released her grip on your cock to allow you to position yourself more comfortably on top of her, slipping your hands under her shirt touching everything within reach.

Mashiro slowly melted under your body, moaning louder and louder as your fingers caressed her tits. She was breathing heavily and her hair fell over her forehead giving it an even sexier touch, her entire face was flushed and hot.

Due to the constant movement of your bodies on each other there was a moment where your cock rubbed against Mashiro's pussy, tensing her body and placing her hands against your chest, pushing you away slightly.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, realizing how hot this whole scene had become and how you had gotten carried away with it.

“I'm sorry if I…

“I have only used that vibrator… I have never had anything inside me beyond my fingers, I am completely a virgin.” She admitted, looking away embarrassed.

"It’s okay." You whispered softly, offering her a smile, caressing her right cheek with your hand. She took your hand and let herself be caressed by you.

“It's really strange and we just met...but I feel very comfortable with you, oppa. Although I don't think I'm ready to cross that line yet, I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize for anything.”  You leaned your head over her, kissing her lips, being instantly reciprocated by her, lightly biting her lower lip, drawing a moan from her and allowing your tongue to explore every corner of Mashiro's mouth.

“Oppa.” A thread of saliva separated your mouth from Mashiro's. “I need an orgasm.”

You smiled, recovering the vibrator lost in some corner of the bed, activating it again, this time with more power making the girl's body tremble.

“OH FUCK!” Squeals and moans came non-stop from the idol's mouth as you rubbed the toy again and again over her weak area.

You alternated the vibrator with the caresses that you provided with your hands. You lay down on the bed next to Mashiro without stopping masturbating her, she quickly took your cock again with one of her hands and now you were both pleasuring each other.

You inserted two of your fingers inside her completely tight pussy, stretching it slightly feeling her walls contract against your fingers. The girl's hips moved unconsciously as the moans did not stop and her grip on your cock tightened.

You then stroked her clit with your thumb, which was like touching the self-destruct button on Mashiro's body. You touched and pressed her clit as much as you could until her back arched again and a huge scream escaped her mouth.

Her body hit the mattress again, her chest rising and falling excitedly. It took her a few seconds to catch her breath and recover from that orgasm, she turned to look at you and you quickly wiped away some tears that were now flowing from her eyes with your hand.

“God…you're better than any toy, oppa.” Despite continuing to pant, her smile was wide, she laughed at herself for the situation she found herself in.

You laughed, also flattered but somewhat embarrassed by her comment. You tried to get up to get out of bed but Mashiro immediately stopped you and forced you to lie down, surprising you with her sudden reaction.

“Wait, you're not done yet.” She said and then you looked down at your penis.

“Please let me help you, oppa.” Mashiro demanded in distress, because she had been able to free herself thanks to your touch and you, on the other hand, were still hard.

How were you going to refuse that, you thought, lowering the clothes that covered your lower area to your ankles, leaving your member in full view. Mashiro was stunned to see it like that.

“It's even bigger…” She whispered, wrapping her hand around it again, beginning to cover it completely and therefore starting the massage.

You let out a moan and bit your lip. Under normal conditions it would take you long enough to cum to get a long treatment, but the hard work of these last few days had taken its toll on you too. You hadn't downloaded for days, even weeks, and none of the Iz*One girls had crossed your path during this time, so you and your friend were especially sensitive at the moment.

That Mashiro was inexperienced was obvious, not only because she had confessed to being a virgin, it was obvious that it was the first time she had masturbated someone.

She did it delicately but nervously, her hand trembled on your cock, so you decided to help her, placing one of your hands on hers, guiding her on top of you. This helped her to calm down and gain confidence, copying the rhythm that you were setting.

You moved your hand away once you saw her more prepared and in response to that she wrapped her other hand around your penis as well.

Now both of the girl's hands were working on your erect dick, covering the entire length between them, with slow and delicate movements that made you shudder.

Your moans began to get uncontrolled due to her touch, giving her more and more encouragement and causing the pace of masturbation to increase.

Her two hands worked now at high speed on your penis, with enveloping movements, noticing how it swelled and began to tremble.

“Shit...Mashiro-chan I'm about to...” You couldn't finish the warning when the first shot was propelled upwards, surprising the girl by seeing that white liquid escape from the tip of your penis.

After the first, the rest of the shots followed, progressively decreasing the intensity with each one until finally there was not a single drop left inside you.

Mashiro's hands raised the skin of your penis one last time, observing the brilliance that the tip of your penis now offered. Finally she let you go and you were able to sit up on the bed, seeing the mess that had formed on your abdomen, now covered in your own sperm.

You diverted your gaze towards Mashiro whose eyes did not stop observing that increasingly sticky area.

You moved your hand towards it, taking some of the sperm with your fingers and looked back at the girl, who now looked back at you.

"Do you want to try it?" You asked, smiling sideways, sneaking into her thoughts. She did not utter a word due to shyness and embarrassment but nodded affirmatively.

You brought your fingers closer to her face and she closed her eyes, opening her mouth, allowing you to insert them inside, licking and tasting your seed. Her tongue moved between your fingers, wetting them but absorbing all the liquid they were impregnated with.

She opened her mouth again for you to remove your fingers and you looked at each other.

"It is...you are...you taste delicious..." She admitted self-consciously but happy and satisfied. “C-C-Can I take some more?”

A few seconds later you had Mashiro leaning over you licking all the remains of sperm that were on your abdomen and thighs. That was making you hard again but you knew you had a line that you must not to cross.

The idol's tongue cleaned you completely, savoring every last bit of liquid she could get, repeating to herself how delicious it tasted. Once she was over with you, you left the room for a moment to go to the bathroom, cleaning yourself and put your clothes back on properly, when you returned Mashiro was also dressed.

You inserted the vibrator into the cardboard box, camouflaged between several layers of clothing, and took it into your arms, despite the girl's insistence that she could carry the box.

You went down together to the street, parked there was one of Mashiro's new group's cars waiting to pick her up.

"Thanks for everything, manager oppa." Mashiro smiled sweetly at you.

"Keep this between us, okay?" She nodded briskly heading to the car, turning around before opening the door.

"I'll think about you the next time." Those words caught you off guard, making you blush.

You watched as the car disappeared into the distance of the street, blending into the traffic. You sighed and walked back up the stairs to the apartment, there was still a lot to clean.

Just when you were about to grab the broom again the phone in your pocket started ringing, you picked up after reading the name of the caller and brought it to your ear.

“Finally, I only had to call you 7 times to get a callback.” You heard a sleepy yawn from the other side.

“I've been non-stop for months, many performances, shootings, ceremony awards, and exhausting trips, you know. I deserved a good restful sleep…of 14 hours.”

“Of course, we must keep the star Ahn Yujin in good condition.” Your laughter dissipated as you took a more serious tone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. See you in like 1 hour? I will send you the location.”

“Sure, see you.”

You hung up the call and heaved a long sigh, rushing to get all the work done. You had a date in an hour.

[mxflowercheck]

Not sure i can consider myself exactly bilingual, i didn’t grow up in English speaking setting, i learned it as a second language. But than i was in boarding school for two years and well, firstly a lot of terminology about school life was from English. Secondly our boarding staff used English with us on a daily basis. This resulted in almost everyone in school speaking runglish (russian + English) + casually switching to English because why not

So! Things that i and my friends have done / still do / have witnessed

• Often switch to English to talk about heavy topics or feelings. It’s a second language for all of us, so it kinda puts some..distance from all the emotions

• On multiple occasions i caught us all writing messages, where we spell an english word in Cyrillic and then switch to English fully

• Generally we often write English words in Cyrillic for various reasons

• We don’t notice that we code switch. On multiple occasions i said a very common for me phrase and my mother was just starring at me until i understood that the phrase was in English and i needed to translate

• Forgetting a word in both languages NEVER GETS OLD. BELIEVE ME. But usually it’s not something complicated, no, i can remember how to write deoxyribonucleic acid in both languages but forget the word “early”

• two years ago i tried learning Spanish. When we were writing essays in English class i wrote “trabajador” meaning “hardworking”. I knew something was wrong with it but i didn’t know WHAT. I didn’t understand until my teacher pointed it out for me

• I personally do not analyse English abbreviations. Sometimes i forget it has A TRANSLATION. Or a full version. Once i said “wtf” in front of my boarding staff and well it took me three shocked stares and a “ Valery!” to realise it’s not just a phrase with “what the hell” meaning but a swearing.

• *tries to speak English but fails because it’s too early* *tries to speak Russian but fails because brain demands that this setting needs ENGLISH*

• My first sports club, where not only the coach counted, but also the kids - aikido. We counted in Japanese. i haven't practiced Aikido for about three or fours years, but every time i do sports, i count in Japanese to myself

• Grammar? Spelling? Vocabulary. Oh no, what IS confusing IS PUNCTUATION. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE CODESWITCHING.

• at least one of my friends also spells difficult words while writing, but not with the correct pronunciation. we read them as if they're written in Cyrillic/pronounce every letter. It helps with not messing up the letter (for example when I write various i read it as ВЭРИОУС in my mind because I'm a) silly b) ADHD and often mess up the order of vowels when typing fast)

• OH ALSO - some of us (including me) don't have a stable accent. You watch Shelock - you''re British, you watch TikToks from a South American - you're South American. Or! Sometimes accents sticks to phrases and words :D. So it goes like

*speaking with one accent/neutral accent* *uses the Britishest accent in the world for ONE PHRASE* *continues normally*

• Dialects are the Death Of Us. My guy, i have NO fucking idea which pronunciation of "dance" is for UK and which is for America AND I LEARNED THAT WORD WHEN I WAS SIX!!!!

• interjections and sounds are ALSO confusing! You'd think we make similar sounds of surprise or joy or sadness. WE DON'T.

i keep adding things god help

anyway

• people can have different names for different languages! I don't consider my legal name (Lera) to be my deadname, i like it! but don't usually use it in English speaking spaces because...English doesn't have the sounds (it has similar sounds but still)...that are in my name...and it sounds VERY STRANGE

• same with pronouns btw! English doesn't gender verbs, adjectives, nouns, your way to point out gender is simple - pronouns. But in Russian words change depending on a gender ( he is clever - он умнЫЙ, she is clever - она умнАЯ). And the way words change for they/them pronouns doesn't sound right to me, so I don't use they/them for myself in Russian, only she/he! But i don't mind in English, because verbs, adjectives and etc don't change :)

im going to have a stroke

[endearng]

Lifeline

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x addict!reader Summary: How does one move on after seeing the lost versions of themselves on someone else entirely? WC: 8.8k Warnings: canon criminal minds violence (m-rder); pr-stitution and mentions of sex; s.h-rm; illegal substances consumption; mentions of dr-g abuse; panic attacks; graphic suicide attempt. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: This is heavily based on "The A Team", "Gale Song" and "evermore" and also Skins UK's character Effy Stonem. Besides that, I was also somewhat inspired by CM'S 2x11 and I messed up the timeline. Feedbacks are always welcome! | masterlist

"Her name's Amelia Holden. She was found in a dumpster in an alley of a neighborhood in central Richmond. Along with her, we have four women murdered within two weeks." JJ informed as she briefed the team about the case they were invited to work on.

Their reactions always were different. Aaron Hotcher remained unreadable, often asking about the local police's findings. Derek Morgan usually worried about victimology and the modus operandi. Emily Prentiss used to brainstorm details on the pictures. David Rossi was the one to make comparisons with previous cases. Spencer Reid busied himself with data, statistics and whatnot about the locality.

Speaking of which, "This is an high-end neighborhood, not to mention the obvious fact that it happened in the capital of Virginia. Based on that, one could think that the citizens will cooperate to solve this as fast as we can."

Derek sighed, "I wish I could tell you're wrong in different circumstances, pretty boy." Spencer frowned, eager to ask, but Derek was faster, "Truth is, these girls were all prostitutes. The rich won't give a damn if they go missing, which is pure hypocrisy based on the fact that they go where the money is, which is, well... in their neighborhood." JJ pursed her lips, taking another look at the evidence.

There were pictures of four girls, placed so carelessly in the dumpster that it was possible to deduce that they had been all thrown in there already dead. Not a single chance of survival. Not a single chance someone could save them. JJ felt a lump in her throat and looked away from the photos.

“It’s most likely a male.” Rossi said.

Emily nodded, asking, "So what do you guys think? Maybe this guy is murdering them because he thinks he's doing society a favor?"

"It could be, yes. When prostitutes are targeted, the main reason is misogyny, but we can also associate these crimes to other forms of hatred. It can also be related to power." Spencer answered. "Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"No, only physical violence." JJ answered. "The coroner's reports indicate that they were drugged, some of them with multiple substances. There are red bruises as well as knife scars and stabs basically all over their bodies."

"Multiple substances in their body can be a sign of addiction, but also that our unsub drugged them to make them easier to drag around." Spencer continued. “Does the lab have the substances yet?”

“Garcia is working on it.” JJ replied.

"And the amount of cuts and bruises on their bodies mean that our unsub is angry. Like, uncontrollably angry." Emily finished.

"Well, he's killed both black and white women, so we know it's not race motivated." Rossi completed Emily's train of thought. "He's been getting more and more desperate, given the depths of the cuts as he progresses, look." He said, pointing to the picture of the last victim.

Emily gulped, shaking her head lightly.

“I’d say that, given the color of the bruises, they were beaten right before they died. This unsub doesn’t keep them for much longer. Most likely, he tortures them and kills them, getting rid of them in the dumpsters. The place of disposal is rather telling.” Spencer chimed in.

"Get Garcia to look up sex offenders in that area." Hotch said. "Try to find them all, no matter what their outcome was. Close, dropped... It doesn't matter. If the theory about social cleansing is right, maybe the offender has a past history with it. On the other hand, if he's rich, he probably got away with it."

"I'll call her right now." Morgan said with a nod.

"Great. tell the Richmond PD we're getting there in a couple of hours." Hotch announces. "Wheels up in thirty."

—

Arriving in the precinct, Hotchner assigned the tasks. Rossi and Morgan would go to the latest crime scene as Reid and Prentiss looked around for possible witnesses. JJ would stay at the precinct in case something came up.

"Check this out," called Rossi. "The... instrument was big enough to go through her body, from her stomach to her back." He said.

Morgan sighed. "Intensified violence means that he's not planning on stopping any time soon."

A couple feet away, agents Reid and Prentiss talked to one of the prostitutes. "We're always here, especially at night. Some girls are here during the daytime, but you know, it's slower. Nobody wants to be seen with us." She had bloodshot eyes, a defeated expression on her features. 

"Who are your usual... customers?" Reid asked, a little embarrassed to be talking to a woman who had that much expertise in a field he lacked any. A flash of worry and guilt crossed the young woman's face and she looked around as if making sure no one was listening to them.

"Don't worry, everything's classified. You're not gonna get in trouble if you talk to us. We're just trying to help." Emily said, trying to ease her nerves.

"Okay... I... The guys who work in the bank are often here. Cops, too. But they are very sneaky." She whispered, fright almost palpable in her voice.

"Did any of them ever pose a threat? Maybe too violent? Persistent?" The young doctor asked, again. She blinked at him, willing the tears not to fall.

"Most of them are just bored husbands or divorcees who want to get laid without the worry of being chased after." Looking away, she went on, "we’re the ones who can't afford to say no to the things they're into. We get the best of their roughness, so it's hard to tell." Emily gave her a sympathetic look.

From afar, you watched their interactions. The girl, whose name was Renée, looked very nervous and guilty. You approached them, looking a lot more skeptical than the emotional mess they were asking questions to. You took a look at them, took in the way they were dressed, besides the pens and notepads in their hands. The man took a second look at you, but you shrug it off, used to be perceived and not always in the best manner, given your appearance these days. “You ok, Renée?" You checked on her softly and she nodded in agreement. "Excuse me. Are you with the police?" You ask in a serene voice.

"Hi. I'm Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI," the dark haired woman answered, both of them showing you their badges. You nodded. "We're investigating the murder of women in this location."

Spencer looked at you as you inspected their faces. You wore casual clothes, nothing like the outfit Renée had on, and, for a moment, he thought what were you doing in there and how and why did you know her. It didn't make sense, albeit briefly, to him, why would someone so mundane be in that place, at that time. After a couple of seconds of watching you curiously, the pieces started falling into places, though. The crestfallen expression, dry skin and chapped lips... You were going through something.

He had a feeling he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.

That is, until you actually started talking.

"Hello," you introduce yourself. "Oh, I see. I didn’t think the locals would be interested in solving these anyway."

“Why do you say that?” Emily asked, curious to know your answer.

“I suppose they don’t like the fact that some of us are so daring to the point of going to their station to report the abuse we all go through weekly,” you snorted, voice thick with disdain, although every person in the conversation was aware that it was not aimed at either of them, “like, why are we complaining? We want to do this, we are willingly here.” Emily sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that Spencer could muster up.

“Anyway…” you sniffled. A telling sign. “How can we help?”

"Have you seen anyone violent around here? A-a new face, perhaps?" He asked, turning his body to face you properly. Emily looked at him, puzzled.

"Doctor, with all due respect, they are men. And they are paying. It’s basically a green light for all sorts of abuse, I'm sure Renée told you that much." You answered, in a much more certain tone than your friend had used.

"Did either of you recall anything about that night? The most basic detail can help us.” Emily inquired.

"Yeah." Renée answered with a quiver of her lip, clinging to you, trying to find some solace. You squeezed her shoulder lightly, glancing at her.

Sensing she might not be able to talk, you went on, "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary that night. I didn't notice they were missing until the next day. We try our best to watch out for each other. As I said, some men can be real creeps, but once you start your own thing, it's… hard” you exhaled, “for some of us to keep track of what's going on around us. Unless we run into each other again, we won't know for sure if we're actually safe." You explained, looking down at your feet. After a couple deep breaths that felt like you were inhaling the oxygen of the entire Earth, you looked back at them. Still avoiding eye contact, glancing between their foreheads, something you'd learned to do in order to escape the person you were with when you needed to.

Spencer watched you the entire time.

“I see,” the woman said, taking some notes. “Would you know if they share anything in common?”

“They usually stay in the park at the end of the street,” Renée answered, “They go there once things quiet down, and guys pick them up in their cars. The night they were… um, taken, was pretty intense. If they got kidnapped, we couldn’t even give you a license plate. We weren’t around.” Her voice dripped with pure guilt. You ran your thumb on her shoulder.

At the moment, though, there's something else entirely on your mind. Eventually, after a beat of silence, you decide to speak your mind, to expose your insecurities. Not worried about how you may look. Hell, it's been a long time since you stopped. "I'm sorry to press or if I sound too demanding. I know sometimes things get out of your control, but, uh, you're gonna catch this guy, right? I mean... we have to be here. I hope you don't think we have another choice."

As you talked, your soft voice and pleading eyes drew Spencer's attention to you with even more intensity. Your voice and mannerisms weren't something he was expecting. He berated himself after realizing how he was in the wrong by assuming you’d portray yourself in a certain way because of the area you worked in. Your voice was low, but firm. Your words were understanding, but demanding. Your posture was almost defensive, but the desperation of your tone told them how terrified you were. He couldn't help but notice the fact that you were sniffing quite often. His profiling skills were faster than himself and he made the conclusion that, given the line of your work, he presumed it most likely wasn’t only a cold.

Spencer knew, then, that you shared something in common with him. Something bad.

Again, not something he wanted to know about.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer beat her to it, "We're gonna do the best we can, Miss."

"Glad to hear that," you muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Thanks for your time.” Emily said, a gentle smile on her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as you and René left, walking arm in arm. In a safe distance from everyone else, he saw as your friend broke down in your arms and as you comforted her, even if you had your own tears streaming down your face. He had reached Morgan and Rossi when you two walked away. Emily studied his face attentively, wondering why he was so fast to assure a possible victim like that, because, one, it was unlike him to want to partake in such sensitive conversations with the ones involved in the process. Two, what kind of agent, doctor, official, profiler, whatever, makes promises before such an intricate process such as their work?

“So, did you get anything?” Rossi asked him, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Oh, yeah. Those two women said that the victims usually waited for clients in the park right down the street.” Emily said.

“I think we should go take a look.” Spencer suggested.

Searching the park, which was full of passersby and families just spending some time outside their houses, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that this case had already hit him too close to home. The violence was something that still messed with his head and he thought he could never recover from the flashes of memories behind his eyelids once he closed his eyes to sleep every night. Still, it wasn’t that that baffled him the most, but you. He knew what it was like to struggle with addiction. He had been very harsh on Emily not long ago, during a withdrawal, so he knew aggressiveness and mood swings were to be expected. You and your mannerisms, however, were totally out of the addiction bingo. The way you looked, so broken, so sick, in every sense of the word, didn’t stop you from having a polite conversation with them, even if the topic was very much concerning to you. Plus, the caring nature you seemed to have and the way you made sure to be supportive towards you and the others who, just like you, went through hell every day for the most unspeakable reasons stood out to him.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“Hey, I got something.” Morgan said as he approached the team with a piece of paper. “It says: They will not do it again.”

“Who’s they?” Rossi inquired.

“Maybe the prostitutes. The only way of stopping them is killing them.” Spencer answered, albeit his thoughts were still far, far away from the scene.

“But stop them from doing what? Causing a divorce? Being a homewrecker? Polluting the city?” She wondered out loud.

“These are all valid possibilities,” Rossi nodded, “we now know from your interview that rich men are regulars here. Maybe one of them was unfaithful and snapped after getting his divorce. Now, he might be taking it out on these girls.” He finished.

“We still need to figure that out.” Morgan sighed. “Hey, babygirl, we need a favor,” Derek said once Penelope picked up his call. “Can you check every upper-class man in Richmond that has recently gotten a divorce?”

“Sure thing, handsome,” she quipped, “it might take some time, though. And I know you’ll need to narrow it down.”

“We’ll keep you posted. Thanks, babygirl.”

“Always happy to help, hot stuff.”

—

Back at the station, the BAU team was surrounded by cops, sharing their findings so far. Spencer was the one to make sure that the cops would be on duty and laser focused on the areas he determined through the geographical profile. Those areas were most likely the ones the next attack would take place. He emphasized, very intently, that they needed cops especially in darker alleys and that they were looking for a male in his thirties. 

Spencer couldn't shake the thought of dread that crept up on him, making him almost paralyzed. The fear of getting to the unsub, of letting him get away, of being too late, of being too early, of not being enough. Every scenario was the worst, his mind working overtime to make sure he had at least an ounce of optimism for months on end, ever since he finally managed to stay clean off Dilaudid. The cops moved around, divided between groups to start surveillance. And the dread kept building inside of him, like a crescendo of horror.

Sitting next to Emily, he decided to break the morbid silence hanging over them. “I'm sorry I lashed out on you, Emily. I don't think I ever apologized.”

Totally not expecting his words, she looked at him, wide-eyed. It took her a second to gather her thoughts and form an answer. “It's no problem. I know what you were going through.”

“Still. It doesn't change much. It's not a good enough excuse for me to treat others poorly.” He couldn't look at her, fiddling with his fingers instead.

“Reid, why do I sense you're talking about something else?”

He sighed. He was so, so tired of keeping it in, of bottling everything in, of swallowing his words so as to not make anyone uncomfortable. “I am.” He confessed, after a moment of silence.

Maybe staying quiet was less morbid than the conversation they were about to have, he mused.

“What happened?”

“That girl, today. The second one. I could tell she's having issues. The same as me, I mean. And she was so nice the entire time. She was trying to make her friend feel better.”

“Spencer…” Emily breathed out, a somewhat reprimanding look on her face. Not that he could see it. “This comparison is unfair on so many levels. First, you've seen her for what? Five minutes? We don't know what she's been through, if she has a family… There are so many possibilities. Maybe she was having a good day—”

“How does one have a good day knowing that they have very high chances of being killed?” He interrupted. A sigh left Emily's lips.

“I don't know. But you do understand why that comparison you made was unfitting, to say the least, right?” 

Right on cue, to make the subject die, he muttered a “I guess.” so she could drop the subject. From afar, Spencer watched as you left a building with a glare on your face. He wondered what you were feeling and if your expression always told you off.

“There she is. Not looking happy.” Emily said, simply, not relating it to the use of any substances out of respect. She could only imagine what he was going through, being forced to watch someone she loves slowly lose themselves over something so trivial, but at the same time, dangerous as a substance.

Spencer pressed his lips on a thin line.

—

You laid there, on a big, albeit uncomfortable bed, simply enduring the sloppy, much erratic thrusts of a man who was old enough to be your dad. Grandfather, if you pushed it a little bit. Internally, you chuckled bitterly at the thought, because those two decided to want distance from you a long, long time ago. You had turned out into a person who many people didn't want to be associated with, so you kind of understood their attitude towards you. Still, it didn't make navigating through this world all by yourself any easier. In fact, it stung harder than you cared to admit, but, for the most part of the time, you were as high as a kite — your coping mechanism to shield your brain for reminiscing about the disgusting, vile man that you had to... satisfy to avoid starving to death. It was a never ending cycle. A torturous one that you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

Speaking of which, the man above you came on your stomach, meaning that the appointment had finally reached its end. You couldn't quite pinpoint if he was the first, second or even third man you've encountered that night, but you didn't care. The effects of the dope made sure you wouldn't remember them the next day. Actually, it had been a while since you had been exposed to daylight. Your routine consisted of being around all night with those men, getting home, scrubbing your skin hard enough to draw blood as you showered, trying to get rid of the feeling of the greedy, disgusting hands all over your body, sleeping all day, getting high and repeating it all over again. Some nights you didn’t have too much strength to do it all. Some days felt like they mashed together with how long it felt with the same ache, the same hole in your chest. Your life was miserable, and you often caught yourself thinking if it was worth it. And, if it was, what for?

"You're so good, princess, kept quiet all the time and shit." The man said as he pulled his shirt back on, covering his thin frame. You cleaned yourself the best you could with a washcloth. "You’re fairly pretty… If you weren't a junkie, I might take you home with me... keep you all to myself, you know?" He inquired, a smirk dancing around his features.

You didn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, you glared at him, even though he couldn't see your face, grabbed the money that had been placed in the nightstand and made a beeline to the door.

You stared at that money with burning rage. If you didn't need it so much, you would definitely tear it apart given the hatred coursing through your veins. You gulped, and it tasted bitter, and it was hard to swallow the lump in your throat. You sold yourself for something as ordinary as money, and it made you so angry because your family was swimming in it. Sometimes, you wished they would drown in it, just to see if your anger simmered down.

You weren't always like this, so... so rotten. Coming from a rich, traditional family, people expected highly from you all the time, thus, you had been an excellent, straight A's student, being the valedictorian of your class at a traditional Catholic school without your teachers needing to double check any records. You also volunteered halftime in an institute that helped old people, which made your parents immensely proud. At that time, you had gotten yourself a boyfriend, your high-school sweetheart, getting engaged to him as you started your third year at a great university, majoring in Psychology. It all went down, though, when you started struggling with addiction.

It started with lighter substances, like alcohol. You drank until you started mumbling out the words you meant to say, going even as far as embarrassing yourself and your fiancée multiple times at social gatherings that involved booze. You loved the thrill, the buzz, the lightness it made you feel, instead of the pile of anxiety that built and seeped into your very bones after being so pushed to the edge your entire life. You thought you liked your life, but after being in touch with people who had a much (what you considered to be) easier life than yours, you started to let loose. Since you didn't have any family around you to put you on a tight leash, you lost control altogether.

When your family realized what had happened, too engrossed in their own businesses and investments and money and anything that was more important than their offsprings, it was too late. You couldn't go a day without drinking, dropping out of schoolcALT without thinking about the consequences for your future. Ironically, you knew and understood pretty well the things you were going through, but battling an addiction requires a lot of strength that you didn't know where to find, since you were all alone. After all, you had pushed all your friends away, your fiancée had walked out on you and your family basically disowned you.

Left to your own devices and unable to keep a steady, serious job, despite your background, you found yourself in the streets.

Sigh.

Opening the door to your small apartment, you got rid of the clothes that began to reek of alcohol, throwing them mindlessly on the floor. You rushed to the bathroom and stared at your own reflection for a moment, noticing the dark spots under your eyes, your dry lips and the lifeless gaze that your eyes had turned into. You had lost quite a bit of weight, now looking like a dead skull, wandering around, doomed to search for any reason to continue living in a world that had been pitch black.

In the bathtub, you scratched your skin aggressively, not being able to avoid the feeling of the remnants of several unknown men, which sensation brought up the comparison that you felt similar to a person who suffers with phantom limb pain: you couldn't see their hands, you couldn't come up with anyone's face, but you couldn't avoid sensing their touch on your skin. But, unlike the syndrome, you didn't feel pain, feeling rather like needles were seeping into your skin, deep enough to reach your bones. But, like the syndrome, it felt like it was yours. Their touch, although invisible, was forever inked into your skin.

You couldn't help the tears running down your face, mixing themselves with the water that poured from the shower. Tears of both pain, disgust, desperation, regret. It was a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't deal with. As you left the bathroom, you downed half a bottle of vodka, hoping that it would lull you to sleep.

Maybe for good this time.

—

A loud banging on your door roused you from sleep. Your mouth felt dry and your skin felt even worse — it felt like it had been days since you last drank water. Maybe it was true. The loud noise made your head throb in pain. Curled in bed, you tried to muffle the sounds by covering your ears with your hands, but it was just as annoying. The person on the other side of the door seemed hell-bent on seeing you, but you couldn't come up with anyone other than your landlord, because your rent was supposed to be paid yesterday.

Getting up from your bed with a groan of annoyance and pain, you threw on a flannel you found on the floor. Opening the door, you were surprised to see your older brother.

"Y-you?" You asked, baffled. Embarrassed by your own appearance.

"It's me." He said, the usual serious edge to his voice. He said your name, hesitantly. "Can I come in?"

You didn't know what he wanted. The fact that you had been left alone for so long made your heart burn with anger and you wanted to slam the door in his face. You considered it for a moment, but it wouldn't take a genius to know that you needed someone with you, even if for just a couple of minutes, even if it was out of pity. You didn't mind. You relied on the kindness of people to get by, so what harm would it be in accepting a little more pity? More self loathing than you already had and constantly feeded inside you? You judged it impossible.

With a curt nod, you gave him space to enter your apartment. The place was a mess, clothes scattered around, curtains drawn closed, the darkness in the room not only caused by the absence of sunlight. Something somber stopped light from entering. Your brother looked around with an unreadable expression and saw the countless bottles everywhere, from the floor to the couch, not to mention the many white remains on the surfaces like the small coffee table. He blinked away tears, desolate to see you in that position. Desperate to find words. Desperate to find you again in that vessel of a human you had become.

Clearing his throat, “I… heard what's happening. I was worried so I came all the way here to check on you.”

You bit back a bitter laughter. How could someone be this cruel? Abandon you and then treat you like you mattered? It made you almost want to throw up. “I'm alive. Happy?” You couldn't help the snarky remark.

“Come on, you know I'm not like them.” He defended, not able to look you in the eye.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “If you weren't, you wouldn't have left me, too.”

“Come on, I was going through my own shit, I didn't realize what you were going through until it was too late.”

“Too late? Too late? I spent all my days wishing any of you would pick up the damn phone so that someone could come and get me before I was dead. But you're all the same. So self absorbed, so selfish, so… individualistic.” Your words were daggers, but you couldn't stop yourself from being mean, from trying to push away the only person who seemingly had an interest in helping you. Too bad you felt it was a little too late.

“Don't say that.”

At this point, the verbal vomiting was unstoppable. You sure looked like a maniac, rambling and jumping inconsistently from one topic to another, aiming to hurt him as much as they have hurt you, too. You knew what you were doing, but it felt for a moment that something else was forcing such cruelness out of your mouth. “The final blow was grandma dying, right? So you could finally pretend I don't exist. Keep doing that.”

“Let me help you.” He pleaded, coming close to you.

“I don't need your help.”

“If you don't accept it now, you're gonna spend more time wishing you had.” He said, holding your hands with his own.

“How are you going to help me? By sending me money so that I spend it all on drugs? On booze? Hah, nice one, really.”

“I wouldn't help you kill yourself.” He almost shouted, rage and sadness fighting over which would be the dominant feeling in his eyes.

“Then how? I basically just told you I'm helpless. I'm a ghost. I stopped existing a long time ago.” A sob broke through you, echoing in the walls of your dark apartment. You shut your eyes. “I don't know who I am anymore.”

Silence.

He's probably thinking everything through. Trying to find a way to let me down gently, you thought. “Let me take you somewhere safe. We'll see how it goes.”

You didn't expect that much. Despite wanting to say yes, your mouth was seemingly disconnected from your brain, so your words took a whole different turn. Instead of accepting his help, you simply stated, “I don't think I would stand to let you down again. I'm sorry.” He looks at you, bewildered, but, to you, not strong enough to put up a fight. “Can you please leave? I'm waiting for a friend.”

Defeated, he walks out the door. 

You don't notice the paper with his number left on the kitchen counter. When Renée shows up, dressed in a skin-tight red dress, she sees and runs her finger on the note as if it could save her from every single risk her life could show her. 

—

"We found another body."

Amidst the research and data analysis required to provide the profile, Spencer Reid got easily lost on his obligations and far too focused on his duties in order to help people as fast as he could, which was why he was seemingly terrified of one of the local officer's voice. 

At the crime scene, the found body was once Renée Woods. Spencer watched from afar as the coroner  examined their body and as Derek and Emily searched frantically for anything they could do to help, whether it was examining the crime scene or simply talking to the assigned legists. Spencer, unlike them, stood still. Muscles unable to make any movements besides clenching his hands in fists so tight that his somewhat long nails almost cut through the sensitive skin.

How would you take the news?

What if that was you?

The thought went as quickly as it came, because, from afar, he watched as you showed up, looking skeptical, but soon becoming hysterical once you recognized her, even from a certain distance. You could tell it was her by the clothes she was wearing. You cried hysterically, screaming as if someone had torn apart your heart with their bare hands, sobbing as if you couldn't breathe unless Renée was walking the Earth. A cop touching you, instead of soothing your turmoil, only served as a fuel to the fire raging through you. Sadness, anger, desperation, panic, everything flooding your chest, ragging your breath. You pushed the man away, trying to find a way to enter the crime scene.

Spencer finally was taking control of his body again. Approaching you, calmly, as if you would attack him too if he got too close and too abruptly, or worse, you’d run away, he made his way to you. Noticing your red-rimmed eyes, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d do your best,” you said in a broken voice, looking him in the eye. Defeated.

Silence. All the noise seemed dull, distant, far away. You were in a bubble.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wide eyes looking at his confused ones. Right now, talking to you felt like whiplash. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to accuse or blame you. Fuck,” you cursed, bringing your hands to your eyes. “Can I do anything to help? I can… I can try.”

Unbeknownst to you, Emily Prentiss watched your interactions with a puzzled look on her face. You looked and acted so distraught that she felt the need to approach, mindful of the damage the words from an enraged, saddened close friend of a victim would do. Unable to stop her own feet, she approached you. Spencer wouldn't utter a word. You looked nervous, looking from her to him and obsessively trying to wipe your tears that seemingly had their own will to run on your face.

"Can you come with me?" She offered, handing out a blanket for you. You looked at her and amidst the mixed feelings that the grief started etching into your eyes, you could give her a grateful glance.

By her side, you looked at Spencer, who was still frozen in place.

"I'm sorry..." You whispered, looking at the ground.  

He looked straight ahead. Once you were with Emily, he glanced your way with a pitiful look on his face.

—

Days passed. You were in the precinct once they called Renée’s family to break the morbid news. You watched as her mother fell to her knees once one of them told her what had happened to her daughter. You heard the chanting of "I failed, I failed, I failed..." endlessly. And by endlessly, you mean it is still haunting you to this day.

For three days, all you did was escape reality, whether by sleeping or doing drugs. Your brother's contact sat still on the kitchen counter, collecting dust and meaning hesitation from your end.

On the fourth day, you were sober for a couple of hours. You opened the curtains and despite the darkness still loomed around, it felt better. It burned, but in a nice way. As you stared at the note in the counter, untouched, Emily Prentiss knocked on your door to let you know that they were close to catching the killer. His profile was complete, it seemed. Something about a man in his 40s taking out the frustration of his parents’ broken marriage because of his father’s infidelity and his own divorce because of his affairs. Cyclic. Looking at your wrecked state, she told you all about him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked as Renée’s mother chant still echoed in your mind.

"First, I thought you needed hope. Second, I was thinking you might recognize him.”

Needless to say, she was right. Your lungs burned at each breath you took, and, in that moment, you decided you would try to be strong. Stronger. Renée’s face came to mind. You had nothing left to lose if you exposed a few rich men. Thanking Emily, you said softly, your tone contrasting with the vile nature of your words, “You said he dumped the girls in a specific place, right?” She nodded. “I don’t know if anyone told you about this one place, but they take some of the girls there. It’s kind of off-radar” 

As you gave her the location, her surprise betrayed her usual composure. “No, nobody did.”

“Do you think it could be helpful?”

—

You found yourself in one of aforementioned building’s room along with Dr. Spencer Reid, as sort of your protector, while the others patrolled the building and the people who came and went, and the local cops lurked around downtown, in the park. You felt nervous, reminiscing about your last interaction with the man. Taking a deep breath, you sat down on a chair. “May I ask you something?” You inquired, carefully. He hadn’t talked much to you unless it was information about what you knew and what he needed to know. He nodded at you, turning his attention to your figure. "Do you like your job? I only ask because... you know... nobody really likes this job."

"... I do, yeah." He muttered, albeit not the whole truth. It was gruesome, but he thought he could manage. Besides, you didn’t need to be exposed to even more disaster. It was bad enough as it was.

"I don’t know if you know or acknowledge this, but not many people choose to do this. It's more of a last option, the one you really don't wanna take." You justified, even though you didn’t quite know why.

You supposed it was the embarrassment that came with being with a man who knew what you did but wasn’t with you to do that.

Understanding flooded his features, a soft "I understand." making its way out of his lips.

"Thanks." I say with a tight-lipped smile. "It means a lot."

He nodded. "You keep fiddling with your necklace."

"It's a locker, actually. It's a picture of me and my grandmother. I don't wear it when I'm.. um... Anyway, it's kinda sacred to me." You chuckled, gripping the accessory tighter. “I wore it today so that it would give me the strength needed to help Renée. And myself.”

He glances at you as if he wanted to know more. After a beat of silence and deciding that it was enough, "Do you have a good relationship with her?"

"I did. We were very close, but she passed away last year, sort of giving my family the free pass to cut me out entirely. I believe they think that I was the one who killed her, my life choices and whatnot."

He furrowed his brows. "You didn't choose this."

"In a way, I did. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop. It's just that... It felt good not to have so much pressure on me, you know? I felt finally free... but what did it cost me? A safe relationship, my education, my family and friends… They never gave me a chance, not even to explain myself. I needed help. Thus far, I have had company my entire life. I didn't know how to exist. Then one of those girls helped me, but I realized that she was struggling to pay rent and I needed to do something, not just sit pretty and be high with the money I had left.”

His silence was unexpected.

In reality, it was caused by the cliché of watching your life passing before your eyes took over his mind. He remembered being drugged by Tobias Hankel, he remembered the needles puncturing his skin and the relief he felt from the entire situation once the substance started running through his veins. He remembered taking Dilaudid from his abductor’s pockets and he remembered staring at his own reflection in the mirror and finding a stranger looking back at him. He remembered being given a chip of sobriety even though he wasn’t sober for that long. He remembered thinking of himself as unworthy as he became more and more dependent, especially when he couldn’t even disguise how affected, how it changed him. Looking at your defeated face, he muttered, “I understand. It changes your perception of things and yourself.”

You could act oblivious and assume that his knowledge of the topic came from books, but you don’t see that expression on just anybody’s face. You felt sorry for him. Sensing he didn’t want to talk about himself any further, even if, in your opinion, wasn’t nearly enough for someone who had battled something as deep as an addiction, you decided to respect his wish. You talked about yourself instead, hoping to give him something, someone to relate to, as you desperately wanted for yourself. “I wasn’t always like this.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” His voice held that tinge of something you couldn’t quite describe, something distant, but so close at the same time. He saw himself in you, almost if he was talking to himself.

He might have had Penelope check your background. Something about the lost potential resonated deep within him, and it made him all the more anxious to be close to you, to repair something he hadn’t been the one to break. As he looked at you, all he could see was someone in dire need of something, someone to grasp onto. “How does one manage to move past all that?"

Despite the will growing and boiling inside of him, he couldn’t just come up with a magic solution to cut through the darkness surrounding you. "Honestly, I don't know." You couldn’t see when he gulped.

"It's a long way from home. At least, for me."

For a moment, you looked at each other, mouths shut, not a single beat of sound around you. You looked at him, searching for answers and for someone to relate to. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the silence hanging over you like a fog. He wasn't trying to seem disinterested or unkind, but he felt as if his curt phrases weren’t enough to calm your heart. He spoke again, his voice softer, offering a hint of deeper sincerity, "Sorry, I..." he trailed off, unsure how to convey his thoughts without making the situation more hurtful. "I'm sure you can manage it with the right people."

Your grip on your locket softened, letting it fall close to your chest once you let it go. Looking at him, a soft melody started playing in your head.

Patience.

“I’m sorry,” you said, earnestly, which made him look at you with recognition. “Thanks for talking to me. It’s been a while.” 

I missed this feeling.

—

After a few moments, the BAU team had captured the man before he could collect another soul. Everything happened so fast. In one moment, you were in a superficially verbal conversation with Spencer. Despite the shallow nature of the words exchanged, digging deeper, the interaction was filled to the brim with meaning, which made you rethink a thing or two. You shared that much with him.

“Goodbye.” He said, simply. To you, he was not one to speak much. “You’ll be home by spring.” I can’t wait ‘til then, he thought.

“Goodbye, doctor.”

Next thing you knew, as you got home, all by yourself, you decided to reach out for your brother. Telling him you needed help, that you were pessimistic but that it would be foolish not to at least try.

Days at rehab went on as smoothly as they could, considering you were suffering with withdrawal. Your behavior and emotions swayed like waves on a lake surface on a windy day. Deeply unstable, your mind was forced to remember all the hell you’ve been through on a daily basis for the last sad months of your life. Grieving for the version of you you could have been, for Renée, for your sense of self, self-respect and whatever you had lost during those dark times. Often, your hands trembled, you felt cold in a warm, cozy room and there were times your skin felt ablaze, not to mention the whirlwind of thoughts that made your head hurt. You missed feeling numb.

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you.

Still, there were afternoons that you would sit on the porch of your bedroom and simply take in the surroundings. The green grass that was taken better off by the employees like it was someone’s first born. The other patients who walked around and closed their eyes as they felt the sun kissing their skin for what it felt like the first time in years. The trees that casted shadows on the grass so that some of them could lay beneath them. The breeze that engulfed your figure and gently touched you, unlike you had been treated. The immense sense of belonging to this existence, of not longer being a stranger to your own life. You would take deep breaths and your lungs wouldn’t ache like before. You pictured the two reasons responsible for making you take the decision that brought you to this place sitting next to you. You held what was left of one of them between your fingertips.

The sudden and constant mood swings made your attitude change at breakneck speed.

Tonight, taking a quick break from the notebook you were scribbling on, you took a look around you. At that moment, everything around you was spinning. You couldn’t breathe, feeling as if the hands that touched you in the past stopped you from inhaling oxygen altogether. You shut your eyes closed and tried to breathe in like the doctors had told you to when things got too hard — it was not working. Panicking further, you stumbled your way to the ensuite bathroom and took a good look at your reflection. You felt shivers running down your body, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach as you desperately tried to turn on the faucet to splash some cold water to your face. Unsuccessful, to say the least.

The feeling grew as time went by. You couldn’t stand the discomfort and the memories and the feeling of being inappropriate to go back to living in the real world again. For a moment, you quieted your struggle. You gave in. You glanced at the mirror and although the tears blurred your vision, you were able to wonder if that was your opportunity of finally having the control of your life back. Maybe it was for the better, you thought as you reached for the small blade you secretly kept on the bathroom window. As you started feeling dizzy by the lack of oxygen, you couldn’t help but to think back to the interaction you exchanged with Spencer before you thought of accepting your brother’s offer. Picturing his face, of himself as a person and as a professional, you thought that, for a moment, he was a reflection of all that you wanted to be, all you wanted for yourself.

The blood that gushed from the open cuts of your arms, that drained from your body, felt like the catharsis you needed from all the mishaps that had taken place in your life. As you watched it dribble down your skin and as it stained the floor, you took a deep, difficult breath, feeling lightheaded. No thoughts swarmed your mind anymore. A sob, from both the dull sting of the cuts and of your difficulty breathing, echoed through the bathroom.

No!, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you.

Finally taking short puffs of breaths, you kept thinking this was it. That it was for the better. That nothing could save you, nothing could stop the blood from cleansing you and taint the floor in the process. You finally shut your eyes as the tears never ceased to flow from your eyes, feeling hands squeezing your arms where you had drawn vertical lines with the blades. From that moment, everything around you felt mixed, the swaying of a vehicle, the alarmed voices, the brightness behind your eyelids. You never opened your eyes. You couldn't bear to open them and still be here, facing the people who were doing their best to help you.

As you lost consciousness, you finally found peace, your mind finally quieted down, the hands stopped touching your body. You thought you managed a weakened smile in your state.

;

Spencer, much like you, didn't keep much track of the time as it passed, for the things in his world happened too fast and burned too bright. As he approached his desk in the bullpen and he was reading through some emails, dread adorning his features and panic setting in the pit of his stomach as he read your brother's name on the screen — whose contact he had gotten after you were admitted in rehab — and the news he was sharing.

;

You didn't know how much time you had spent unconscious. You didn't have any dreams. You didn't have any thoughts. You were completely numb, as if you were surrounded by a bubble that protected you from anything that could possibly happen.

As you opened your eyes, you recognized a hospital room, wires and needles and the unmistakable smell of that place. Looking at your arms, you noticed the bandages that hid the scars that were certainly forming by now, if the dull ache was anything to go by. When you slowly felt reality creeping in, you didn't dare to look up, afraid to find a judgmental or angry look on someone's face. You focused solely on breathing, too frightened of your surroundings.

You gulped and your throat felt so dry that it almost scratched, which made you erupt in a fit of coughs. That drew the attention of a person sitting right next to you, which you hadn't noticed, too preoccupied with someone's reaction.

Slowly looking up, you found Dr. Reid’s face. You couldn't quite begin to read his expression, as his eyes were full of relief once he saw you were still alive. Hanging by a thread, but still alive. You didn't bother to speak after he silently held a bottle of water with a straw on it for you to drink. Neither did he. At least for some amount of time.

“I didn't know how bad this could get. I mean, I do know, but not because of the reason you probably think. It's not just because I have to study human behavior, but also because I was abducted and drugged,” he started, losing the bravery that it took to look you in the eye. “I know you have nothing to do with this. And that it makes me sound very selfish, because, um, I'm here talking about myself when you are so fragile and so broken, but it's just because I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to not recognize yourself. When we talked in that room, for the first time, I felt alive. I felt seen. I felt like I had finally found a little, small, fleeting piece of myself that had wandered too far once I was… addicted.”

You just took in his words. You already knew why he related to you so much, but hearing him talk so freely and unabashedly about his experience made you somewhat perk up. “I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” You managed to mutter in a weak voice.

“It depends on what you think you're going to do now.” 

“It's a lot of work.”

“Not if it's you.”

“How could you possibly say that?”

“I know a little about your background. My friend looked you up. You looked promising.”

“Yes, past tense. Now I'm just this… vessel of a human. I don't think I have blood, let alone the guts to face the world after this.”

“I'm not calculating your worth on your accomplishments or on the person you used to be.��� He sighed, softly.

“Do I even still have worth?”

“Of course you do.”

“Don't waste your breath on me. How could you be so sure?”

“I just do.”

Little did you know, Spencer Reid was not one to pry where it wasn't welcome, but he spent every day letting his mind run to you. He couldn't help but think about you and whether you were actually doing good after the decision you decided to share with him. That was how he found himself having some unsent letters that were soon ripped and thrown away. Telling you about him, wondering about you, wondering if you two could relate on different topics.

“Would it be weird to ask you to trust me on this one?”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

For the first time in years, you had a sincere smile on your face. 

—

The next day, you woke up to a letter addressed to you, which you knew who it was from. 

Your lifeline.

This pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

[backjustforberena]

Then we must press what advantage we do have. And what is that? Dragons. 

[mllemaenad]

Huh. Well, now I'm very annoyed. Bioware couldn't be arsed to keep track of the world state changes anymore, so they're just torching everything. And the thing is, this is exactly what those world state imports are for.

You can certainly critique Mass Effect 3, but I've always felt it used its save import well. The world is very literally ending in that game and any reasonable player is immediately going to ask: where are my friends? Your companions foremost, obviously, but also NPCs you've helped or who helped you, or even just random people you encountered. You start doing a head count day one. Some characters made actual appearances, but there were also emails and ambient dialogue. Sometimes you found out that a character was fine – and that was a delightful relief. Sometimes you found out that they weren't – and that hurt. The point is, it made it feel as though your world was ending. Not just a world.

This is the moment where every change you've saved across the previous three games comes into play.

I'm certainly not saying this must be the last Dragon Age game. But it does feel like the end of an arc. We're answering all the big questions first posed in Origins: where did the Blight come from; what became of Arlathan, why are the dwarves in a constant apocalyptic state? Any new game will be about something else.

And here, as in Mass Effect 3, we are facing the end of the world.

The thing is. The thing is. I did not explicitly prep for this scenario. But bloody hell am I prepped for this scenario.

The King of Ferelden and the White Divine are both veterans of the Fifth Blight. The Hero of Ferelden is alive and well (since they have not told me otherwise) and well prepared at Amaranthine – and her sister is queen in Orzammar. She also has Awakened darkspawn allies to call on. The Grey Wardens were not expelled from the south, so should be on hand to face the crisis. And hey – the leader of the newly freed College of Enchanters is herself a former Warden. We are as Blight ready as it's possible to be!

I want to hear about how the king worked out that Denerim was beyond saving in time to evacuate the civilians because he could sense the oncoming horde well before anyone else could.

I want to hear how Warden-Commander Brosca, flanked by Nathaniel Howe and Sigrun, came out to lead the refugees to safety.

I want to hear that Prince Endrin led the Orzammar reinforcements that saved Redcliffe, and his aunt beamed with pride.

I want to hear that the Divine herself took command of the defence of Val Royeaux, and that the mages came out in force to assist the woman who backed their fight for freedom.

I want to hear that the Champion of Kirkwall returned with her Warden lover in the city's darkest hour, defending the people as they fled, and that with Merrill's assistance the alienage elves made it onto the last ship to escape the harbour.

If we're going to bloody Starkhaven, of all places, I want an acknowledgement that the Blight has forced a reconciliation – because last I heard Sebastian was getting his arse handed to him by Aveline.

I want to hear that the Grey Wardens are everywhere, because they never left.

I want to hear about intelligence gathered from Awakened darkspawn, and their bewildered frustration that these new invaders are different.

I'm not going to work out who lives and who dies right now, because this is new information and I'm still processing it. And in any case, it's not my point.

If they're destroying the world, I want it to be my Thedas, not a Thedas. I want these stories to have mattered.

[anxiousapplepie]

Do you think any of the siffrins have the same touch miscommunication of everyone in the party thinking they don't like touch but they actually really like touch?

I feel like it would be amusing to drag the siffrins through the mud this way regardless of how different they are. With perhaps the only exception being housemaiden siffrin? Like flinching due to touch is something that isn't easily changed, so the potential is there.

You could even argue housemaiden siffrins case though it would be harder with him being an unconscious cuddle bug. but like if you ingrained the "people think you are gross to touch" early enough you could pull it off. As he would pull away first in the hopes of in part sparing his own feelings and mostly sparing the others having to touch him.

(I know I'm reaching at this point) you could have it be as he made his travels though various houses people noted his reaction to touch and he noted there reaction to touching him, how it would start strong in a new house before tapering off the longer he stayed, until eventually people would just not touch him unless absolutely nessicary and even in those cases hesitate, after all there isn't a lot you can say to someone with a very small grasp on the language you speak so actions would speak the thousand words they can't communicate and both would leave off with the wrong idea.

HEHEHE you bet I'm still gonna play with Siffrin's touch miscommunication in all the roleswap AUs because good grief it's too much fun to ignore! But every AU is gonna have a different way of handling it, I think! Fighter!Siffrin clears up the "I like touch! I'm just not used to it!" VERY quickly because they were the first teammate Housemaiden!Bonnie got. And Bonnie clicked that he just needed a lil warning like Nille, and they taught everybody to give Sif the heads up before any touchy-touchy happens. Researcher!Siffrin's cloak is so thick and heavy that normally bumping into them doesn't bother them- but without the cloak they forget how jumpy they can be. They clear up the confusion before they reach Dormont, though (was it awkward and embarrassing for them to admit they weren't used to skin-to-skin contact? you betcha! <3) Cook!Siffrin is the closest to OG Siffrin- everybody make assumptions and they had no idea everybody was treating them like a scared animal that didn't want to be touched. Traveler!Mira will fix that mistake when she's in the timeloops. And for Housemaiden!Siffrin? hahahahaaaaaa my favorite awful goat child. He wants to be touched and hugged and held so badly all the time, but doesn't want to be annoying or greedy without a reason. Not even Mira understands how deep it goes, despite them being feeling buddies for years. Your musings are a VERY good take and grief it just makes me want to hug Sif because it's all too much and too little and GIMME THAT ANGST AND MISUNDERSTANDING!!!

[hopepetal]

This story is set in @applestruda's boatem knights au! I've wanted to write something with Gem for a while, so here it is!

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

It’s been so long since her last bounty, and Gem is itching for a fight. 

This much, she tells Cleo while watching the armorer work on their newest project. Gem’s frequent visits had allowed the two to grow close over the course of her bounty hunting career, to the point where it wasn’t always business that brought her there. Sometimes, it was just for casual conversation, or just because Gem was bored or passing through the area. 

Cleo raises an eyebrow, not looking up from her work. “Tell you what,” she begins, turning the chest plate slightly so that it could catch the light, “it’s all well and good that you want a fight until you get yourself caught up in one you can’t win.” 

Gem scoffs at that as she leans against the counter. “Oh, I never lose. You don't need to worry about me, Cleo.”

“That’s what Etho kept saying, before you chopped his damn head off.” 

Rolling her eyes, Gem flicks her braid behind her shoulder. “That was Etho. And, as you clearly haven’t forgotten, I was the one who did the chopping there. So thanks, but I think I’m good.”

Cleo chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Just return here in one piece, alright? I can’t be losing my best customer.”

Gem sets her elbows on the counter, leaning forward with a cheery grin. “Best customer and best friend?” 

“Get out.”

And so Gem finds herself wandering back to the kingdom of Dogwarts, in search of work and a fight. Maybe both. For her, it usually was. It’s why she chose this path of employment, of course– one didn’t just stumble into becoming a bounty hunter. Unless they were particularly skilled at said stumbling, of course. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s been in the bustling kingdom, and the stark difference between the outer lands and the kingdom always amazes her. She knew that the kingdom boasted the most prestigious redstone academy in the continent, but it’s another thing entirely to see that in action. 

Compared to the sparse population of the outer lands, the kingdom is a bustling city full of people. They continue to add on new developments each year, the construction drawing even more people to the kingdom for work on top of the people already moving in. It was certainly a far cry from the occasional village Gem stumbled upon in the outer lands.

The other difference that really stood out to her was the difference in how prevalent magic was. In the outer lands, magic is everywhere– from daily tasks to impressive feats, it was impossible to go one day without seeing some sort of spell. In the kingdom, it’s a lot more common to see redstone inventions being used in place of magic, though magic is still used. It was much more noticeable to Gem, who travels back and forth frequently between the two extremes. 

It wasn’t long before Gem ends up making her way into the local tavern, the place where she found most of the jobs she took. It’s rowdy as ever, and she finds herself missing the quiet of her friend’s tavern. Nevertheless, she quickly finds her usual seat and orders her usual drink, greeting the bartender with a tired smile. 

“Anything new?” she asks after a few minutes, when the bartender wasn’t so swamped with orders. 

The bartender shrugs. “Not really? But there was something that caught my eye.” They set down their glass for a moment and duck below the bar, grabbing a paper and placing it in front of Gem. “An older one, but it’s resurfaced recently with everyone cleaning out all the more urgent ones.” With that, the bartender gives her a pointed look, to which she responds with a laugh. “Anyway. A runaway who destroyed a very important lab of the king and escaped on foot with precious redstone and technology. He’s assumed to be armed and very dangerous.”

Gem pulls the paper to her, looking it over closely. It seemed to be an average bounty– especially for who had put it out. The man’s face is inked in an artistic depiction of him beneath his ‘WANTED’ notice and list of crimes. What most stands out to her is his incredibly sharp mustache and scruffy beard. “Mm… I see. And this was put out by the king’s advisor himself? I’m surprised it’s gone unclaimed for so long.”

The bartender shrugs, continuing to go about their job as they converse with Gem. “I think most people were daunted by the task. That, and those who tried to find this man simply couldn’t. He’s a slippery fellow, so I’ve been told.”

Gem laughs, her eyes not leaving the man’s inked face. “Well, I’ve been told I have quite the talent for catching those who hide in the shadows.” Quite literally, if she thought back to her last big job. Which, while it had technically ended in success, isn’t really something she wants to go through again. 

Gem had not signed up for magical creatures that revived when you cut off their heads. A simple redstone thief with a penchant for explosions? Yeah, she had this one in the bag. 

“I’ll take it,” she tells the bartender, folding up the paper and sticking it into her bag. “Sounds like a fun little job.” 

The bartender chuckles, shaking their head. “How long do you think this one’s going to take you?” they ask, already knowing Gem’s answer. 

“A month, tops.” She says this with the same confident smile that she always wears when going out on jobs. “Any more than that, and I owe you a drink.”

The bartender throws a towel over their shoulder, laughing. “Well, can’t wait for that to never happen. I’m sure you’ll be back even sooner than we expect as usual, with a story to tell.”

Finishing her drink, Gem stands back up. “I never disappoint,” she promises, sliding the payment for her drink over the table. “I’ll see you then! And thanks for the tip!” she calls, making her way out of the tavern.

It was time to go hunt down a redstoner. 

It actually isn't as hard as she thought. 

The man– Mumbo, his name is– has made a name for himself in the outer lands to the North. Gem can't help but be a little surprised. She's never had a bounty with such mixed public opinion; some people absolutely love him, while others want his head to roll. 

“That man?” Someone had scoffed when she asked, shaking their head. “Void below, I can't stand him. He's a genius, sure, but the noise he makes!” They had clicked their tongue disapprovingly. “And when I complained about it and asked him to be a little more quiet, he threw bricks through my window!”

Another person– a young woman– had a dreamy expression when Gem asked her about Mumbo. “He's such a cute knight! One time, he helped me get my cat down from a tree…” 

Her friend had raised an eyebrow. “Clara, he climbed up into the tree and fell off of it. Your cat got down all on her own.”

Clara hadn't responded, lost in her daydreaming.

The more she asks around, the more mixed answers she receives. 

Gem couldn't help but laugh at that. This bounty would be interesting, if nothing else. 

She finds the camp easily enough. All she has to do is ask where the knights are, and she's pointed in the right direction. It's almost a full day on foot– she leaves her horse at the nearest village to be more stealthy. 

It’s getting colder out. The leaves are beginning to shift from green to yellow and orange, sparks of red standing out amongst the others. Gem’s feet crunch against the ground as she travels down the path, hands stuck in her pockets to keep them warm. 

She’s been wandering around the area for about a week now, gathering intel on the group. From what she can tell, they’re a close group of four friends: Impulse, Grian, Scar, and her target, Mumbo. She doesn’t get close enough to really hear them talking. She’d heard of avians’ enhanced hearing and doesn’t want to take her chances with getting too close. If the stories she’d heard were true, she didn’t want to get caught by these guys. Especially given what she was here to do.

At one point, she got a little closer to the camp to listen in on a conversation. She had an extra invisibility potion, and she figured she could put it to use for this job. Though she knew enough about the so-called “knights”, more information couldn’t hurt. 

The one with brown hair and a very stabbable chest– his name is Scar, she recalls– leans against Grian, the avian of the group. “So, the plan is to head out tomorrow?”

Impulse nods. “Yep. You’re good to stay behind to keep Pearl company, Mumbo?”

Mumbo leans forward, his hands folded in front of him on the table. He looks so polite when he speaks that Gem can hardly believe he’s a hardened criminal. “Of course! I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.”

Gem frowns at that, but quickly shakes away the uncertainty. If there was another person here, she would’ve seen them by now. Pearl is probably the dog that was prowling around the camp.

Grian sighs and pushes Scar off him, standing up. “Well, I’m absolutely shattered, so I’m going to bed. We gotta get up early if we’re gonna be traveling tomorrow.” He looks up, gaze sweeping over the knights and then around the camp. 

At the same time, the wind shifts, and Scar stiffens. His eyes meet Gem’s. Gem sucks in a breath, and has to check to make sure her invisibility potion is still working. 

It is, but it doesn’t stop her from shivering as Scar’s gaze lingers, then pulls away.

After a moment, Scar stands, putting on a fake pouty face. “Aww, okay. Goodnight, G! Night, Impulse. Night, Mumbo!” 

A chorus of goodnights echoes from the group, and Gem slips away unnoticed. 

The forest is anything but quiet at night. Gem is safe up in the trees, and sleep comes easy to her after years of travel, but she remembers her first year of adventuring and the hellish noises that kept her up for hours.

A skeleton rattles below. Further away, a zombie groans. Gem leans against the tree and closes her eyes.

Gem rises with the sun and to the rhythmic sound of horse hooves against well-packed dirt. She exhales, breath turning to fog, before stretching. She turns her head to the side, tracking the sound of hooves. Only when it fades off into the distance does she untie herself from the branch and jump down, finally able to stretch fully.

She takes an hour or two to wake up and gather all her things. It’s almost midday by the time she sheathes her sword after warming up and begins her trek to the camp. It likely won’t come down to a fight, from what she knows about Mumbo, but one can never be too careful. She knows not to underestimate an enemy.

It is somewhat pathetic that she’s able to walk up right behind him without him even noticing, but Gem chalks that up to her being very good at her job.

“Hey there, Mumbo!” she greets, and can’t help but laugh as he shrieks and falls over backwards. “Oop, careful! Don’t hurt yourself.”

Mumbo scrambles back and to his feet, looking up at Gem with wide eyes. “What– what on earth– who are you?! How do you know my name?”

Gem tilts her head to the side, keeping the smile on her face. “I’m Gem. Nice to meet you.” She takes a step forward. “King Ren placed a bounty on your head, and I’m here to collect! Do you want to come with me willingly, or…?” She places a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Mumbo pales. “Well, look, okay, there’s been a misunderstanding!” He holds his hands up as he steps back, eyes darting around wildly. “There’s no need for violence! I’m a very peace loving guy! Peace, love, and plants, y’know!”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “By force, then! That’s cool!” She draws her sword.

Mumbo does what any average person would do– scream, then run away.

Gem, of course, chases. It’s easy enough to catch up to Mumbo and trip him, sending the taller man falling to the ground with another shriek. She quickly puts her sword to Mumbo’s throat, and he freezes.

“...please don’t kill me?” he asks after a moment, chest heaving as he stares up at her. “I don’t, I won’t lie to you, I don’t particularly want to die?” 

Gem laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not going to kill you. I just need to bring you back to the king so I can collect your bounty!” She pulls her sword away, twirling it in her hand. “Whatever happens to you after is on him, not me.” She tilts her head. “Also, didn't you have a beard?”

Mumbo blinks. “What? No, I– hold on, a beard?! I know they always get my mustache wrong, but a beard? And what do you mean, a bounty?”

Gem puts her sword back at Mumbo’s throat. “I think they have to hire a new portrait artist. Anyway! I need to take you to the King, so I can get paid, and you can be brought to justice, et cetera.”

“But we can talk about this!” Mumbo pleads. “Surely I could pay you or something, I have quite a lot of things, I–!”

The only warning Gem is given is Mumbo’s gaze darting to the side. Someone slams into her, sending her stumbling away.

Gem turns and sweeps her sword out in time to block the blade of a scythe. The impact jars both her and her attacker, giving Gem enough time to reorient herself.

The woman straightens up, and her fever-clouded eyes focus on Gem. Her wings are flared out, displaying eyespots that stare down at Gem. “Why are ya messin’ with my knights?” 

From where he’s fallen, Mumbo yelps, “Pearl!”

Ah. So this is the Pearl they had been talking about. Gem curses herself for making assumptions, then tightens her grip on her sword and grins. “You wanna fight? Fantastic!” 

Pearl lets out a sharp breath, and Gem doesn’t fail to notice how her hands tremble slightly holding her scythe. “Not very fair of you to attack Mumbo while he’s all alone, don't ya think?”

Gem laughs as she shifts into a fighting stance. “I’d say it’s more fair than a 2v1!”

“I’m staying out of this!” Mumbo interjects, continuing to back away. “Good luck, Pearl!”

Pearl tilts her head. “That fair enough for you?” She doesn’t wait for Gem to answer, folding her wings tight against her back and lunging for her. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s had a good fight. Since Etho, she thinks, though the fight with him had been made interesting by his strange abilities with shadows and ice. Pearl isn't using any magic– it's pure skill that Gem is fighting against, and it's been a while since she's fought anyone like this. 

As the fight goes on, though, it becomes more clear to Gem just how unfocused Pearl is. By the looks of it, she'd just rolled out of bed when Mumbo screamed. Gem shakes away any doubts about fighting someone who is clearly ill as she blocks a strike that would've taken her arm off. 

“Wow!” she exclaims, ducking and stepping to the side as Pearl's scythe sweeps over her, “you're really going all out, huh?” 

Pearl laughs in response to that, as if they were two friends sparring for fun. “You were attacking my Mumbo! ‘course I'm goin’ all out!”

Gem swings out with her sword again, catching Pearl's leg with her blade. “Your Mumbo is a wanted criminal!”

Pearl yelps and stumbles back. She holds out her scythe in a defensive position.

Gem takes a moment to catch her breath, staring at Pearl. “It'd be best if you just hand Mumbo over! I promise I won't hurt him!”

Pearl shakes her head. “Absolutely not, mate! Mumbo is family!” 

Gem shrugs. “Your grave, then!” 

She lunges. 

The fight has a sort of rhythm to it. Gem lunges, Pearl blocks. Pearl slices with her scythe, Gem dodges. The rhythm is only broken by Pearl occasionally stumbling– which Gem takes advantage of to strike out and nick Pearl. She's never able to make too deep a cut, and Pearl gets her back plenty of times, but she lands enough hits to start feeling much better about her chances of winning. 

...and then she's on the ground, dew soaking into her clothes as she lies there. Her sword is gone, fallen out of her hand in the struggle. 

She looks up at Pearl, who stands above her. Her cheeks are reddened by exertion and fever, her hair is cascading over her shoulders in messy waves, and most infuriatingly there is a smile on her lips even as she holds her scythe to Gem's throat. 

Gem doesn't move. She waits, with bated breath, for Pearl to kill her.

Instead, Pearl sheathes her scythe and bends down, holding out a hand. “There ya go, mate, let's get you back on your feet.”

Gem blinks. “What?”

Pearl tilts her head in confusion. “I'm helping you up. Did you hit your head?”

Gem frowns. “No, I just– why aren't you killing me?” She takes Pearl’s hand anyway.

Pearl raises an eyebrow, pulling Gem to her feet. “Would you have killed me if I lost?” She grins when Gem shakes her head. “Thought so.”

Mumbo peeks out from the tree he hid behind, giving Pearl a little wave. “You don't want to kidnap me anymore?”

Gem groans, grabbing her bloodied sword and wiping it on the grass before sheathing it. “I miscalculated. Thought you were alone and Pearl was the big dog I saw wandering around camp. Turns out, I was wrong.”

Pearl laughs. “Tilly! No, no, she's my lovely puppy.”

“Wolf,” Mumbo corrects quietly, “she's a wolf, Pearl.” 

Pearl shrugs, then looks over at Gem. “Well, if you’re gonna stick around, we have some soup I can heat up? You can tell us all about why you’re here, and maybe I’ll be able to give ya somethin’ for your time.”

Gem lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Sure, why not. This day couldn’t get any more crazy, I think.”

Mumbo, who had slowly been inching closer to the two while they were talking, is quick to grab Pearl when she tries to walk and stumbles. “Pearl! Wait, hold on, I’ll help you over, but you have got to sit down after that. I’ll heat up the soup and get you some bandages.” 

“Alright, alright…” Pearl slings an arm over Mumbo’s shoulders, and gestures for Gem to follow them. “Oof, that took a lot out of me, actually.” She glances back at Gem. “You’re good. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Gem snorts, following them across the camp. “I could ask you the same question. You’re insane.” 

Mumbo helps Pearl sit down on the bench. Gem hesitates, then takes the seat across from Pearl, watching as Mumbo grabs a large covered container of soup. “Honestly,” he says, “Pearl’s one of the strongest people I know. Everyone here is, but Pearl and Impulse–” he laughs, putting the container on what looks to be a type of redstone warming gadget– “they’re incredible.” 

Pearl giggles. “Aww, Mumbo! You’re too kind, mate.” She closes her eyes and lets out a breath. “You mind gettin’ those bandages? I’m startin’ to feel a little hurt here.”

Gem grimaces. “My bad! You got me good in a few places too, though.”

Pearl nods, giving Gem a bright smile. “Dang right I did! Mumbo, can you get some extra bandages for our new friend here?”

Mumbo nods, bending down to open a different wooden container and pulling out some bandages and a dry towel. “Her name’s Gem, by the way. Introduced herself to me before chasing me down.” 

“That’s nice,” Pearl quips, “good to let your victims know who they have the pleasure of bein’ killed by, at the very least.”

Gem blushes. “I wasn’t going to kill him! Honestly! I was just going to bring him back to King Ren, and even then he was probably just gonna be put in jail or something!”

Mumbo sits next to Pearl and begins to dab at the cuts with the towel. “I don’t really want to go to jail?” He hands a roll of bandages and a towel to Gem, who begins to take care of her own wounds.

“We’d break you out,” Pearl assures him, then turns to look at Gem. “Right. This bounty, tell me about it? You said King Ren put it out?”

Gem glances at Mumbo. “Honestly, I think it’d be better hearing it from his side, first. I wasn’t there for the whole reason the bounty was placed.”

Mumbo looks up from where he was wrapping Pearl’s wounds. “Oh! Well, uh, you see. So, I guess, I accidentally blew up one of his labs? I was making something, can’t really remember what it was, and well. Kaboom! Blew it all to smithereens, unfortunately. And because I wasn’t really supposed to be there, they didn’t really have a lot of sympathy for me.” He grabs Pearl’s hand and pulls her other arm up so he can tend to the wounds on it. “So! I ran!”

“Are our things at risk of blowing up, then?” Pearl asks, looking pointedly at the redstone machine that was warming up the soup. Her wings flutter slightly. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Probably not. I mean, I’m much more careful now. I don’t use things until I’m like… 99% sure they won’t blow up.”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “That’s a whole 1% of uncertainty.”

Pearl laughs, pulling her arm back once Mumbo finishes bandaging up her cuts. “Better than 2%! I’ll take it.” 

Mumbo hands Pearl the roll of bandages and stands up to check on the soup. It must be done, because he carefully takes the container off the heating gadget and grabs some bowls and spoons from yet another wooden container. After rifling through the container for another minute, he pulls out a ladle with a triumphant sound and stands back up. “Soup’s ready!”

Once the soup is ladled into every bowl and placed on the table, Mumbo sits back down. “You alright, Pearl?” he murmurs, to which Pearl nods. 

“Just a lil dizzy,” she responds, “but that’s– probably fine. I should get back to bed soon, probably.”

“Eat your soup first, at least.” Mumbo looks up at Gem. “And, well, I guess we should hear your side of this whole thing, huh?”

Gem sighs, taking a sip of her soup before leaning back. “Well, I was looking for another job and yours came up. I figured it’d be pretty easy to grab you and bring you back to the King, and then I’d be set for the next couple months with the reward.” She laughs softly. “To be honest, I didn’t even think I was going to have to fight.”

Mumbo makes a sad noise. “I would’ve fought back!” he protests, “you just startled me!”

“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve!” Gem agrees. “You just would’ve lost.”

Pearl chuckles. “Be nice to Mumbo! He’s a very skilled tactician.” She has some more soup before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table. “What are your plans now?”

Gem shrugs. “I wasn’t hired for this job, so it doesn’t really matter if I complete it or not. The money would’ve been nice, but my reputation won’t take a blow because of this.” She thinks for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Honestly, I might just spend a while up around here to see if any of the nearby villages have jobs for me, if anything. Or I might head to the city to look for more bounties.” She eats some more soup. It’s very good, made with potatoes and bacon and cheese, and it’s slightly spicy nature has her feeling warm despite the cold autumn weather.

 “Oh! Speaking of, you’re going to want to keep an eye on this guy–” She gestures at Mumbo– “for a bit, or speak to King Ren about his bounty. Otherwise, some other hunter who isn’t as nice as me might pick up his bounty.” 

Mumbo’s eyes widen. “Well. I don’t really want that to happen!”

Pearl nods. “Yeah, that makes sense… I’ll speak with the others when they get back and we’ll see about making a trip there. If that’s okay with you?” She directs the question to Mumbo, who holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“I dunno! Do whatever you think is best, mate. It would be nice to get the bounty off my head so we don’t have to worry about people coming to camp.” Mumbo looks a little downtrodden as he speaks, crossing his arms and looking away. “I mean, look at what happened. You’re hurt, and Grian’s probably going to rip my arm off for it!”

Gem inhales sharply. “I might want to head out then, if you have a friend who’s gonna react like that…”

Pearl laughs. “No, Mumbo’s joking– Grian can’t and won’t do that, not to Mumbo. And even if he wanted to do that to someone, I still don’t think he could.” She finishes her soup and leans against Mumbo. “It might be good for you to skedaddle before everyone gets back, though. We can introduce you at another time, when you haven’t just injured me while I’m ill and supposed to be resting.”

Mumbo chuckles nervously, letting Pearl lean against him. “Yeahhh… I can’t imagine that’ll go down too well with the others. Even if you are friendly now.”

Gem takes the last bite of her soup, and sets her spoon in the bowl. “I can’t imagine it would, I really can’t. Thank you for the soup and bandages, but–”

Before she’s able to finish speaking, Pearl jumps up from the table. “Wait! Hold on, I have something for you.” She takes a few steps away, then turns back and grabs Mumbo’s hand. “Sorry, taking this guy with me– still don’t really trust you. Stay right there!”

Gem waves her hand, slightly confused. “That’s fair! I’ll be here.” 

They return after a few minutes, with Pearl holding a few things in her arms. “Right! Here’s a pouch of some gold and iron coins, to cover at least a little of the bounty. And this–” She sets down a piece of parchment on the table– “this is moth mail. It’s a special thing I made a while back. Just write a letter, tap the little sigil drawn on the top corner, and it’ll get to me! You can use that to contact me if you need, or if you’re in the area.”

Gem blinks. “Wow! Oh, gosh, thank you? I gotta know, though, how come you’re being so nice to me? I was going to turn Mumbo over to the King.”

Pearl shrugs. “I mean, you’ve been chill after that, so why hold grudges? Gotta make friends where ya can.” She straightens back up. “Really! Feel free to come back any time, as long as you let me know first. If you don’t, I might assume you’ve come to collect some other bounty we don’t know about and fight you again.”

Gem laughs as she stands up, taking the pouch of coins and parchment paper. “Wouldn’t want that to happen, for sure!” She takes a step back. “Well, thank you both for the kindness… and entertainment, I suppose. This morning was certainly an interesting one.”

Mumbo smiles nervously. “Yeah, I agree. It was nice, uh, meeting you? And not getting kidnapped by you? And not being put in jail. Yeah.”

Gem only laughs louder at that. “Yeah, I’m glad I could contribute to things you’re grateful for.” She takes a breath, looking between Mumbo and Pearl. “Well. I’ll be heading out, then. Thanks for the coin and the paper.”

Pearl leans against Mumbo, who is doing his best to steady her. “No worries, mate! Have fun with… whatever you’re going to do!”

As Gem starts walking back toward the forest, she just barely hears Pearl mumble, “I need to pass out right now,” to Mumbo. 

Gem pays the stable manager for taking care of her horse with some of the money Pearl gave her. Honestly, she’s still a little shocked over how the whole ordeal went down, but hey; at least she still got paid. 

“And I got some new friends out of it, too,” she tells her horse as she rides off into the forest. “So that’s a plus!” 

She isn’t quite sure what she’s going to tell the bartender when she inevitably returns, but she’ll figure something out. For now, she’s good to look for her next bounty– wherever it might be.

[dufferpuffer]

Slightly off topic - but i love yapping B^) Sirius' comment on Severus knowing 'more curses than seventh years' when he was a first year is just such fucking bullshit Delicious bullshit. It says far more about Sirius than it does Severus.

I don't think he was even being serious when he said it. If asked for more information, I think Sirius would have said: "Well... maybe not actual curses... but he was a violent little git. One wrong look and you'd have a branch drop on your head."

Because where the hell would he be learning curses from...? Enough to beat seventh year Slytherin's with Death Eater parents? Without a wand? Without money? In a Muggle town? With a mother who couldn't/didn't defend them from her husband? I think Severus would have shot some curses at his dad if he could.

Luckily, we DO see Severus perform a little magic pre-wand:

“What is that you’re wearing, anyway?” she said, pointing at Snape’s chest. “Your mum’s blouse?” There was a crack. A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. “Tuney!” But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. “Did you make that happen?” “No.” He looked both defiant and scared. “You did!” She was backing away from him. “You did! You hurt her!” “No – no, I didn’t!” But the lie did not convince Lily. After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused…

(DH ch 33)

This is rather clearly a boy who knew he did do it but didn't mean to.He was teased and his magic reacted in his defense, in his anger - accidental magic, like Harry blowing up his aunt or vanishing the glass in the zoo. He is just used to having to defend himself.

But what does Sirius see...? A boy who wanted to be in Slytherin. Who instinctively reacts with violence. Who eventually got interested in the Dark Arts.

Sirius isn't an idiot. He knows the difference between a curse and accidental magic. He knows Severus wasn't a walking curse library. Especially not compared to HIM, a boy likely raised encouraged to learn at least a little, with books and tutors.

But where Sirius and Severus differ - is that Sirius was always intentional with his attacks. Righteous. Fighting against what was bad, helping those who were good. At least that's how he saw it.

Sirius and James can pull whatever hex or curse they want out of their back pocket, illegal or otherwise, because they are good people. So 'good' that Sirius was the black sheep in his family.

Severus? He lashed out. He WANTED to be a Slytherin. He isn't even TRYING to be good, skulking about with creeps... Maybe he didn't know any curses in first year, but he would have liked to - and only for 'wrong' reasons... like hurting his Muggle dad or something...

…

Dayum.

[thatnonameuser]

imagine if cater took a pic of mc and uploaded to magicam or during vdc some anonymous people notice her being a manager and goes "who's this chick wearing the nrc uniform???" and it gets absolutely blown up on magicam and suddenly mc had hordes of fans (unknowingly) how would this happen and what would the reaction be? hahaha imagine if like people are skeptical on whether shes a darling or yandere

Shall we add more stress to this mental breakdown pile? MC’s going to need a mental institution at this point guys….

So if Cater,  Neige, Vil or just the TV crew upload the VDC for the world to see and she starts trending on social media and she finds out, she’s, no lie, going to have a stroke. 

After housing seven yanderes: Vil with his perfectionism and obsessiveness with that making her life agony, Rook, Epel, after he gets his confidence after the thing with Deuce (and the MC saying she doesn’t care about his appearance, because she doesn’t love him, but he takes that the wrong damn way), Jamil after the mind control stuff, Kalim also after the mind control stuff, AND Adeuce after their possessiveness hits the 11 on the dial after the Scarabia nonsense, AND dealing with Neige, singing that mind-numbing song; she finds out she’s getting a fan base, she’s going to need a very, very long nap before she stabs someone. 

Especially when she starts getting creepy messages, mail (Vil thankfully gave you advice about just burning all of your fanmail and never responding to it. You’re just glad he was right about all that)

 and otherwise ‘visits’ from her new ‘fan club’ (You best believe that Rook is the president). She’s never leaving the walls of NRC alone, or with Grim, ever again. 

If they start debating whether she’s a yandere or a darling. By now, she’s stopped hiding at NRC as a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ but she’s not prepared for the whole world to know that!! And now her fans are having an actual bloody war about whether they’re right about you being one or the other, and you don’t need that on your conscience. To the point where you don’t even care if they figure it out or not, because the fights are that bloody. 

So that’s just fan-fucking-tastic. 

But to your yanderes’ reactions…..

*                        *                        *                        *

The famous celebrities you call your yanderes have different opinions on your fame. 

Vil sees it as something that both aids him, and stresses him out.

(I’ll be rewriting Vil’s family dynamic later, but I’ll give you the short version. Vil’s mother, whom I’m saying is deceased because the wiki doesn’t talk about her, was a famous darling actress, and her love story with Eric Venue was a celebrity love story that would have lasted if she hadn’t passed away.) So Vil will have knowledge on how the fans of the world view famous yandere/darling relationships, and can manipulate that to his advantage and your disadvantage. 

BUT…… Because of that he also knows of the dangers. And he knows how to navigate it. You don’t. 

So he’ll obviously act as your guide. Providing you safety and advice to navigate the most obsessive and delusional of super fans while being his own siren song to guide you into the safety of his embrace. He’s prepared to use that to gaslight you into following him forever, because every second you spend using him as your guide, you’re also fueling his and now your rampant fan base into thinking you’re a couple.

And after that the rest is history. Your own fanbase is entrapping you into being in a as-relationship with him and will lose their collective minds if you have a fight, or any slight disagreement. Vil will use his knowledge of the celebrity world against you, and by the time you figure it out, you’ll be a slave to the fan base and his love. 

Neige sees it as an opportunity! He’ll never tell you that, but he’s ecstatic. Neige pretends not to recognise the influence of his fame on others but with his reputation he’s already fawned over. And because of the reputation of darling and yandere partners, his and your fans might confuse your roles as a yandere and a darling. In their eyes, he’s the darling, you’re the yandere. 

Which means you’re screwed if Neige ever says anything remotely bad or something that can be taken negatively out of context. So better keep him happy. Got it?

Fortunately or Unfortunately, you can use being a darling to your advantage, or Neige can use being a ‘darling’ to his advantage, because darling celebs get the ‘Taylor Swift treatment’ (no offense Swifties) where their fans are prepared to murder if something bad happens to them. Any mistreatment from yanderes, even things that yanderes casually do to their darlings, can get a yandere mutilated or killed. 

As for the non-celebrities….

Rook, as previously stated, is the founder/president of your online fan club before you even got a phone, and he’s happy to see you be worshipped as you deserve. But as your number one, he gets the luxury of having you and not all the casuals. (Rook has earned his title as the number one, your number twos, threes and more can’t even compare to it). So while he'll let you revel in the spotlight for a while, the hunter will cage you eventually, and you’ll be worshipped by very few in the future. 

Cater’s a magicam fanatic with a whole catalogue of pictures he and his clones have taken of you. He’s probably one of the reasons you can’t relax now, being a frantic poster. And he’s not totally against it at first. Cater already loved taking pictures of you, so seeing so many people talk about the two of you is amazing. But then they only talk about you to an excessive degree. Now he’s no longer enjoying this. Having so many other people post about you like you and them are a couple hopelessly in love….. It sickens him. You are his, not theirs and soon all his posts will reflect that.

As for the others….. It’s divided…..

Hated it from the jump. Still hate it now. 

They’re already competing with too many people. They don't need anyone else trying to steal your already limited attention. These people bothering you and trying to steal you away make them join the murder happy train. Whatever gets rid of those annoying nuisances fastest.

Ace - Ace’s spot as first person you met isn’t being threatened but he has already been pissed enough about the fact that you have so many, many people vying for your hand. So now that number has jumped up to the millions, he’s furious. 

Leona - As someone who's been forced to take second place in many other parts of his life, to find so many useless herbivores vying after his herbivore, makes him lose control over his UM and turn his phone into sand upon discovery, and possibly a few of your psycho fans.

Ruggie - Same possessiveness as Leona with similar reasoning, Ruggie’s painfully used to having the things he wants too far out of reach. To risk these pathetic weirdos you don’t even know the names of having you for themselves is something he’s not willing to risk. He’ll maul them to death for even touching you. 

Azul - Insecurity alert! He’s angry, duh, but very, very sad. You being so beloved for doing basically nothing by so many, after seeing you lose your first kiss to someone else, it feels like you would keep choosing another over him, and now there are so, so many options vying for your affection and he hates it, so much. He wants to watch them all drown as he holds them under. 

Floyd - Floyd’s frequent mood swings make the change from side one to two near instantaneous. As soon as he comes to the conclusion, from ‘duh, Shrimpey’s the best’ to ‘I’m going to squeeze them all till their heads pop off’. Don’t let him hear about how much they want to kiss the MC, marry you etc. The eel’s already mad about the kiss incident and the fact you’ve been living with the person who stole it from him, your ‘fans’ made it all the more worse. 

Jade - Jade’s already rearing to kill. Would be a shame if some of the visitors to the VDC get incurably poisoned by the drinks served by the Monstro Lounge. While he smiles eerily the whole time, the eel intends to kill someone for deeming themselves the owner of your heart. Especially after the kiss incident.

Jamil - Doomed to be stuck in second place for way too long, the fact these imbeciles think that you hold any of them in the first place spot in your heart because they saw you on screen once, infuriates him. Maddens him even. The fact that your ‘fans’ think you would give them the time of day after you gave his first kiss to him makes him laugh. (Now if only he could remember it…..)

Idia - Chronically online with a bone to pick, he’s doxxing all these people making promises to come visit you. If any creepasses try to upload any pictures of you in intimate or barely clothed situations (Considering he has a camera in your shower, the irony is lost on him), he’s revealing every last secret they have, spreading online rumors and framing them for whatever crimes he can. If you’re allowed any creepy stalkers who purposely disrespects your boundaries repeatedly, it’s him! And Rook because Rook creeps him out.

(I am not good with chronically online slang and had Urban Dictionary out for this, can you tell?! 🙃)

Sebek - Sebek has a bit of internet awareness despite the fact he’s from the technophobic Briar Valley. And honestly, despite being a fellow person worshipper for Malleus, he, like a hypocrite, ignores that part. He wants to be the only one that you care about, and since he has to compete with too many rivals already, he doesn’t want anymore. 

You’re famous! Cool, you deserve it being so perfect. Wait, why are there so many people staring at you now?

At first, they think that you really deserve it, being so perfect and loveable. The whole world deserves to see you as the perfection incarnate you are….. Until it starts to get very, very overbearing. And others start talking about being your one true love. 

After that, they hate it. Why the hell are there so many people demanding your love, affection and attention, and getting the last part of that statement (because you were panicking but they don’t get that part) when they barely get that on a regular basis. They understand that you’re someone deserving of worshipful devotion, why are they trying to compete with them?!

Deuce - At first, Deuce just considers it a moment of the world reminding him that you are perfect for him. And he’s glad that the world agrees with him because it just pushes him to be better for you. But after a while the jealousy and anger kicks in. In comparison to the idiots that had to learn about you behind a screen, he’s been protecting you from the very beginning and they claim to love you more than he does!? He’s angry, like ready to go back to delinquency angry.

Trey - He, at first, didn’t see you being talked about online as big of a deal as he probably could have. Cater posts about himself and you all the time, so to him at first it wasn’t something to be concerned about. Then it got hard to ignore, and that’s when he hated it. 

Jack - Jack doesn’t notice how utterly bad it is at first. Because of his, mostly pure, love for you, he’s first inspired by your newfound fame to love you more, just to remind you how much you mean to him. But after it becomes a nightmare for you, he wants to make it as much a nightmare for them. He can understand that sometimes his love can be smothering, but he won’t let you live in fear of them, so he’s ready to draw blood. 

Kalim - Kalim already worships you. And for you, to be so perfect people are bound to notice so he doesn’t mind! Until it gets super bad, and then he does. But if they think they can love you more than he can, he’ll do them one better. He’ll send you enough gifts and love letters to overshadow all the creep mail that you’re sent. He’s still mad about all of that though. No one can love you more than he can. 

Silver - Silver’s the first part at first because he sees you as a perfection. But he’s not the second until Lilia politely informs him about the fact that if he and so many others see you as perfect, wouldn’t they try to steal you from him? After that, he’s angry. He understands that it’s not your fault. After all, it’s not your fault that so many people want to snatch his darling away from him. But he’s very not happy about so many people wanting to steal his princess from him. 

Doesn’t understand what the big deal is. They’re upset, can’t ignore that, but they don’t understand why this even happened in the first place.

They don’t understand why you’re being bothered by so many people because you appeared in front of a camera like that. They sympathize with your plight, but why do those obnoxious fans keep sending you creepy mail and try to meet you when they’ve never met you?

Riddle - Blame and Thank Mommy for that one. Riddle’s understanding of how social media fame works is miniscule, and how you suddenly managed to amass a massive following like you did within a few hours is a mystery to him. So while he feels angry and concerned about your plight, he can’t understand it.

Malleus - If Riddle’s understanding is miniscule, Malleus’ is the size of an atom. Because he’s very confused. Angry, wanting to burn the people bothering you to the ground…., but angry. He’s enthusiastically ready to defend you if they get too close, but he doesn’t understand why a single picture on the internet, which he already doesn’t understand, basically summoned an army of followers for you. 

Once the others start to notice that things are really bothering you, and annoying them, they’ll either offer you protection from them (luring you to them) or attacking them (keeping them away from you). Sometimes a mix of both.

As for you, enjoy the 15 minutes of fame that doesn’t end in 15 minutes. What’s better, being stalked and harassed by roughly 2 dozen yanderes who are constantly too close, or being stalked and harassed by hundreds of thousands to millions of yanderes that are anywhere and everywhere in the world?

[fayfaygoes]

"Omg I can't wait for Caleb , can't wait for Childhood friend to lover troupe"

I can't stress this enough.

Guys

GUYS

Caleb is not Just a "childhood friend" troupe HE IS GEGE .

It might sounds off putting but many part of Asia we refer to acquaintance or neighbors child slight older than us "Brother"/"Sister" ,call their parents uncle and Auntie's . And it will stay that way maybe later in Life.

But that doesn't mean they are off the partner list when you grow older .

Alot of my girls I know dating guys they used to call "Vaiya" / "Dada" which means Brother ,they still slip that off sometimes.

We all know the Korean word Oppa , it's used AGEYO too . It's so much used in koreaboo section that some people finds the word outright intolerable and Cringe .

But Oppa literally means Older brother and used to refer guys/classmates Older . Yeah you can call your Boyfriend Oppa it's not abnormal regardless of how you feel about it .

Another point-

You know how You set your nickname in game like honey girlfriend etc.

Well there's one nickname you can set in English.

It's "Darling"

But yk what I noticed all the time when I write that name down and have JP voiceover on.

They don't go "Da~rin~" like how you your expect darling to sound in JP accent.

Yk what they say

"NEe - SAN"

and you know what that translates too?

OLDER SISTER .

So yeah you are making them Call you NEE SAN .

But obviously English can't localize it literally so they are writing "Darling" ( I don't have knowledge about the CN part please lmk if yk)

So yeah it may sound Icky to you but there's chances are I would end up with a guy in my work area that I perhaps called Big brother in my language in past ,and there isn't something weird about it. And it shouldn't be made into weird stuff either . It comes quite naturally ,it's not Sweet home albama it's cultural difference.

I am referred to as an older sister by many young men out of respect but it stops there . My real siblings are the ones by blood .

And for Caleb you guys have to accept that and if you do ,Stop hating on him purely for this fact .

En localization team likely knew this is hard to accept and out of comfort zone

that's why they changed to "he is childhood friend" but in voiceover she calls him Gege

GEGE

Voiceover doesn't change that ,and they don't have to because it's understandable when u are used to that happening .

Despite all those connections and links. The Dr. Zayne meeting the MC in childhood and that plays a role .

He FALLS in childhood friend to lover troupe in the literal sense .Not Caleb ,he has a different connection to her in dynamic,that involves treating each other in sibling ways .

Not everyone you call "older brother" / "older sister" you end up pinning for ,that's not what happens. But if you do as two consenting adults there's Nothing wrong WITH it .

So If it was a normal character MC was acquainted with ,then how you view her calling him Gege is Up to your interpretation,it can be anything.

But since it's an OTOME and he is most definitely gonna come back .

So yeah this time You are romancing that GEGE FOR SURREEEE

You guys aren't staying behind that title where you both will continue maintaining safe distance and took them out of the chart as if they are off limit. You are FCKING.

You can accept that , it's one of those cultural compromises

You can enjoy the En localized part if you want but actual intended interpretation should NOT make you retaliate and be defensive stating how Caleb is not that he is childhood friend troupe yada yada yada.

I saw some say Caleb is the actual Childhood friend to lovers troupe because zayne doesn't do the troupe correctly 😶

Each of the lads LIs have Uniqueness in more than one area to the point they don't stand in the same category . Zayne & Caleb is not the same category LIs either and it's not purely for sole fact "oh Caleb is different than zayne, different personalities etc" there is more difference ,troupe has DIFFERENT TITLES.

She has known him as Gege for so long y'all aren't ready for the angst of possible romance coming in between ,the self guilt ,the self restriction ... EVERYTHING.

[burst-of-iridescent]

well since i can already tell that we’re all going to be subjected to the same old tired mai & mai.ko discourse for the foreseeable future, let’s get it clear right now that the atla comics have never been, and will never be acceptable mediums of character development, and here’s why:

1. the comics are given the benefit of hindsight, which impairs organic character growth.

it’s become extremely clear over the last few years that many of the comics are made as, or include, direct responses to criticisms of the original show — especially when it comes to katara, mai, and the canon pairings. aang didn’t ask katara for consent? look, he’s checking if he can kiss her! mai doesn’t care about fire nation imperialism? here, she’s an anti fascist! iroh was a creep to june? don’t worry, here he is apologising!

many of the things the characters do or say in the comics feel unnatural because they are not written as characters, but as mouthpieces for the creators to address fandom complaints from the original show.

“but that’s good, right? they’re trying to make it better!” i mean… sure? it still doesn’t change the fact that it’s damage control, and that no matter what stories span the middle, the arcs of these characters still begin and end with avatar: the last airbender, and the legend of korra, both of which are fixed and immutable. the comics cannot retroactively fix the issues of either show, because they’ve already been defined as the goalposts of the characters’ lives, and there is no way to undo that.

it’s like if you eat a meal that isn’t to your satisfaction, and maybe the chief makes you another dish, which is all well and good — but it doesn’t fix the fact that the original meal still sucked! sometimes, accepting criticism means accepting that there’s no way to go back and fix it but to do better next time, with the next story you wish to tell.

if the legend of korra didn’t exist, and the arcs of the characters were left open after atla, then maybe there would be for the room for the comics to function as character development if not for the fact that…

2. the comics are intended for a very different audience than the show.

it’s obvious that the audience for the original show vastly outnumbers the audience for the comics, likely by thousands, if not millions. this isn’t the mcu, where the installation of any atla property is vital to understanding the next, and so on. you can skip the comics and miss nothing whatsoever (and honestly your life would be far improved by doing so).

those who read the comics are likely only the real diehard fans of the show — and the creators know this, which is why we have the whole issue of point one above. but this difference in audience matters, because it reflects the significance of the story being told, and how important it is for the audience to know it. this is why, if the characters’ development and storylines in the comics truly, genuinely mattered, it would have been in the show already.

i’m not saying that the gaang wouldn’t have continued to grow and change post-atla, but generally stories exist as closed circuits, self-contained within themselves. when you end atla, you’re meant to believe that those arcs are finished. that’s the whole reason the comics deal mostly with fun silly adventures, or with quick, temporary conflicts instead of grand, overarching narratives, because they are not truly meant to function as a continuation of the story of atla, or its characters.

(if you ask me frankly, they’re meant to be nostalgia cash grabs, but that’s neither here nor there.)

creator intention matters with the atla comics (or any atla property, in fact), because creator intention was the subject of criticism for the original show in the first place. why must we rely on the comics or the cookbook or avatar legends to tell us that katara did things with her life outside of aang? why do we need to turn to something released nearly two decades after atla to find any evidence that mai denounced the fire nation’s imperialist indoctrination, when she’s romantically involved with one of the show’s most important characters? why are these stories relegated to a medium with far less reach, far too late?

the answer is that the writers didn’t find those stories to be originally worth telling, and that is the real problem fans have been pointing out since 2008.

so, tldr:

[zepskies]

Somehow I didn't see this post, I'm sorry, Michelle!! But I'm so excited to dive into chapter 3...

I swear it's like one step forward, two steps back with this guy...

“Because there’s nothing worse than being trapped, unable to die, only to spend every waking moment in pain. All you want it someone to rescue you. So that’s what I did,” you said quietly.

Ugh I love this moment so much. Finally it seems like they're being raw and real and honest with one another. It's like Ben wants her not to hate him, not to fear him, but he can't help the "don't be a pussy" feeling that surges back up. 🙃

“Your generation is fucking insufferable,” he grumbled, walking across the deck, in through the back door.

LMfaooo okay, Ben. Whatever you say, gramps. 😝

His "two steps back" part of this seems largely because of getting infected, and the way he tries to convince her to stay seems actually genuine. I think by now he's afraid of being alone, whether he admits to it or not.

His story about his father throwing him into the lake... Ugh, it feels really on brand for what that man would do to his own son to try and "toughen him up."

“If you drop the Solider Boy shit and act like Ben. Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother.” His face went white in shock, Ben’s jaw dropping open slightly. “See? That normal guy is still inside of you. You know it’s wrong to be a dickhead. You fucking know it’s wrong and you do it anyway. But you have to stop. You have to be better. Not perfect, just better. Or else I’m gone Ben and this world gets a lot harder for both of us.”

Oooh my GOD. This had me gaping like a fish right along with Ben. "Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother."--is a LINE. I love how she calls him out here and points to the actually good man deep down inside him. He really does have to be better.

“How’d he do that? Activate them?” “Through eight years of torture.” Ben stared at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Everything was forced on me, all because of my stupid fucking genes. Do you finally understand why I saved you?”

Her past is so shocking and traumatic, and like she says, Ben can relate. Maybe they're finally having that moment of true connection.

“She would have liked you,” he mumbled. You burrowed into your sheets, letting sleep overtake you.

Aww don't do this to me. 😭😭 Not the "my mother would've liked you" -- it's such a lovely gut punch. But that cliffhanger was a different kind of gut punch! I'm so interested to see where you take this next!! 💚

The Villain’s Protector (Part 3) - Closer

Summary: The reader's in a bad spot when she's cornered by three infected intruders. But when the danger passes, she and Ben need to decide if they really can live together or if they'd be better off on their own...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, violence, life-threatening situations, death (minor characters), mentions of past torture

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving this week! Please enjoy Ben being an asshole/also his hilarious attempts at making up for it...

________

“Oh my god!” Both men spun their heads towards the back door, giving you a chance to make a break for it. You had to deal with the woman but at least you had a chance against her. In three large steps you were in front of her, ducking down to miss her punch. You kicked her knee, the woman shrieking and falling, giving you a chance to kick her back and shove her into your bedroom. You dove into the one across the hall, slamming the door shut behind you. Ben’s suit was draped over the back of a chair, his gun still in it’s holster.

Fuck it. 

You abandoned barricading the door, barely getting across the room before it flew open, all three of them standing there. The gun was in your hand within a second, finger squeezing the trigger blindly. You hit one of them, the other two shouting behind him. You jumped to the right to avoid the woman, getting a few more rounds off. She went down when a blur slammed into you. You crashed back against a window, falling through it and straight onto the back deck. Something sharp was in your back and your hand was empty, eyes blearily opening as the red streaked man stood over you with the shears.

“You could have been one of us, bitch.” He opened the blades and drove them downwards, straight for your torso. 

With a swift breeze, he was gone. You blinked rapidly, Soldier Boy standing over you, staring off to the side of the yard. Every muscle ached but you managed to look, spotting the man impaled on the shears about two hundred feet away in the grass. Strong hands turned your head, Ben’s face almost…worried? 

You blinked, reaching up to grab his wrist, his eyes wide.

“You have glass all over. You need-”

“Are you wearing fucking oven mitts?” You smiled, Ben staring at where your hand rested on the pink things. “Pink oven mitts?”

“Shut your mouth,” he said, pouting when you sat upright with a groan. He ripped them off, kneeling beside you with a grimace. “Uh. How true is that whole can’t die thing?”

“That’s actually really smart,” you said, nodding to the mitts. “If they can’t touch your skin, maybe we can keep you safer. Keep us both-”

“Y/N!” He grabbed your shoulders, eye twitching. “Do not lose it on me. Will you die if I rip that giant shard of glass sticking out of your back out?”

You shook your head, already pulling pieces out of your legs and arms. He sighed, gripping the glass and pulling it out fast, your heart skipping a beat.

“Warn a girl,” you grit out, hands reaching for anything to grip onto through the pain which meant his shirt before you. 

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he said. Shaking, you buried your face in his neck, breathing hard. “Y/N-”

“Take the rest out.” He tore your ruined shirt and jacket off, cool air hitting your back. He didn’t speak as he pulled out the other large shards you felt there but he flinched when you jerked into him and yelped. 

Finally, you felt they were all gone, your head throbbing angrily but you knew it’d dissipate soon.

“I totally had that guy by the way,” you mumbled. Ben’s chest rumbled beneath you, his warm body lulling you into a calmness. “Was that a laugh, Benjamin?”

“You are something else.” With some effort, you leaned back, Ben grasping your chin and turning your face. “Shit, your cuts are healed already.”

“I’m just that special,” you said, trying to stand but falling straight against him when a sharp bolt of hot fire ran across your back.

“You heal fast but the pain-”

“Takes longer. I’ll be better in an hour.” You didn’t move from where he cradled your body against his, Ben’s body strangely relaxed. “Bet you’re happy. You got my shirt off.”

“You do have great tits,” he mumbled, tucking your head under his chin. You raised your eyebrows, gaze focused out on the lake. 

“Ben, there could be more people nearby. We should probably move somewhere-”

“In the eighties I hired a young couple to take care of this place. They had a baby at the time I think. Landscape. Cleaning. That’s why that woman and those men were here. I let them live here in exchange for upkeep and I forgot they were here. This was my fuck up.”

“It was an accident, Ben. I don’t blame you. I’m fine.”

“You don’t realize you screamed when I took those glass pieces out, do you? The only reason you were in there alone was because I pissed you off again. I fucking forgot. I bring out your fucking shell shock, I screw up and you’re shaking in pain because of it. That’s not what a man does.” You sighed, taking a deep breath.

“Soldier Boy, you are ridiculous.” You moved your head so you could face him, Ben’s jaw clenched. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, offering a smile. “I’ve known evil men. Shitty, evil men. But you? You put on pink oven mitts which I’m confident you’ve never worn anything that shade in your life for fear it would shrivel your dick up. Yet, you did it for me. Here you are, apologizing in your own, albeit half-assed, way and look at that. Your dick is still just as big as it was an hour ago.”

He pouted, turning to look at the waters of the lake, ignoring your attempts at getting him to acknowledge his idea of what a man was wasn’t the only one . “Why did you break me out of that CIA black site? The truth this time.”

You closed your eyes, turning your head back under his chin when sharp, stabbing pains started up in your abdomen again. You tried to bite back the whimpers that caught in your throat but a few slipped through, Ben squeezing you tighter, anchoring you.

“Because there’s nothing worse than being trapped, unable to die, only to spend every waking moment in pain. All you want it someone to rescue you. So that’s what I did,” you said quietly.

He hummed, shifting his arms around you, holding your body against his.

“Do you still think I only want to use you, Ben?” He was quiet, slow steady beats of his heart thrumming underneath you for a moment.

“I could be evil. People thought that about me once upon a time. It’s how I ended up in Russia.” You shrugged, Soldier Boy shifting beneath you, soon carrying you back inside bridal style. You poked open an eye, Ben watching you closely. “I was trapped for a reason. Give it five minutes and you’ll hate my guts again.”

“Why would I hate the boy that wears pink oven mitts for me?” you teased. He rolled his eyes so hard you swore they were going to pop out the back of his head. You let your eyelid fall shut, head lolling back until he adjusted you. “If you end up screwing me over, then fine, you’re a monster. But until otherwise, will Mr. Evil please get me into a bath tub?”

“Your generation is fucking insufferable,” he grumbled, walking across the deck, in through the back door.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, Satan.”

“What did I say about shutting that fucking mouth?” 

“Ben.” You opened your eyes when a door creaked, Ben setting you down in a large claw foot tub a moment later. You tilted your head, his face a mixture of annoyance and wanting to get out of the room as fast as possible. 

“What?” he growled, turning the water on warm and slow for you, setting some towels down next to the tub. 

“Just wanted to say we had a whole conversation where we didn’t fight. I think you’re in serious danger of losing your asshole status if you keep this up.” He gave you his bitch face and dropped a bar of soap in your hands. “Admit it. You like this, being yourself again.”

“You are weak and pathetic and like all women, you need a man to save you and then complain about us in the same breath. I ain’t a fucking pussy so don’t get fucking comfortable with me thinking I’m like your fucking girlfriend. I give the orders, not you.” He stood up and slammed the door on his way out.

So much for that progress.

You and Ben kept your distance after that. You spent most of the day cleaning the blood off the walls and floor while Ben disposed of the three bodies in the nearby woods. It was dark by the time he returned, the house smelling of disinfectant.

He threw his boots on the ground and gave you a glare as you ate a bowl of beans at the dining room table. He stormed around the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at the pot on the stove and the empty bowl on the counter beside it.

“Beans? I’ve had fucking paste shoved down my gob for weeks and you make me fucking beans?” You finished off your dinner, leaning back in your seat with crossed arms. He puffed out his chest, pointing a finger. “Don’t you fucking start, bitch.”

“Does it make you feel like more of a man to yell at me? Maybe you even want to hit me. Fucking go for it. We both know I can take it.” You got up, getting in his face and throwing him off guard so much so he stumbled backwards. “You want me to think you’re a monster? Go ahead. Hurt me. Insult me. Prove me wrong. Show me just how awful you really are deep down and that there’s no shred of a soul left in there.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, towering over you, his face turning red. 

“Do it!” He growled, grabbing your arms, picking you straight off the ground.

“Look at me!” You were ready to kick him in the nuts when you noticed the red on his face was…bright. Too bright. Infected bright.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll help you alright.” You put your hand to his face, Ben instantly dropping you, both of you falling to the ground. This felt different than before. There was no sharp pain from the redness your hand absorbed from his face. No, it was warmer, a slow burning sensation that built up and up and had you gritting your teeth.

He gasped and choked before rolling away, your body falling back on the hardwoods. You panted, staring at the wood beams crossing the ceiling when Ben crawled over, staring down.

“I got some of their blood on me earlier when I killed that guy. I think it got on my face,” he breathed out. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “It must act slower that way?”

“Depends. Am I a weak, pathetic bitch?” you said, Ben lowering his head. “Good. See, we’re all good.”

“You didn’t scream this time at least,” he said, helping you sit up against the cabinets. He sat back against the fridge behind him, both of you catching your breath. “Why?”

“The more a particular…injury happens to me, the recovery period from the pain shortens. You didn’t have the streaks in you fully or else you’d be dead so it wasn’t as bad this time.” He shook his head, running a hand through his brown strands. “What?”

“Your powers suck.”

“Not powers,” you sighed, Ben pursing his lips. “I swear. I’ve never taken compound V in my life.”

“Well then you must be a natural born supe. Is Reaper your dad or some shit?” 

“No,” you snapped. Ben held up his hands, giving you just enough of a pout to make you feel bad. He got up and scooped some beans into a bowl, glancing at you once. The floor creaked, your eyes drifting up to watch him settle down across from you, slurping up his dinner. “Why are you eating on the floor?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he said with his mouth full and a roll of his eyes. “Can I eat my dinner where the fuck I want to?”

“Of course you can.” He made a face, pointing his spoon at you when you parted your lips. 

“I swear to God if the next words out of your mouth are to argue with me, you will not like the outcome,” he barked. You swallowed down your comment about how the chair and table would be more comfortable. If he wanted to sit his ass on the hard floor, fine, that was on him.

You closed your eyes and tucked your knees up to your chest, lowering your head to rest it against them. 

“You’re a pretty good liar. Most women are but you put them all to shame.” You frowned, lifting your head wearily. He stood, setting his empty bowl on the counter before squatting down right in front of you. Long fingers grasped your chin, turning your head left, then right. “Your jaw is clenched so hard you could snap a tree in half.”

“Fine. It hurts whenever I absorb that red matter stuff from you. There’s nothing either one of us can do about it so why does it matter if you know?” His grip on your chin tightened, just hard enough to make you wonder if he was considering killing you.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” Ben’s grip loosened, his thumb wiping away the wetness that’d gathered under your eye.

“Like what?” you whispered, intense green eyes boring straight through to your core. He leaned in closer, his breath hot.

“Like I’m going to hurt you.”

“This was a mistake. Just cover yourself up when you go out and you should be okay,” you said. You got to your feet and barely made it out of the kitchen when his hand landed on your shoulder, freezing you in place. “Forget about Reaper. You’re free Ben. Just live your life how you want to.”

“Why the hell are you trying to get out of here so badly all of a sudden?” 

You closed your eyes, clenching your fist when a wave of burning heat flooded your veins. “Why do you care if I stay?”

“I can drown.” You turned around, furrowing your brow. Ben raised his chin, nodding once. “I nearly did as a kid, out in that lake.”

You both looked out to the dark water, gazes slowly drifting back to one another. He sat down on the edge of the couch arm, running a hand through his hair. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, head shaking as he glanced at a knot of wood in the floor near your feet.

“My father took me out in a rowboat to the middle of the lake when I was a boy. Maybe seven, eight? He threw me over the edge, told me to start swimming.” His eyes met yours, his smile faltering. “It wasn’t until I started to sink did he pluck me out. He was so…disappointed in me the whole way back to the dock. I was convinced he’d throw me out any second. I never told my mother what happened but somehow she knew. It was the only time I ever saw her argue back against him. She ended up showing me how to swim over the next week right where it’s shallow at the shore edge.”

“Why are you telling me this Ben?” you asked quietly. He shrugged.

“You can either be terrified that something more powerful than you will kill you and that fear makes you run from it. Or…you can be a man and face it, tell that thing it’s not more powerful. You learn to respect each other’s power and work together.”

“A lake doesn’t snap your neck in your sleep when it gets mad at you,” you whispered. He sighed, his jaw clenching slightly. “You just…you’re so mean to me that I couldn’t even tell you were infected until you were literally ready to pummel me and I saw the red streaks. Ben, I didn’t know you wouldn’t hurt me. I read the CIA’s file on you and god, you’ve hurt so many people Ben. People you supposedly cared about, loved even. How the hell am I not supposed to be terrified of you? Maybe I was wrong and we should just go our separate ways.”

You headed down the hall, pausing when you heard him walk up behind you.

“If you stay…I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“It’s the end of the world, Ben. Forget about Reaper. What could you possibly give me that’d make me okay with staying with you?” You glanced over your shoulder, Ben’s face strangely soft.

“My word.” He held out his hand, fighting back a frown when you narrowed your eyes at it. “I’m fucking trying here.”

“Not good enough.” You stormed into the bedroom, grabbing a duffel from the ground as he huffed. You started to shove some things inside when he cleared his throat.

“Please stay.” You poked your head out in the hallway, Ben gritting his teeth. 

“Did you say please?” you asked. He rolled his eyes. You stepped back out, crossing your arms. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Good-”

“If you drop the Solider Boy shit and act like Ben. Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother.” His face went white in shock, Ben’s jaw dropping open slightly. “See? That normal guy is still inside of you. You know it’s wrong to be a dickhead. You fucking know it’s wrong and you do it anyway. But you have to stop. You have to be better. Not perfect, just better. Or else I’m gone Ben and this world gets a lot harder for both of us.”

“I…will try if tell me one real thing about yourself, why you don’t die.” He stood his ground, lips pressed into a thin line. You looked away, leaning against the door jam.

“You know how…you know when you did the Compound V trials and all the other participants died except for you?” He nodded once, tilting his head. “That was because your genes are advantageous. Your genes could handle that…evolutionary leap.”

“Like a Punnet square.” You raised your eyebrows. “I’m not a moron.”

“Well, yes, sort of like that. Your gene mixture basically was special. My genes are also…special.” You frowned, Ben’s fingers reaching out to graze your cheek. Your eyes wandered up to meet his, his green eyes curious, guarded. You crossed your arms, looking past him. “My genes, eventually, would have allowed future generations from my bloodline to be natural supes. Millions of years down the line. It’s incredibly rare. Think of it like if your genes and mine were in a race, I’m starting a hundred million miles ahead of yours and we’re racing to the same point.”

“You would get there faster,” he said quietly. You nodded. 

“Reaper found out about my genes. He ended up, activating those special parts of my genes and transfused me with his blood when he did so. He didn’t know what would happen but it gave me the ability to not die, like him. It was all an experiment to him.”

“How’d he do that? Activate them?”

“Through eight years of torture.” Ben stared at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Everything was forced on me, all because of my stupid fucking genes. Do you finally understand why I saved you?”

Ben nodded, letting you slip into your bedroom. You lay back on the old mattress, body in desperate need of sleep and rest. By the time you managed to get out of your jeans and under the covers, the door was cracking open. Ben was carrying something, a mug. Steam billowed from it as he set it down on the nightstand. Then he was leaving, nearly pulling the door shut behind him when he stopped.

“There are things I would say to you if I wouldn’t be a pussy for saying them.”

“Ben?” He looked over his shoulder, catching your smile as you sat up and took a sip of the hot tea. “That’s good enough for tonight. Thank you for the tea.”

He nodded, hesitating once more. “Drink that and then go the fuck to sleep. You look awful.”

“Goodnight to you too.” He grumbled and pulled the door shut, leaving it open a sliver to let in some light from the hall. You heard movement outside and heard a chair scrape along the wood floor. With you mug in hand, you tiptoed over, opening the door.

Ben was sat in a chair right outside your room, frowning when he saw you. “I thought I told you to sleep.”

“What are you doing?” He rolled his eyes.

“Just go to the fuck to sleep. We need to get a game plan together in the morning and you won’t be able to do that if you’re a zombie. Go before I make you.”

You took a sip of tea, offering him a tiny smile. “Try to get some sleep yourself at some point. It was a long day.”

“Y/N…” he warned. You took a big swig of tea and handed him the mug, Ben cautiously taking it.

“I think I’m starting to get you, Ben. You’re an acts of service kind of guy.” He stared at you like you had three heads and shook his own. “I’ll explain someday.”

“Alright, that’s it,” he stood, watching you scurry back to your bedroom. You plopped into bed, Ben pointing a finger at you before sitting back down. You tugged up the covers, putting your back to him as a wave of exhaustion hit you. 

You were just barely holding onto consciousness when something heavy draped over your body in the cool room. 

“She would have liked you,” he mumbled. You burrowed into your sheets, letting sleep overtake you.

That was until four am.

That’s when you woke up to screaming.

___________

A/N: Part 4 coming soon!

[maudie-duan]

First Series!!!

Series Summary: For nearly two years, Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat. At what point does he make the choice to either endure or let the stain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

A/N: You guys, this is my first series; bear with me. In no way, shape, or form is this meant to follow Harry’s actual life, nor are the facts or timelines real. This story will be from Harry and Shiloh’s POVs. I like switching between them. I’m nosy, and you get more details this way. So, if you like details, you’re in the right place. This story will be a slow burn, so hold tight. I’m glad you’re here!!! ENJOY!!!!

Word Count: 2K

Warning: Strong language, minor angst, eventual smut, emotional.

Harry’s (POV) Part 1- Mystery Girl

***

I don’t usually think of how my relationships will end, but I’ve been thinking about our ending—the consequence of our beginning looming over our heads as if it were a pleading prayer whispered into the night. When “I love you” no longer sufficed, the emptiness stretched between us and how fickle we were. How we continued seeking tiny moments, desperate to fill that void—A revolving door of new faces and places where we lay tucked away, pressing our bodies together like puzzle pieces, hoping that one day they would fit together—indefinitely.

Surely, we knew this wasn’t going to work, right? From the beginning, we’ve been on two different parallels, trying to make this work, trying to force a path through murky water when neither one of us knew when or how the tide would roll in—and here I am, miserable out of my fucking mind. In a shit headspace just waiting for this evening to end because there’s nothing worse than getting into a massive blowout right before an event. I can’t figure out what’s worse, the fight or the forced niceties. The last place I wanted to be was in public, but this is my life.

Olivia was on about something—actually, I don’t even remember what the fight was about this time, and that’s what it’s been lately. These bullshit fights about petty, senseless matters that take more energy to create than they do to fix. It’s just that she’s gotten so jealous and paranoid that I’m growing distant, that she’s the only one fighting to be in this relationship, and maybe she’s right.

—Side note: Before tonight, I really hadn’t been interested in anyone. Honest to god, I was truly in this wholeheartedly.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m constantly in the public eye, even if I think I’m lying low. There’s always a chance that someone will recognize me. The chances of someone taking a picture are even greater because everyone needs proof, or it didn’t happen, right? I personally don’t believe in this—but to each their own—If you know me and who I am, that’s precisely what you get. She knew this when we met, yet she insists that every move I make is for the world, like I can’t comprehend all of the sacrifices that she has made to be with me. Trust me, I know, and as of late, she’s taken every opportunity to throw it back in my face. 

In all honesty, I know that relationships take work, but isn’t there supposed to be balance? Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost that. We both jumped in feet first and now life seems to be catching up even faster—the constant push and pull in every direction is getting old. Everyone wants something, and she wants the most. It’s like she doesn’t understand the sacrifices that I’ve made. It’s not easy being the world’s biggest pop star and falling in love, but I felt she was worth it at the time.

And now she wants more—Roots that I can’t seem to give her. It’s like I’ve only just begun to find my own footing, stepping into the skin that finally feels right, that’s mine, and she wants nothing to do with it—She wants the control. She wants me to align with whatever she thinks our life should be.

I mean, I get it. I understand wanting the security of always knowing your next move or having a better grasp, but surely Olivia knew what she was getting herself into. It can’t be this big surprise that our life together isn’t panning out into what she had imagined, and the shittest part about it is that I don’t even want to try anymore. I don’t want the things that Olivia is trying to project onto me with every fight that ends with her begging me to choose her—is that not what I’ve been doing this whole time?

I’m lost in thought when Olivia whispers something into my ear. She had gone on and on about this Gucci Cruise show and was pissed when I decided I didn’t want to sit front row. I didn’t want to distract from the show or draw unwanted attention. Especially after that fight—God, that stupid fucking fight that left her in tears, her makeup a wet smear all over her face, almost making us late. 

Tonight was supposed to be memorable. How many people get the chance to attend a Gucci show? This was my first. It’s an honor that I wanted to appreciate and take in with the gratitude I feel not only for the brand but also for the friends I’ve grown quite close to.

“I just feel like the whole point of coming to a fashion show is to sit in with the audience and have a genuine experience of the clothes and the people—” Her comment is pointed and sets me off, so I do the asshole thing and walk toward someone I know leaving her alone with her underhanded comment.

Eventually, I walk over to the edge of the curtain, peering out into the crowd, trying to pinpoint faces I’ll see later, making a list of people I want to see or possibly avoid. As I skim the front row, my eyes land on a woman who looks vaguely familiar. Still, I can’t put a finger on it. She sticks out like a sore thumb. For instance, she is one of the few wearing dark sunglasses in a dimly lit room. Making her stand out in all black, except for the few accents that set her apart from everyone else around her, who are dripping with vibrant colors, something you would expect at a Gucci show—wild statement pieces, different patterns, and textures that ebb and flow amongst each other.

She was magnetic in a way that made it hard for me to look away. The light played off her features, creating a soft aura. A delicate ray of pink traced a faint glow around her. I couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or a trick of the mind in my rose-colored glasses. When I lowered my frames to get a clearer view, I found that she was just as stunning without them—and still, to this day, I can’t explain the feeling; it was like my soul took the lead, reaching out, hoping to find a tether. A single piece of thread that could tie me to her.

And there I stood, my mind spinning out of control. I don’t even know how long I stood there. How long I continued watching her, captivated by how the light which seemed to dance with the shadows every time a model passed in front of her. Another thing I noticed was her ruby-red lip. How they spread into a shy smile, the light catching the gleam of her white teeth—a sight I imagined could be seen from anywhere in the room if you were fortunate enough to catch it. I observed her as she straightened upright and crossed her legs, almost as if she had suddenly become aware of her surroundings. Was she nervous? 

Her hair was slicked back into a sleek bun, tight against her scalp, making her features more pronounced and giving her a tidier appearance than everyone else. This timeless look could set anyone apart from the crowd, but what really caught my eye was the gilded chain dress that hugged her all-black attire underneath. I wanted to see her stand up. I wanted to know how the light played off the delicate beads draped from the woven metal. I wondered if it was uncomfortable for her or if she realized she stood out more than the celebrities around her. She had to be someone important, right? Not just anyone can sit front row at a Gucci show—Who is she?

As if she sensed my gaze, her head abruptly turned toward the curtains, causing me to jump back and bump into Olivia. “What the hell?” I hissed. 

Olivia stepped back, eyes wide, my words landing with a bite. I thought, “fuck is she about to make a scene?”—and yes, the bitterness was unnecessary, but it came more from defense than anger. I didn’t want to be found out. What was I doing anyway? How long had she been standing there? Could she see what I was looking at? Or could I pretend that I was trying to get a better view of the show, which was technically true, right?

“Can we please start over tonight?” she asks, almost pleading. “I know tonight is special for you.” Olivia runs her hands up my chest and cups my face.

“Okay…” I exhale. I want to have a good time, but a part of me knows I would enjoy myself more without her here, and it’s this very feeling that will haunt me all night, my thoughts like demons filling the room—unwanted guests that I’m no longer sure I want to keep at bay, and I know this isn’t fair. 

I couldn’t tell if it was the afterparty or the drinks that came with it, but eventually, the mind fog that plagued me throughout the evening began to lift. It was like a breath of fresh air, each drink diluting the pressure; the animosity threaded into every conversation Olivia and I had was evaporating. I could let go of the stress and relax into the theme of the night—and that was to have fun and fucking enjoy myself because I work hard, dammit.

It was getting easier to play into Olivia’s game of putting on for the coward. This was the part she liked; she loved putting on in a room full of people. She fucking thrived on the attention—she loved wearing me like a glove she could take on and off whenever she pleased. 

I was already three drinks in when I spotted my “mystery girl.” It surprised me—she was much shorter than I had imagined, but something was compelling about her presence. When she finally looked my way, I instinctively put my arm around Olivia, feeding into the lie, feeling like a fool when her eyes flitted over me with no recognition, piercing my ego in one swift look. I didn’t know what I thought would happen…actually, I’ll tell you exactly what I thought would happen. I thought my presence alone would be enough to garner her attention. Instead, I stood there stunned when her eyes lingered on Olivia, sending her a friendly smile as she mouthed the words, “I love your dress.” pulling at the strap of her dress to drive her compliment home.

Astonished, I stood by, holding my breath as the transaction morphed into Olivia mouthing a returned compliment, making ‘Mystery Girl’ beam and my chest swell with jealousy as she turned away, not even sparing me a second glance. She moved through the room effortlessly, like a hummingbird, moving from flower to flower fast yet graceful, donning that beautiful smile that had me begging her to look my way—just one more time. That’s all I would need. 

Was she a journalist? It seemed like everyone knew who she was. She spoke to everyone she encountered with such ease that each conversation I noticed flowed as if they were friends—though perhaps they were, but how was I to know? At some point, I lost her in the night, or maybe I knew I had to release her from my thoughts. I wanted to end the night on a high note, not go home with a suspecting partner to whom I would have to explain myself later. 

So, by drink five, I was being pulled onto the stage with Stevie, duetting a few songs, and as I closed my eyes, singing out the lines:

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above? 

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I opened my eyes as we swayed into the chorus, browsing the crowd. My gaze locked with Olivia’s, who was crying, tears streaming down her face, a pained look of grief stealing her features. We shared a look of understanding. Maybe even realization, but it hit me hard, the sadness creeping up my spine as she turned and moved away from the crowd, and I noticed her bump into Alessandro, who caught her by the arm with a concerned look on his face. I pulled away from the microphone, my voice choking up, and I let Stevie take over. We both knew that our world was crumbling right before our eyes and when I glanced back over, searching for Olivia, she was gone. 

A/N: Ya'll let me know in the comments what you think. I'd love to get your feedback. If you think I should continue?? Hope you guys enjoyed!

[bubblewhale]

I'm just now finding out that people did not like my villain academia arc.

I truly watched bnha for the LOV (besides bkdk).

The main cast is nice and all but if i put on my critical lenses i honestly don't see the hero society as a viable option. Economically and structurally i just don't get it - it's a cult that creates celebrities/heroes who are obviously used as both propaganda and tools of war, under the guise of fighting crime. At this point, heroes serve as either military special op forces or double-agents, or even as nuke level power holders. Either way, they are totally dehumanised soldiers. On the other end, the hero cult itself triggers people becoming villains. It does so by blaming individuals for becoming villains, even when it's obvious that they are direct results of wider structural societal problems. It's shown many times how hate can manifest in families as perfectionism, abuse, obsession, suppression, phobia (Shoto, Dabi, Shigaraki, Toga), poverty and human trafficking (Hawks) and xenophobia and racial (?) discrimination with mutants (Spiner).

The only moment i was hopeful they're gonna address the structural problems was the liberation army attack on the hospital in the war arc. But what was crazy to me is that the hero society held a war prisoner in the basement of a public hospital - using a civilian shield tactic, which is considered a war crime. Spiner's character arc is also extremely sad and unhelpful. Even the school itself becomes a military stronghold.

For the question of family dynamics we get Endeavor atonement arc. But we also get a scene which implies that he sa'd his wife (as if the fact that she was sold to him wasn't enough). The one scene that wasn't believable to me at all was Rei coming to visit Endeavor in the hospital. God bless Shoto, that kid is so strong, understanding perfectly Endeavor is to blame for all that. But it shows that in case of powerful men, sa and child abuse are not treated as crimes, as they should be.

Hawks is another great example of literally being sold and used, similar to Lady Nagant - and nothing is gained from their arcs in the sense of revealing the hidden corruption. Both of them side with the "hero" side in the end, the side that made them do their dirty work for them. He even becomes a murderer because of this but still manages to keep in the public’s good graces by acting as if killing is something he had to do for the greater good, same reason he sided with Endeavor.

Toga is a brilliant representation of discrimination towards a sexual minority but then she dies to save a hero she loves. It's tragic, honestly.

Deku is the only one trying to do something and helping (Shoto, Bakugo, All Might and Shigaraki are some examples) people change their mind and views on heroism/what it means to live righteously. I haven't read the manga so i don't yet understand what Deku losing his quirk could mean but honestly this AFO-OFA tug of war is the most boring part to me.

The show still mostly puts everything down to individual level and blames the villain or makes it somehow personal responsibility of heroes to deal with it.

Thus the league of villains becomes the focal point of the show - their double bind with AFO on one end and heroes on the other.

It just bugs me that the whole show could be read as cop/military propaganda and that our protagonists are basically glorified cops. This is why vigilante Deku arc was so exciting, finally! And this is why the whole concept of the show would be very different if it was made from LOV's pov from the start.

As it is, there's lots of bright and shiny feathers but not much substance in the show. The biggest stars of the show are personal tragedies, sometimes out-shining the main plot and gloriously failing to tie into the bigger picture.

[monstersinthecosmos]

I read your answer, where did you say "Pandora is his actual type and Armand was his pet"

But how could Armand be just a pet for him? He is one of only three of his turned children. Marius speaks of him as the greatest love (along with Pandora). Although I see some hypocrisy in this. Marius loves no one as much as Pandora. But certainly more than just a pet

Well !

Babe the thing is that, I said what I said and it’s okay if you don’t agree!!! And I’m gonna take this opportunity to double down. (Assuming that you’re asking in good faith and not to pick on me for my analysis lmao please this fandom has traumatized me too much.)

(((TLDR the text never treats Armand like he’s Marius’s equal but also I never said that being a pet was a bad thing.)))

I want to start by talking about the concept of MAKER in VC and how canon tells us that vampires exist outside of human social constructs, including traditional family roles right? Like for example, the moment Gabrielle is turned, she ceases to be Lestat’s mother. 

But with Marius I think a lot about how he’s crafted a persona for himself, and tries to operate in a very rigid set of rules. And part of this is like, how determined he is to live by stoicism even when he’s a mess on the inside, but I also think about in TVL when he says that thing about how it’s easier to just knock a glass on the floor, and how he goes out of his way to appear more human and retain human gestures. 

So like, in the way a MAKER is kinda like, a parent/lover/companion/something too big for our tiny human minds to comprehend. We still get a Marius who is determined to be a father & mentor, and I think a lot about how his need for stoicism and humanity is probably also expressed with his need to be the paterfamilias. 

I’ve been also thinking a lot lately about Bad Fathers in Media—specifically people like Tony Soprano, Logan Roy, Roderick Usher—and how the toxic patriarchy affects their relationships with their sons. Tony Soprano in particular is one who resonates with me a lot when I think about Marius—Tony often indulges in anger because he enjoys being feared (he thinks it’s respect but it’s usually fear), and that’s a bit different on a material level from Marius “anger is too pathetic” de Romanus but they’re both sort of obsessed with the idea of stoicism and trying to be a ~ strong silent type ~ on the outside, even when they’re actually quite messy and emotional underneath.

But wait — put a pin in this for a second. We’ll come back to this, and the concept of fathers and sons. I want to pause real quick to swerve to clarify:

Armand being a pet isn’t a bad thing.

It wasn’t “pet (derogatory) 😒” ���  it’s “pet (adorable creature that I care for) 🥰”.

Here’s the thing about MARIMAND if you will (I hate ship the VC ship names oh my god theyre all hideous lmao) but like OKAY OKAY. THE THING IS. WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR IF WE’RE NOT INTO THE FUCKEDUPEDNESS ? 

Like I’m not telling anyone how to enjoy a ship, please have fun ! Do you! But to ME? That inter-species friction and 1,517 year age gap is like WHAT THE DYNAMIC IS ABOUT, THAT’S THE FLAVOR BABY!!! Anne Rice herself even said the book was about “a boy’s love for a monster” !!

WHAT’S THE POINT OF MONSTERFUCKER EROTICA IF HE’S NOT A MONSTER LOL

And YEAH I get that not everyone wants to read TVA as a monsterfucker story. That’s okay! It also reads as a savior fantasy. But I enjoy the messiness of it—I LIKE that Marius is an apex predator & ghoulish ancient thing. I like that it’s problematic. I LOVE that Marius really does love him, though, amidst all these other themes. I find it SO compelling.

But I never once said that Marius doesn’t love him. Of course Marius loves him. What I said is that he loves Armand the way we love a pet. I would fucking die for my cats. I regularly burst into tears looking at my cats because I love them so much. But they’re fucking cats lmao.

I never for one minute forget that Marius isn’t human. He’s operating on a whole different wavelength with different points of references and ethics and life experiences. Like, people get so hung up on Armand being 17 and IT WOULD BE JUST AS BAD IF HE WAS 18 OR 25 OR 30 LOL. A frail little human cannot comprehend !!!!!

What’s interesting with Marius’s fledglings though is that he tends not to treat them as equals. Like I think you could read TVA thinking: Once Marius turns him, they’ll be real partners. But no, they stick to their mentor/mentee, dom/sub, father/son roles. We don’t have tons of examples in canon of other maker/fledgling relationships but it’s not a coincidence that Roman Patriarch Marius maintains status over his fledglings. Even once Armand is a vampire, he’s still not Marius’s equal, and Marius’s age and power are still held over him. 

BUT LIKE.

That’s weird, right?

I MEAN THE DARK GIFT IS DIFFERENT FOR EVERYONE but it’s interesting to me that Lestat & Gabrielle’s relationship completely dissolves once she’s a vampire, but Marius & Armand’s doesn’t.

(Sidebar that like, I think there’s also ways to acknowledge that if we think their relationship is good that it’s OKAY for them to maintain these roles because Armand WANTS to be his sub but let me focus on my point here. We should also make time to talk about diegetic BDSM and whether or not it’s appropriate to use a D/s framework for this discussion if the roles are baked into the text and not a choice for the characters and not a game they are agreeing to but that’s for another post.)

So back to the thing about fathers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about bad father characters, specifically Logan Roy and Tony Soprano (also bad mother Margaret Chenowith) and the impossible standards they give their children. Logan and Tony are both men who are disappointed in their sons for being soft, because they were able to provide better lives for their children. They both spoil their sons with all the material wealth that they did not have in their own lives. For Logan we see how badly he resents his kids—Kendall even accuses him of being jealous of what they have—and for Tony he seems to be at a loss on how to parse his feelings. Part of him literally hates AJ for being such a whimsical little fuckup, and at the same time he wants to protect that part of AJ and doesn’t even WANT AJ to follow in his footsteps. Still, he hates to see that AJ is spoiled with no work ethic, and doesn’t know how to set an example for him.

Everything in Venice is designed to spoil Armand with all the things Marius didn’t get—it’s such a specific & deliberate opposite of how Marius was turned. And I think him seeing Armand as a pet puts a little bit of distance between the hurt he’d feel if he thought of Armand as a true son, or even an equal. He doesn’t have to resent Armand for having it easier than he did, but also doesn’t have to feel extremely betrayed by Armand fitting in with the cult. Like, let’s never 4get that by the time Marius catches up with Armand, Armand is right at home and thriving with them. A CULT? THE THING THAT KILLED ME????? Marius has no idea what the fuck they did to him, he just knows that Armand settled in just fine and has discarded everything that Marius tried to teach him. 

I think these roles are appropriately all muddled because it’s VC—like we said, the No Social Constructs series—so like, how do we compare the words SON and PET and FLEDGLING and SUB, I’m not sure. But my point is that he’s never seen or treated Armand as an equal, and perhaps never even a full adult person. 

ARE THESE IDEAS CONFLICTING? A little. But that’s okay. Am I incoherent and ill-equipped to tackle this analysis or is it because Marius is not a consistent person and never quite lives up to the ideal he’s trying to be? Does he want Armand to be his pet but secretly has feelings? Does he fail at being a father figure? Is he brushing off his Big Big Emotions so that he doesn’t have to admit how wrecked and destroyed he is and how badly his feelings were hurt? Idk man. I’m sure you can send me another anon to tell me I’m wrong. 

I wonder sometimes if like, keeping Armand at this lower status (like a pet) actually protects Armand from Marius’s ire and disappointment. Marius is sort of a father, but sort of not. He’s crafted a role for himself that is never all the way sincere, and it allows him some space to protect his own feelings of betrayal and disappointment when it comes to Armand. Marius is also classically bad at following his own rules, and never quite sticks the landing on the people he’s trying to be. 

I can imagine a version of events where Armand does gain some ground with Marius, maybe pays his dues and matures into someone that Marius trusts and respects, but that’s not the version of events we get in canon. Marius turns Armand, Armand remains his pupil, they visit Kiev and Marius is jealous of Armand’s father, they make it all the way to the raid without Marius ever confiding about The Parents. Even in the present day, during a dispute, Marius tells Armand he has the savage & ignorant soul of a child. Even in the present day, Marius won’t stop calling him Amadeo!!!! 

And like!!!!! It feels like Marius is more upset about Santino wronging him by ruining his home and taking his toys than he is about what Santino did to ARMAND. It’s more about Marius’s own feelings and possessions than it is about Armand’s own feelings and experience of what happened. AN ARMAND FRIDGING, IF YOU WILL. 

Anyway.

By never seeing Armand as a complete person, Marius never has to feel threatened by him. We see this in toxic parents a lot. Like, I want you to be good, but I’m insecure if you’re better than me. Or I can never fully respect your feelings because I always see you as a child and not a fully grown adult. And the truth is that Marius is actually quite threatened by Armand, on the inside. He is very hurt. He cares what Armand thinks of him. He’s relieved at the end of BCtu when he assumes that Armand wants to open his heart again. 

So idk like. I think the books end with a little bit of a hope for them; we see a lot of growth and self-acceptance from Marius in the last book and it’s reasonable to assume that he and Armand might have a long chat and nice long cry and work it out. I don’t think it’s completely set in stone, but it’s nice to think about! A nice happy ending. And I wonder if this is when Marius finally takes Armand seriously and listens to what he has to say without demeaning him! 

Am I gonna add 2000 more words to this point by tying it what the whole like “I fear him because I could love him again” thing in TVA means? No I’m not. But like. Again! It’s okay to be a pet, I think Armand liked being his pet. :) 

[warblogs17282]

Do you have any answers to these Helluva Boss plot holes?

For the first one, the real and boring answer is probably simply plot convenience, as the episode would be over within like 5 minutes otherwise.

But if you want my best guess, you could make a case that it was because of stress, considering stress can reduce your rational thinking skills and such, and well, Stolas loves Octavia a lot, so there was definitely at minimum some stress inside Stolas' body for the whole episode until he found Octavia safe.

Plus, just look at how much Stolas is freaking out inside when they get shoved inside that van.

My other theory is the Sinstagram accounts (not the non-canon instagram accounts), as in Truth Seekers, we do see Blitz take a picture with this head, so it's very possible that Blitz also quickly uploaded that picture to Sinstagram at the same time (maybe the phones have a dedicated upload to Sinstagram button?), with that probably being how Stolas found where Blitz and the gang was in Truth Seekers.

Seeing Stars also shows us that Blitz and the gang can get cell service just fine in the human world, as shown by the fact he messages Millie here.

And in s2 e6, we see that Stolas comments on Blitz's photos, proving that they both have a Sinstagram account.

I already know what you're thinking, 'But Loona found Octavia via her Sinstagram pictures.', and my answer to that is simply that no one thought to check Octavia's sinstagram due to a combo of stress and everyone getting caught up in their respective happenings during the episode.

Like, Loona only got the lead of Octavia's sinstagram because Loona saw a cool poster and decided to upload it to her sinstagram account, proceeding to scroll a little after making that post, where she accidentally stumbled across one of Octavia's recent posts, and at this point Stolas and Blitz are entirely busy, so Loona messaging them about this lead wouldn't have done any good.

Plus, Octavia is constantly on the move in very public areas, while Blitz was stuck in the DHORKS building, so even if they thought to check her Sinstagram from the start, it'd still happen basically exactly the same as it did to Loona, since they can't exactly risk portalling to public areas to catch up to Octavia, as that runs the massive risk of humans seeing the portal, which is obviously something they cannot afford to have happen.

so tldr, my main theory on how Stolas found Blitz in s1 e6 is because of the Sinstagram pictures, and in s2 e2, no one thought to check Octavia's sinstagram account for potential leads, due to a combo of getting caught up in various happenings and stress.

As for the second one, Blitz only says that human fire can't kill them, he makes no comments in regards to electricity or electrocution, and that's how Ronaldo died, Blitz kicked the ghost-sucker device into the water, causing Ronaldo to die via electrocution, which is extremely different to burning to death.

What I'm getting at here is electric burns and such are different to fire burns, basically.